Blake Hart
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Airport Daddy – Part 7
🕑 Added 2025-06-19 20:00:06 +0000 UTCEveryone in this story is 18+
The airport was a gray blur at 5 a.m, a fluorescent hum of half-dead travelers dragging suitcases like zombies. Ford leaned against the x-ray machine, his uniform chafing his thighs, the same old itch crawling under his skin. Larren was long gone, off to some Ivy League dream, leaving Ford stuck in this soul-sucking job, barking orders at nervous kids and tired moms. His jaw tightened, the boredom a knife twisting deeper. He needed something—someone—to shake things up.
Then he spotted him.
Strutting through the checkpoint like he owned the damn place. Lean, swimmer’s build, with broad shoulders tapering to a tight waist, his low-cut shorts hugging hips that swayed just enough to catch eyes. Dark brown hair, messy from travel, fell over bright blue eyes that sparkled with a secret, like he’d tasted freedom and wanted more. A faint tan line peeked from his shirt, and his suitcase—plastered with a Delta Lambda Phi sticker—clattered onto the belt. He flashed a grin at the older frat guy ahead, all teeth and charm, and Ford’s blood surged. This kid was trouble, the kind Ford craved.
“Hold it,” Ford barked, stepping into Isaac’s path, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. Isaac stopped, those blue eyes locking onto Ford’s, not with fear but a glint of mischief. “Problem, officer?” he asked, voice smooth, teasing, like he was daring Ford to play.
Ford tilted his head, letting his gaze rake over Isaac—slow, shameless. The kid’s cheeks pinked, but he didn’t flinch, just smirked wider. “Routine check,” Ford said, arms crossing, his biceps straining his sleeves. “Name?”
“Isaac Reed,” Isaac replied, steady, leaning slightly forward, closing the gap. “Heading to Arizona State. You gonna frisk me for fun, or is this legit?”
Ford’s lips twitched. Cheeky little fucker, Ford checked Isaac’s ID, 18 and cute. then smirked, “legit’s my middle name, kid. Step over here.” He jerked his chin toward a private inspection room, its frosted glass door gleaming under the cold lights. Isaac grabbed his suitcase, wheels squeaking, and followed, his stride loose, confident, like he’d walked into worse and come out grinning.
The room was stark—metal table, tiled floor, a faint hum of air vents. Ford locked the door, the click loud, final. Isaac leaned against the table, crossing his arms, mimicking Ford’s stance, his blue eyes dancing. “So, what’s the deal? You strip-search every boy headed for college, or am I special?”
Ford chuckled, low and rough, stepping closer, his boots thudding. “You’re mouthy for a kid. Strip.” He snapped on latex gloves, the sound cracking like a whip, and Isaac’s grin didn’t falter.
“Bossy, huh?” Isaac said, kicking off his sneakers, then peeling his shirt over his head, revealing a lean chest, abs defined, tan lines framing his pecs like a fucking invitation. His shorts dropped, exposing a thick patch of dark pubes and a dick already half-hard, curving left, bobbing slightly. He spread his legs without being told, hands on hips, smirking. “Like what you see, officer?”
Ford’s throat tightened, his uniform suddenly too snug. This wasn’t Larren, trembling and pliable. This kid was fire, bold as hell, and it lit something primal in Ford’s gut. He stepped closer, gloved hand grazing Isaac’s thigh, fingers brushing the soft skin near his balls. Isaac inhaled sharply, his dick twitching, but his grin stayed wicked.
“You’re enjoying this,” Isaac said, voice low, teasing, his eyes locked on Ford’s. “Bet you get off on this power trip, huh, Daddy?”
Ford froze, the word hitting like a spark to gasoline. “Watch that mouth, kid,” he growled, but his hand slid higher, thumb brushing Isaac’s taint, testing. Isaac’s breath hitched, but he leaned into it, hips tilting forward, his dick now fully hard, leaking a bead of precum.
“Or what?” Isaac shot back, bold as fuck, stepping closer, his bare chest brushing Ford’s uniform. “You gonna punish me? ‘Cause I’m game.” His hand darted out, palming Ford’s bulge through his pants, squeezing just enough to make Ford’s knees buckle.
“Fuck,” Ford hissed, caught off guard, his dick straining against his zipper. This kid was no pushover—he was playing to win. Ford grabbed Isaac’s wrist, pinning it to the table, leaning in close, his breath hot against Isaac’s ear. “You’re pushing it, college boy.”
Isaac laughed, low and throaty, twisting free and spinning them so Ford’s back hit the table, the cold metal biting through his shirt. “Maybe I like pushing,” Isaac said, his hands swift, unbuttoning Ford’s pants, yanking them down to his thighs. Ford’s dick sprang free—thick, uncut, already wet and glistening—and Isaac’s eyes gleamed, hungry, like he’d found his prize.
“Jesus, Daddy,” Isaac teased, dropping to his knees, his breath warm against Ford’s shaft. “You’re packing. No wonder you’re so cocky with that cock.” He licked a slow stripe up the underside, tongue flat, wet, savoring the salt, and Ford’s hands fisted at his sides, fighting the urge to grab the kid’s hair.
“Kid, you’re—” Ford started, but Isaac sucked the head into his mouth, lips tight, tongue swirling, and Ford’s words died in a strangled gasp. Isaac bobbed, taking him deeper, spit trailing, his blue eyes locked on Ford’s, daring him to break. The kid’s mouth was a fucking furnace, slick and relentless, and Ford’s thighs trembled, his control slipping.
Isaac pulled off with a wet pop, grinning, spit shining on his chin. “Not bad, huh?” He stood, shoving Ford back onto the table, the metal creaking under his weight. Isaac climbed up, straddling Ford’s hips, his dick brushing Ford’s, the friction sparking a fire in Ford’s gut. “But I’m not here to suck you off, Daddy. I want you inside a different hole too.”
Ford’s eyes widened, but before he could react, Isaac grabbed a lube packet from his discarded shorts—fucking prepared, this kid—and tore it open, slicking his fingers. He reached back, prepping himself, his face twisting with pleasure, eyes never leaving Ford’s. “You like this tight hole, officer?” Isaac asked, smirking, his fingers working fast, stretching himself open.
Ford’s dick throbbed, his brain short-circuiting. “You’re fucking insane,” he muttered, but he couldn’t look away—Isaac’s lean body, his slick fingers, the raw hunger in those blue eyes. The kid was a goddamn force.
Isaac grabbed Ford’s dick, slicking it with lube, then positioned himself, the tip nudging his stretched hole. “Ready for the ride of your life?” he asked, voice dripping with challenge, and sank down, slow, inch by inch, his ass swallowing Ford whole.
“Fuck!” Ford gasped, the tight, slick heat gripping him, Isaac’s walls clenching like a vice. Isaac hissed, adjusting to the stretch, his thighs trembling, but his grin stayed fierce, triumphant. He braced his hands on Ford’s chest, nails digging into his pecs, and started moving—slow rolls at first, his ass grinding down, taking Ford deeper.
“Feel that, Daddy?” Isaac panted, his voice raw, teasing. “That’s me fucking your big dick.” He picked up speed, hips snapping, riding Ford hard, the table creaking, metal scraping tile. Ford’s hands grabbed Isaac’s hips, fingers bruising, but Isaac slapped them away, pinning Ford’s wrists above his head.
“Nuh-uh,” Isaac growled, leaning down, lips brushing Ford’s. “I’m in charge.” He slammed down, ass smacking Ford’s thighs, the wet slap echoing, filthy and loud. Ford’s eyes rolled back, the pleasure searing, Isaac’s tight heat driving him to the edge.
“You’re—fuck—killing me, kid,” Ford panted, his dick throbbing inside Isaac, the kid’s relentless pace a fucking assault. Isaac laughed, wild and free, his dick bouncing, leaking across Ford’s abs as he rode harder, chasing his own high.
“Bet you’ve never had it this good,” Isaac teased, clenching his ass, making Ford buck beneath him. “Say it, Daddy. Say I’m the best.”
Ford growled, half-laughing, half-desperate. “You’re a fucking menace, that’s what.” But his hips thrust up, meeting Isaac’s slams, the table shaking, bolts rattling. The room smelled of sweat, lube, and sex, the air thick, primal.
Isaac leaned back, one hand stroking his dick, the other bracing on Ford’s thigh, riding faster, his ass stretched wide, slick sounds filling the room. “Fuck, you’re big,” he gasped, eyes fluttering, but he didn’t slow, his thighs flexing, abs tight. “Gonna—shit—gonna cum all over you.”
“Do it,” Ford snarled, thrusting up, matching Isaac’s rhythm, Isaac’s hand flew over his dick, and he came with a shout, ropes of cum painting Ford’s chest, his ass clenching so tight Ford saw stars. The sight—Isaac’s flushed face, his trembling thighs, his triumphant grin—pushed Ford over, his dick unloading deep inside Isaac, a flood of warmth that left him gasping, vision blurring.
Isaac slowed, riding out the aftershocks, his ass milking Ford dry. He collapsed forward, chest heaving, lips brushing Ford’s in a sloppy, grinning kiss. “Told you I’d rock your world, Daddy.”
Ford laughed, breathless, his hands finally free, sliding up Isaac’s sweaty back. “Fucking hell, kid. You’re something else.”
Isaac climbed off, legs shaky, cum dripping down his thighs, but his grin was pure victory. He tugged his shorts back on, winking. “Thanks for the frisk, officer. Catch you next flight.” He grabbed his suitcase, tossing a Delta Lambda Phi wristband onto the table. “Souvenir.”
Ford sat up, pants still around his thighs, chest slick with Isaac’s cum, staring at the wristband. The door clicked shut, and he chuckled, low and rough. This kid wasn’t just trouble—he was a goddamn hurricane.
