I had been dating Tim almost two years before he felt it was time for me to be introduced to his daughter, Cynthia and I was nervous about meeting my lover's only child. Although Tim had been out for almost ten years, as a hotshot criminal attorney in Vegas, he still wasn't comfortable with being labeled as a "gay lawyer" instead of just being recognized as a brilliant and talented litigator. 

That meant zero PDA and very few local outings unless he felt certain his reputation wouldn't be sullied by the "homosphere" within the few gay clubs and events we did frequent. We loved to dance shirtless for hours with other fit and sexy gay men, sweating to the bass of house music as a sultry interlude to hurried hallway fucks and bathroom blowjobs. 

Tim and I would separate in the club, find our own playmates for the night then have hot anonymous hook-ups in various corners and sometimes, right on the dance floor. Once we had our eyes on the same young stud: twenty-one, tall, tan and lean. Never ones to be selfish, we agreed to share the boy with nothing but eye gestures and head nods, the booming beats too loud to waste voices on anyway.

I got behind and Tim in front, the famously aggressive nature often seen in the courtroom now shown in his forcefully passionate kisses and firm holding of the boy's face. He responded to Tim's advances with equal ferocity and I was glad to feel the boy's cock stiffening under my sweaty palm.

Tim was pressing his own crotch into the back of my hand hard, and I could feel the metal teeth of his zipper digging into my skin as I squeezed and kneaded the young man's balls through his jeans.

I was biting and licking the boy's smooth neck and kissing Tim over his shoulder, our bare torsos slick and wet with sweat. I fumbled with the young stud's button-fly from my awkward position until I could successfully grab his erection in my sweat slimy hand, my own dick hard and begging for some attention of its own.

The room was packed with men who would have gladly addressed my raging hard-on with a willing ass or mouth, mostly muscular, gym-obsessed demi-gods who worshiped cock almost as much as they worshiped themselves. And like Tim, they were openly gay. Just not all "obvious" about it until they got to "Skeeters" where the shirts came off, the oil went on and the party didn't stop until Sunday morning.

Professional athletes, actors, musicians, corporate types, tourists and uniquely Vegas personalities couldn't wait for Friday night to escape reality and get behind the infamous Red Doors for a weekend of hit music, hot guys and multiple orgasms. In the bathroom, in the hallway, even sucking cock behind the bar had been known to happen a time or two(hundred) but the illusion was that it wasn't happening and we were just a bunch of half-naked guys getting drunk together.

So when Tim dropped to his knees right there on the dance floor, I almost forgot to keep jacking the kid's dick because I was looking around to see if we were going to get in trouble. Apparently neither the boy nor Tim gave a fuck because he had both hands on Tim's head and he was fucking my man's mouth like there was a prize for a good job.

I hadn't taken my hand off our plaything's long slim cock and began to move with the rhythm of Tim's wet lips, his spit making it easy to slide my way up and down. I kept biting and kissing on the young stud's lips and neck, my hand and Tim's mouth working together to get the boy to cum.

Feeling on the verge of orgasm myself, I felt the fat vein on the underside of his prick pulse once, twice, then looked down just in time to watch Tim as he tried to swallow everything the boy had to give. Tim was gulping but it was more than he could handle so quickly and I could see his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort of taking the entire load. He was still sucking on the pulsing head, his mouth full of the boy's cream and drips of cum fell enticingly from the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin.

Before I could catch myself, I fell to my knees and licked my lover's face, my tongue greedily lapping every drop of the boy's sweet cream from Tim's lips. He tasted like honey and when Tim pushed his tongue into my mouth I came in my jeans so hard that by the time I stood up, a pool of cum had formed at my knee. I looked like I had been kneeling in someone's spilled drink instead of the sticky mess that actually leaked through my new True Religion jeans.

Tim let me suck him off on the way home to make me feel better. Amazingly, it did. I felt great. I knew I was good at giving head and Tim was always appreciative of my efforts to please him but something about the way Tim handled another man's penis was absolutely fucking magical.

The way he wouldn't just suck my cock but actually devour it, his goal seeming to consume me entirely, ball to tip, asshole to lips, it was fucking incredible. On a good day he would suck me 'til I burst deep into his throat, him gulping me down like the Water of Life. Then before I could barely recover, somehow getting me hard enough again to fuck him deep and hard then fill that hole with my hot spurting cum. I loved it even more when after I came in his ass he would lay me on my back, fill me up with all of his ten inches and work my asshole while kissing me and looking lovingly into my eyes. I loved the way we fucked and I knew I was in love when we decided to move in together: I was happily with my partner for life. 

We made quite the couple and got along famously but the anxiety over Cynthia's arrival made him edgy and a little mean, referring to a shirt I was wearing as "overtly gay" right before he left for the airport to get Cynthia. I had been tempted to start an argument but knew he was just nervous, so I gave him a quick blow job before he left and promised to be super-hetero by the time he got back.

Tim left home happily, more relaxed with a laugh and a tender kiss goodbye, and I immediately did a quick check to make sure everything was perfect the second the door closed behind him.

His confidence in the courtroom (and the bedroom) seemed to fail him when it came to discussions about Darling Cynthia. Even the fact that she was twenty-two and a three-year graduate of Stanford didn't reassure Tim in the slightest that she could handle the fact that her daddy was gay. And since nothing I said could seem to help the situation, I was more than happy to wait at home while he went to pick his Precious Angel up from the airport.

By the time I heard the key in the lock and the door swing open an hour later, I had vacuumed twice, masturbated once and eaten a whole pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream. I was full of adrenaline and anticipation because I wanted this to go perfectly.

I wanted Cynthia to like me so Tim would be happy. 

"We're hooome!" 

I was surprised not to hear Tim's voice announcing their arrival.

"Brian, this is Cynthia."

I extended my hand to shake hers and felt a tingle when her nails grazed softly across my palm.

"Hey, Cynthia, nice to finally meet you!"

I was smiling too wide but my dick was getting hard and I didn't want either of them to notice.

She knew though. Something about the way she held my eyes just a millisecond too long told me that she knew.

The next morning after Tim left for work, Cynthia and I were trying to find something to talk about now that we were alone with just the cantaloupe skins and dirty plates. I had cleared my throat about fifty times and was about to mention the weather for the thirtieth when she broke the silence first.

"So, does my dad give good blow jobs?"

She looked at me so seriously that I suddenly forgot all about Tim's blue ribbon head skills and stammered, "They're okay."

Cynthia raised a single eyebrow at my lie and I had to take a deep gulp of my cold coffee before I could look at her again.

"That doesn't sound right," she said, "I come from a long line of phenomenal cock-suckers and I'm pretty sure my daddy is one of the best."

"What?" What the fuck was this chick saying? 

"You heard me."

She stood up, stacking the plates and taking them over to the counter. I turned to watch her move from the table across the kitchen, her body lush and seemingly hypnotic in the way she swayed her hips. I shook my head hard to come back to reality. I'm gay, I'm gay, I'm gay. I was chanting the words in my head, the erection in my pants clearly oblivious to my mantra.

"I know you're gay, Brian. No need to chant it, sweetie."

"Huh? Was I?" My face burned. 

"How gay are you?" Cynthia was asking me now as she continued to clear the table.

I laughed.

"According to your dad, overtly so!"

She gave me a quizzical look then started laughing herself.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Goodness, this woman! Even her laugh was amazing!

"I don't know," I said, finally relaxing a little for the first time since I knew she was coming to visit. "That's just your dad, you know? He's always worried about who's watching and who cares... well, not so much anymore. He's really changed in the last few months, really made an effort to just chill out."

"My dad is a trip, always has been. That's how I know you were lying when you said his skills were just okay. My father sucked the cock of every single one of my boyfriends when I was a senior in high school and two of my teachers as well! He's a fucking cum whore and I'm pretty sure that means he sucks a good dick."

"He is a cum whore," I mumbled.

"Do you think I can't hear you when you talk like that or something?"

"No, no, well, yeah. I guess."

I could hear the nervousness in my voice and the pressure in my groin was getting steadily harder to ignore.

"I'm a bit of a cum whore myself," Cynthia said, her hand stopping mid-scrape as she pushed the breakfast remnants into the trash.

She was looking at me, holding the knife and the plate and just looking at me. I felt so shy but I didn't want to do anything that might send the message that I wasn't interested in whatever she was offering.

"Oh, really?" I asked, trying to sound casual. My mouth was completely dry and my coffee now long ago poured down the drain.

"Yeah," she said, setting the plate and knife down on the counter and walking over to me. "Really."

My cock was throbbing in full protest of its restricted environment but Cynthia took quick pity on him and unzipped my pants with one hand while unbuttoning them deftly with the other. She knelt between my legs and reached into my fly to take my cock out.

"Very nice..." she said, stroking me slowly up and down while her eyes shifted hungrily from my face to my dick.

"Daddy did always like 'em big."

The wet warmth of her mouth was new to me, her lips softer and less aggressive than the way most guys sucked me off.

Her hands were firm, yet gentle. She had them both wrapped around the shaft, one stacked on top of the other and she was twisting them in different directions as she sucked and sucked. I wanted to ease my pants down a little more so she could get to my balls, but I didn't dare make a move. Her tongue was working the head of my cock in crazy circles, pushing into the hole then pulling away with strings of pre-cum still leaving us connected when she pulled away.

Sometimes she would look me right in the eye, her mouth working my entire dick, base to tip, then other times she kept her eyes closed as she used her lips, tongue and teeth all over my hard thick dick.

"I wanna lick your ass. Turn around."

Her hands were gripping my knees and pushing me to stand and turn at the same time. She kept her position on the floor, reaching up to yank my pants down to my ankles and swiftly pushing me forward so that my butt was sticking out and right above her mouth.

I felt her hands grab each of my ass cheeks and spread them apart, then her warm tongue was sliding between them and I inhaled sharply when my asshole was moistened with her saliva. Cynthia's tongue was as good in back as it was in front and I arched my back to meet her probing tongue, one hand reaching behind me to help her get better access to my aching hole.

She rimmed and licked, running her tongue along the crack then licking at my balls before sucking them into her mouth. Then she used one hand to start jerking me off, while fingering my asshole slowly, all the while keeping her mouth full of my nuts.

This woman was too much and I totally believed that these kind of sexual talents had to be inherited. How else to explain the way she seemed to know exactly when I was about to blow, turning me around to face her again just seconds before I let go?

I couldn't believe how hard I was coming in her mouth, Cynthia gulping and swallowing every mouthful as it gushed and flowed from me. I reached down and touched her for the first time since our handshake yesterday. My hand was running thorough her hair as she licked every drop of cum off of me. Just as she looked up and smiled, we both jumped at the sound of keys and the front door swinging open.

"Can you believe I left the fucking deposi..." 

Tim stopped mid-sentence when he saw his daughter on her knees in front of me, my cock still hard and dripping in her hand.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Tim bellowed, his face already purple with rage.

I started to stammer an excuse for having my dick in his daughter's mouth but before I could speak Cynthia was rising from her knees, licking her lips and sucking her fingers.

"Oh, Daddy! Calm down!"

Cynthia was using a babygirl voice as she glided coolly to her daddy's side.

"Don't you know what goes around always comes around?"