Date: Sun, 29 Dec 2013 17:25:43 -0800 (PST) From: Dave Ledge Subject: Daniel and Dad a Romance Daniel asked me to write this out for him. I did. And please don't forget to support Nifty. I answer all emails at mikedave01@yahoo.com Daniel and Dad, Part One, Date Night It was another boring Friday night in Morningside Heights. I had thought coming to Manhattan and New York City would change things in my life. Not so far. I did enjoy my classes this fall as a new doctoral student in English at Columbia anyway. I even found a couple of professors sort of hot, even if none of the other first-year doctoral students did much for me. What is it with me and older guys anyway? I've always been into older guys, ever since I remember. I still remember quite well one of my elementary school teachers, the gym coach at junior high, a couple of high school teachers and a couple of college professors. One of the latter finally took a very virgin me to his bed and taught me the joys of men making love as well as colonial American history. Grin. I had finished enough reading and studying for the night and had just pulled up my social media web sites on my laptop. One of the feeds was for the "Hawk", a very famous nightclub and meeting place for older guys, and almost all hairy, too. My kind of place! I had fantasies about going there some night, hoping to get past the doorman, and get my eyes full of older men candy (and maybe more). However, I didn't have a clue as to whether the doorman would let an otter like me in. I'm only 23 but I am a hairy young guy, too. Considering the idea, I stripped down to my white briefs and looked at myself in the full mirror in the studio apartment. What looked back at me was a pretty trim guy with a full dark hairy chest. The hair gathered around my hard nipples and then indented and became a narrow track down into my bulging crotch. Below the white material were strong legs from biking and walking everywhere down to smallish white feet. Above my nipples I had real definition and very good shoulders and biceps. On a good day I could claim to be 5'10 but in all honesty was only 5'9. I had a strong neck from amateur club wrestling. As for my face and hair, I had very dark brown hair, almost black, that I kept short, a habit I picked up from wrestling days. I had dark, thick eyebrows, a strong chin, small nose, and generous mouth with full lipsÑor at least that's how my professor friend at undergraduate school had described it! Thinking of that comment made me smile and made my best feature, my dark blue eyes, shine. I had just started to grow a beard this fall (don't all English grad students do that?) and it was already full and pretty thick. I was already having to trim it. Guess that's one of the benefits of being a hairy guy. My reverie was interrupted by the ring tone of my cell. Who could that be? I wondered. Most of my friends texted and didn't actually call. I leaned down and picked the cell out of my discarded pants and said, "Hello?" I immediately knew who it was from the first word he uttered, "Hello Daniel, it's Dad." He has to have one of the richest voices I've ever heard. Definitely like fine velvet in its mellow baritone richness. A voice like that was meant for singing and he did when he could. However, a successful Boston suburban lawyer didn't have as much time for singing as he might have wished. "Hey Dad", I replied. "What's up?" "Daniel, I've been working hard and just finished up a big case. I won that this morning. I thought I'd come down to New York, take some time off this weekend, and celebrate with my favorite son." Well I'd better damn well be his favorite son, since I was his only son! But the old joke made me laugh anyway. "What did you have in mind, Dad? I asked. "Let's start with dinner and a concert. I've made reservations and got the concert tickets. I'm already here in a hotel nearby. Would you be ready for me to pick you up in a half-hour? Oh, by the way, dress up. We're going formal tonight. Wear that new suit, shirt, and tie I got you this summer." Wow! This was going to be quite a change from normal, humdrum, Friday pizza night! However, I looked down at my underwear-clad body and said, "Um Dad, I'm actually almost naked and I need a shower. 45 minutes ok?" I thought I heard an odd note in his voice as he answered, "Um, sure!" He hung up soon after and I got out my clothes for the evening and stripped and got into the small shower. I looked down at my wet body and enjoyed the feel of the water on my nakedness. My cock remained half hard as I enjoyed washing its length and my big balls. I did a thorough job on me and even washed inside my ass, an old habit from undergrad days. Again, I chuckled a bit, remembering Dr. Bass, whose last name did hint at the size of his cock (even through he pronounced his name as "bahss" and not "base". However, I had better get a move on. I quickly dried myself and combed my short hair as neatly as possible. I even combed my chest hair quickly and enjoyed the sight. I brushed my teeth very fast, applied a bit of deodorant and then thought, what the hell! I took out some cologne my Dad had given me last Christmas and dabbed some on my face and wrists. Not too much, just enough to be noticeable. At the time I had sort of wondered at that present. But I guess it was for times like these. I quickly got my naked self in order and then went into the single room that comprised the rest of my tiny apartment to get dressed. I quickly and efficiently got a clean pair of white briefs on, put on my black socks, black dress pants, and dress shoes. I put on the black dress shirt and then tied the dark grey and black tie. I put on the charcoal grey suit jacket, buttoned the top two buttons, and pulled out the matching bit of tie from the front pocket. I smoothed my hair once again and smiled at myself in the mirror. I thought, wow, you can dress him up and you can take him out, too! Grin again. The young guy in the tailored suit (yeah, Dad had paid for that service, too) was a pretty elegant-looking dude. I hurried down to street level. I didn't have long to wait until a black livery service Town Car pulled up in front of me. Dad jumped out of the car briefly on the street side of the car and motioned me to enter. I pulled open the rear door and climbed in and scooted into my assigned seat. As soon as I closed the door, the driver sped off. Dad leaned over and hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, and nestled his cheek against mine. I was a bit surprised by that. We had always been friendly and a bit physical with each other, but this was a new intimacy on his part. I couldn't help but remark, "So, we're being continental tonight?" He smiled and said, "As you'll find out, yes." I shook my head a bit at that and wondered. However, I was sure I'd find out what he meant shortly. I looked over at Dad and had a bit of shock. He was also dressed in black and charcoal grey, but his colors were the reverse of mine. His pants, socks, and shoes were all black, but his shirt was charcoal grey and his jacket was black. His tie was the opposite diagonal of mine as was the cloth that showed in his suit jacket pocket. I must have shown my puzzlement since my Dad suddenly smiled his trademark saturnine smile, mirrored by a devilish expression in his eyes that matched mine. And damn, did he look good. We do look a lot alike, except that damn it, he's a lot taller than I am. However he doesn't have my neck, chest, or legs. However, I'd give all of those up to have his height. In only a few minutes the driver pulled up the Town Car. Well, I guess we were going to eat in Harlem. My Dad indicated when the livery driver needed to return to take us to our next destination. My eyes widened when I suddenly realized my Dad had hired the livery driver for the evening. My God! That was some kind of expense! I had known he was a successful lawyer, but he was never ostentatious in spending money. We had always had enough money. We had a nice house, if not very large, in a Boston suburb that had good schools, but not the wealthiest suburb by far. When he saw my eyes widen, he just laughed and gave me the same mischievous smile. He nodded towards the restaurant. I was so taken aback that I didn't even realize where we were until the host gave us menus and I glanced down and I suddenly realized we were in Rao's Restaurant! OMG! I expected to go to the bar for a drink and almost fell over when I realized we were going to be seated for dinner! Oh My God again! Rao's has only ten tables. These tables are "inherited". The most famous and most powerful people in the U.S. can't get a table at Rao's. We were going to eat here??? This is the most difficult table to score in the entire country with phenomenal Neapolitan dishes. I mean, what the fuck? My Dad saw my look of amazement. "So, you know where we are then?" I nodded in dumb admiration. All I could stammer out was, "How?" With no hesitation my Dad said, "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you." I was tempted to laugh at his bad joke. But then I saw his face and realized that he was not joking. In fact, I had a sudden chill when I saw how harsh his expression had become. I had never seen that expression before. He looked at me and saw my shock. He reached down from his 6'1 height, smiled, ruffled my hair, and said in American-accented Italian, "Daniele, a tavola, per favore". Suddenly this was a scene out of "The Godfather" it seemed, especially at Rao's. In silence we took our seats at the tiny table for two. I managed to ignore all of the stares from people at the bar as they wondered who we were. Our waiter gave us a big time "once over". It looked like he was even trying hard not to salivate. I had to restrain a chuckle. But then I realized that we were both, even, beautiful people. We were dressed so well and dressed as a couple. And nobody was going to complain about our looks, it appeared! "Daniele", Dad said, "let me order what we have time for before the concert. I promise to bring you here again for the full meal another time". Still in shock I only nodded my head. In fluent, but very American-accented Italian, he ordered the zuppa del giorno (soup of the day) from the first course for us both, skipped the second course, ordered the ossobuco for me and the lamp chops for him from the third course (which we shared), and profiteroles to share for the dessert. We each had two glasses of a phenomenal Barolo wine with the main course and a half glass of exceptional grappa before espresso. I wondered about our restraint with the alcohol and the espresso. He noticed my expression and said, "You'll need your faculties. We'll be up late." I could only shake my head and wondered what planet I had suddenly beamed down to. He settled the bill very quickly as if he were accustomed to being here. Again I wondered who my Dad really was to know this place so well. We strolled outside and the livery driver was waiting. We got in and again drove for very little time. He let us off at the well-lit and shining Lincoln Center. Wow again. My Dad had had the livery driver unload us at the VIP entrance. We strolled into a special entrance. The ticket collector actually bowed (!) and my Dad led me up to the third row center seats for this evening's concert of the New York Philharmonic with Brian Stokes Mitchell as soloist. It was hard not to be overwhelmed once again. I had never heard a major symphony orchestra live. Dad had taken me to some Boston Pops concerts in the summer, but we had never gone downtown for the real Symphony. I had wanted to. I really love classical music and had tried to sing like my Dad but just didn't have my Dad's voice. I found I could sing in groups if not be a soloist. On the other hand I have a talent for French horn though, that emerged pretty unexpectedly in high school, and played even in undergrad school. One of things I laughed (nearly) out loud about was when the band director and wrestling coach were arguing about who needed me more where. Anyway. And the concert was very, very, overwhelming. The orchestra was incredible. Somehow, there were pieces with amazingly bravura horn solos. I looked at my Dad who just was admiring the pieces. He had to have a part in this program. And then Brian also sang a variety of pieces that somehow fit in with the horn solos. And his singing reminded me of my Dad's. "Heldenliebe" from the horns or my Dad? What? But when Brian finished the concert by singing "To Dream the Impossible Dream" and seemed to look at Dad and me I was so taken aback I didn't know how to react. Was he really looking at us and if so, why? I tried to talk to my Dad about the concert, the program, and Brian Mitchell. However, my Dad merely smiled and shrugged off all of my attempts at questioning him. Not surprisingly, the black livery car was waiting for us at the private entrance to Lincoln Center. We both got into the back and were seated close to each other. We had sort of run down our topics of conversation since Dad refused to answer my questions. So, we sat in silence for a while. At one point Dad reached over and took one of my hands in his and held it for a few minutes. That small gesture suddenly made my heart overflow with love for him. I realized that even if I didn't really know him, as tonight had proved, I had always loved him. I squeezed his hand with mine. He smiled a sort of shy smile and reached over and pulled me to him. He rested his cheek against mine for a couple of minutes. Then he released me, studying me, and smiling again. Again I had an upswelling of confused emotions as I studied him in return. He turned toward the driver and made sure the driver knew where to take us in Midtown. In a fairly short time the driver pulled up in front of a small, but quite chic, boutique hotel. Dad got out on my side of the car and gestured me into the hotel. He nodded at the night clerk, who responded with a respectful, "Good evening, sir". We took the plush elevator up to the penthouse floor. We walked down the thickly carpeted hall to the only room on this floor. And what a room it was! A grand piano dominated the drawing room. The rest of the furniture was tasteful and not heavy. The curtains and drapes were thrown back to give a wonderful view of the lights of the City. I could see a full kitchen and bar in the distance and wondered about the bathroom and bedrooms. Dad enjoyed me admiring the room I could tell. However he was still silent and non-communicative. Ok. My turn then. "So, Dad", I said with a smile. "Since you won't tell me anything about what's going on, can you at least tell me what's next up on our night out?" This time his smile was a bit rueful. "Something that I know you'll enjoy, even if you may not enjoy knowing how I know." I looked at him hard then. He noticed. He undid the buttons on his suit jacket, while he seemed to be deciding what to say next. He left me in the drawing room, wondering what was going on. A few minutes later he returned sans jacket, tie, and shoes, down to his dress shirt, which had enough buttons undone to show some chest hair, and his tailored slacks that showed off his thin waist and long legs. Adding his ruggedly handsome face to the ensemble, I suddenly realized what a handsome man I had for a father. He must have noted my admiration as he gave me a full smile finally. He then said, "We need to talk for a bit before we go out again. You can use the guest bedroom", pointing to it, "to get more comfortable like me". I followed his lead and came out dressed like him, also showing some chest hair. I thought I saw him lick his lips, but I was probably mistaken. He motioned me to come sit next to him on the love seat in the middle of the room. The well-named piece of furniture forced us to sit very close, almost touching. I was surprised to realize that I didn't mind that at all. He looked into my face, searching for something in my gaze. I guess he found it. He suddenly said, "Danny, you know that I love you." I replied immediately, "And I love you too, Dad". He gave me a quick smile and then went on as if I hadn't interrupted him. "But I haven't been very honest with you about a lot of things." I just nodded, willing him to go on. He looked at me searchingly again and continued, "I really was a suburban lawyer until about ten years ago. However, I'm really good at what I do." I nodded again, believing that. "The U.S. Government, learning about my fight against organized crime in Boston, recruited me to be a prosecutor and investigator at the national level. They gave me resources and backing I could never have had otherwise. They pay me extremely well, so that I'll be immune to any offers from the groups and companies I'm investigating. They also provide me with connections that I used tonight." I nodded once more, very proud of my Dad. He looked at me with some sadness now, though. "However, there is a down side to this job. I have to be very careful about every aspect of my life. I also had to learn about my vulnerabilities. Not surprisingly, that includes Mom and you." I started to see where this was going. And, no, I did not like it. He saw my sudden frown and kept going. "So, I had to learn everything I could about both of you and your own vulnerabilities that could be used against me. Blackmail is an easy tool of the people I'm working against. So, yes, I had you both followed and hacked into all of your computer accounts. It was a relief to learn that Mom is pretty normal and straight forward. But you're not, Daniel, are you?" I blushed and looked at the floor. He pulled my face up to face him. "Are you ok being who you are? Are you happy?" I nodded and said, "Yes. I am who I am and I have accepted who I am." He smiled a real smile again. "And I accept who you are, love you, and am relieved to not worry about blackmail regarding you!" And he looked at me again and smiled at me again and said, "And I'm not `normal' either." We both smiled real smiles at each other. Without thinking I grabbed him, took him into my arms, and gave him a huge hug. He responded and we held each other for several minutes, both very relieved. We finally let each other go. And then he surprised me once again. "Danny, I'm going to make your night now. Go into the guest room. You'll find your clothes for our next adventure in the top middle drawer of the dresser. And the shoes are in the closest. I'll be getting dressed while you are." And then he chuckled big time and left the room. What, I wondered? What now? Suspicious, but curious, I went back to the guest room. I opened the drawer in question and saw a tangled mass of black. I pulled it out and wasn't sure at first what I was seeing. I opened the closet and saw tall black boots. Well, at least I knew what those were. I went back to the drawer and saw a picture in the drawer I had missed at first. I stared incredulously at first, then in wonder, then in acute dislike, and finally I started to laugh. It was a picture hacked from my computer account. It was a pic of a regular at the Hawk Club I mentioned earlier. The person in the pic was dressed in very little, posed as the "Hawkman", showing off his hairy hot masculine body. He had on a very small Speedo, tall boots, a chest strap, and a hawk mask. He was the hottest thing I had ever seen and was the fuel of many nightly jack off sessions. I fumbled with the tangled black mess and eventually realized that this was a duplicate costume of what the Hawkman wore. I slowly stripped naked and then started to put on the costume. Well, to say it fit perfectly would be an understatement. By the time I got the boots and mask on I could tell that. This had all been tailored for me and only me. The Speedo showed my every curve at their most flattering. The straps made my chest look huge and the boots managed to show off my strong legs, too. Even the mask showed enough of my face to make me look mysterious and even hot. I stared at myself in the big mirror in the guest room. Frankly I didn't recognize myself at all, but I had a sudden desire to get to know myself much better! At that thought, I laughed out loud. Dad must have heard because he yelled out from the drawing room, "Danny, are you ready?" Well, I guess I was! I walked out into the drawing room using my most masculine walk. Before I saw him, Dad saw me. "Damn, Danny, wow!" I posed and pumped up a bit enjoying Dad's admiration. But then I turned to him and my jaw dropped and I said, "Dad, you're the Hawkman. You're the Hawkman! You're the Hawkman!" And he was! He was my perfect man, my fantasy, my cum object par excellence! I sprang a boner immediately, obscenely tenting the small Speedo that barely contained me. He laughed out loud and quipped, "Danny boy, is that a gun in your Speedo or are you just happy to see me?" That broke the tension. We both started to laugh and my boner went down some thank God. And then Dad said, "Danny, we're a bit late for our appearance". Our what? He took my hand, led me out of the suite, down the hall, into the elevator and stopped us at a mezzanine level. Still confused I walked with him down another hallway until we got to an ornate door. "Take a deep breath Danny", he advised. I did so. He then opened the door and hustled us onstage! A DJ's voice boomed around us as searchlights caught both of us in their beams saying, "And now Hawk Club, here's the Hawkman and his new sidekick, the Hawkbrother!" A roar of cheers and applause drowned out the disco music following that announcement. Dad took my hand and led me to the edge of the stage and had me bow to the Club. Despite the lights I could tell the huge room was full of nearly naked hot man flesh. Wow. This was my dream fulfilled. Yet the hottest man in the room was on stage with me and he was my cum fantasy and my Dad, too!?! The music suddenly changed and went from frenetic disco to very slow and passionate. "And now we'll dance", Dad said to me. "And we'll give this crowd something to take home and jack off to." And he took nearly naked me into his nearly naked arms and proceeded to dance with me in front of hundreds of men.