THE BOSS, MY FATHER. BULL'S RISE TO POWER.
THIS IS A PREQUEL TO THE BOSS, MY FATHER and fills in on past situations, going back to the earlier days of the main character.
They called him Bull cuz of his name, cuz he was built like one and cuz he acted like one. Those who knew him from work, the gym or bed, cuz he was hung like one. Bruno Bullara, aka Bull, downed another belt of scotch. It burned fiery good deep in his belly and down in his heavy, hanging, penis. His wife – the submissive woman who worshiped, but more feared and obeyed him - had been gone for a week to nurse her sick Father. It is her place to serve the man who made her as it is to serve the man who breeds his seed in her. So Bull had allowed her to go after a night of kneeling; first her mouth then her pussy receiving the sacred man-brute, the scepter of a real, conquering male. She obediently fed on the seed that filled her with life and purpose.
Thick cigar hanging in his jaw, bottoming out in her choking, sputtering throat he told her in a monotone growl that she was a good girl. Withdrawing, his cock snot ran in thick ropes from his piece to her dripping face. Coughing up slop and licking at his hood in delirious submission, `daddy' resumed bobbing her back down to his balls, the explosive retching and terrorized squealing a fucking turn-on for the bull. Totally impassive – a man in control, doing a man's work - he held her in the vise of his fists and pumped the giant piston, inexorable. Palms slapped on hairy thighs as she gasped for air, hands beat madly on muscled gut as her throat was reamed, fists drummed on hairy crotch as he plowed in and out, every time to his balls – it all meant nothing, the man had his way as is ordained. Holding her crushed to his gut and grinding, he only let her up so to enjoy the flood of throat and cock glop that exploded out of her maw all over his dick. She babbled incoherent obedience as he nodded and again told her she was a good girl. Of course he also fucked her cunt, legs splayed wide under him. She left the next morning carrying another big-dicked baby boy to present to the man who owned her.
He's married her because she was docile and submissive, because she lived only for him. The big jugs and wide hips would birth and nurse his progeny. All through high school she had been quietly devoted to him even while he screwed the hot bitches and plenty of the jocks too. One night at a party, he was being jerked off by a squealing slut cheer leader who had heard about his monster cock. He should have enjoyed it but the cunt was just another whore; he'd had so many of them. Thought about forcing it down her throat to shut her up, but disgusted smacked her hand away and stuffed his cock back in his fly. Ran into his future wife in the hall and on a whim said, `Gotta piss, wanna help?'
She followed him into the bathroom and looked at it with soft eyes as he flopped it out, stroking slowly. Well?' She obediently took his cock in her hand, the long thick shaft curving down over it. Bull began pissing, and she held his thundering hose till his bladder was empty. Shake me off.' Her delicate hand began shaking the big man cock as the last piss splatted out. He hardened in her hand, he nodded sharply and she knelt and took it in her mouth. He balled his fists at his waist as she slid her tongue up into his hood and began mouthing his fat knob. Fishing a cigar out of his shirt pocket, he smoked his stogie as the woman sucked. A young man stood proud, a woman kneeling at his feet. She wasn't a cock crazy whore like the others. She knew the law of the universe. Her place was at the feet or lying under the man. Bull didn't skull fuck her, he just stood there as she delicately sucked on his knob and the little bit of shaft that she could manage. He let her serve him for a long time and when he was finished with his cigar, he shot in her mouth. She glugged it down reverently then carefully worked his cock and balls back in his drawers. She was to be his wife. He didn't have sex with her again till their wedding night when he fucked her five times and had her suck him clean between each.
Since, she sucked and spread obediently and presented him with his 9 children. But Bull was insatiable, and prowled, hunted and bagged his prey every chance he got. He was an expert and inexorable hunter. But, it had been a lean week; he hadn't shot a load since she left.
The lead balls were full and Bull's mighty organ throbbed constantly. It was bloated thick and heavy, pulsing as viscous sap drooled out from the hood hanging low over swollen Man Balls. He wouldn't think of jerking off, that was for cucks, betas, fags and guys who thought they were men but weren't. Bull delivered his loads forcefully in deep hot, wet holes. Standing naked in the bedroom his skin tingled and burned under a giant orange moon; his cock throbbing, alive in the glowing light. Looking down as his great, prideful, conquering Cock, the Cock his GOD and his Sicilian Daddy gave him, it seemed to thicken and lengthen even more. Bull smiled.
His younger children had gone with his wife, 2 daughters, 15 and 14, and 5 young sons. Kurt, his first born had stayed behind at a schoolmate's house, down near the docks – Bull could just imagine what Kurt was really doing with his pal. The kid, at 16, was like him already; a real bastard. Born big and hung, even hairy, he had grown into a beefy, muscular bully. His other kids were more...normal.
Bull had knocked up his wife almost every year they were married. All the men at work kidded him as child after child dropped, slapping him on the shoulder as he smirked and strutted passing out cigars. But, his seemingly endless fecundity was awe inspiring, and the kidding shifted slowly to deference. Starting as horsing around, Bull's swaggering in the locker room morphed into no-nonsense authoritative. He knew his beefy co-workers were always looking at his fearsome baby making machine, intimidated, cowed and envious. He'd take his time dressing, so his cock would hang and slide over the edge of the bench swaying and drooling or stroll over to a shelf to get something, the big weapon swinging heavy. It always got quiet, except for his own mocking whistling.
One afternoon in the locker room a co-worker, was horsing around and pretended to be singing. Les took Bull's cock in his hand as a joke microphone, wagging it under his mouth as he sang. Bull laughed and thrust his loins forward. The construction studs were all chuckling uneasily – Les had maybe gone too far. Bull's cock was thickening and knotting a fist in the guy's hair he forced him down, holding his nose with his other hand. When Les opened his mouth to breathe, Bull shoved his cock in, dumb-jock yucking and laughing as he bobbed the stud for a few seconds, in turn eyeing each of the men. When Bull felt tongue working up in his hood and slurping his knob he sneered and jabbed it in deeper. Les was a fag, a soon to be new notch on Bull's gun belt. It got still as the other studs watched, pretending to guffaw, forced and fake. Bull's eyes glittered in triumph as he slowly pulled Les off and went about his business, half-hard hog swinging.
He began nailing those of them he wanted, and he wanted all those big construction studs. If the mark offered resistance, Bull ended it with force, and not token, with a granite fist in the mouth or balls. If he had to, he'd beat the guy, then take him. First when he and another of the men were alone, then whenever and wherever he wanted. He snickered thinking of the many times he had reached for something in the locker top shelf sliding his hefty cock over a co-worker's face – often his fag cum-dump Les's - as the other men watched, pale-faced. If he felt like it, he'd stand there arm arrogantly crossed over his hairy chest and wait till the man sitting before him – they were all men, beefy men, husbands and fathers of sons – took his hooded cock in mouth and began serving. Lookin hard at the other men, he's leer and nod as one brought him a fat cigar, and another still lit it while he enjoyed skull fucking the cock sucker, in front of them all.
Bull had fucked and fought his way to being the unofficial but irrefutable boss-man of the outfit back when he was just starting out. The ex-owner now worked for him calling him, `Mr. Bullara, Sir,' as Bull sat behind what used to be the guy's desk – that was now his. He owned it all and ruled with brains, ruthlessness, fists and a cock of lead. He was the boss-man, they were his to use and command. The God-King of the board room, locker room; of all he surveyed.
On days when things were particularly stressful, he'd order Les or Pete in, strip them and tie their arms behind their beefy backs and then to their fat balls. Sitting behind his desk working, thick cigar in his jaw, his construction foremen would be jammed under and between his legs, impaled on his huge Sicilian cock. Bull would be doing his figuring, fighting on the phone, making plans as Les or Pete throated him. He'd dump a couple loads of hot bull semen down their throat thrusting up hard, slamming their heads between his loins and the desk above. Then feed them piss chasers.
He visited the homes of these burly jocks. They deferentially lit his stogies in front of their wives, brought him what he wanted to drink and eat. He radiated power and reeked of testosterone. The women reverted to the sluts they were very quickly. As he fucked their wives deep and mean, these hard men would suck his balls and clean his cock with their mouths when he was done. He'd made cucks, then fags of them all. Bull sometimes wondered how many of the neighborhood kids were his.
He'd fucked most of their sons and daughters. Track stars, football captains, cheer leaders, they all wound up on their knees choking and on their asses moaning, his conquering cock planted deep. Then there were the truck stops and rest areas where he not only fucked, but beat his prey. This stud of studs could easily come 5 times in a night, the last as lead-pipe hard as the first. The seed was always thick and plentiful.
His whopper was getting heavier as he thought of all that, and of another of Bull's property – his second son, 13 year old Dexter - asleep in the adjoining bedroom. He'd cried and pouted when it was time to go because he wanted to stay home. Home with daddy and daddy knew what that meant. This boy was nothing like his father or his elder brother Kurt, being slight, pretty and soft. Bull had been fighting the attraction all week - thus the heavy boozing tonight. When his wife was here, he dealt with it by fucking her often, hard and long and then having her obediently suck him clean, her lips a seal around it. Her cunt still molded tight on his tree trunk every time he drilled her, even after dropping his 9 kids. She didn't like it, she was in terror of it; he was proud and arrogant knowing why - he was very, very big in the Cock and Balls department. She'd be stupefied if she saw it now, so eerily changed and changing, monstrously big and threatening, hanging heavy between his legs. He swiveled his hips and it swung ponderous, back and forth smacking into his thighs, weighty and powerful as a lead cannon. It was darker, the veins bulged more, it was fat, fat, fat and it was long. He reached down with a big paw and wagged it, smacked it hard between his hard thighs and into a hard palm, smiling again.
Thinkin about it, but more, thinkin about his son in the other room got hot blood coursing through his piece. Soft but firm, it pulsed rhythmically; he had a colossus between his hairy thighs. It was always like that now, whenever he let himself look at or think about his faggy boy. It was getting so he could hardly stuff it in a jock no matter how big the pouch. His thoughts stayed obsessively on the kid who was always looking at him with adoring calf eyes, eyes that were full of obedience and wacked-out on puberty. Dexter was giddy with puppy love for his big-brute, hairy, handsome Father. His eyes teared-up when Daddy winked at him, flexed a bicep or gave him a raffish smile wrapped around a fat stogie. Eyes that hungrily ran over his father's massive body, to come to rest on his obscenely filled out crotch.
Bull went over to the humidor and stood, again smiling looking at his cigars. Huge man sized cigars. They looked fine, smelled fine – kick ass strong, spicy, musky, earthy, heavy, and potent– like the Man who chawed and smoked em. Biting down on a fat torpedo, his lips curved over the mass. He loved the punch of a good chaw. Growling low, Bull bit off the end, spat the thick wet plug out at his feet and lit up.
Unsteady on his drunken feet, Bull heard the door open, and turning, in it stood Dexter in jammy bottoms. Moonlight from the window fell on the boy, half asleep, rubbing his eyes. Smooth, alabaster white soft curves of his arms and torso, fine, pretty blond hair like his wife's, and that sweet, delicate face got Bull methodically workin his cigar. The boy's eyes widened as they took in the Man Cock hanging huge and soft between his father's legs. Looking upwards with conflicted eyes – frightened by what he was doing but unable to stop, excited by his naked, magnificent father before him - the boy squeaked out, `Daddy, I had a bad dream, can I sleep with you?'
Without waiting for an answer, the boy lunged forward up against Bull's body kissing his hairy gut, trying to reach little arms around his Father's waist and not making it half-way. Bull threw his head back feeling the boy's soft skin against his. Reaching down he pulled his son's face across and down his gut. Bull's still soft Cock pressed up against the boy's torso, drool dripping out of his long puckered hood down the kid's hairless body. Bull lowered his other hand and held the kid's head pulling it into his coarse, thick crotch hair, black as night. The boy was moaning softly, his lips licking the hair as his Father's cock hardened. Cigar smoke was filling the room and as Bull jerked the kid's head away his splitter sprang up bobbing and throbbing at the boy's mouth level. Rock hard now, the long silky hood smearing Cock snot across sweet, rosy lips.
Son looked up over his Father's mighty Cock, massive hairy gut and chest, past his glowing stogie into his eyes as his small hands began stroking the shaft, tongue licking feverishly at the glowering piss slit and around and into the long hood, drinking down the flowing slop pumping out in a steady stream. Father growled, bit down deep, black cigar gob bubbling up and dripping down his chin onto his kid's face, the drool tracing across his shaft. Pulling the unresisting head forward, he watched as his hood was pushed back bulging up in rolls by the sweet lips, and with a power lunge forward, his fist sized helmet disappeared into his son's virgin mouth bulging obscenely to receive it. The kid choked and glugged as Father pulled him down and then up, watching the knob appear and disappear in and out of the stretched lips, the only sound his grunting and the boy's slobbering. The boy looked a smaller version of his mother, serving the Master of the House. `Work my big balls.'
Little hands fondled the giant vein-girdled lemons that slid heavy in their low sack. Then sinking to his knees, his son took the shaft in both hands and began stroking it harder as the lips continued to slobber on the dark hooded cudgel swelling his cheeks. Bull pulled out and flopped his tree trunk on the boy's head. It was dark and mean, gnarled and girdled with thick purplish veins, almost as thick as his son's skull. Bull lifted the boy back to his feet and wrapped a paw around his splitter pushing it down parallel to his son's body. Lead pipe hard now, it covered the face, the neck, and went far down the little chest. The half retracted knob was half way down the boy's sternum. Maybe it was the excitement, the thrill of conquest or the eerie, weird irradiating moonlight, but Bull's Cock kept on growing longer and thicker. His kid was worshipfully lickin on the thick shaft, tongue tracing the purple veins as the little hands kept wildly stroking.
Puffin furiously on his stogie, Bull grabbed the boy's head in his fists and tried to ram himself back in the tiny mouth, but it wouldn't fit no matter how brutally he battered. Lifting the boy he sat him on his lewdly throbbing and pulsing monster, so big now that it spread the little thighs way apart. Over to the bed, Bull dropped the boy, head hangin over the edge. Bull held a bottle of poppers taken from a fag he had bashed and raped at a rest stop and held it to his son's nose. The boy breathed in deep. Heaving and bucking, the kid arched his loins up off the bed, almost unconscious from the high. Ripping the jammies off, Bull wrapped a brawny fist around the stiff cocklet and balls lifting the boy butt high up off the bed, getting his mouth to the right angle. Yanking the jaw down unhinging it, Bull straddled the boy's head. Thrusting forward hard the huge knob lodged in his son's mouth. As Dexter gagged and bucked, Bull savored his stogie, then thrust forward again, grunting and growling, past the back of the throat into it. His Cock was thick as one of the boy's arms. Bull looked down, wild with lust seeing his grown man cock splitting the lips, lodged, stuck in the throat.
Pullin out, Bull expertly jet a wad of thick black gob down the length of his horse cock and into the boy's mouth, then rammed in hard. The stogie spit slicked him real good, and he watched as the kid's throat expanded to receive his Father's mighty organ. Dropping his 300 lb. of muscle on the boy, he jack hammered; inch by gigantic inch disappeared down the gagging throat as his paw squeezed and lifted the boy's popping nuts. Hammering with no mercy, he finally felt his balls, now grotesquely huge, slamming and slapping onto the boy's head pinned under him. Instinctively, little hands began squeezing and pulling on the gigantic Man Balls that were rising and sinking as Father began really fuckin son. Fuck Yeah! His son wet, tight throat was a righteous sheath for his Daddy's Cock. Crushing him under his bulk, Bull skull fucked him furiously, to the balls with every slam. Bull ran his paw over his son's chest and stomach and felt his mighty Cock thumping, driving in and out. He couldn't stop himself and started hosing out seed. The boy was almost blown off by the first blast, and only Bull's fist around his son's balls kept him firmly impaled. Bull shot over and over, his paw on the boy's stomach, feeling the belly swell with his Father's semen.
Bull stayed sheathed for a long time in his now mostly unconscious son's guts, then began slowly pumping in and out. Pulling half way out, looking down intently, the big Cock was glistening with the boy's thick throat slime and with long strands of his Daddy's pearly white, thick seed. His son lips, frothed with stogie gob, were groggily suckling on the shaft, little lips slurping over the corded veins and up into the drooling hood as Bull again began slowly fucking in and out. When he was deep planted, the boy arched his body up to better take the monster. Sheathed to his Balls Bull smiled around his cigar, paused, then began pissing. Running a big hard hand over the little belly, Bull felt it swelling as he unloaded a horse's worth of hot stinking piss. When his bladder was finally empty, Bull slowly withdrew. The big organ flopped free swinging; long ropes of throat slobber, seed and piss splating down on the floor.
Bull sat on the edge of the bed lifting the boy to sit groggily on the floor between his legs. `Yer Daddy's special son now, Dexter. You like that?'
The boy sobbed and pitched forward, wrapping his little arms around the log hanging between Bull's legs kissing it fervently. `Yes, Daddy, I do, I do!'
Bull chuckled arrogantly. The boy was a natural, a born fag here only to serve men; this man. He was honoring his Father as he should. `That's yer Father's Cock yer kissing, boy. The Cock that made you 13 years ago. You've made Daddy feel good. From now on you'll suck on my Cock when I tell you to, and you'll take me piss. Other, less men, use their hand and spill their precious seed. A man like yer Father should have better, I think, and plant his seed in his inferiors. Other, lesser men, piss in the bowl. A Man like yer Father should have better, I think. You?
`You're my father. It's my place to feed on your thick Cock take your hot piss always Sir.'
`Damn right, son. There is more I want, and it's gonna hurt like hell. You want to give everything to yer Father?' In answer those soft hands stroking, those sweet lips kissing were causing the Father's Cock to start growing and hardening again.
Open that jar and slather thick grease on the big man cock yer sucking.' Bull wasn't lyin. It was bigger than big and rising to full erection as his son smeared it heavy with grease. Relighting his cigar, Bull tossed the kid butt up, over a knee, then put in an hour or so of work with his big fingers stretching that tight, tight hole. The boy howled, whimpered, begged and cried. Finally Bull had to pin his head into the mattress with a big paw as finger followed finger and finally the boy cunt was stretched enough for a try. Lifting the kid with his legs high up, held tight against his chest, the boy facing the father, Bull flexed his rock hard horse cock and slammed his son down on his splitter, thrusting up at the same time. Yeah, Man Power!'
With a series of expert jabs upward, Bull seated about a third of his weapon in the tight, virgin pussy. Crying and sobbing, Bull's paw crushed the boy's face into thick mattered chest hair and strutted around the room. Going to a full length mirror he admired what he saw. Big, dark cock, lodged fat and gross in his son's ass, most of the huge cannon still outside. Grunting, rolling and smoking his stogie, flexing a mighty bicep, he kept jabbing up and slowly his artillery piece was sheathed. When only the big swinging balls showed, he lowered the boy to the bed and dropped down on top. `I'm breedin you, boy, like I breed yer mother. She takes it cuz it's her duty to serve The Man. Now yer serving the father what made you. Daddy's gonna ride yer pussy long and mean. Feel Bull's might deep in yer pussy. Open up and take yer father.'
Dexter was crying and moaning like the fag he was as Bull fucked with no mercy. Crushing his son beneath him, his glowing stogie an inch from the kid's face, the big man cock went in hard and out with a slurpy suction. Tight boy-pussy lips stretched on his hog drove Bull wild. Growling and grunting, he pistoned faster and faster. When the boy cunt made him too close, Bull pulled out and flopped it in the boy's face for tonguing and sucking. Then back in the boy cunt for a further long, hard ride.
The boy was serving obediently, little face twisted from the pain, but surrendered. What he had belonged to his brute father, and that was that. With a mighty series of jack hammering, Bull's balls tightened, his shaft felt on fire and swelled. Then the boiling, potent seed exploded out, filling the boy's guts. Dexter's guts were stretched like a rubber fitted to his father's mighty organ. As Bull puffed on his stogie, that organ pulsed out rope after rope of man seed then slowly softened.
Yanking out, Father grabbed his son by the hair and roughly slammed his head down on his dripping night stick, his sap, his cudgel feeding the last of his seed into the kid's throat. Dexter cleaned Bull's weapon with his mouth, then father tossed son into the bed and climbed in on top. Daddy wasn't half done with his fag son.