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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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Caught in the Act, Almost - 3
by Matt Man (mattmacman7@gmail.com)

***

I arrived at the bungalow that belonged to Mr. 
Johnson, my girlfriend Zoe's, father, right on time. 
He had long been the object of my admiration, before 
becoming the object of my desire and the subject of so 
many fantasies. (Mm, ped, reluc, oral)

***

PART 3: Mr. J and Me

I arrived at the bungalow that belonged to Mr. 
Johnson, my girlfriend Zoe's, father, right on time. 
He had long been the object of my admiration, before 
becoming the object of my desire and the subject of so 
many fantasies. I first fantasized about Mr. J and his 
lovely wife, Holly. She was far more beautiful than 
anyone else's mother that I knew. She seemed way too 
young to be anyone's mother, for that matter. 
Actually, my earliest fantasies were about Holly alone 
but I found Mr. J becoming involved and that only 
added to the thrill of it. Then there were the 
fantasies about just Mr. J and me.

All that was before I was caught in Zoe's bed by Mr. J 
and succumbed to his wrath. That was before the night 
that I witnessed my beautiful girlfriend groveling, 
naked at her father's feet – before I watched her 
climb up his bare legs, crying and begging for his 
mercy and watched her take her father's cock into her 
mouth. That was before I watched, from a few feet 
away, in Zoe's bed as she sucked her father's cock, 
with such skill and passion that it was obvious it was 
not the first time. It was before that night, when Zoe 
and her father pulled me to the bed, pushed me to my 
own knees and "forced" me to suck her father's cock 
alongside her. 

There would have been no need for force. Gentle 
encouragement would have sufficed, but the sensation 
of submission heightened my lust. The feel of Mr. J's 
strong hand at the back of my head and Zoe's tender 
touch on my neck and shoulders assured me that I had 
no choice but to do my utmost to please that man, my 
girlfriend's masterful father. I wanted so badly to 
make him cum – to feel his hot cream splash into the 
back of my throat and coat my tongue. But it was his 
daughter's mouth that caught that seed. Once she'd 
sucked her daddy dry she kissed me and shared with me.

Mr. J kicked me out that night, letting me know that 
it "was not over." I was sure he must have fucked his 
daughter after I was gone. I would have given anything 
to have taken part in that. That was not meant to be. 
He must have got what he came into her room for – 
private time with his lovely daughter – to have his 
way with her as they must have done so many times.

After that night so many of my fantasies centered 
around what probably happened once I was gone. How Mr. 
J had most likely thrown his daughter on her bed, 
spread her legs and drove that magnificent member of 
his into his daughter's hot, wet and willing little 
pussy, still dripping with my cum. I dreamed of him 
letting me watch as he brought my dirty li'l slut of a 
girlfriend to yet another orgasm, before filling her 
with his own cum and letting me suck it all from her 
pussy as he fucked me.  

I dreamed of being alone with him, on my knees as I 
had been with Zoe at my side. I wished for a chance to 
show him just how well I could make him cum. I wanted 
to hear him moan as I serviced him with my lips and 
tongue as he had while Zoe pleasured her Daddy. I 
imagined Mr. J having his way with me as I was sure he 
did with Zoe. I wanted so badly to suck "Daddy's" cock 
– for "Daddy" to fuck me. I needed to taste him again. 
I had obsessed over him since that night.

There I was, at the back door of the bungalow, at 6:30 
PM, as per instructions, trembling with anticipation. 
Mr. J met me at the door with, "Right on time. I like 
that. Come in, my boy. Come in!" He gestured toward a 
small table and suggested that I "Sit down, please." I 
did so and he sat across from me. "Would you like a 
beer?" he asked. When I paused he added, "C'mon now. 
Just between us men," and smiled, quite reassuringly.

"Sure," I answered with a nod.

"In the fridge," he said with another gesture in that 
direction, "I'll have another myself." I fetched two 
beers from the beers and opened them. "I like mine in 
a glass," he said, "A fresh glass please. Above the 
sink. I poured one of the beers as I had seen in a 
beer commercial on TV, tilting to glass so there was 
just a collar of foam, rather than a frothy head. 
"Well done," said Mr. J, as he accepted the glass. 
"Thank you." I poured myself a beer and joined him at 
the table. 

"To our girl," Mr. J announced, raising his glass.

"Our girl!" I echoed, in a somewhat raspy voice. We 
took a deep draw on our beers. It was a welcome drink 
for me, soothing my dry throat and calming my jangled 
nerves.

"So, Matthew," Mr. J began, "Do you love my Zoe?"

"Uh, huh," I managed to squeak out, nodding.

"I'll ask you to use complete sentences when you speak 
to me."

"I do love her," I said.

"And you'll address me as Sir."

I took another drink of my beer, cleared my throat and 
said in a much more confident tone, "Yes, sir. I love 
Zoe very much," and added another, "Sir."

Mr. J regarded me for a moment as he sipped his beer 
and said, "Good. Zoe is quite fond of you as well. I'm 
fond of you too."

"Thank you, Sir," I replied. I felt my cheeks getting 
hot and knew I must have been blushing. Mr. J 
chuckled, drained his beer and began to search his 
pockets so as not to notice my embarrassment. "I'm 
fond of you too, Sir," I said and though that I should 
have come up with something better than that. I added, 
"I have a great deal of respect for you." He nodded in 
approval and I swelled with pride.

"So I trust you treat my little girl well."

"I try Sir."

"And you wish to continue seeing her?"

"I do, Sir."

"As I've told you that would be under conditions I 
will set forth," he said and slid a large manila 
envelope toward me. "I could use another beer. How 
'bout you?" 

"If you don't mind, Sir."

"Not all."

"Fresh glass, Sir?"

"No thanks. Just the beer."

I fetched two cold beers, Mr. J handed me his glass 
and I filled it as expertly as I did the first one. I 
sat across from him and poured my own beer. "I'd like 
you to look that over," said Mr. J, nodding at the 
envelope. "It's a basic verbal agreement, outlining 
the conditions of what I hope will be a very rewarding 
relationship between you, me and my little girl." 

My heart leapt at the mention of a formal relationship 
between me, Mr. J and his little girl. I took a drink 
of my beer, pulled a document from the envelope that 
appeared to be some sort of contract and began looking 
it over as Mr. J went on. "Basically it states that 
you are entering into a social arrangement of your own 
volition. It goes on to say that I won't ask you to 
engage in any activity against your will, nor will I 
ask you to do anything that bring you any harm. 
Matthew, I wouldn't dream of hurting you. You do 
understand that, don't you?"   

"Of course Sir," I said, although I wasn't certain of 
that. At that point it wouldn't have mattered. I was 
ready and willing to do anything he might have asked 
of me. Despite the calming effect of the beer, my 
hands were still a bit shaky. It was almost 
overwhelming. Mr. J's demeanor kept it all quite 
relaxed though.

"Mind if I smoke," he asked.

"Not at all," I said, skimming over the document he'd 
given me. I realized my lapse in etiquette and add, 
"Sir!" Mr. J chuckled. I had never seen him smoke but 
it was apparent that there was a lot more to that man 
than met the eye. It wasn't until I caught a whiff of 
his smoke that I realized it wasn't a cigarette that 
he had lit, but a joint. I looked up a bit shocked to 
see him offering it to me. "No thanks," I said.

He gave me a rather stern look, wisps of smoke curling 
from his nostrils. "No thank you Sir," I corrected 
myself.

He extended the joint farther and whispered, "I 
insist." There was no way I could refuse. I knew 
already that there was nothing I could deny him from 
that point on. I took the joint and took a small, 
shallow toke. I had only smoked weed a couple of times 
and it was difficult to hold it, but I managed with 
only a tiny cough. Mr. J smiled and I was pleased with 
myself.

We shared the joint, drank our beers and I attempted 
to read the paper as Mr. J spelled the gist of it out 
for me. "You don't have to sign anything. I just want 
you to understand the basic terms of our arrangement. 
Nothing is carved in stone. We can work out the 
details as we go along. 

"What you would be agreeing to, is that you would be 
my protιgι, so to speak, and I would be your mentor, 
or Master, if you will. Essentially, I would be taking 
you as my 'pet', as it were," he paused. I bit my 
lower lip and felt my heart thrumming in my ears. It 
might have been the weed, I don't know, but my head 
started spinning and my face got hot. I looked up at 
him and tried to appear calm and collected. I was 
afraid that I looked like a scared little kid, because 
that's how I felt.

"Or not," he went on. "You're not obligated to agree 
to any of this. I know it seems like a bit much, and 
it is. I urge you not to take it lightly. Take your 
time, drink your beer and give it some thought. 
Speaking of beer, I need another – you?"

"Yes sir," I barely managed to whisper.

"Would you please," he said, looking at the fridge.

I was relieved to stand and move around. Relieved to 
stretch my legs, straighten my swelling cock and clear 
my mind. It was all going to my head, the beer, the 
weed and the proposal. I needed that beer more than 
I'd ever needed any drink. My throat had never been so 
dry. I seemed to float across the floor to the fridge 
and pouring the beer was almost automatic. "You could 
be a bartender," Mr. J said kindly. That pride swelled 
within me again. I loved pleasing him. I wanted to 
please him in any way I could.

"Don't concern yourself with details right now," my 
would-be mentor told me. "We'll work it all out as we 
go. After all, I am here to teach you – if you are 
willing to learn." I felt my head nodding 
involuntarily. He had me. There would be no turning 
back. "You can walk out now," he said, knowing I 
wouldn't, "Or you can walk away at any time. No hard 
feelings."

I was shaking my head then, "No Sir," I muttered, "I'm 
not walking out."

"Bear in mind, Matthew," Mr. J told me earnestly, 
"What you'll be walking away from, if you do."

My heart sank at the notion of walking away from Zoe 
and everything that we had built over the last year or 
so, this thing with her father being no small part of 
it. "I'm in Sir," I said. "I'm here to stay!"

"Excellent!" proclaimed my new Master. "That's my 
boy!"

My heart leapt once more at the prospect of being His 
boy. My skin began to tingle. I had never felt more 
alive. I couldn't even imagine what the future had in 
store for my Mentor and me. He wanted to teach me! 
What could be more exciting? I gripped the edge of my 
chair to keep my hands from shaking.

"You're mine then?" he asked.

My head nodded and I muttered, "Yes! I am Sir!" barely 
catching my breath.

"My pet?"

"Your pet Sir."

"Excellent," he said, rising from his seat and walking 
around the table to me. When he brushed my cheek with 
the back of his hand I shuddered. I felt so small. Mr. 
J's fingers running through my hair had me trembling. 
"On your knees my boy," he said.

I sank to my knees at Mr. J's feet, powerless, ready 
to begin our journey. He ran his fingers through my 
hair again and sighed. I wrapped my arms around his 
legs and pressed my cheek against the hardness in his 
trousers.

"Steady, boy," He chuckled. "We've only just begun." 
He lifted me to my feet, looked me in the eye and 
asked, "Can you stay a while?"

"As long as you want, Sir" I whispered, trying hard 
not to let my voice crack or let Mr. J see how I 
trembled.

"I am so glad to hear that," he said in a warm and 
assuring tone. He led me down a short hall to the only 
bedroom. "This is for you," he said, handing me a 
neatly gift wrapped parcel. "I want you to shower 
before you open it." He nodded toward the small 
bathroom. I took it with me and closed the door. I had 
to sit on the commode to keep from falling down. I 
drew a few deep breaths and collected myself. I let in 
sink, where I was and who I was with. I couldn't 
imagine what might happen next. I was thrilled and 
honored to be invited there – to be alone with the 
most magnificent man I had ever known.

He was like nobody I had ever met. He was powerful and 
influential. He was the father of the most beautiful 
girl I had ever known. I was still amazed that Zoe was 
my girlfriend. I always felt like she was out of my 
league. But she had accepted me, taught me and 
explored sex with me. I knew that she had cheated on 
me, but I felt it was a small price to pay for all she 
gave me. 

And here was the man that was raising her to be the 
sexiest woman on the planet, next to her own mother. 
Zoe was something of a sexual princess and her mother, 
Holly was the "Sex Queen". Mr. J was the King and I 
was just a pet – an eternally grateful pet. How I 
ended up as even a servant to them was beyond me, but 
as overwhelming as it might have been, I was loving 
every minute of it.

I unwrapped my gift, with shaky hands to reveal an 
elegant, deep blue, silk robe along with several pairs 
of matching silk boxer shorts, one pair the same shade 
of blue, another pair in a dark green and a pair in 
black. I placed the box on the commode and showered. 
The bodywash and shampoo smelled masculine and 
wonderful. My hands lingered on my cock, which was 
still hard, as it had been from the time I had 
arrived. I couldn't help but wonder what Mr. J had in 
store for me but I was anxious to find out.

I stepped out of the shower, dried thoroughly, with 
the fluffiest towel I had ever touched and donned the 
blue boxers and matching robe. When I exited the 
bathroom I found Mr. J relaxing on the bed, smoking a 
joint and looking at a magazine, wearing a robe and 
shorts identical to the ones I wore.

"I knew you had excellent taste, the moment I saw 
you," he mused, putting his magazine aside. He swung 
his legs over the side of the bed, sat up and beckoned 
me to him. He rose as I approached and placing a hand 
on my shoulder, silently instructed me to kneel at his 
feet. I knew that was where I belonged. "Open my 
robe," he told me and I did. "Take down my short." I 
carefully pulled his shorts down, gently lifting the 
waist band over the head of his very hard and very 
large cock.

My eyes were locked on his manhood as I lowered those 
lovely silk boxers down his firm, muscular legs. I had 
never felt so humble, so minuscule or so aroused, in a 
homo-erotic way Essentially, I would be taking you as 
my 'pet', as it were," he paused. I bit my lower lip 
and felt my heart thrumming in my ears. It might have 
been the weed, I don't know, but my head started 
spinning and my face got hot. I looked up at him and 
tried to appear calm and collected. 

I was afraid that I looked like a scared little kid, 
because that's how I felt. My experiences with Paul, 
my gay, boy-lover, couldn't compare, nor could any 
fantasies I might have had about Greg or any other 
boy. That was child's play. I knew I was in the 
presence of a real man – a King – my Master. 

"Are you mine? He asked.

"I am, Sir," I answered, looking up, hoping for some 
sign of approval. 

"No eye contact without permission," he admonished.

"Sorry Sir," I said and averted my eyes. 

"No need to apologize," he said, "You're still in 
training. But I do admire your etiquette."

"Thank you Sir," I said, my eyes locked on his most 
magnificent organ. I use that word again because no 
other would suffice. Mr. J's member was truly 
magnificent. I was totally in awe.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked.

"I do Sir."

"Do you like where you are?"

"Very much Sir."

"You need to understand our situation."

"I'll try Sir."

"Am I your Master?"

"You are Sir!"

"And you are my pet."

"I am Sir."

"You will honor me."

"I will sir."

"And obey me."
 
 "I will Sir."

"And worship me." 

"Yes Sir!"

"Say it!"

"I will honor you – and obey you – and worship you, 
Sir!" I stated, then added, "I love you Sir!"

There was a silent pause where I began to tremble 
again. Had I overstepped my bounds? I wondered. Was 
that a bit too much? But I was relieved when he 
sighed, "Wonderful."

Mr. J cupped his manly ball-sac and said, "This, my 
boy, is the stuff of life." He gripped the shaft of 
his masculine member and said, "This is the staff of 
life."
I knew exactly what he meant. It was from his loins 
the stuff that the life I most love had sprung. The 
seed that had spawned Zoe had passed through those 
very organs. He and those organs were well worth my 
worship. He released his cock and ran his fingers 
though my hair, pulling me closer to him. "You may 
kiss my cock." 

I felt honored and frightened and aroused and hungry 
for him. I touched my lips to the shaft of my Master's 
cock and he sighed.

"Lick it," he commanded and I ran my tongue from the 
base to the tip, forcing a platinum droplet of precum 
to emerge.

"Taste me," he urged me, allowing me to gather that 
silvery dew drop on my tongue. At that moment I was 
convinced that I had never tasted anything more erotic 
or more precious. 

"Worship my cock, my dear boy," he said and I did. I 
felt an admiration for him deep in my heart and a lust 
for him deep in my own loins.

"Suck my cock, boy," he muttered, tangling his fingers 
in my hair.

I did! I engulfed my Masters cock in my mouth, gripped 
his thighs and sucked that cock like there'd be no 
tomorrow. 

To be continued?

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 75