Excerpt from Leather Daddy

Here’s an excerpt from my most recent novel, Leather Daddy. This scene is the first time that Larry, a high school teacher, hooks up with Danny, a former student of his from a couple years ago.

I had barely finished changing into the outfit in the photo when I saw a white pick-up truck pull up outside my house. By the time I got downstairs, he was walking up to my porch. It was the guy in the picture all right. But as he stepped onto the porch, I could see his face, and I realized I knew him. It was Danny Browder.

Danny Browder was one of those kids who drifts through high school without really finding himself. He played on the football team, but he wasn’t good enough to attract much attention. I had him in upper division English two years ago, and I knew he was fairly smart. He’d written a good paper about Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird, and when I could get him to talk in class, he could be surprisingly insightful. But he was one of those guys who thought that to be accepted by the jocks he had to dumb himself down, and the result was that he half-assed a lot of his homework. I’d managed to rope him into appearing in the school play that year. He was actually quite good in the rehearsals, but tended to get weaker in performance, I guess because the audience threw him. I’d certainly been attracted to him, but it hadn’t occurred to me that he might be gay, and it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had thought of it. In additional to the whole ‘illegal and unethical’ thing, I also don’t shit where I eat, as they say. 

He got to the door and knocked, and I hesitated. Should I play with him? Since he was an adult now, and no longer my student, I couldn’t get arrested for fucking him, but if word got out that I had fucked a former student, parents would immediately assume I would fuck their high school-aged sons and while my principal liked me, he certainly wouldn’t stand up to the school board for me over something like that, and even if he did, Tennessee is way too conservative for him to win that fight. 

But, if Danny was gay, he was way in the closet, and wasn’t likely to tell anyone about coming to me to get fucked. Unless he was one of those guys who craves humiliation when he’s horny and then regrets it when he’s done. 

But, my little head countered, he was hot. And like I said, the little head was in the driver’s seat tonight. 

So I opened the door.  

It was Danny Browder all right. He was about 6 feet tall, and in better shape than he was the last time I had seen him. He stretched his t-shirt very nicely, and his biceps were impressively large. He had short dark brown hair, shaved close to the temples but longer on top, and a nice amount of stubble on his face. Some guys his age look unfinished, like they still need a year or two in the oven before they look fully a man, but not Danny. He looked exactly the way I liked my boys: young, masculine, and in great shape. 

He stood on the welcome mat and stared at me for a moment, obviously pleased with what he was seeing. I stood back and motioned for him to enter, which he did. I closed the door immediately. Didn’t want the neighbors seeing anything. 

I ordered him to undress and pile his clothes on the bench by the door. He complied as quickly as he could, his body language a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I enjoyed looking at him as he stripped down. He paused with his underwear on, and then when I didn’t say anything, he peeled it of and dropped it onto the pile of clothes. His dick was hard. 

I gestured to a spot in the middle of the rug. He scurried over to me and stood in front of me, his arms folded behind him. Clearly, he’d played with some other dom before, or he’d watched enough porn online that he knew a little bit of protocol. 

I spent some time just looking at him. Danny had been in decent shape in high school. I faintly remembered him playing football. He had the build for it, tall and broad-shouldered. He had decent pecs and his biceps looked even more impressive without the tshirt. He was lean enough that his abs were peaking through but there was still a little fat on them. 

“You look like quite the stud, boy. I’ll bet you’ve had a lot of girls chasing you.” I knew he had dated a bunch of girls, at least briefly.

“Yes, Sir.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it, boy? You’re not as straight as people think you are, are you?”

“No, Sir. I’m not.”

“And I’ll bet you get a lot of boys chasing you too, hoping you’ll fuck them. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But that’s not what you want either, is it? You want to be the one getting pounded, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You look like a real man on the outside, but you’re not, are you?” He shook his head. I slapped him, hard enough to sting. “Say it!”

“No, Sir, I’m not a real man.”

“What are you, boy?”

“I’m…I’m a worthless fag bitch, Sir.”

“That’s right, you are.” I reached down and began running my hand over his cock. He opened his mouth and breathed a sigh of pleasure. “It feels good to admit it, doesn’t it, boy?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. Very much, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“When you were in school, you harassed all the gay kids, didn’t you, boy?”

He was quiet and then nodded his head. “Yes, Sir. I laughed at them with all the other jocks.”

“And all the while, you wished one of them would fuck you, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He said that quietly.

I opened up the drawer of an end table by the couch and pulled out a grease pen I kept there for just this type of scene. “Well here’s where you get your come-uppance, faggot.” I wrote “dumb” on his forehead in big capital letters and “jock” across his pecs the same way. Then I pushed him over to the fireplace. The space above the mantle was a large mirror that reflected the living room. He stood there looking at the writing on his face and chest. He seemed fascinated by it, unable to tear his eyes away.

I was feeling intensely aroused. I love humiliating guys because it gives me such an intense sense of power and control. It allows me to break a guy down and build him up again. If I’m being honest with myself, I can admit that it’s the same instinct that led me to be a teacher, directed to a more sexually explicit goal. I’d watched Danny drift through high school and, like with a lot of other kids, I’d wanted to take change of him, shake him up a little, and help him find out more about who he really was. And now I was doing that in a way I hadn’t really imagined two years ago. Humiliation play exposes a nerve deep in the psyche; touching it both hurts and feels deeply arousing, and Danny’s fascination with his mirror image showed me I was touching that nerve. 

I reached around him from behind and started stroking his cock. “That’s what you are, right boy? A dumb jock.” He nodded but remained silent. “And under that dumb jock exterior is a faggot bitch that needs a real man to use him.”

“Yes, Sir.” He leaned back against me and let me wrap my other arm across his neck. As I began to stroke his cock, he began to press his ass against my crotch. He tilted his head to one side to expose his neck to me. “I’m just a worthless dumb jock who deserves to be abused by a real man.”

As I stroked his cock, I put my mouth to his ear and alternated nibbling on his ear and whispering into it. “Tonight you’re nothing but a fuck toy for me to get my needs met.” He smelled of sweat and dust and grease, despite being clean. Was he a mechanic now? A construction worker maybe?

He moaned. “Use me. I deserve it. I’m worthless trash.” I could tell he was nearing orgasm. He was breathing harder and bucking his hips to slide his cock through my hand. 

So I pulled my hand away. “Not so fast, bitch. You’re here for me.” He groaned in frustration. I spun him around. “Down on your knees, you slut.” 

He sank down onto the carpet and looked up at me with big round eyes. He was totally into his submissive side, totally receptive to whatever I wanted to do. And I had one of those moments where I understood something true about a boy I was playing with. Despite his mature appearance, his hot body, Danny was still a boy inside, and he wanted a man to use him because for a little while all he had to do was do as he was told. Being submissive gave him an opportunity where it was ok to not have a clue about his life. For this moment, Danny was mine to use as I wanted. That sort of power tastes incredible. 

Danny wanted to be used, and I wanted to use him. I unzipped the zipper of my leather jeans and pulled out my cock. It’s a good circumcised cock, not huge, but thick. A man’s cock. And it was hard. I clutched the base of it. “You want this cock, don’t you?”

This was a script Danny knew well. “Yes, Sir! It’s a beautiful cock. Please, Sir, may I suck it?”

I grabbed Danny’s brown hair and pulled his face toward my cock. “You gonna treat this cock right, faggot?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m a good cock-sucker. Please let me show you, Sir.”

I slapped my cock against his cheek. It left a little smear of pre-cum when it pulled away again. “If you suck it right, boy, I’ll fuck you with it.”

“Oh, god, Sir! I want your cock in my hole! I’ll suck it just the way you want me to.”

“Damn right you will, jockboy.” I pushed my cock into his mouth. 

Danny obviously knew his way around a dick. He sucked that cock like his life depended on it, and he did it well, with more variety than a lot of much older guys often muster. He didn’t just want to eat a dick; he wanted to pleasure me. There are two kinds of submissive guys in the world. One type enjoys being submissive because it’s a way of taking pleasure; these guys often don’t really care about their dom except insofar as the dom controls their access to pleasure. The other type enjoys giving pleasure because they genuinely fell that the dom’s pleasure is more important than their pleasure, and being submissive is a way of giving pleasure. The former sees the dom as the tool for pleasure, and the latter sees the sub as the tool for pleasure. I’ve played with both types, and I far prefer the latter.

Danny would have been very happy if I had shot my load in his mouth. I knew that if I had said I was about to cum, that he would have just kept sucking. But while I enjoy getting a blow job, especially a good one, I prefer fucking. For me, fucking is a more dominant act because it’s more active. I get to show my aggression more. I could have face-fucked him, but I knew I wanted to claim his ass.

I pulled out of his mouth. He knelt, waiting, with his mouth open, in case I wanted to put it back in. 

“On your back, boy.”

He immediately flopped backwards and in a moment or two he was full on his back, with his legs back toward his head. He was a limber fucker. His legs were spread far enough apart that I could see his rosebud clearly. And he was looking up at me eagerly. I pulled a bottle of lube out of the end table and squirted some into my hand. Then I reached down and began to lube up his hole, gently easing my index finger in. He knew how to relax his hole. 

“You’re a real slut, aren’t you, boy? I’m not the first man to use this ass.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m a worthless bitch for men who need to fuck someone. That’s what I was put here for. Ooh!” He shuddered and closed his eyes as I slid a second finger into his ass. He looked almost blissful as I played with his asshole. He was clenching and unclenching his ass around my fingers. I could see that he felt truly happy this way.

After several minutes of this, I pulled my fingers out and grabbed a condom. He looked a little sad when I stopped fingering him, and watched me intently as I slid the condom onto my cock and smeared lube onto it.

“Fuck me, Sir. Use my hole. That’s what I’m good for.”

I pressed the head of my cock against his asshole and toyed with it. He groaned softly, a sound of powerless frustration seemingly at odds with his masculine appearance, and it made my cock throb. “You want this cock, bitch?”

“I need it, Sir! Please!”

If you enjoyed this short excerpt, the whole novel is available on AmazonBarnes & Noble, and Smashwords.

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