Cucking Daddy: Part 5: The Wedding

The big day has arrived. It is time for Christian to walk down the aisle and say his vows. In a matter of hours, he will be married to his father in a holy ceremony. The only thing left is the pomp and circumstance of formality and then he can put the previous week behind him forever.

Some sins refuse to stay buried, though. And some temptations are harder to avoid than others.

And some boys were never meant to be tied down.

Cucking Daddy: Part 5: The Wedding is a 6,500-word short story.

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“There’s a stain on the tablecloth!”

“Has anyone folded the napkins?”

“This dessert is going to melt if it stays out in the sun!”

“I can’t find the little silver spoons we ordered.”

All around Christian was pandemonium. Voices raised up toward the ceiling of the reception area, blending together. Occasionally, someone would shout loud enough to be heard above the cacophony.

It was never his father’s voice, though. They were once again abiding by tradition. The groom was not to lay eyes on his boy bride before the ceremony. Christian had found this out after he got up that morning.

In truth, Christian wasn’t as anxious to see his father. He feared what the minister might see if he took one look at Christian’s face. The poor young man was a bundle of nerves. Only a part of those anxieties had to do with it being his wedding day.

This had been the worst, most confusing week of his life. His father had brought him here, describing it as a paradise. Christian had expected the two of them to spend a fun-filled week doing camp activities and spending time together before they tied the knot.

He had barely laid eyes on his father in that entire time. Worse, Christian still wasn’t sure if his hole was back to normal.

True to his word, Mick was ready the moment Barkley left the cabin. They spent the entire day together. Neither one of them dressed the whole time. It was a bright, sunny day filled with all of the most debaucherous sex acts Christian had hoped for.

Mick had taken Christian on every single square inch of the cabin. He was pounded on the couch, drilled doggy style across the kitchen table, slammed up against the wall, and rode Mick’s cock like a bronco cowboy on the bed Mick shared with his son. They had fucked in the shower afterward as well.

The next day, Christian wanted to cry. He hid in his bedroom and refused to come out, only slipping away when the coast was clear to get food. No matter how many times he scrubbed or how hard, Christian couldn’t erase the memories. They tormented him in his sleep. He kept dreaming about Mick and the Bull, each of them taking turns using his helpless little body.

Except, in his dreams, Christian wasn’t helpless. He had welcomed everything they did, just like he had in real life. There were moments when a memory would boil to the surface, of what it had felt like to be so thoroughly taken by men like Da—like Mick and the Bull. During those moments, Christian’s body would burn hot. He would begin sweating and panting like a dog in heat. His cock would grow rock-hard and soak his shorts with pre-jizz.

It had been like that for two days. Now, with the wedding in just a few hours, Christian sat off to the side by himself at a table. The mess hall was being converted into the reception area for when the ceremony was over. Guests in Owl Village were simply told that it was reserved for a private party and that was it.

Christian had been awake for hours, unable to sleep for more than a few at a time. His dreams kept him awake. His little cock was sore from jerking himself.

Hopefully, his father wouldn’t notice.

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