Date: Wed, 22 Dec 1999 21:13:22 -0800
From: Country Guys <j_and_g@telis.org>
Subject: Brian's Dad

Brian's Dad
A Short Story by Greg Bowden
J_and_g@telis.org

I get really intimidated in hardware stores, especially those big warehouse
places where everyone who works there used to be some sort of contractor
and thinks you're dumb if you don't know the difference between a Phillips
screwdriver and whatever the other kind is. Nevertheless there I was, in
Hardware Depot, scratching my head in the power tool aisle. The
instructions for putting together my new computer desk suggested an
electric screwdriver and after trying with a regular one I had seen the
wisdom of the suggestion.

"Hi. Can I help you find something?" The salesman looked to be about my age
-- twenty-four at the time -- and he had a funny, lopsided grin that just
did me in. I held out the desk instructions and pointed at the picture of a
three inch screw.

"I need something to screw those in."

He laughed. "Well, you're in the right place. You sure don't want to try
those puppies without power." I picked up something that looked like a
small pistol while he looked through the instruction sheets.

"Nope. Not that one," he said, taking the pistol away from me and putting
it back on the shelf. "You'd never be able to get to the screws in these
corners." He pointed at one of the diagrams he was holding and then handed
me a long, slender contraption that actually felt pretty good in my
hand. "The batteries won't keep their charge as long in that model but
it'll do the job for you. Not as expensive as that one you were looking at,
either." He handed back the instruction sheets and asked if there was
anything else.

There was something about the look in his eyes, a kind of knowing twinkle I
guess, that prompted me. "Yes, actually. Where's the men's room?"

He pointed. "Around behind the lighting section at the end of aisle
seventeen. Come on, I'll show you." Walking through the store he kept up a
running commentary on the proper use of electric screwdrivers and the
quirks of the particular model I was buying. When we got to the door marked
"Men" he held it open for me and then followed me in. Odd, I thought, but
what the hell, everyone has to pee sometime.

He hung up the ugly green apron all the salesmen have to wear and came to
stand at the urinal next to me where he popped his fly open, fumbled around
for a second and let out a long sigh. "That always feels good, doesn't it?"
he said, giving me another one of his lopsided grins. "Man, bad as I have
to go, I bet I could hit this thing from three feet back." He demonstrated,
slowly backing away from the urinal until his stream was splashing the
porcelain rim. It wasn't three feet but it was impressive.

It was a nice cock, too, and I had trouble keeping my eyes off of it. As
his pressure dropped he moved back to the urinal and stood so that his cock
was still visible to me. When he finally ran out of water he shook it a
couple of times and then put his hands in his back pockets, letting it hang
in the air. I didn't bother to hide my interest.

"You like it?" he asked quietly.

I nodded. "Yea. It's a nice one."

"You like it enough to suck on it?" I nodded again and reached out to touch
it but he pulled back. "Not here. Too many guys..." The door banged open as
though on cue and another green apron walked in.

"Hey, Brian. How's it going?"

"Okay, Jerry. Can't complain anyway." By the time Jerry had hung his apron
on the door Brian was buttoned up and washing his hands. Jerry took the
urinal Brian had been using and stood so close that his pants were going to
get wet when he flushed. I buttoned up and followed Brian out the door.

"See what I mean?" he said when we were outside. "But look, if you can hang
around for a little bit I go to lunch at eleven-thirty." He grinned
again. "And I sure would like to get my... Well, you know."

I did. And I wanted very much to do what he wanted done. "Where?"

He pointed. "Right there, at the main exit."

"Won't that be even busier than the men's room?"

He laughed. "You idiot! That's where we meet. Then we go to my place. I
live in that big apartment complex just across the freeway."

I smiled. "Well, I guess I don't have to hang around then. I live there
too."

"Great! Look, I'm in 9-D. Twenty of twelve?"

We shook hands and I went to pay for my new screwdriver while he went back
to work. On the way home I tried to work out what was going on here. The
guy -- Brian -- was not gay, I was pretty certain of that. So what was he
doing showing off his cock in the men's room and then asking if I wanted to
suck on it? Was he going to turn out to be some sort of sadistic serial
killer, preying on poor stupid gays like me? Or was it blackmail? He fucks
my face while secret video cameras capture every thrust and hidden
microphones pick up every slurp? But then again, maybe he was just a guy
with a terminal case of the hornys who smelled a great blow job in the
offing. I hoped it was that last one because I had every intention of
keeping the date. Guys with lopsided grins and nice dicks didn't come along
every day.

When I knocked on his door -- exactly on time -- he answered wearing
nothing but a tee shirt and a pair of white jockeys. The shirt was this
morning's but the briefs were brand new, just out of the package. New or
old, they still couldn't hide the fact that what was in them was up and
ready. He caught my gaze and laughed. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little
anxious."

He led me to the couch and took a deep breath. "Well, here we go I guess."
He shoved the briefs down, kicked out of them and sat on the couch,
spreading his legs. Just in front of him a pillow had been thoughtfully
placed on the floor for me.

His cock was pretty much like most guy's, maybe a little shorter than some
but thicker than some, too. It was neatly clipped with a deep flair to the
head, the kind you catch your lips on, pulling back. He had big balls too,
the kind that would always hang lower than his dick, and the sack that held
them was covered with a fine haze of light brown hair. I hefted them in my
hand and then leaned in to kiss them. When I ran my tongue over the sack it
raised goose bumps along his legs.

I circled my thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock and found it
as hard and unyielding as a bar of iron. When I slid my fingers up the
shaft he shivered a little and his cock flexed, trying to jump out of my
hand. I only went about half way up the shaft, just far enough to keep it
in my grip while I went down on it. When I took the head into my mouth he
sucked in his breath and whispered, "Oh, yea!" I took him in all the way to
the base and held it until I had to back off a little to catch my breath.

He tasted of fresh soap overlaid with some lemony cologne or after shave,
telling me he'd just washed - probably in my honor. I bobbed up and down on
him for a while, giving him what I thought he wanted but it wasn't until I
held him still in my mouth and let my tongue play with him that he began to
react. I listened to his breathing, gauging where he liked best to be
touched. I quickly found that his cock-head couldn't take sustained
stimulation but the occasional wipe across it did bring him a jolt of
pleasure. He liked it when I pulled against the flare of his cock-head with
my lips and he giggled a little when I probed down into his pee slit. The
best, though, was that thick wad of skin some cut guys have on the
underside of the head where it creases into a shallow valley. Moving my
tongue there made him groan and puff like he was running a race. I fooled
around with that until the groans became whispers and the muscles in his
legs tensed up. Then I concentrated on the smooth, tight shaft, licking
along the thick tube and teasing the skin until he relaxed a little. When
he seemed okay I went back to that wad of nerves and made him suck in his
breath again.

I kept him like that, right on the edge, until he couldn't do it anymore
and he had to let go, coming like a trooper. He growled deep down in his
throat and spurted out hot, musky cum until I either had to swallow or it
would dribble down my chin. When it was over he heaved a long sigh and
relaxed into the couch, enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm.

For my part I stayed in his crotch, savoring the taste of him and waiting
for him to begin to wilt but it wasn't to be. After a few minutes he
ruffled my hair and chuckled. "If you're waiting for it to go soft it's not
going happen. Not like that, anyway. It's just waiting to go again." He
moved and I sensed he was looking at his watch. "Me too except it'd make me
really late and I'd probably get my ass fired."

I pulled off and stood up, making a little show of adjusting my own hard-on
so he'd know I'd liked it too. His dick was still hard when he pulled up
his jockey shorts and it made quite a bulge in his jeans. "Good thing I
wear that stupid apron in the store, huh? I'll probably be like this for a
while, just thinking about how good that felt.

As we were going out the door he stopped for a moment and gave me a serious
look. "You want to do that again sometime? I mean, I sure would."

"So would I," I said. "Any time."

He gave me that lopsided grin again. "You want to go out for pizza later?
Then maybe after..."

I said pizza would be great. In the elevator I gave him my phone number and
told him to give me a buzz when he was ready. Then I saw him out the lobby
door, went up to my apartment and spent the next half hour or so in a long,
slow jack-off session.

Dinner was fun and it turned out that we had a lot more in common than just
his cock. We liked some of the same sports teams, we drank the same brand
of beer and, most important of all, we both liked anchovies on our
pizza. Afterwards we went back to my place so he could take a look at the
newly assembled desk.

I'd put a pillow in front of my couch, just the way he had, and he noticed
it right away. "That my place?" he asked, gesturing at the couch.

I nodded. "If you're ready to go again."

He laughed. "Hell, I've been ready for this all afternoon. Look." He jerked
his jeans open and let his cock flop out, as hard as it'd been at noon. I
squatted down in front of him and took it in my mouth, all the way to the
base, and then I managed to get him naked from the waist down without ever
letting it go.

When he was sprawled on the couch with his legs spread wide he sighed and
said, "Easy, Tom. Easy. We have lots of time now. And if you need to, you
know, take care of yourself too it's okay with me. I just don't... hell,
you get the idea."

I nodded - bringing him another jolt of pleasure - and eased my dick out of
my jeans. I pretty much had to leave it alone though because it was making
good feelings all by itself and I didn't want to beat Brian to the
switch. For his part, Brian laid back and enjoyed what I was doing to him.

I let my hands roam over as much of him as I could reach and found he liked
having his belly stroked, his feet were ticklish and his ball sack was very
sensitive. When My finger strayed around his ass he reached down and gently
moved it away. As his excitement grew and his tenseness and breathing let
me know he was close to the edge I went to licking and nipping at his balls
which drove him wild but didn't seem to push him any further along the
course. When he seemed to have backed off a little I licked my way up his
cock and slipped it back in my mouth.

I played like that for the better part of an hour, bringing him as close to
orgasm as I could without actually making him come and then doing something
else until he'd backed off from it. When I finally pushed him over the edge
it was because he was beginning to beg me to-and because I couldn't hold my
own orgasm off any longer. We blew at exactly the same time, him in my
mouth and me in my hand. In the middle of his release he started bucking
his hips, stroking his cock in my mouth which caught me by surprise and
made me smear my own cum all over my jeans.

When he was through he collapsed back into the couch and said, "Man, that
was something else. I don't think I ever popped like that before." He
sighed but made no move to get up so I stayed as I was, holding his cock in
my mouth, resting my arms on his thighs.

He must have dozed off for a little and his cock lost most of its rigidity
- and about two inches of length - but moving my tongue around brought both
of them back to life.

"You gonna do it again?"

I nodded, slipping my mouth along his shaft.

He raised his hips, pushing his cock into my throat and then settled back
with a contented sigh. I figured it would take him a little longer since it
was the second time around but he came up fast so I took my cue from that
and brought him off without a pause. When he came he let out a whoop they
probably heard two floors down. He also came like a gusher.

I came too but not like him; mine was more of a dribble.

His cock deflated a lot faster this time and when I made no move to let go
of it he gently put his hands on my head and lifted me off. "Oh, no," he
chuckled. "That's all." After a beat he added, "for now." He climbed into
his shorts and jeans while I wiped my hands and tucked myself away. "Now,
let's see that desk of yours," he said with a grin.

I opened a couple of beers and he inspected the construction project,
pronouncing it well done. Before he left he suggested I come down to his
place on Sunday to watch the game.



It was a good game and I enjoyed watching it with him. He had a good feel
for football and always seemed to know just how a play was going to
go. When the game was over Brian asked if I wanted to hang around for a
while and then go have a pizza. Hang around for a while turned out to be a
euphemism for did I want to suck his cock. The answer, of course, was yes,
I did.

This time I'd come prepared and had a dry condom in my pocket, out of the
package, ready to use. When I felt myself getting close I rolled it on and
when the moment came the rubber took care of the mess that would otherwise
have been in my hand. I'd only brought one, though, so my jeans ended up
wet anyway, after the pizza.

>From that time on Brian and I developed a close - if slightly odd -
friendship. We went to the movies together, had dinner, played golf and
watched TV together. Brian developed a sort of code to let me know when he
was horny and when, as it turned out, he was saving it up for one of his
girl friends. If he was in loose shorts or free balling under his jeans, he
was ready. If he was in tight briefs or a jock strap, he was saving it.

We never spoke of any one else that one or the other of us might be fooling
around with and, for that matter, we never spoke about what we were doing
with each other, either. It was simply understood that I liked to suck his
cock and he liked his cock sucked. We were simply two guys who liked each
other's company and didn't need anyone else around to have a good time.

One Saturday, a year or so after we met, Brian called to tell me he'd just
taken delivery of his new Miata and did I want to take a ride. "Come on,"
he said, "we'll take a run up to Santa Barbara and show it off to the
Terror of the Highway." The Terror of the Highway was his father, so named
because he was a highway patrolman. The trip sounded like fun and besides,
I figured by the time we got back that evening Brian would be horny as
hell. Driving did that to him sometimes.

It was a warm, sunny day, perfect roadster weather and Brian made the most
of it, covering the seventy miles to Ventura in well under an hour. The
thirty miles from Ventura to Santa Barbara, however, was another story.
That was his dad's territory and Brian drove it at a steady, conservative
pace, just keeping up with the traffic. The Terror of the Highway would
have been proud.

We pulled into the driveway of one of those long, low Spanish houses Santa
Barbara is so famous for. "Well, there it is," Brian said, taking in the
house with a nod of the head. "The house I grew up in. Be it ever so
humble."

We were greeted at the door by a tall, muscular man with the handsomest
face I'd ever seen. He immediately gathered Brian into a bear hug, nearly
lifting him off the ground. "Good to see you, son. Why didn't you call and
let me now you were coming?"

"Spur of the moment, dad. Came to show off my new toy. Oh, this is Tom."

"Guy who lives in your building?" He stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you,
Tom."

When we shook hands I felt a spark of electricity pass between us and I
knew he felt it too. I saw it in his eyes. Uhh oh, I thought. Like son like
father? Was this going to get complicated? I hoped so. Will - that's what
he told me to call him - was very much a man with thick, curly hair and
deep greenish eyes with gold and silver flecks in them. He also had a
wonderful grin, just like his kid.

Once the formalities were over Brian and his dad took off for a test drive
in the Miata while I had a beer and surfed around the TV. They came back an
hour or so later, carrying a sack full of sandwiches and salads from the
deli.

"Now that's one nice little car, son. A real kick to drive. One I'd better
not ever see on the cited list." He was smiling but even I could tell he
was serious.

We took the sandwiches and stuff out to a patio just outside the
kitchen. When we were settled in Will passed a container of macaroni salad
to Brian. "I can't imagine what you see in that stuff, son, but here it
is."

"I happen to like it," Brian said, putting a large scoop his plate. "Lots
of people like it. Tom? You want some?"

I shook my head, forming a kinship with his dad.

"Well, you guys don't know what you're missing. It's got a real nice tang
to it."

Over lunch I found Brian's dad wasn't at all what I thought he'd be. I
mean, a cop with a nick name like Terror of the Highway doesn't exactly
sound like warm, friendly and a great sense of humor. But that's what he
was and I took an immediate liking to him. He could laugh at himself,
too. When Brian asked him about a woman he'd been seeing Will grinned and
shook his head.

"You know what son? I may just give up women altogether. Can't pick 'em
worth a damn. Take Mona. I thought we were having a pretty good time of it
and then I find out she's boffing some boy - a kid! -- down in LA. Spent
weekends in his bed and then came up here and crawled into mine. Not that
we had any exclusive rights to each other or anything but damn it, she lied
about it."

Brian had a strange look on his face. "You mean you were still sleeping
with her while she was... Shit!"

"See what I mean? And that's why I'm going to give up women."

Brian smiled. "Sure you are, dad. And do what? Switch to guys? Settle down
with your hand?"

 "Well, it'd be a lot less messy than breaking up with the likes of Mona."

"Which? Your hand or guys?"

Will grinned but I could tell there was more to this than met the eye. "You
tell me, son."

Brian finished his beer and stood up. "Hey, anyone want to watch a little
football before we head back? It's gonna be a good one."

We went into the family room and turned on the TV. About ten minutes into
the game Brian fell asleep on the couch and around half time he began to
groan in his sleep. A few minutes later he sat up and ran for the
bathroom. When we heard him retching Will went in to see what was wrong.

"It's that damn macaroni salad," he said when he came out of the
bathroom. "The mayonnaise has probably turned but he'll be okay. He brought
most of it up. He's in no shape to drive back to LA though."

"That's okay. I didn't have much in the way of plans for tonight anyway."

When his stomach calmed down we helped Brian into his old room, stripped
off his messed up clothes and put him to bed. He was asleep before we
covered him up.

The game was over by the time we finished with Brian so Will dug a couple
more beers out of the refrigerator and we took them out on the
patio. "He'll be okay after a good night's sleep," Will said and then
laughed. "Good thing he doesn't need to sleep in his shorts or anything,
the way they were messed up. Does anyone do that anymore? Wear anything to
bed? When I was a kid we all wore pajamas." He was looking directly at me.

"Not me," I said, holding his eyes. "I've been going to bed naked for as
long as I can remember. Don't think I could sleep any other way."

He nodded. "Know what you mean. Feels good. I got rid of the pajamas years
ago." There was a long pause which only increased the sexual tension in the
air. "It's a nice house," Will finally said. "Only two bedrooms though and
Brian's being sick in one of them. That going to be a problem?"

I shrugged, still holding his gaze. "Might be an advantage."

His look turned quizzical. "How so?"

"Might save a lot of beating around the bush."

Will's eyes crinkled up and he let out a whoop of laughter. "I guess that
says it, doesn't it?" He got up and came around to my side of the table,
sitting next to me. "Tom, are you seeing anyone? I mean regularly, someone
you're..." He groped for the word.

"Committed to? No. There's no one I'm committed to. There's no one
committed to me either but there is someone I see fairly regularly."

"If we... I mean, would you tell him what..."

"If he asked. Not unless."

Will seemed to think about this for a while and finally nodded and said,
"Fair enough. But you know, Tom, I'd just be in this for..." There was a
long pause and then he said, "Shit. Why is this so hard to talk about?"

I put my hand on his leg, just above mid-thigh. "Will? Don't talk about
it. Just let it happen, whatever happens. Okay?"

He nodded and started to get up. "You want another beer?"

"You want to go to bed?"

He stopped and looked at me for a long moment. "I don't think so. Not
yet. I, well... I need a little time to get used to the idea."

So we spent the rest of the afternoon together, sipping at our beers and
talking about our lives. Will was careful not to ask about my relationship
with Brian but for the rest of it he wanted to know all about me, what I
did for a living and how I liked being so independent. He told me about
being a highway patrolman and raising a headstrong kid like Brian and how
he'd lived in his house for nearly thirty years and still didn't know any
of the neighbors. And didn't care. Around six he decided we were hungry and
pulled some steaks out of the freezer.

We worked well in the kitchen together, me making a salad and cleaning some
corn, him frying potatoes and grilling the steaks. I touched him every
chance I got, brushing against his buns and putting my hand on his chest
when I asked where the salt or oil was. The touching excited him and by the
time we sat down at table you could almost smell the sex in the air.

We didn't eat. We toyed with the food for a couple of minutes and then put
it all back in the refrigerator and went to bed.

Well, not quite. "You want to soak in the spa for a while? Maybe we
should. Might relax us." Will spoke very fast and tossed me a robe. He put
his own on before he got out of his pants.

The spa was in a small garden just outside Will's bathroom. It felt good
slipping into the hot water and we sat side by side in silence for a
while. Then Will pulled himself up onto the rim. "Gotta cool off," he said,
spreading his legs and giving me my first glimpse of his dick which was
erect and looked to be both longer and thicker than Brian's. Taking his
move as some sort of cue I swiveled around on the bench so I was kneeling
between his legs and then took his dick into my mouth.

He let out a groan and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me onto him
until the head of his cock was pushing into my throat. We stayed that way,
locked together, until I had to pull back and take a breath. When I went
back down on him he let out another deep groan and came, firing off great
shots of musky, bitter cum and shaking all over, as though he hadn't come
in a very long time.

When he stopped shooting he slipped slowly back into the water, pressing
his body against me as he went. When he was on the seat he held me for a
long time in a bear hug so tight I could hardly breath. Then his hands slid
down my flanks to cup my ass. "I want to fuck you," he whispered, so
quietly I had to strain to hear him.

We went into the bedroom and I turned back the bed while he dug through one
of the bedside tables and came up with a pack of condoms and some
lubricant. When he was ready he kneeled between my legs and pushed into me,
slowly but without stopping until he was completely inside me and I could
feel his wiry pubic hair brushing against my ass. He waited then, letting
me get used to the bulk of his dick which felt huge inside me. It took me a
few moments to get past the adjustment to it and let it fill me with the
pleasure of it.

When he thought I was ready he began: short, experimental strokes that
quickly turned into very long, very slow ones. He pulled back until only
the head of his cock was still in me and then pushed in, giving me all of
him before he pulled back again without a pause. Every time he pushed in
his cock pressed on my prostate and it wasn't long before my dick began to
dribble slick fluid onto my belly. I grabbed onto his buns and tried to
hold him in me each time he hit bottom; it was the only thing I could do
because if I touched myself I knew I'd fall over the edge.

This went on for a long time, him fucking me with long, slow strokes and me
trying my best to hold on to some control. Finally I couldn't do it anymore
and I had to let go, relinquishing all control - and all
responsibility. That made me come. I grabbed onto his neck, kissing him and
forcing my tongue into his mouth. He pulled away from me at first but then
his own orgasm started and he gave into it too, letting me have my way and
then taking the lead, rubbing my neck and sucking my tongue as if it was a
tiny cock.

When it was over we stared at each other for a long time, studying our
faces but not quite letting our eyes meet. When he softened enough to slip
out of me he rolled onto his back and seemed to be staring at the
ceiling. I slipped the condom off his dick and tied it but he took it from
me, setting it onto the bedside table. "We need a shower," he said, "and
maybe some of that wine we didn't drink with dinner." He got up and left
the room.

In the bathroom, on a shelf over the toilet, there was a collection of
small, framed pictures. I recognized one of them and it made me wonder if I
was in the middle of some sort of classical father-son skirmish. Then I
thought about what had just happened and decided I didn't care.

Will was waiting when I got out of the shower and handed me a glass of
wine. "Who are they?" I asked, nodding at the pictures.

He laughed. "Lady friends. That's Gail there in the red dress and Betty,
holding the champagne bottle. And that's Mona, in the silver frame. All my
ladies." He laughed again and stepped into the shower.

When he came to bed we drank our wine in silence. When I reached out and
took his dick in my hand he gently removed it. "No more. Please. I'm not up
to it anymore." We finished our wine, turned out the lights and pretended
to go to sleep. When we actually did doze off we ended up lying spoon
fashion, Will's arm laying over me, fingers splayed out on my belly,
hugging me to him.

In the morning we pretended none of it had happened. Brian woke feeling
fine and hungry so we all went out for a hearty breakfast before Brian and
I drove back to LA. "Sorry I sicked out on you," he said, about
Ventura. "You get along okay with my dad?"

"Yea. He's a great guy. Except he snores." Brian didn't react.

When we got back to LA Brian asked me if I wanted to come up to his place
and hang around for a while. I thought what the hell, why not? When I left
he was a happy man and so was I.

A week later Will showed up on my doorstep, catching me in my
underwear. "I've come to apologize," he said, pushing past me into the
apartment. "You know, it was all right, it was even fun until you went and
started kissing me. Damn it, why'd you have to do that?" He was pacing up
and down in the living room, glaring at me in my tee shirt and boxers. He
made me mad.

"Well, maybe it was because you were making love to me. Or at least fucking
my ass. I thought I was entitled." I stood in front of him, stopping him in
mid stride. "And I still do." I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his
face in to mine. Before he knew what hit him my tongue was in his mouth and
he was sucking on it and moaning down in his throat.

He actually picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. Inside he laid me
on the bed, pulled off my shorts and went down on me. He choked a little
but he did it. When I finally pulled him up to lay beside me he gave me a
soulful look and said, "I'll get better at it. I promise. I just need some
practice." Then it all came tumbling out.

Will knew exactly what kid Mona was boffing in LA. He'd followed her there
and seen them together. He also knew that Brian played around with guys
sometimes. So I was to be the great equalizer. The trouble was, Will hadn't
planned on enjoying it and then, when I kissed him, some important walls
began to crumble. And now here he was, in my bed.

It took a long time to work it all out and I'm not sure Will ever really
forgave Brian but we're a fairly happy family now. Brian has a new guy -
and several girls - and I live in Santa Barbara. The highway patrol doesn't
quite know what to make of it but even they are adjusting.


Brian's Dad Page 3