“Well...you’re still my blood-but, you’re no longer really a boy; are you? They took that from you. If you’re not a boy, then you can’t be my son-not in the strictest sense, anyway.”

    “You don’t love me any longer?”

“Oh, Sander, I love you.” He licked his lips. “Maybe more than before.”

“But, you no longer love me like a father?”

“I don’t want you to think of me as your dad. I want you to think of me as a friend – a lover. Don’t call me ‘Dad.’ Call me ‘Jimmy.”

His words tore my heart out. At that moment, my dad was dead to me – just as his son, Sander, was dead to him; and my love for him died as well. I had lost everything. I had lost Matti –he was training another boy – I had lost my boyhood, and I had lost my father. The man standing in front of me was nothing more than a client, a man interested solely in what I had – or didn’t have – between my legs.

    “What would you have me do, Master?” I said.

Without another word, he took my hand, leading me into the bedroom. When we got there, he said, “Undress me, slave.”

I noticed he said, ‘slave,’not ‘Sander.’ That was OK with me. He was ‘Master’ not ‘Dad.’ I would be a good slave – just as Matti had taught me.

First, I unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his fly and let his pants drop down around his ankles. His cock was hard, making a little tent out of his underwear. After he stepped out of his pants, I pulled down his underwear, revealing his cock. It slapped against his belly when it slipped free of his underwear. It was only the second time I’d seen it hard. The other time was when he had fucked Chris.

I remembered that I’d been jealous of the attention he was paying Chris. I’d thought then
that I had wanted him to fuck me, but that’s not what I’d wanted. I’d just wanted him to love me – to pay some attention to me for a change. Now that he was, I didn’t want it.

He was a handsome man, muscular and well hung – too well hung. His cock was the least 7 inches long and much thicker than Matti’s, whose cock was only about 5 inches long. At least Matti had stretched out my boy pussy with dildos. Otherwise, I think my dad’s cock would have ripped me apart.

Sitting down on the bed, he took off his shirt. Other then a little hair in the center of his chest and some around his nipples, he had no chest hair. He did have a thick scrub of hair above his cock, though.

His cock was throbbing and leaking moisture from its hole. “Suck it,” he said.

I’d sucked Matti’s cock, but his wasn’t so big around. Since I wasn’t sure I could get my mouth around my dad’s, I began by licking it, first around the rim of its head; then I licked its eye, tasting his moisture as I did. It seemed to have a sharper taste than Matti’s did – a little more bitter – but that could have my imagination..

Next I took the head of his dick into my mouth. He moaned, then grabbed the hair on the back of my head, shoving his pecker farther into my mouth.

I gagged. My teeth were scraping his cock, but he seemed not to feel it. He thrust his hips trying to shove it in farther, but it was already hitting the back of my throat. It wouldn’t go in any more. I had learned how to take Matti’s down my throat, but my dad’s too big.

He shuddered, screaming, “Oh – oh.” I felt his hot spunk hit the back of my throat. I could taste it in my mouth – my own father’s come – the same stuff that – combining with my mother’s egg – had made me. Now – instead of into my mother’s vagina – he was shooting it into my mouth.

My mother had died when I was born, so I never knew her, and never knowing her, hadn’t missed her – until now. Perhaps – if she’d lived – I would have grown up like other boys – would still have my boy parts. I doubt that many mothers would let their sons become neutered slaves.

I was an orphan, now. I had no mother or father. This man was my client – my master for as long a time as he was willing to pay.

He had paid for the day and the night, and having paid, he got his money’s worth. I came when he fucked me, but I think that was because that’s how my body had been trained to react to being fucked, because I felt no feeling for him. I retreated to some place deep within my thoughts – someplace where he didn’t exist – someplace where there were no masters and slaves – someplace where little boys weren’t mutilated to satisfy some adult’s sexual desire – someplace where I didn’t have to feel. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel anything again.

When I left in the morning, I asked him for a tip. He said, “Sander, I’m your father. I shouldn’t have to tip you.”

So, now he’s my father – when he thinks it’ll save him some money. I turned and walked away, not even glancing back over my shoulder when I heard him call to me. His time was up. If he wanted anything else from me, he’d have to make another appointment.