Hard Fuck

Dad accelerates slow and smooth to reach his desired cadence, but the pace he sets is ferocious and swift. I don't feel like a son at all, I feel like I am exactly what he calls me. I moan helplessly as Dad starts to hammer into my ass, down to the hilt.

“Dad!” I moan his name, my fingers curling harder against the sides of the table. I can hear the table's feet scooting loudly against the floor. “F-Fuck! Dad! You're gonna break the table!” His hips slow grudgingly to a stop, his hand still in my hair.

“Gr,” he growls as he yanks my hair and forces me to stand upright with his cock buried to the hilt inside me, “Mmph. You are right about that, wouldn't do to break the kitchen table while using our new faggot slut, would it, you fucking whore?”

He turns, dragging me across the living room and shoving me against the door into the garage. One hand comes down and slaps my ass, and I arch, gasping, as he pushes me down into a better position. “Hands on the door, faggot, it can take it!”

I quickly scramble my hands up to the door in front of me, splaying my fingers and pressing my palms flat. Dad's hand still in my hair, pulling, forcing my head up, he pulls out and slams in again. The door shudders, but it's sturdier than the table.

Mom moves to continue to watch Dad use me, as his hips pull back, and then slam in, once more. Dad growls with arousal, every harsh, ramming thrust grinding his entire massive cock across my prostate, making my own strain almost painfully.

“Fuck, Dad!” My spine arched and hips raised, my fingers twitch and flex against the door in front of me. He slams into me so hard that my arms actually bend involuntarily when his hips hit my ass, forcing me forward even while pulling my hair.

“You like this, faggot?” Dad demands, “You like being used like this, you fucking little whore? Tell me, fucking little slut!” I flex the muscles of my hips, attempting to tighten myself around him, but he's too thick. It's all I can do to simply take it.

“Yes!” I gasp the word between his slamming thrusts, “Fucking yes, Dad, yes, I like it, fuck!” My voice trembles with strain, with Dad yanking my hair the way he is. It's painful, in both good and bad ways, my spine aches from the forceful arching.

My brain rewires to rationalise it all, the position, being used like this by my parents, using Amy's reprogramming to fill in blanks and identify where I'm meant to be. I groan as I take it, my body shuddering hard as Dad fucks me at his full force.

“Fucking yes, you little faggot!” Dad growls, his resolve fraying faintly, but holding taut, “Take that cock like it's all you're even good for, tight little slut!” I do, not the least of whence because Dad isn't giving me much of a choice in the matter.

“Let's see if you can resist an orgasm, or if you're so much of a whore that you'll cum before I do, you fucking little fag!” Dad taunts me, his free hand slapping down on my ass in a hard spank. I gasp in pleasure and pain, closing my eyes tight.

Author's Note:
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