Page 24 of Santo
I almost threw the teddy, watching as Daddy Santo whipped his sweats and boxers off, sitting his bare ass on the leather. His cock was half chubbed, lying across to the right side, aimed right at me and leaking sweet precum from his foreskin—his cock head was still sleeping inside it seemed. But not for long.
Licking his tip and coaxing out precum, I put one hand under his balls, and he didn’t even flinch at how close to his ass my hand was—he was a strict top, but it didn’t mean Daddy didn’t like a little touch or tease there from time to time. My other hand was on his cock, pulling back the foreskin and lifting it—it was heavy. I took it all in my mouth, salivating on him until it become a little too thick for my jaw to take without locking. Now hard, I had to give way for the teddy and a helping of lube.
The idea of having Daddy’s sloppy seconds in the teddy excited me enough to nurse my dick with outside rubs and grabs. I watched as he pushed his cock inside the teddy, my moans in place of what he should’ve heard. He squeezed it down on his cock and it let out one of the phrases. “Good boy.”
Daddy moaned, then pulled me over by the scruff of the onesie to his face. With his tongue down my throat, the rasp of his moans tickled as they traveled through me. He let go. “Ass,” he said. “Ass on my face. Now.”
I should’ve been in the circus with this move. My knees hiked up, one on the arm of the chair, the other resting outstretched on the back of the sofa. Daddy unlatched my bottom, and I wasn’t wearing any underwear. He forced me forward to simulate some type of motion on the teddy while he ate my ass—requiring both of his hands. I pushed and pulled the teddy, forcing Daddy’s voice inside it to speak where he couldn’t since his mouth was full of my ass.
“No, no,” he said.
“What?” I asked, my body seizing in fear of having done something wrong.
“I’m supposed to be fucking you,” he said. “You’re supposed to be fucking the teddy.”
I giggled, coming out of that stretched-out position. “Is it all warmed up for me, Daddy?”
“Yes, baby,” he said. “So is your ass.”
I loved it when he took control like this, positioning me like I was his prized possession and his dick was the mantel I was being placed upon. He lubed up my ass a little, then down it went. My ass opened wide—it seemed—and devoured his cock down to his balls. My eyes rolled right back and my mouth opened as big as it could go, but no sound. All of that was buried deep, waiting for the first moan.
“Good boy,” he said.
Throwing myself across him, I moaned right there in his ear. He called me a good boy again, forcing me upright, his hand at the latch on the front of my onesie. My cock sprang free from it, reminding me I was about to feel a new level of tingles.
“Is it really that good?” I asked, as he applied a dot of lube to my cock then ran his warm hand down my shaft, then up, coating me real good before fixing Jerod the bear’s ass on the tip of my cock. I’d never fucked anything before—my hand, a sock, but never a toy. Slowly, I pressed the head of the teddy, forcingit down, forcing the pleasure dots and ridges to pass my tip to awake pleasure I imagined only people with sensitive tips and foreskin felt, but it was happening to me.
It was like nothing my cock or I had felt before. I choked on my moans, like whimpers now as I was being fucked by Daddy’s thick cock. He slammed his hips into my ass, forcing me to bury my cock deeper, exploring the soft silicone pleasure dots.
Daddy made it better—or worse—with his kisses and comments, telling me I was his treasure, and he wanted me to live in his pleasure forever. I could absolutely do that.
My cock came, pulsing cum inside the toy, but stayed hard while Daddy fucked me. The cum coated my cock like lube, traveling back down my shaft, and I thought I’d come again, but instead, it was sending those electric tingles right through me now. And Daddy loved it, or at least his cock did, pulsing against my hole with force.
Daddy picked me up slightly, laying me down on the cool sofa—he had a better angle this way, with his cock deeper inside me. I thought he was right in my stomach. I swore he was, especially when he unloaded right inside. My stomach could’ve bulged from it. All of Daddy’s cum in me. He slowly pulled himself out of me and we lay on the sofa together.
“I love you.” It slipped right out.
He took my hand with the bracelet on my wrist and kissed the back of it. “I love you too,” he said. “My sweet baby.”
My body let out a little jiggle. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“You want to go deal with your belly? Then I can rub some of that cream on your bum,” he said, kissing my hand again. “Then we can order pizza and cuddle. Also, for part of your reward, you can choose the toppings.”
I giggled. “The only topping I want is you.”
“Oh.” He laid a hand on my belly, poking me. “You’re still horny. Let’s see how you’re feeling once all those endorphins wear off, and I don’t want your ass hurting.”
He was right. I could feel my body about to explode with his seed. But it was in that moment I made my decision. Maybe I should’ve thought about it, but two weeks of thinking had already been done. “I wanna move in, officially,” I said.
10. SANTO
I was on a high I’d never gotten from fucking guys before. This high was incredible. It was from being told yes. It was from Isaiah telling me he wanted to move in, and move out of that shit box he’d called an apartment. I’d offered my help with him moving, but he didn’t want it. No matter the back scratching and soft fingertip drawings, he wanted to do this alone. I wasn’t letting that happen, though. I’d given Ronnie the job of helping—or at least parking outside with a van and flatpack boxes with tape for him to pack.
My brothers were at Palazzo. It was the middle of the afternoon. Tomaso was drunk, being loud, trying to get in on some of the basement-level gambling. Rocco was one more cuss word from Tomaso before he was ready to throw fists.
“What’s wrong with you?” I snapped at him, and they both became quiet. “Your office, now.” I clicked my fingers at them. There wasn’t much of a scene to be made. We’d grown up in a house where we could have heated arguments in practical silence, especially since our father would backhand us if we were too loud—sometimes crack his belt even. I wondered if that’s where Tomaso got some of his... afflictions from.
I slammed the door to the office behind us, louder than any of the behind-the-bar conversations. Rocco took his seat behind the desk and Tomaso slumped himself on one of the hard chairs. The office looked like a storage room as I scanned it.
