Date: Thu, 18 Sep 2003 00:06:13 -0400 From: Steve Griffin Subject: Me and my Deadbeat Dad 4 See part 1 for disclaimers. This chapter doesn't have a lot of sex, it's more character and plot development. Sorry. I hope you still read though. The next chapter should be good. ----- When I came to, my first sight was a large purple basket. And not the kind you take to grandmother's house. Josh, who I quickly surmised was the owner of the basket, petted my slicked-down hair as if he were my own private nursemaid. My head was nestled in his lap, and I had to admit I'd had much worse pillows in my life. As my tired and confused body adjusted to consciousness, the scents and sights of the steam room returned. "You only passed out for a few minutes. Bobby tracked me down, and then when he found out you were just dandy, he -- well actually he ran out of here like I was going to ask him to take a vow of celibacy." I tried to laugh, but the sound was more of a wheeze. "John, the first time I sat down on that piece of plywood our blonde bubble-butted buddy is packing, I nearly needed the smelling salts myself. With all the vapors in here, and since you're so new to the wonderful world of bottoming, I'm not surprised you lost your head. Just as long as you're OK now. Are you?" Gathering my breath, I nodded. His soft fingers rubbing my temples and his kind eyes had helped more than he could imagine. Suddenly, the memory of that tattoo flashed through my addled mind. I bolted up from Josh's lap, glancing around the room for a sign of my father. "Where's my father? He was here..." Josh shrugged as he readjusted his copious crotch meat. "Guess he left when Bobby did. I didn't even know he was in here. Did he watch you? What a kinky family arrangement...not that there's anything wrong with that. They do say that incest is best." I shot a glare his way until I realized he was joking. Josh was always joking, but was very sweet and sincere underneath. Considering all the the shit he'd taken in high school, his lack of bitchiness and cynicism were remarkable. I furiously ground the heels of my palms into my eyes as Josh stroked my back. "Josh, I never had the chance to say it back then, but you were so fucking brave, coming out the way you did. I mean, junior year, you had 2 years of that rathole left, and you just didn't care." "I cared..." he whispered, "but at some point, I decided that if I was going to be the pinata of every bully on campus no matter what, I might as well be honest. I look terrible with a beard...smooth and clean is the way to go. And I was way too queeny to fake being straight, not like..." "Not like me." I finished his sentence. His voice took on a wistful tone as he craned my head in his direction. "John, you didn't come out, but you were a sports star, a popular guy -- you had so much to lose. And even then, you cared. Who was it that encouraged me to get in shape, hmm? I remember the first time that one of those turds ran from me. He thought I was this helpless little fag who would beg for his mercy. I kicked his ass! Violence and blood really turn my stomach, but that was what I had to do and defending myself made me feel good. You did that, John. And we knew how much you and Bobby and a few of the other big guys went out of the way to protect us. That's what I'd like to do..." Josh's normally chirpy voice had become quite morose, and his vibrant eyes clouded over. As I patted his shoulder, I pressed our foreheads together, lowering my tone to a whisper. "You mean you're going to go back to high school and join the football team? That's one way to enjoy the locker room." Josh let out a lewd chuckle. At least I'd managed to cheer him up. He squeezed my hand affectionately. I felt so comfortable around him, even though I was buck naked. There was no sexual tension or worry between us, just friendship and caring. "No, silly, I meant I want to be a teacher. Help kids like me who live in fear every day. I know it's stupid. Who'd hire a nelly cocksucker like me anyway..." I leaned in to briefly peck his lips, and cupped his dimpled chin. "Any school would be lucky to have a nelly cocksucker like you, Josh. And if they aren't then I'll come down here and knock their empty heads together, like they do in those old cartoons. If this is what you want, then go for it. Just try not to wear hot pink lycra short-shorts to orientation." Josh smiled and stood from the bench, extending a hand to help me up. "Don't be an idiot! I was gonna save those for parent-teacher meetings." I smiled in return, clasping his hand. For just a few minutes, I felt better. I'd been so eager to get away from this town and into the more "cultured" world of college that I'd forgotten some of the good people who had been left behind. Well, I wasn't going to forget them again. After I showered and slipped back into my clothes, I gave Josh the usual cluster of e-mail addresses and cell phone numbers. He swapped his contact info in return, and also gave me Bobby's number, suggesting I try to talk to Bobby as soon as I possible. As I drove home I dialed the number, but only got a click every time I tried to say hello. Had his wife found out about her husband's voracious cock hunger? Was Bobby ignoring me? What the fuck was going on? That had to be wait, at least for a while. I went to visit my mother. We had a pleasant chat, avoiding most conversation about Dad, as we usually did. She did mention that she had received a good offer on Grandma's house, and wanted to sell. Mom had taken care of Grandma during her cancer bout, and was probably more like a child to her than my father had ever been. She'd deeded the house to Mom a few months before she passed on. I guess I'd have to be the one to tell Dad...as if we weren't dealing with enough father/son issues. When I got back to Grandma's house, Dad was nowhere to be found. I was both disappointed and relieved. I tried Bobby again, and this time got an actual voice. "Not a good time, John. Sorry." He was near the point of hanging up when I began pleading with him to stay on the line. After a deep sigh that I could practically feel gasping in my ear, he stayed. "Bobby, what's happened? Aren't we friends? Is this about what you told me? Bobby, I love you too. You're my best friend. I don't understand..." His voice began to catch again while he sped through his sentences. "D-Don't. Just don't. We have totally fucking different lives now and now I'm feeling all these things that I don't want to feel and can't feel. I can't, John. Just let me go, please. I'll see you the next time you're in town, OK? Mary's gotta go to her lamaze class. Thanks for calling. Keep in touch. Bye." //click// Several moments passed. Only the shrill clucking of the phone woke me from my confused, open-mouthed haze. I hung up and went to take a long, hot bath. Bobby, my father, Paul...the images swirled through my mind like a bad acid trip while I soaked in the scalding tub. I thought the heat might make me focus, but I didn't even want to focus. I thought my life was settled, easily in place. In the matter of only a few days I'd given up my cherry after a lifetime of anal virginity, managed to traumatize the happy-go-luckiest man I'd ever known, as well as have drunken, wild sex with my own father. Nothing made sense. As the water cooled to a more tolerable temperature, I ran the washcloth down my sculpted chest, gliding my thumbnail down each groove of my tight six-pack. I slipped inside my exhausted pucker, sliding the thick digit back and forth along the relaxing walls. I closed my eyes, wishing I could find the answers. Wishing that I could figure out why my father and his towering figure were now filling my fantasies instead of my nightmares. I pictured him standing over the tub, tearing off his wifebeater to expose his hairy pecs. Kicking off his boots. Stepping out of his jean shorts. His giant girth poking me in the chest as he grabbed me for a rough, stubbly, man-to-man, father-to-son, kiss. I could swear that a hand was tracing the inside of my right thigh. Teasing my flesh in a familiar way. So soft and gentle. My fantasy had come true. "Dad..." I whispered, reaching out to stroke my father's face. "Dad? DAD?" My eyes flew open. Standing in front of me was Paul, my lover. Fully dressed. Angry. Very angry. Oh shit. ----- My e-mail address is knack6@hotmail.com