A New Family Tradition

It's still not a true story but I keep hoping I'll find a father and son who could, just could be the models for my guys.  Sometimes you create characters as well as situations that you want to step into and join them; This is one of them.

My hope is you'll enjoy reading about their exploits as much as I did writing about them. 

(Oh, will there be a sequel? Don't bet against it...Petr-Johan)

PS-I may find a Paul in real life for my 80th Birthday,  I'm afraid I'm a bit too old for Pat although.....?

Dad and I were sitting around the unstable table in the kitchen, our usual morning, coffee, juice plus whatever we’d remembered to buy that came out of either a toaster or a microwave; We both did know how to cook in the offhand way that single men do but our theory was one good meal a day, if that, was plenty. Also, since I pretty much worked full time at the Far and Away Bar, they did plate meals, so that solved food if we didn’t feel like doing anything for ourselves. (Which was often.) It was next to the gym where we worked out, also made it easy for customers to follow us then get loosened up at the saloon before making their pitch for our services. Though most just enjoyed a drink with the piece of ass they’d also enjoy-loosening them up to make an offer was almost never necessary...kinda fun sometimes but what we’d do was pretty much agreed on. But, shit, I was no stick in the mud, they wanted to change what was on the menu? fine by me.

You may not remember but...a while back not only did I figure out who murdered Mom but sold my ass for a solid sum to a coach. Well...since Dad had already confessed to selling his services-turned out it was many more times than once-I now knew our family was totally salable, working out and working at the bar, well, hell, just went together. I thought about getting an eight to five sort of thing but...men like to fuck in the morning-easier as well as safer if you’re married-so making myself available on a sort of casual whenever basis just worked out. The job Dad had provided health insurance for both of us-he paid a little extra for me once I passed 18-there were some other perks, not many, but a few; Any place that makes plastic doodads isn’t long on shit you can bring home unless you’re weird for fly swatters...The Insurance, plus dental, was the main reason he stayed there.

Oh, and they had a sort of built in company finance deal...which was how Dad bought that damn bike. Stupid fucker, every time I heard that thing roar out, well, I just hoped he’d also taken the big life insurance policy they offered with me as the one who gets the pay off if he dumped himself permanently. Buddy of ours, or he eventually became a real good one, Detective Helgerson, offered to get him into the motorcycle instruction classes the PD ran. The up side to that was if you passed the class, it went on your driver’s license which made you a legal driver-also had some deals with insurance. Tim (Helgerson) was a rider himself...one day I happened to lift his wallet (another talent I’d acquired, pick pocketing) then found, well, son of a bitch, he didn’t happen to have a license to ride a bike either. Didn’t mention that...right away. But eventually I did, oh you bet your sweet ass I did; Ever see a cop blush? He stuttered out some bullshit explanation about time, busy, uhm, time....while I just crossed my arms and stared at him. Oh, and said something, “Sure”.

I only figured Tim out over time. After he collared Franky for Mom’s murder-with my help-for whatever reason he took to stopping by, as he said, “just happened to be in the neighborhood, thought I’d see how my junior detective was doing.” Uh Huh, Again, Sure. It must have taken him some little while but finally he asked my Dad if, since he wasn’t doing anything, if, maybe, well, uh, how about they swing by this sports bar cops knew about, grab some suds then watch the Pittsburgh game? He’d heard they had a new TV the size of Connecticut, made you feel like you were right there. Okay by him, he wasn’t busy and, by then, he was stopped thinking Tim was always out to roust him so...off they went. Shouldn’t have done it but as he walked by me had to say it to Dad, just had to..

“Got a metal studded rubber in your jeans? Bet he takes it tough.” Never saw my Dad blush while he tried to snarl something in response. Didn’t come off the way he probably wanted. Where Tim couldn’t see me, I rubbed his jeans right over his low hangers. Winked at him.

We both liked Tim...in a warped way...he replaced Franky. Didn’t have his sense of humor, didn’t drink so much that he spent time in our spare room but he was a decent man with a troubling secret. Least ways, it troubled him at first. When you live in a wholly masculine world, as he did, some men just find it more comfortable to have a man as their permanent ‘buddy’...only more so. I’ve heard the word “Bromance” but that wasn’t Tim and my Dad. One filled a vacant space in the life of the other that wanted someone who had an unspoken intimacy while the other needed a man as his forever buddy. As I aged out, one thing I knew not to do was become his too close friend, his only companion; I’d seen fathers and sons who seemed almost surgically combined but...combined was confining. Fuck, Dad and I slept together every night, had since forever, had sex, whatever we wanted, when we wanted it so...being his pal just made no sense. Also, since I didn’t have an exact ‘day’ job, left me free to have my own profession without feeling that I needed to have my ‘pal’ with me. Well, if someone wanted two of us-only on weekends, Dads job-okay but that wasn’t hanging out with your chum, that was like...having a part time job with your kid that made money plus it sure as hell beat hauling a lawn mower in old pick up like some guys I saw.

Tim was his pal, his buddy, his chum, his truly good friend; A man his own age just right for being those things. That first night when he asked him if he’d like to go have a beer, I knew it had nothing to do with beer, Pittsburgh or a new television set but a ball game? I gave them ten minutes then called to say Burp, who ran the saloon, wanted me to come work so I wouldn’t be here when that game was over, probably work real late, don’t wait up. If there were another game? Played elsewhere? At least there’d be an open playing field. As I pulled on my cap, the one that had an extended middle finger on the front, I smiled to myself; would be good for Dad to get some friendly variety sexually and, eventually....I’d find out what jail tail was like myself.

Having been more or less raised in the saloon, working there was just an extension of the odd jobs I’d done from about age ten or eleven on. As foul mouthed as their customers, stronger than they were, nice looking, I was the youngest patron-from about age 13-that was routinely accepted as ‘one of the guys’; When the house bought a round, that included me. No one could remember when I’d hadn’t been around so when Burp, the guy who owned it and was usually the bartender, offered me a job it was like making real what had almost always been. Of course there was one difference, not only did I take orders, clear glasses, work behind the bar when Burp was busy but I sold myself to a group who wanted a tough mouthed smart ass who could suck better than a Hoover, had no concerns about what we did and only a few about where we did it. (On really slow days I’d been know to kneel at stud on the bar-get my cock hot and hard then let whoever wanted a ‘a bar drink’ not on the menu, have a slurp. Burp said it and I drew business cuz waiting your turn, well, naturally, you couldn’t lean against a bar, have at least a cold one in your hand. My answer to that was that, yeah, a cold one tastes good, but sticking your meat in a cold place made keeping it up tricky. But, hell, I’m good at tricks.)

There was a back room that covered most situations, the sheets, the bed were clean as was the room; For those who needed ‘encouragement’ to get in the mood, a selection of the most graphic porn they could watch while I did whatever was on their menu; Dad and I ‘reviewed’ it before it went into the room as a visual cock stiffener. Worked better than starch...oh, yeah, forgot, Dad and I made a couple of the reels. In memory of when we’d sold my (alleged) cherry there was a particularly rough one that showed what it might be like when a virgin got his cherry punched....Art was imitating life...but the kicker...at the end, there was about a five minute ‘special’ that showed Dad tied down with me fucking him; Groans of pleasure replaced screams of, theoretically, the pain of a cock making a first time entrance...Gotta say nobody believed I was virgin but porn isn’t about reality so the story line worked just fine; Both of us picked up some business from guys who liked what they’d seen but wanted to have fiction made real. Also, fucking, plus whatever else, takes longer than porn...even it costs more.

Burp was cool with this not only because he got a cut-I seemed to always have someone who wanted a piece of my action, not that it didn’t have a purpose-but because I was good at what I did, popular with his clients when I wasn’t doing it not to mention an addition most bars didn’t offer. Sure, you could stroll into almost any place and get a two bit whore but...that wasn’t me. First, we, Burp and I, had to know fucking well who you were, had to be a customer that came in if not regularly, then enough so you were known. (Or had references damn near printed on your dick.) You had to be clean-there was a shower in that room for guys who hustled in from work and not only needed but appreciated a way to get clean before getting laid.

One of the things I liked to do was take some of my favorites, get them seated back there, slowly strip them, ease them onto the bench in the shower then thoroughly wash, rinse, wash again then a good coating of hydrating lotion before the final hot, with a sudden splash of cold, water to finish. You could get hot and sweaty after what we did next which meant...we repeated the shower, get rid of the sweat. If you’re a guy working, say, with a back haul or doing something like digging trenches for sewers, having a beer while getting sluiced down with a truly nice guy making sure it all felt good is a pleasure to be enjoyed. Did it cost money? Yeah but...it wasn’t something for nothing-and I hope to fucking shout, I ain’t nothing. Other times, if men just looked like they’d been rode hard and put up wet, I’d take them back, give them a good cleaning along with a deep tissue massage all in warm steamy water. Do Not Tell Me that doesn’t feel good. That service was free...which came as a surprize. If you were in a suit that had been damn near sweated through, well, there was a one hour cleaner across the street. Figure it out, you get clean, a good drink-Burp let guys in a towel wrapped around them come in, have a drink-get clean clothes, fuck, all we lacked was a car wash, for the total experience. All it cost you was whatever the cleaner charged. Of course if you had an appointment with me, pay what I cost but I’d include the cost for the cleaners; Show me a stud whore who tips his customer. You can’t.

Oh, yeah, I had a specialty that was not only fun, felt good but didn’t drain your balls: The beer enema. Absolutely no idea when or how but who gave a flying fuck? Also, as a warm up it had all sorts of benefits beyond the purpose it sounds like. Easy to do. I’d grab a long neck, take off the cap, put my finger over the hole, give it a couple of good shakes, then shove it up their butt. Foam enemas, and I used unchilled bottles, felt not only different but good-those bubbles. Also, alcohol when it hits the soft inner tissue of an ass, gets into the blood a lot faster than if swallowed; Figured one bottle sprayed inside did the work of three down the throat. Got to say, eating out tail after a Corona or a Bud was tasty. Usually part of that deal was...once they’d dropped a load in me, they ate me out..Too, it was a good way of cleaning them out-guys talk about it but...when you do it enough times, cleaning the drain pipe before putting in a new fitting is a good idea.

Okay, why did I do that? The shower ‘n all. Tell you what, started with my Dad, how close we were. I just liked men. Fine if they wanted screwing or to be screwed great... but you try getting in a shower with someone who really appreciates genuine concern for them, wants them to relax, enjoy it, knowing they’re not going to be hit up for money, got this man with you who is really trying to do you right...Go find that somewhere. You fucking can’t cuz it only existed one place...a couple of guys said...after we’d washed and waxed them (just kidding, no waxing) that’s why the place was called “Far and Away” cuz it was far and away the best saloon they’d every been in. When they’d come out, fresh, relaxed...the last act was to be handed a drink, the flavor you favor, if you even wanted a drink. Now why would we do that? Do you think those that we treated real good forgot us? Hell no, most of them became regulars-which as burp explained, are the profit basis for a bar; Empty chairs don’t spend money. We became their local go to/hang out-I gotta say it-where everybody knew your name. (Course I knew a bit more, their tastes but, hey, not everyone was into men...but that shower? Primo.)

Also, there’s almost always payback. Kyle, one of my guys-he liked be be spanked before he was fucked- worked in street maintenance for the city. When it snowed, he’d head for our place to make sure not only was the street plowed, but a certain number of parking places were cleared out as well-he’d even slide around and do the lot in back. (When the parking meters started picking pockets of regulars, Burp mentioned that to him...son of a bitch, don’t know how it happened but...one morning six meters, the ones in front, had been run down by...something...broke right off at the pavement. They got replaced. Once.)

I loitered around the bar, told Burp I didn’t need to be home anytime soon so if he wanted to knock off, I could handle it. Smart ass answer, “Yeah, I hear how you handle it.” But a big smile, pat on my butt. “You sure?”. It was a Tuesday, notorious for being flat for business, already 9:30, maybe ten, twelve guys...so, yeah, told him to head out. He smiled, took off the standard bartender towel he had around his waist, handed it to me then disappeared into the store room. Two minutes later we heard what he called his “transportation” fire up then, still dragging a tail pipe, go down the alley turned on to Beall Rd, we could hear him for at least two intersections.... General name for that car was ‘the heap’, that it still ran amazed some of the men who, daytime, were mechanics. Just out of curiosity, they’d gone out to look at it, maybe with the idea of seeing what could be done. Don, who I knew worked on high priced imports, came in shaking his head saying, “Can’t prove it but...I think he’s got peddles in that thing...only, the absofuckinglutely only way it moves forward.” The voice of someone familiar with the issue piped up, “Yeah, but what about reverse?” Good lines like that got you a round on the house.

Nice sort of evening, pleasant out, opened the doors, cut off the air conditioning. Finally said last call at One for the three survivors that were still there. Got them out, locked up, headed home but...just to make sure I’d given anyone who needed it enough time, drove around...nice in the city, quiet, gives you a chance to see what’s new, just look around then headed home. Only transport there is that damn bike and his truck so I figure it’s okay to go in. Quiet there, too. Before he turned in when I was working late, Dad always left the light in the hood over the range on so I could at least have some...welcome home light as well as not fall flat on my ass in the dark. Turned that out, stripped in the kitchen, as I passed the washer dryer, dumped my clothes in the hamper, quietly opened the door to our bedroom....

Easy to know what might have happened in my absence. That morning I’d put fresh plaid sheets on the bed but now...a new set of fresh blue ones. Didn’t need to ask why, I knew. Slid into bed, the one we’d slept in since...I was a kid. He came to just a bit. I propped myself up on one arm, looked at him, smiled, “You could tell me but I won’t ask.”.

“C’mere, son. He’s a real nice guy...” In the dark I could just distinguish the brown centers of his smiling eyes. I leaned in, kissed him, snuggled down, his nice furry body...

“I’m gonna guess you’re drained...at least for now.”

He rolled on his back, the curve of his smile left a small shadow on his chin. “Yeah, for now. But just for now.” He reached for me, took me to him, caressed my head in his hand, drew it to me, kissed. All I needed to do was just slide down a bit, feel his soft breast on my ear; I could hear his gently beating heart. “G’night, Pat...Thanks.”

I was almost asleep.

Breakfast was a little different in that the stupid smile on his face made drinking his coffee tricky.

Was determined to say nothing, ask nothing but, oh shit, did I want to know. Best way in was through the unimportant side door. “Slow night at the saloon...you and Tim enjoy the game?”

Just which one I didn’t ask.

“Nah, stupid big ass television kept picking up broadcasts from Space.”

“No kidding?”

“Yeah. Told us whoever wired it used to work for NASA, something like that, just crossed his wires. Good thing neither of us gave a damn about Pittsburgh.”

I dangled my finger in my mug. “Yeah, can’t think of many people around here who give a shit about Pittsburgh.”

We both paused, chewed some toast...Jesus that man needs to learn how to do innocent. If you didn’t do the deed, then you probably don’t smirk.

“Two of you got plans for anything...”

“Uh, Pat, don’t push me.”

“Wasn’t aware I was, just hoped you and Tim had a good time...hey, bring him by my place, I’ll give him a shower, get him....”

“...get him?”

“...whatever he wants...course if you dropped in, then...”

“You little shit, just ask.”

“Busting to tell me, aren’t you?”

He ducked his head, big smile. “Yeah...” Paused while I could see him think just how much he was going to spill. Not that it mattered, he knew me, in the end I’d know it all. But, for now, I was smiling, waiting...

“Ah, shit, he was so nervous, such a nice guy...and so blue balled. Jesus, don’t they jerk off in the locker room at the precinct? Anyway, it was a lousy evening, kept fiddling with the set,...” He had to stop, remembering something. “You could see it coming, screen was a big sucker so we’re all just sitting waiting, finally...soooo slowly it began to tip.”

“Missed the point after, huh?”

“Oh holy Jesus, there was TV set all over the place...Still don’t know who won.”

I got up to grab the pot for refills, “Well, gave you a reason to leave early.”

“You’d think a cop could drive better...”

“Nervous?”

“Like a squirrel on a high tension line. Almost offered to drive but...”

“Yeah, interfering with an officer of the law...course that came later.” Couldn’t hold it any longer, spurted laughter and coffee.”

“Sorry, Dad, okay, you’ve been a gent, didn’t kiss and tell so...fuck the kiss, just tell me about all the rest. I noticed the sheets were fresh. We got a DNA sample from a friend in the hamper?”

He looked as if remembering. “Yeah, we do...several actually....might find mine.”

I put my arms around him, kissed him. “Good. I like Tim, he’s a great guy, hope he keeps being shy about fucking you...or...did you flip flop?”

“We...covered the basics...may have to send him to you for advanced training.”

“Well, can’t think why we couldn’t do some home schooling, team teaching...you make plans for anything?”

“Well, tell you the truth...I thought, Saturday, we might go to the park, throw it around...get good and sweaty, have to find some place to get cleaned up...before we go out to dinner.”

“Leave a change out set for both of you with me...I’ll make sure we have plenty of warm water.”

Suddenly he wasn’t alright about something.

“What if this gets serious?”

“Dad, ask me after the tenth date, maybe I’ll have an opinion...Ask me after I get him in the shower...oh...and, uh, I think it would be a real good idea if you started washing him. One of us can take the front...”

“Be fun, with my nasty minded kid.”

“While you’re rubbing his shoulders, shampoo coming down his chest...I’ll work it into the hair around his cock while I suck it....You want him shaved?”

He just smiled at me, took a sip, looked out the window maybe thinking about getting a cops star on his chest...

Burp looked real slicked up. “Date or inspectors?”

“I wish.. you can fuck either of them over...nah, got some jerk from the paper, wants to do a story about an old fashioned working man’s bar.”

“Why he’d pick us?”

I could see the laugh coming. “Pat, oh sweet Jesus, Pat, someone told him this place was all washed up...”

Stood there, leaning one hand on the bar, looking at Burp. “Well, whaddya think? Wanta get him all washed up? See what kind of story that gets...if they even print it.” A nasty little thought shot an arrow into the air, it fell to ground...right in the shower. “Cuffed and stuffed...course don’t tell him in advance, just, well, some bull shit about the shower being for dirty working men...”

“You mean dirty minded working men doncha?”

“Hey, they always come come out clean...can’t say about their minds.”

He doubled over. One thing about him, when that man laughed, you knew something struck him as funny. Great talent for the man behind the bar, that kind of laugh. I’d stood there often enough times to hear the dumbest stories the teller thought were THE funniest...that’s when a good laugh was a real help. Probably sold a couple of drinks, too, cuz the story teller, having found an appreciative audience would ‘remember’ several more he just had to tell you, real thigh slappers....Guess you had to be older or...like Burp, a real pro at tending bar-Working for him was in all sorts of ways, educational. Course, he’d be the first to say he’d learned a thing or two. Like the beer enema.

Something on my mind. “Saturday night, my Dad’s gonna be in with a friend so don’t let anyone start using the shower...”

“What time?”

“Uhm....Eight? Round there.”

“Glad to see Paul, even if he weren’t your Dad, always glad to see him...any reason he’s dropping by? It’s not just to see you...who’d bother with that?”

“Cocksucker, you know who drops in to see me...you get a cut of what it costs to see me...”

“Sometimes I wish you were twins.”

“So do I. But Saturday, he’s got a date...”

“Paul? No shit, must be serious if he’s not charging...anyone I know?”

I looked at him, gave him a big shit eating grin... “Yeah, I think you can say he’s been in a time or two looking around...”

I made it a point to be away from the apartment when Tim showed up on Saturday, figured he’d feel more at ease without the ‘kid’-whom he knew perfectly well-around. This was now on the road to ‘serious’ so I didn’t want to seem like that hovering ‘dad’ making sure his little boy was going out with someone ‘decent’. The guys a cop, decent? Yeah, I kinda think so. And... maybe I’ve got the touch of the romantic...wanted someone to come to our door, have a good ‘Hello’ kiss without an audience. Later he could kiss both of us...planned on that. Fact is, as I thought about it, planned on quite a number of things.

Dad had given me a set of clothes for both of them-have no idea what lies he had to tell to get Tim to hand over something to wear after fooling around in the park. Well, the fooling around part was on the right road...through a sort of drive through wash...no car needed. If he knew or had been told about the shower, what happened there, in it, to men...like him that would be hot and sweaty? Gonna be a surprise, one I pretty much guessed he’d like. Also, he needed to get a fuller handle on how Dad and I lived... Worked that is beyond the plastics factory. Sure he knew we whored, no problem, but...I wanted this to work for Dad...if it there was anything to work.

One thing I’d found by accident but had worked out nicely into my ‘professional’ life was a small semi-motel that advertised they had ‘long term rates’. 99 out of a 100 times these places are dumps but this one was clean to the point of almost sterility. Given that I could get references from the cops-I gave them Tim’s name, his precinct and that he was a detective who would vouch for me-Sometimes a version of honesty goes a long way. In this case, I made it clear I lived with my Dad, a widower, but it was a small apartment, I was in school, their place was closer to the campus and...Dad worked odd hours which made studying hard. Oh, and some of my ‘frat brothers’ might come by to study with me carefully adding “at all hours”. I was prepared with a topic that required this peace and quiet but wasn’t asked. (It was Physical Science-okay, tell me I didn’t know something about that..) Couple of other things that recommended this place, something almost no similar places would have on their units: A back door onto a small, employee parking lot. Also a swimming pool which was okay, maybe for...other ‘students’ studying ‘Physical Science. And Anatomy. For those who wanted a private tan...I planned on finding out if I could put up a sort of screen giving some privacy...unless you went by on the railroad.

Okay, why did I want or need this? Simple, some of my clients were not comfortable with collecting me at a bar, but the bigger reason was guys who had ‘special needs’. Remember Kyle? Guy who plowed our street? Him. Okay, he liked to get spanked, more like walloped, before he was fucked. Also tied down while that happened...gagged so his screaming wasn’t heard. Oh, the other great selling point, this was an end unit that was going to be very tough to rent as only a chain link fence separated it the parking lot from railroad tracks. I explained that some noise was just that, noise, what you expected but...my Dad had a habit of Karaoke Singing whenever...they got the idea.

Dad didn’t know about my home away from home although I had every intention of telling him. In fact this was going to be the ‘headquarters’ for our private businesses. I looked ahead to a day when we could give a sort of party for well paying friends. What I had learned was that if guys like to fuck or be fucked...there was not one reason they wouldn’t enjoy getting it on with strangers...ones they knew were safe, were easy with what everyone there had in mind. Fuck, if they just paid to watch Dad and me screw well, okay. I saw us as two men fucking but a lot of guys were turned on by a father screwing his son or vice versa. Remember the porno tape he and I made for the warm up before a client and I used the bed in the back room? That’s where I discovered that a father with his son having some sort of sex was a turn on to some men. Also, that’s where I discovered that a little role playing went a long way...

First time I tried it was with a client who had watched the tape, really been turned on by it so...when I rolled him up for a good doggie plowing I was saying. “Oh yeah, Dad, oh shit, oh I want you...your boy wants to show you how his dick is ready for a real man like his daddy...” and so on. Jesus, if I’d given him a Viagra milkshake he couldn’t have been harder or more turned on. If not then why was he moaning, “Jesus, Kid, stuff your old man, ooooh that feels like a bull cock, son, I’ve wanted you ever since I watched you take off.. stick it there, harder, ...take off your shirt when you cleaned the garage. You are one hot...OHHhhhhHollllllllly Shit. Daddy just shot...”? Etc. Did he get off on father/son action? Does a wild bear shit in the woods? I added that for ‘special men with fatherly fantasies’.

I’d worked out that if I was the ‘boy’ that my client ‘Dad’ could come home to (the place I’d rented) we could play the whole thing out, do whatever he wanted, or I wanted, even watch the late news then sleep together. Well, until my fine ‘boy’s’ body was too tempting making him roll me over in the clover and do it again. Or I could take him, hell, both. I’d heard things about men who did ‘scenes’ like that, charged big bucks...also made sure whoever was playing “Dad” (or grand dad or Uncle or Cousin or...the relative of their choice) could have a real ‘family’ evening. Like the video we’d made, Incest Sells.

Saturday evening I was at my usual after a strange, sort of, afternoon. I’d been wandering the house-it was a hot day so I hadn’t bothered with clothes. Dad was sitting at the kitchen reading the paper when I paused beside him. Next thing I know he’s got my balls trapped in some sort of gadget, really just a piece of plastic bent in half.

“Okay, what the fuck?”

“Don’t want one? We’re making ‘em by the thousand.”

He turned me loose. “Okay, I give up, what is it?”

“Sure you don’t recognize it?” He had a grin that told me there was no way I’d guess this one. “I thought they were crazy but...this is a tea bag squeezer.”

Just looked at him. “Those people are nuts.”

“It’s an order, big one...thought I’d bring one for my favorite son. Don’t like it?”

“No, show it to Tim, see if he wants one...give his gonads a mashing...”

With that I showered, got into my ‘work’ clothes, gave him a kiss, told him I’d see him later then left for the bar...taking with me a tea bag squeezer in the off chance Burp had bags that needed to be squeezed. Sure to give him a laugh. Fuck, I don’t think we even served tea.

Burp held up the squeezer, looked disgusted, then pitched it in the trash. “That place your dad works? They’re warped.”

No point in disagreeing with him.

It was already a fairly good sized crowd, knew quite a few of them so made the rounds, some rubbed my crotch, some my ass, their choice. It was all friendly. Couple wondered what I was up to later, if I might be up for them? That’s when I reached down, unzipped their pants, made like I was gonna haul out their meat, smiled, winked...told them they needed to get their orders in earlier, my kitchen was already closed for the evening. All good guys, settling in for evening with friends, sorry I was off the menu. Which was why I had my new place. Wouldn’t take any business from Burp but...as I’d sorta planned, have guys like this one drop in, some others, do what they wanted...when they got their balls drained or whatever, go back to the Far and Away to continue a pleasant evening.

I was behind the bar when Dad and Tim walked in, waved, watched them sit at a table for six. The surprize, or the first one, for the evening was when Burp saw Tim or, as he knew him, Officer Helgerson. Hadn’t lied, told him he’d been in now and then looking around, just didn’t finish by telling him for what or who he was looking for.

“Jesus, Pat, that’s your Dad’s date? The cop?”

“Guess so, must be off duty...”

“He’s taking him to the shower?”

“Look all hot and sweaty to me...been out in the park playing pick up ball...good time for a shower...which is why they’re here.”

“You little shit, you set this up.”

“Uhm um, Dad and I set it up...only one who doesn’t know it yet is the guy I’m about to serve a beer.”

“Where’re you gonna put it? Give a cop a beer enema?”

“Nah, maybe another time but he’s already in for some surprizes, don’t want to go for more than what he’s up for.”

Burp just shook his head. “Paul and a cop...”

“Yeah, Dad and his cop...scuse me, I gotta go get some things ready for guys who need to get washed up.”

It was easy going up to the pair just in from exercising. It was easy wrinkling my nose, waving a hand while saying if they smelled like that, beer would seem stale. Only thing...”Dad, take your buddy back to the showers, go on, git.” Just as easy as I knew it would be, Tim followed dad by the bar-Burp, by request, held his nose-on through the door stenciled, “Locker Room, Gents Only”. (To distinguish it from another pair of doors marked what you’d expect, “Men” and “Ladies”. There was also a third one, off to one side for supplies, deliveries...

What Tim would see was sort of a locker room. You could vary the lights, or pull some curtains, that saved the bed for a ‘happy’ surprise after you were squeaky clean, maybe had a beer sprayed all the way to your prostate, looking for ‘relieve’ that you could not get in a drink at the bar. There was a set of four lockers, usual bench in front of them, then, behind that, the wall with a couple of shower heads coming out. (Save water, shower with a friend.) May have seemed strange to be in a bar but the explanation, if needed, was that this had been part of a gym, when it closed, this part was divided, made into the bar the other side, which had no use for showers, was a wholesale car parts store. Made good sense even if it was a total lie. Hey, how often does the honest to God truth look like a lie? Think about it.

Dad had left the door slightly open so as they peeled, I slid in, locked it, got behind the curtains, stripped and...waited. What I could hear was the usual. Tim had, as Burp now remembered, been in many times before in his professional capacity so knew about the showers, the set up so the suggestion that they sluice off the sweat, dirt and grass stains seemed a good idea. Fine, all going nicely, I could hear the distinct sound of bare feet on a hard surface, the whoosh as water started on, then the splatter as men got under it.

Had to smile, from the shadows I could see my father and ‘his cop’ holding each other in the warm water. Tim was shy (for a cop?) as he moved his face around, I imagined his eyes closing as they kissed. Told you I was romantic, to see my Dad, happy, his arms draped around a man...aw, shit, NO I didn’t cry...just teared. A little. Fortunately they didn’t get too involved in tongue wrestling for Dad to remember what was supposed to happen. I could see him reach behind him to the shelf where there were all sort of body washes, shampoos, hydrating lotions...sponges, shaving foam, single use razors, conditioners...if it went on your body it was on the shelf. Next thing...Dad got the stool that was available for guys to just sit in the flow, relax, enjoy the steam rolling around them...got Tim seated on it...picked up a bottle of ‘do everything’ shampoo and body scrub then dumped it over his real good pal.

“Close your eyes, don’t want to get soap in them...”

He did while holding Dad’s wrists in his hands while they continued to apply pressure to the pair of hardening points.

Slowly, carefully, with some pressure here and there, Dad worked up an all over frothy lather that turned his buddy from Detective to Frosty...but Frosty was leaning back against the strong body feeling a hard piece of male wood, knowing it was a promise for later...A body I knew intimately that, I hoped, eventually, he would as well. Working carefully, he started down from his scalp finally caressing his pecs, beginning to gently pinch his nipples; It was working I could see his cop cock stiffening, rising...separating lather as it flowed down his chest then his abdomen. Dad stayed on his tits while I...quietly slid in, knelt down, my shoulders spreading his legs, using only my mouth, caught a nice piece of slightly soapy meat, closed around it, began to suck...which did not go unnoticed. I could feel Tim jerk with surprize even more so when, I guess, he looked down to see the top of a body he knew.

“See, Tim, we want you...only way to show you, get you here, let you feel us feel you so...just relax, you know what we do, I guarantee you’re going to enjoy this.

Not wishing to be left out, I lifted one hand and made the O.K. symbol with my fingers while, with my other hand, I made a cradle then held his ball bag in it, barely squeezing while I nibbled around his corona. Couldn’t see what Dad was doing but Tim was liking it based on how hard he was getting.

For a few moments, that’s how we stayed, three men, friends, good friends, moving toward...something two of them needed. Taking advantage of the cascade of cleansing fluid, I started to massage it in and around his thighs, calves, feeling the hair work into whorls, pulling my mouth in and out, encouraging him, wanting him, almost forcing him to give me what he had, that silver syrup only a man has.

Dad came around cuz...when his man’s stick bled white, I wanted my Dad to receive it from what might become his man. Tim put his hands on those broad shoulders then leaned down while he spasmed, filling up my father’s mouth with his sperm. Dad looked up, they saw each other, Tim leaned down to receive part of what he’d given. I just leaned back on my haunches, watched, was happy then realized...they were going on so...what to do? Well, the shower was still running so I quickly washed myself, left them to whatever, got good and dry leaving them to whatever they’d think up.

When I was dressed I looked back, saw them standing up, their hands running over wherever they happened to be, both of them nice and still...I could have stayed but...I bet I’d hear about it. Just not that night, no, not then. I’d left a note with Burp to hand to Dad telling him that I had something to do, wouldn’t be home until at least...noon on Sunday. Signed it..

Love to both of you. (Fuck, I told I was a romantic.)

Not that I didn’t really have something to do as well as a place to do it. I’d told Kyle to bring the thing he most like to be spanked with, two sets of cuffs, maybe thirty feet of Para Cord as well as where to take it all then get his little ass ready; I’d be along as soon as I got washed up.........