Page 2 of The Trailer Park Twink
His breath catches in his throat the way it always does when I call him that. “Hey, buddy.” He sounds tired. “Why ain’t you in class?”
“How do you know I’m not in class?”
“You’re online.”
“I have to make money somehow. It’s not like I can just get a part-time job after school. Me and the boys have rehearsal.”
He sighs. “You ain’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you? Dammit, Austin! I don’t want you on that site anymore. If you need money, all you have to do is ask.”
“It’s not just about the money,” I say, wrapping my hand around my shaft. “I do this for the fans.” A lie. Oh, well.
“The fans?” he barks, sending a pulse of pleasure up my spine. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut down that account—”
“You won’t kick me out, will you?” Of course, he wouldn’t. I’m just a sucker for drama. “Please don’t make me leave.”
“Austin,” he says with a sigh. “Buddy, I ain’t ever gonna kick you out. I’m just worried about you. You don’t know who these men are. They could be killers or rapists. What happens if one of them finds your address? What if they show up at the house? It would kill me if someone tried to hurt you.”
“They won’t,” I promise. “I’m really careful about hiding my identity.” Just the sound of his voice has me leaking like a faucet, and it doesn’t take long before the sound of slick friction fills my tiny bedroom.
“Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing,” he says with a sigh. “You know how I don’t like when you jack off while I’m on the phone with you.”
“And you know when I’m online, I’m performing. You’re the one who keeps interrupting my shows. If you don’t want to hear it, then stop calling while I’m in the thick of it.” Wanting to tease him a little, I add, “MikeLikesToMasturbate39 just told me he wants to be in the thick of it too. Should I invite him over?” I would never. Not just because I only have eyes forDaddy. No, I think the man may be stalking me. I have no proof, but MikeLikesToMasturbate39 knows things about me I’ve never told anyone. Well, I don’t really have any proof of that accusation either, considering he literally never speaks to me. He doesn’t comment on my videos. He doesn’t like my posts. He just shows up as I masturbate, then sneaks off like a thief in the night once I come. But there’s something going on there. I can feel it.
“You tell MikeLikesToGoFuckHimself92 that if he steps foot in our house, he’ll be leaving in a body bag.”
“But his profile picture is so cute. I mean, I think it’s AI generated, but I’m sure he asked it to make it look just like him. He could be the man of my dreams, Daddy. Or maybe one The Dream Queens?”
"The who?" he asks.
“They're a gaggle of gays who follow my profile on a joint account. I’ve told them it isn’t nice to piggyback at my expense, but they told me they like to get together and worship my cock like a deity while they mutually masturbate. It’s like a religious experience for them, and who am I to deny their praise and worship? Not the point. Mike seems like a really sweet guy. He might be your future son in law, for all we know.”
“Over my dead body,” Daddy growls, making me all tingly inside.
“He could also be one of those proud boys, slipping and sliding into the DMs of unsuspecting homosexual youth, only to physically assault them when they meet up. I’ve seen the videos on Reddit, buddy. When they go, they go hard.”
“I’m going hard right now,” I admit, stroking faster, making the slick sound even louder. “Can you hear it?” I know I’m pushing him to his limit right now, but I can’t help it. Just the sound of his voice alone is usually enough to make me spill over, but I need more today. I need connection. I need Daddy.
“You’re shameless, you know that?” There’s no anger in his voice. He almost sounds amused. I can’t say I blame him. If I had a loved one masturbating on the other end of the phone, I’d probably find it a bit humorous as well. I just hope one day he can see it as erotic rather than amusing. “Are you almost done? Because there’s something we need to talk about, and I’d prefer if you had a clear head when we do.”
“Yeah. So close. Just need a second.” I’m panting and my voice is basically manic at this point, but he doesn’t call me out on it. I want him to say more so that he can unintentionally pull me over the edge, but we’ve come to a standstill, and the only sounds are our heavy breaths and wet friction.
“Buddy?” he says, making me miss the awkward silence. At least when he was silent, he couldn’t object, and the tone of his voice makes me think he’s about to do just that. To tell me I have to stop masturbating every time wetalk on the phone. To finally admit that my creepy behavior has driven a nail into our familial coffin. One so deep, it can never be pulled out. I open my mouth to apologize and plead my case, but he doesn’t give me a chance. “Come on. You’ve got this, Aussie. I know you can do it.”
“Daddy,” I whimper. “I don’t think I can.”
“You can do anything you put your mind to. Do you hear me? I believe in you.”
My lip trembles, and I have to bite it to keep it steady. I stroke myself sloppily, letting the sound of slick friction and my heavy breaths fill the silence. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, Aussie?”
I stare down at my cock, the head a vicious shade of red. “I love you.”
He swallows, the sound thick through the phone. “I love you too, baby.”
That’s all it takes. My eyes roll back in my head, and I explode, raining down cum on my chest like a summer shower. I’m making ungodly sounds—whimpers and roars, and garbled variations of his name—and the entire time, Dallas is coddling me. Telling me I’ve got this. Praising me endlessly. Calling me his good boy. His best boy.
When it’s done and I’m nothing more than a weeping mess who’s been baptized in cum, he says, “That sounds like it was a good one, son.”
