Tales about Hot Daddies
In the tantalizing world of "It's Also Love?", innocence collides with desire, and familial bonds blur as Meet, a sweet and impressionable young boy, finds himself swept into the captivating orbit of his adopted father, Rajbh...
Gosh, I'm obsessed with my papa, his big hands, that bulge in his boxer briefs, the way he owns every room. I'm a mess, okay? I've been crushing hard since I was a kid, back when he'd massage me after baths, his big hands on my tiny cock, smirking like he knew something I didn't. He'd rub oil on it, all "Gotta keep you healthy, Johnny," and I'd just sit there, blushing, my little nunu twitching under his touch. It was our thing, you know?
But then I grew up—hit 17, got all lanky and awkward—and I started hiding my body. Not 'cause I'm shy, nah, I'm just... embarrassed about the stupid pubic hair sprouting around my cock. I'd let Papa see my dick, sure, but the hair? Hell no. I'd rather die. Like, there were times he'd barge into my bathroom, all macho and unapologetic, catching me butt-naked. I'd slap my hands over my pubes, not my cock, looking like a total idiot.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Papa would just laugh, that deep, mocking chuckle, and walk out, leaving me red-faced and hard. So dumb. But the worst? That pool party last summer. I was being my usual bratty self, standing on a stool, yelling that Papa was cheating on Mom—total drama queen move, I know. He'd had enough. Stomped over and yanked down my speedos in front of everyone. My tiny cock was just... out there, flapping in the breeze, in front of all those buff dudes by the pool. NOOOO! That was disaster!
Papa smirked, eyes glinting, cruel, sexy. "Huh, you call that a cock, Johnny?" The other guys laughed, pointing and snickering. One of 'em goes grabbed my arm, joking, "Lemme see if it's even real!"
Papa swatted his hand away, but not before giving my cock a quick, rough tug, like he was proving a point. I was mortified, but my cock? Traitor twitched like it was loving the attention. I hated Papa for it, but God, I'm messed up.
I tried to get revenge, hacking into Papa's work calendar and shuffled his meetings, sent fake emails to his clients. Total chaos—Papa running around, cursing, trying to save his deals. He was pissed, roaring, "And you thought that cute little thing between your legs was big enough to handle my chaos? You've got no business messing with a man's game!"
I blushed so hard my ears burned, and yeah, its true. No matter what I do, he's seen my cock—all of my naked body—and I've never seen his... BIG DICK. I mean, I've caught glimpses of the bulge in his boxer briefs when he's chilling at home, that massive outline that makes me drool. It's gotta be huge, right? Like, unfairly big.
I'm dying to know, but it's never gonna happen. He's too alpha, too untouchable. Things were tense after that—me sulking, him mocking like always. But one night, he showed up at my door, shirt half-unbuttoned, hairy chest and abs on full display, eyes sharp with that macho glare. "Heard you cut yourself shaving, Johnny," he said, holding a tiny oil bottle. "Show me. Now."
I try to brush it off, mumbling some crap about it being fine, but he's not having it. "Pull 'em down, boy," he growls, towering over me, his eyes hard. "Don't make me do it for you."
