Date: Wed, 10 Sep 2003 23:45:04 -0400 From: Steve Griffin Subject: Me and My Deadbeat Dad 3 See part 1 for disclaimers. Remember, safe sex is a must in real life. Again thanks to all of the people who've written in. I am keeping your thoughts in mind. Part 4 will have more, much more of Paul, I promise. ---- Standing in the middle of the crowded gym, my adrenaline and lust at a high, gripping my old fuck buddy's ample bulge, I could barely process the sight of my rough and tough father in front of me, smirking, his big guns squarely in front of his broad chest, his own eye-popping pecker snugly encased in a jock pouch flimsily covered by small denim cutoffs. How's that for a run-on sentence, huh? I heard, and felt, Bobby huskily whispering if that was really my father, or just a "daddy". I nodded that he was the former, and left Bobby to marvel and ogle while I grabbed dear old pop's left bicep and dragged him to a relatively unpopulated section of the room. "What are you DOING here?" I hissed. He yanked himself out of my grip as he smoothed out an ornery fluff of chest hair. "You're the one who boo-hooed about stereotypes. If this ain't a fag place, then I want to see for myself. My muscles are getting lazy. You must be in good laying...er...standing around here, and they wouldn't turn down a father in need." He was doing this just to push my buttons. To try to humiliate me and put me in my place. Fat fucking chance, old man. I knew I should've demanded he leave, let him have the victory, but I wasn't going to let him get the best of me. "Hey, Josh!! Come over here, please!!" Josh was another one of the trainers. A nice guy. He was also a gym fairy, and I do mean fairy. He lisped, he wore hot pink spandex, he recited the world's tackiest double entendres. He could still kick any homophobe's ass, but he'd toss out a few sanitary napkins to help clean up all the blood. I knew he could probably handle my father. And my father, well...the sight of his nostrils flaring as chartreuse-clad Josh slinked over to his side was priceless. "Josh, this is my father." Josh whistled under his breath as his sparkly hazel eyes just happened to zero in on Dad's crotch. "I guess some things really DO run in the family." Josh purred. "I'll be VERY happy to show you around, if that isn't a problem." Now I was the one with the upper hand. No way was Dad going to let this "fag" leer at him and give him pointers. I patiently waited for him to storm out the front exit. Much to my surprise, he swung his arm around Josh, even squeezed his shoulder. "Why, thank you, Josh. I have a lotta shit to work through, but an old dog can still learn new tricks, right?" "Right! As far as I'm concerned, one can never be too old to find as many new tricks as possible." Josh patted his hand and they walked off in search of some available equipment. Amazing. Lesson #1 for today was that my father could temporarily hand over his "world's biggest bigot" crown and sash if it managed to piss me off. I was so distracted that I barely noticed Bobby wagging his tight little rump at me near the vicinity of the steam room. I stripped out of my clothes, grabbed a towel, and joined him inside. The sweat box was mostly empty, aside from the two of us. Bobby had forgone any modesty by draping the towel over his eyes, leaving his legs crudely spread, with his half-hard, beer can club and flanged head in full, glorious view. Hopefully my drooling would go unnoticed amidst all the other perspiration. "So that's your father?" Bobby asked, splashing some water on his smooth pecs. "Mmm-hmm." "You've sure got good genes." Even after all the years of trying to accept what life had dealt me, I still flinched at the flippancy of his remark. Then I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. "OW! What the fuck was that for?" None of this was a good idea. Coming back to town, being away from Paul, being near my father, being near Bobby. I was losing all perspective. I had to get out of here. "Oh no, no asshole is going to brutalize me and then just walk away!" Bobby tore my towel away, leaving me totally exposed if I wanted to go back outside. Before I could react, he'd pushed me down on the bench, straddling my waist, staring directly into my haunted eyes. "Talk, John." I shook my head, pleading for him to move. "TALK!!!" My arms were raised above my head. Oh shit, my weakness...and the one he remembered. At the speed of lightning, he dove inside my left pit, licking and chewing on the sensitive, hairy crevices. My moans were audible, my desire palpable. My increasingly large cock began to stab into his firm belly. "OK...I give, I give, Bobby. Sluts always win out." Bobby grinned in true Cheshire fashion while he lightly bussed my lips. He refused to move from my waist, even as I managed to get into a sitting position. After a moment of hesitation, I began to speak. "Bob, I just don't know where to start. My father didn't even want a child. He got my mom pregnant one night when he was home on leave, and if not for Grandma, he never would've sent me a single penny. I accepted that my father was dead. That's how I thought of him. Then he comes back to town, not to see me, but because he has no other place to booze around. He cussed me out when he found out I was gay. He physically threatened my boyfriend. But since Grandma died and I came to visit, something's changed. I don't know what, but..." Bobby's sky-high raising of his dark blonde, bushy eyebrows got my attention. That and his sudden grasping of my meat. "BOYFRIEND?" I shrugged, trying to go on with the story. "Does he know you're dicking me on this little vacation?" I tried to push him off, but his sculpted thighs were locked to my waist. "I can't. I love Paul. I want to be faithful." Bobby snorted in derision while he licked a few stray beads of sweat gliding down my neck. "Monogamy is a fantasy. Everybody says it, nobody does it." My rebuttal was muted when I felt Bobby's velvet walls sitting on my erection. I hissed, sinking my teeth into his bare, sloppy shoulder. All the time away from Paul, I'd almost forgotten how good the milking sensations felt. "See? Just go with this. Feels good. I've missed you...nobody can plow my ass this way...no matter how stretched out I get, this big anaconda is always gonna rub me in all the right ways...ngggghhh...fuck my ass..." My mouth whimpered no, but my hips bucked yes, jostling in time with his thrusts. He controlled the pace of our sex, as he always had, sliding up and down on my flesh sword, curving his body to get just the right pressure on his prostate. I swatted his hands away from his own sizable girth, roughly stroking his tight skin while he leaned into my ear. His nails scraped my sensitive nipples in time with each gasp from his mouth. "Why have you always been such a wimp, hmmm? First ya say you don't want any more women, even when I found you the tightest cheerleader pussy in the county. Then you say you won't ever be a bottom, even though that junk you're carrying around was built for buttfucking. And now you don't want to cheat on your little life partner." His demanding horsey ride and expert taunting were doing a number on me. With my pent-up lust from the past few days, plus his hands all over my body, his pre-cum flying in my half-open mouth, and the steam oozing into every pore, I no longer had any idea what I was saying or doing. "Shuuuuut up...oh fuck yeah, I-I just want to liiiohgoood live my life in the right way, in a good way. Didn't want to sleaze around anymore. Didn't want to get fucked my by...ooohhhh....by my dad, and enjoy it so much...fuck me Daddy...right there...FFFUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK..." Bobby's breath caught at my incestuous confession. He shuddered, over and over again, and I felt his semen covering my chest and neck. My legs were limp and useless while I ejaculated wave after wave of my seed inside his yawning hole. I felt so used, and dirty, and yet I felt relieved. Bobby slipped off of me with a slick pop. As he kissed and licked his cum off my chest, his eyes were full of compassion and passion. I knew what he wanted now. What he'd always wanted. "Do it," I whispered. Bobby had brought a small tube of KY in with his towel. He lubed me up with hands and tongue, sliding his fingers inside me one at a time, probing me for both his pleasure and mine. When I was ready, he tossed my legs against his shoulders. "I've wanted to do this for almost 10 years, John. I love you so much..." I was not delirious enough that I could miss the break in his voice as he slipped the puffy glans of his width inside my narrow opening. I grunted. He was thicker than my father, but I wanted to do this. The thirst, the hunger in my ass needed quenching. I spread my legs wider, easing a few more inches of his pretty, powerful tower inside of my anus. This had none of the shame of being pounced on by my father in the middle of the night. This was making love, or as close as I could ever get to that with any man besides Paul. I imagined Paul's tool buried deep inside me, his bookwork bubble butt quivering with delight as he ground in and out of my newly-bottoming backside. I imagined Dad and his gruff chest hair singing my skin, his whiskey breath lulling me into insane lust and desire. And then I saw Bobby, how happy he was, how skilled he was, how much pleasure he could give and receive while easing in and out of my ass. "I love you too, Bob," I whispered, before I saw a stranger arrive in the steam room. Bobby noticed as well, but kept right on fucking, turning us to the side so that the new arrival could get a better view of the giant rod ravaging my hole in such controlled thrusts. The man did not move from the shadows. His only focus was us, pleasuring himself from our pleasure. I saw him masturbating from a distance. I saw the gleam in his eye. I saw the first spurts of seed from his long hose. And as my second orgasm rocked through me, as my ass muscles clenched deep on Bobby to spur him into ecstasy, I saw that tattoo on the man's shoulder. As I blacked out, my last thought was that I had just been fucked in front of my own father.