A New Family Tradition

Paul and his son Pat seem to be some of my favourite characters. Pat is a smart ass hoodlum who, along with his Dad enjoys selling themselves. Nice to think that, now that I'm 80 I can still have very young ideas and places to do them. Hope you like my guys as much as I do and, please, I, as well as everyone who writes here, appreciates your comments. Thanks!

Petr-Johan

The knock.

I opened the door.

Tim, my Dad’s detective buddy/boy friend, pushed by me.

“Jerald Atherton, I have a warrant for your arrest, charge is Capital Murder.” Without a word Jerry stands, turns around, his towel falling on the floor. The two uniformed officers, with Tim by them holding his gun, wrench his hands behind his back, palms out, he’s cuffed then walked past me, out the door, naked, placed, I guess, in a squad car. He doesn’t even look back.

“Pat, your Dad’s real worried about this-I told him what was up-go home, I’ll catch you there later.”

He leaves, professional business, plus having a murderer to get locked up, means he has other things to do.

I stand there not quite sure what has just happened but hearing only one word Tim had said to me, “Dad”.

Dad, I have to see him, go home, to Dad.

It’s still late dusk when I park my car, lock it, climb the steps to our apartment into the arms of my father who looks at me, checking to make sure I’m as alright as I’m likely to be right then. There’s something I have to tell him, help him jump what he thinks is going to be a high hurdle, what he thought might be a potential love... but was just a fuck with a guy, only a little better, that I kinda liked.

“Dad, it’s okay, I didn’t love him, it wasn’t going there...just, well, just a shock….first murderer who ever fucked me unless….I guess Franky”...who’d accidentally murdered my Mom… “...got into your ass a time or two but, what the hell, that was a long time ago...”

He was relaxing, no storm was coming in, he grinned. “Yep, he wasn’t real good, not very often, but...he’d scratch an itch I’d get back there...”

“Any port in a storm kinda thing?”

“Well at least he had a stiff lighthouse….”

We looked at one another, laughed. “One thing, back then, you were five, maybe six, if he or any man laid a hand on you….”

“Didn’t Franky change my diapers? Think he stuck his finger up there, made sure I was clean...that count as getting hands laid on me?”

“Uh, yeah..no... but lets not get technical….whatever he did was in line with changing your diapers….you know who your first was...” He smiled as he took me in his arms.

“That I do, some memories are just...permanent.” I kissed his cheek. “Wish you could take my cherry again….”

He held onto me. “Ya know, son, just now, never thought it but….kinda wish you coulda taken mine….” We smiled at each other. Whatever had happened was behind me, maybe not forgotten but over.

Had a sudden thought, never asked him but….who the fuck did pop his cherry? Maybe not the moment to ask, too much information.

“So...I’m guessing you’ve got the evening free…”

“Um, might go back to the saloon….Burp had an emergency so some of the guys are running the place...”

“Jesus, is that safe? I mean, I know most of those guys….”

“So do I, that’s why it’ll be alright…. now I’ve got not only a free evening but...a whole fucking weekend...already paid for-I’m betting what he paid me wouldn’t be enough for his bail...”

Dad grinned. “On a murder rap? Capital Murder? uh, no...but it’s nice of you to offer...tell you what, give Tim a laugh, call him, offer to put up what Jerry paid you for a weekend of fucking as bail...then stand there, listen for it, when you hear him drop the phone, fall to the floor hooting with laughter….I want a video of that.”

“….maybe I should find some nice guy who’d like a weekend in a motel with a stud but couldn’t come up with the cash...”

“Yeah, well, how about YOU remembering that ‘Charity begins at home?’, Sport? Your dear old Dad never sees his bouncing baby boy much anymore...My guess is Tim is going to be involved elsewhere so that leaves us, me too, without, uh, dates.”

“You cannot stand there and tell me Tim is a ‘date’, maybe someone you’re dating but when you and I go on ‘dates’ it’s because we get paid for what we do….Tim paying you?” I stopped and looked at him, suddenly this was an important point, least it was to me.

Dad ducked his head that way people do when they’re going to have to say something they’d rather not say… “No, no Pat, he’s not….a date. Most he ever spends on me is.. maybe buy me a beer….”

Had a funny idea. “Have him take you to the drive in movie, use a squad car, one with a cage, park on the back row….wait ‘til some dumb ass security officer stops by to see what the fuck is going on….flash the badge….” We smiled at each other. Tim, and we both really did like him, my Dad a lot more than me, could make him blush….something ten year members of the Homicide Department shouldn’t ever be able to to.

It wasn’t quite the moment but then….when something’s on your mind, the ‘moment’ that you want never comes up. “Dad...what about Tim? I know it’s serious, just looking at him, he wants you to be his, don’t he. Wants you to quit….what we do...just wants you to work it out, be some sort of couple. Right?”

He slipped into a chair, put his head in his hands…. “Something like that, yeah….something like that.” He looked out a window; It was finally dark. “He...he never asks me to quit….”

As I’d done so often, I slipped onto his lap, took his head, leaned it against me, stroked his buzz cut hair. “Do you love him?”

“I tell myself I don’t but maybe I’m lying….I don’t know. If he were just some guy, Jesus would this be easier….he’s a cop, I fuck for money, no way we can ever live….”

I added the “together”.

“No.”

“What’ll you do? Can’t go on making both of you unhappy, shit, he calls me his ‘sorta kid’….whether you love him or not, he loves you, us….it’s like a stupid, dumb TV movie…. see, there’s this cop who falls for a stud whore and what’ll they do about it? Oh, and the whore has a kid who’s also a stud….” I paused.

“Guess it’ll have to run two or three nights to figure that one out...”

He didn’t mean to but, didn’t mean to, kinda snorted out a laugh.

“Honest...do you want to give up doing...you know, what we do?”

I wondered if he would answer? He held me close, said nothing, almost automatically rubbed my buzz cut, but I could tell he was thinking, wondering, adding up this and that.

“Would you give it up?” He asked me.

“Me? Fuck no, I like it, I like fucking men, I like sucking them off, like to feel a big cock up my ass, big hairy balls bouncing off me while I get screwed, eating cum I made them squirt, fuckin’ hell, I like all the things I do with them... no, I wouldn’t give it up, that’s like asking me to quit my day and my night job...I’m not the one who needs to answer. Do YOU want to quit? And remember, he can’t, shouldn’t give up his job, he can’t live here….. you could be be a house husband with a job who comes home maybe has his man come for dinner, spend the night, maybe go to my motel place, spend the night but….after all that….he doesn’t stick around, he goes to his home, you go to yours...so, Can you give it up?”

“I gotta give one of them up….I guess”.

“Why? If he doesn’t know what you do by now, hasn’t said anything, he just accepts what you do” Again; “..has he ever asked you to give it up?”

“No, never mentioned it.”

In my mind I had an idea, a thought, a realization; Dad would hate it, I’d hate to tell him what I thought but….it was the only idea around.

“Maybe he likes your being a stallion for sale….maybe it’s a turn on for him, maybe it’s something sexual, whenever the two of you fuck, he’s getting it on with a paid stud...his stud, one he might just love, could happen, but that doesn’t change anything….when he’s not around, you’re making it with other men, getting paid….makes him the champion, he gets for free what everyone else is paying for….his own personal whore….like fuckin’ a virgin in a whore house, one he fell for.” I paused, looked at him, “..besides, you really like him….why give him up? Buddy, he’s had every chance to say Sayonara to you….didn’t need to come around but...he finally made it, a boys night out, the two of you, a ball game but, hey, we’ve been at this too long, what he wanted to see it as and what it was...you fucked him on the first date.” I looked right into his eyes. “….Cuz he wanted you to.”

That smirk on his face said it all….It would have been real rude to ask him more. His answer to that was to whack me on my ass, tell me to get back to the saloon before my stand ins tore the place down-I knew them better than he did but, what the hell, nothing else to do, might as well drop in, see how much damage had been done.

It was sort of a good idea to drop by the place, see how things were going, knew it wasn’t wrecked when I ran into two of my guys in the alley throwing out a drunk. Typical. He didn’t look like a regular so what the hell.

“Hey, Pat, where the fuckin’ hell you been, thought you were out for the night?” We walked back in my hoping that the drunk by the trash cans was about the worst that had happened; It was. Sammy, my good buddy, who happened to be an ex con, a paid ‘volunteer’ bouncer, loitered over said if I wanted to leave, okay by him. Nothing was shaking that shouldn’t be. “Where’s your evening’s fun?”

“Slammer,….murder one, who’d a thunk it.”

“Guess we’ll get a new guy delivering beer...sound like a legitimate beef?”

“How does ‘Capital Murder’ grab your nuts….?”

“Well, that’s a good working title, don’t get much higher than that….” He slouched against a wall, grabbed hold of a guy in a chair as he was about to lean back too far, “You got plans or are you free?”

“Any reason you’re asking?”

“Man was in, looking for you, looked like he was holding...something about seeing what you were up to?”

“What’d you tell him?”

“That you was up to no good..,..said that sounded promising to him...if you ever had some time to get up to no good with him, look him up.”

“Old friend of the family?”

“Might say so...me.” He looked straight at me.

“Well, that’s a turn of events….” I looked back at him. “You look like a man who could use a good cleaning out...tell you what, find someone to take over for you, maybe we can both get all showered up…” I cocked my head, looked at him. “Want your mouth washed out with soap? My famous beer enema?”

“Ya know, Daddy, I do believe I’ve been a bad, bad boy today, knocked over that bank you said not to…..”

“Glad to hear it….I’ll be in the back getting the water warm….” Smiled at him as I pulled out the heavy leather belt I used for spanking from my 501’s.

Sammy and I somehow meshed right off just because that’s what sometimes happens. Maybe two, three years back he’d come in looking for a job...Burp read him for what he was, a con, almost said no but something in me, don’t know, thought we oughta give him a chance. If nothing else, just looking at him spelled bad ass ‘bouncer’-some nights, we needed about three of those. With Sammy, as it worked out, only needed one. Around the saloon, when working, he peeled down to a tank top that clearly showed his prison ink, his prison born muscles as well as the way he could cut his eyes or give people about to do something they shouldn’t ‘the stare’.

Actually, pretty good looking, regular features, nice eyes-when they weren’t playing radar for unwelcome incoming-usually quiet….except with me. Guess it was because when he started I was just moving up from being an old ‘kid’ to young ‘man’ although most of the guys there would’ve told him the ‘kid’ part had blown out the door the first time I cold cocked someone who then went down for the full ten count. He’d lean on the end of the bar, looking like a customer, mug part full in front of him-never touched it-and just talk to me, if I was around, maybe behind the bar. Inadvertently, probl’y didn’t mean to, but what he gave me was something I could only have got one other place: In Prison. He gave me the full con schooling in things he just naturally knew, thought it might be a good idea if I did as well, just casually made me his one off buddy from the joint. I liked him, liked what he taught me...hoped like hell I’d never have to use it-or be in prison-but it’s better to know something than to wish you knew it when suddenly something comes up that knowing would have helped. Dad told me, I didn’t see it, that Sammy had it bad for me but wasn’t going to say nothing ever; He was a con, even though if I was a stud for sale, there was just that difference; I’d never been in, cons, Dad said, never quite get out. Maybe, don’t know. I wondered...all that he taught me...did he think that maybe one day I’d go down? Get some time? Would that even the score between us? Two cons?

It was still Friday night, not known for its peace and quiet even in a place like the Far and Away whose trade was repeat business, mostly locals, the occasional stray who wandered in. Which meant shit. The guys who came in were buddies however, most of them were hair triggered, had no problem knocking anyone out then settling back to finish their beer: Tomorrow they’d still be good friends; What happened yesterday? Fuck, that meant nothing.. The other side to that coin was when someone, not well known, started something only to find pretty much everyone in there belonged to the same gang who, for the hell of it, were now going to beat the shit out of them laughing while they did it. These were moments when Sammy, Burp or I, whoever was closest, just made sure there was an open door if it looked like they were going to ‘take it outside’ or get thrown there. Also, worst thing you could do, break some things, screens, chairs, all that sort of crap are cheap, but windows, mirrors, toppers for tables are not. Alternately there was the alley which Sammy enjoyed as that’s where, fuck the Maquise of Queensbury (sp?) rules of fighting and such, he was in it to win it preferably leaving whoever lost eligible for a free ride to the hospital...and the clear idea that coming back to settle the score was a real bad one. Saw it happen once, the dude survived...finally.

Oh, and where were the cops? Beats me. Probably outside handing out parking tickets-except at our place-some while back someone took a piece of heavy machinery then ripped them out of the pavement. The city, after a while, replaced them, same thing happened; No parking meters in front any more. Also, some places get known as ‘cop hangouts’….can’t say ours was one but then, we knew them when they came in, civvies, badge not apparent; At that moment, they changed sides, they were with our team, they didn’t see what happened unless some of ours were jumped or took one in the kidneys then they were all academy training, nobody fucks up a joint cops like...try it. Want to find out what real police brutality is? Start a fight some place they like to hang out.

Burp told me that Sammy saw himself as some sort of protector for me even though he knew that was pointless. I had a gun, could and would fight, knew when to back off-not often-but when to go for it. If my Dad and Tim were there, as Sammy would smirk then-once-said, I had to be on my best behavior in front of ‘Daddy’. Only time he said that, found himself pounded in his balls then, when he went down, got kicked there too. After a moment, he smiled at me, raised his arm, I helped him up but never again was the word ‘Daddy’ used to describe my father.

Coupla times, almost nobody there, Sammy told me about how I kinda reminded him of a cellie he’d had for a few years. Tough little SOB, kicked up to Big P, as he called it, from juvie. I’m guessing he taught this kid about what he taught me with the difference that he had examples right in front of him, whereas I had to take his word for whatever he said. Which I did. Why he never said the kid’s name...wondered about that, he was always, ‘the kid’, once, ‘my kid’.

As much as he’d talk about him, there came a point when he just stopped, went silent. Just looked out at nothing in particular but making it clear that was it, full stop. Cannot say, cuz I talked to my Dad about it, how much I wanted to know...more. What happened? Where was ‘the kid’ now? But something in me put on the brakes, couldn’t ask knew if there was something to tell me, he would. Wondered if, somehow, now I was ‘the kid’? Dad asked me if I wanted to be, just shook it off, didn’t answer. Then, briefly, Jerry blew through my life so my spare time, apart from when I working on my back making dough, hanging out with him or Dad and Tim, working at the saloon...Just busy. Sammy was just part of my own personal scenery, always glad to see him but never thought about it going any further….I guess...I kinda liked thinking maybe I was the new, improved version of ‘the kid’. If he wanted…he’d get around to me ...eventually.

“How long before the water’s warm?” He looked into my face, saw a smile I’d never seen.

“When we want it warm...it will be...sides, ‘SON’ there’s that matter about the bank...you think my kid isn’t gonna get a walloping for that action?”

“That why you’re pulling off your belt?”

“It ain’t because we need it to haul a car outta the ditch...”

“Guess I’ll haveta find someone to keep an eye on things….”

He was facing me; I put my hand on his bulge. “Better tell whoever you find...they may be working late.” Grinned at him.

Got it back. “Good idea…..Kid.” Spun me around gave me push by putting his hand on my ass, took a grab…. “...very late I’d say.”

I smiled down the short hall to where the showers, and bed (carefully curtained off from the locker room part) were. Good looking room, wooden lockers, bench, more like a semi-pro team than some cheap gym. Of course….there was nothing ‘semi-pro’ about our players who used it. I had my own locker so peeled, put everything in there, had the kind of lock that worked on finger prints and a combination. Nobody got at my shit….course next to it was another locker, nobody’s in particular (if you tried to open it, always seemed...stuck) but that’s where I kept what I thought I might need; Everything from extra shampoo and men’s body wash to cuffs, rope, whips, chastity devices, what I might need….depending on who, what, where, why how and, oh yeah, how much was I getting paid?

One other side for the showers; Guys who came in who just looked like the first thing they needed was a good, long sluicing, sitting on a stool, waiting for the pain, the grime, the whatever mess they were into that day went away. And, yep, I worked on them, no charge, these were our guys, regulars, ones we knew as well as ones who when we needed them, there they’d be. You have not seen real appreciation until you saw one of those men...before and after a while in the shower with me quietly cleaning them, rubbing them and, yeah, now and then blowing them. Even kept some spare clothes (courtesy Good Will) so no putting back on the filthy duds you’d worn in. (Oh, yeah, like every bar or saloon, we had a washer and dryer for towels plus whatever else. Sometimes the ‘whatever else’ consisted of clothes from someone then being washed in our shower. Full service saloon if you ever saw one-even a one hour dry cleaner as well as service station across the street.) Ever wonder why the Far and Away was not only popular but a closely kept secret? That’s just part of why; Sammy was just about to get another part of it…..the service you may or may not pay for that goes a long way beyond just getting clean and fresh…..

Guess he’d used the short walk to begin to strip; Anxious or just getting rid of what he knew would come off? Didn’t matter. What he saw when he opened the door was...me, naked, hands casually at my sides, one holding the belt, easy to see the nicely muscled body, nothing too body builder but a well toned man who could hold his own; The arm holding the belt slightly flexing causing the belt to make that leather on leather noise.

I put out one hand. “Bring it here, finish up, just drop ‘em on the floor then get your cock over here.” I looked right into his eyes. “Oh, kid, you shouldn’t a held up that bank….cuz...that’s where I keep my account.”

He sorta grinned, we were gonna play this one... he already liked it. “Sorry, Sir, you, uh, didn’t say which bank….”

“No, but that don’t make no difference.” I had his dick in my hand, stretching it, not quite pulling him toward me, just making it extend which made it tricky to get stiff, kinda the reverse of taking a piss when it’s hard. That little touch of pain he felt...made him reach down, fondle his balls….

“Uhm uhm, wouldn’t do that….they’re on the menu just like this pole I got here in my hand...” I sat on the bench.

“Lean over my lap, put this meat thing between my legs, get down, over me, ass up….”

We were both casual, both knew what ‘next’ would be, or maybe “next”, there was a pause….depended.

He was nicely sized, nothing porno, but, as I felt him squirm longer as I pressed it with my thighs, it had what a man’s cock should have. Only now, it was pretty firmly held down and the longer, stiffer and denser he got, the more securely I held him.

Took my wide, thick leather belt, doubled it, ran it in circles around his good looking ass. Sorta cured leather on soon to be used leather. From what I could see, Sammy had all the parts, well made, now, offered to me. Fine, I was willing to accept. Stopped the belt, raised it, held it up….

“You know what’s coming….”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Sure you want it?”

He was a bit quieter. “Yes, Sir”.

Rubbed my hand over his very slightly furred behind. He liked that, I could tell.

“Once I get my rhythm…..”

“Sir, you don’t stop.”

“Nice ass….I can think of two or three more ways to use it….an since you kinda paid me, I’ll take the beer guy’s money as you’re buyin’ a stud….you’re gonna get what he paid for him to get.” I rubbed on for a bit, just slightly slid a finger into his opening, not far, just enough…. “Wanta know what he paid for? Doesn’t matter cuz I’m a fair man, gonna make sure what was wanted is what you’ll get….happy to tell you...if you wanta know….”

He was quiet, getting more excited, I could feel the veins in his clutched dick pulse. Some men just lay there expecting the walloping they’re expecting but Sammy...went one better….he wanted whatever I was gonna dish out and then I wondered….

“Never thought your kid would take you, not like this, did ya….?”

I felt some tears go down my calves. He was shuddering with memory. “No, Sir, No….”

“Back there, in the pen….you wanted him, didn’t you…..?”
“Sir….Sir...I did….couldn’t do it, Jesus Sir, I just got weak, the little shit, taunt me, bet me I wouldn’t touch him, stick his junk in my face, jerk off, his cum drooled down my nose…. laugh at me, Sir...I wanted his ass….hard, make him holler...”

“Makes a difference, don’t it when someone wants to give it to you, like now,….”

“Yeah, it would but he’s gone, the little fucker, finally conned too many, that last hustle….He knew better, I told him...Sir, please just let me have ‘em...”

Kissed the nape of his neck-not easy to do. “Sammy, do you want to have another ‘kid’?”

There was silence but….between my legs, nicely bulging cock gave me an answer.

The tears increased, he was trying to stumble out a phrase…. “Sir...it ain’t possible….I want you.”
I whispered in his ear. “I know”. Then struck his ass with my belt as hard as I could.

Took him a moment to settle, get back on my lap, almost trying to force his butt up at the same time using the tight space between my legs as what he wanted to fuck….I hit him again, again, again…...And then I turned it so the next strike was done with the hard, metal buckle.

He screamed.

His tail was bleeding long tendrils of thick richly deep red blood. The buckle made a bruise that, I knew, would be hard as hell to sit on for a while.

And this.

I leaned down, licked his blood, took my tongue, made patterns on him. Swallowed his blood.

“Sammy, your kid just ate your blood….guess that means he’s partly yours just one thing...I want you to eat something of mine….I won’t run away, give you what you want but I’m gonna take some of you. Get me?”

He rolled over, his cock stood up like an over sized cigar stuck in white sand. His eyes, wet with tears, couldn’t quite focus on the face…. “Sir….I want to eat your cum, all of it, swallow it down….”

The water pouring down kept us joined as only water can do. There, face to face, our hands roughly feeling our cocks, our balls, learning them, finding how they rose and hung. He pulled back, looked at me….. “You….the kid…..know what happened….?”

Something I’d figured out. “Yeah, I know what happened, he’s dead.”

He collapsed into my arms. Only one question…. “There, in the pen...did you do it? Have it done?”

He shook his head. “That last hustle, just played it too far….got himself throwed off the third level….you don’t fuck around in prison.”

Let a little time go by, kept holding him, rubbed his ass with my hand which got cleaner as the water swept away the blood. “Sammy, you don’t want another kid….how about….if I was your man?”

He suddenly held me tighter. “Yeah, I’d like that, that’s kinda what I wanted….you’re sure no kid… a man…..”.

In the water he slowly went to his knees, his tongue licking my body as he finally reached his target, my nice, stiff cock, even a bit of precum hanging from the slit…..I put my hands behind his head, leaned down so he could hear me…..

“When you finish eating my juice…..we’re not quite there…..told you, a man paid for this so….being fair to him, gotta give you what he wanted. All of it.”

He was totally involved with my cock. In, out, around, down to lick my nuts, lick the flesh stick, follow the bulging veins along the side with his tongue, never looked up. I just stood there getting more and more into the feeling you get when a man who knows how to do it gives you head. He wanted me to almost bend double when I came, he wanted my dong to not squirt, just come out in a river, right into him. I could almost hear him taste me as he held it in his mouth making sure everything, all his taste buds would know it, remember it...for the future.

‘Course no matter how good, I’ll tell you square out, comes a time when I needed to get drained or…..I don’t know what. Good thing he wanted me almost as much as I wanted to give it to him…..

“Pat...for three years I stood at the end of that bar, getting hard when you’d come over to talk to me….wished you’d just stay there….what I wanted just….grew….but I knew your Dad, Burp, well….”

“Cuz you’re a con?”

“Partially….”

“The other part?”

“Well, real simple but the worst part…..what if you didn’t want me?”

Had a point, like I said, somewhere along the times by the bar, he became part of my scenery. If I’d ever thought he might like me….thought about those hard men in prison, his choice. I knew what I could do, did it real good but….just assumed he’d want someone with….violence in him. Even when it came to me that the kid was dead, had to be, that’s what stopped the talk about him….. I never came up from Juvie, didn’t have the hard, maybe cruel, walk and talk that, I knew, prison can give a man...if they’re in long enough.

That was another thing...why was he locked up? The one thing I never did was...asked Tim, he was a cop after all, to just have a look, he could tell me but….then, Sammy was my real friend, one of the few. How’d I know? Accident. Moving a case of liquor got goofy footed, let it fall on my arm, hard...I yelled….hurt….even from the front to the back storage room, there came Sammy. The look on his face told the tale...he really cared, that’s how and when I knew. Maybe he figured I caught on but...neither of us did more than, just in ways you had to know us to see, be that slightly more, well, hell, ain’t got a word, lets just say, he wasn’t no more my buddy, my pal, he was my friend…..on the way to being my man.

Looking down he wasn’t willing to just get the good stuff, he wanted to get to know my cock, my balls, make me know that, yeah, he was gonna be mine, he wanted me but not just for sex...he wanted us to laugh together, play pool together, sure, fuck each other but also, just sit and talk about nothing...together. Be at a table, hand touch each other, eyes look, feel getting stiff...under that table, sit there, each of you get the other’s cock out, jerk it off, looking at each other, pull back the hand, lick the sauce that just came out. Holding him there, lightning, I wanted of him what he wanted of me.

“Wish I’d been a con….”

“Uhm uhm...nooo way.”

“Yeah cuz...then I’d known you before now, fuck that kid, I’d a offed him for you.”

I heard him chuckle. “You’d a done it too.”

“Just tell me how...you’ve watched me Sammy, ever seen me hold back? I’m all in if that’s what it’s gonna take. I don’t carry a piece cuz it makes a bulge under my arm. Who the fuck cares what’s there?….Now here...”

I took his balls, made my hand into a hammock, gently played the two marbles inside back and forth…. “Bet I can get those sperm factories go into over time….”

He pushed back just a little. “Pat...that place you got.”

“Yeah, the one by the tracks, the motel...that one?”

“That come with what the beer guy paid for?”

“Absolutely...and three squares...if we didn’t feel like fucking.”

“Got a big bed?”

“Buddy, I’m a whore standing at stud, I got enough room in that bed to line ‘em up then do ‘em all. So, yeah, there’s enough room….for us”

I thought for a moment. For once I really, truly wanted to get plowed by the guy I was with, paid or not. Jerry, well, I said it to my Dad, was nothing to me ‘cept a guy who went a little longer than one night but Sammy….

“It’s late Friday night….time for men to get to bed.”

“Was thinking that myself.”

“There’s some more here….if you want it….”

He shook his head. Smiled at me. “Nope….lets just get rinsed, dried then head on over...I’m feeling very much like a man who’d like to lay down...with you.”

“Just by chance, I got the key in my pocket….want to follow me or do you know…..?”

“Oh, I know. Time or two I parked out back if the dude you took just didn’t quite pass my con’s sniff test.”

I looked into his eyes, they were gray, long lashed. “Everyone should have a con for an angel….come on, I really feel like I need to be widened…..”

Very early Monday morning Dad I were sitting at the table in our kitchen. I’d just left Sammy, still in bed-gave him a good morning blow job-then headed on over. Did I want to tell him about Sammy? Well, maybe I wanted him to take an educated guess. Only problem was...when I walked in, there was too big a clue.

Dad took one finger, trying not to laugh, then cleaned off a drop of cum where it had hidden on my nose.

I tried to look embarrassed...didn’t work.

“Want my blessing?”

Shook my head….picked up something made of plastic from the table, held it up, looked at him.

“What the holy hell is this doodad?”

He laughed, “They had to explain it to me….seems no house should be without one.”

“Yeah? To do what.”

He knew how I regarded some of the stupid things they made where he was a foreman-I’d particularly thought the ‘tea bag squeezer’ was about as dumb as they come but this one….I looked at him.

“Okay, lets say you got an open window...but you only want it a very little open, you put it down where it’s almost closed then….”

I interrupted. “You put this piece of shit under the sash so it can’t go any further?”

“That’s what I thought but….what this thing does is slide into the opening on the side so there’s a sorta wedge, won’t let it go any further down.”

“Jesus, ever crook in town could get through this.” Looked at him. “Dad, why this? I’d be embarrassed to say I made this piece of crap.”

“Insurance and, you know as well as I do….fucking for cash pays a lot better….doesn’t it, son.”

“Well, you could always use this whatever you call it to keep their ass open...”

He turned serious.

“Sammy is a really nice guy….guess you kinda now understand why it’s not always someone obvious you fall for,,,,”

“Like Tim?”

“Yeah, like Tim. Pat this is gonna go on for you, leastways I think it might….if you want it to.”

Right then I did not have an answer so tossed him a question; “How ‘bout a double date?”

He almost fell off his chair. “Oh yeah, the cop and his whore with the con and his stud….there’s a group picture….for the family album.”

“Think about it….”

He took a slurp of his coffee. “You’re here awful early, leave your ‘business’ asleep?”

“Yeah, I did, said he had some errands….besides….” I stood up, started to take off my clothes.

He figured it out, peeled himself sat back down, the prow of his body coming up. Spread his legs.

I moved in, put my legs over his, got real close, lowered myself until I felt that nice hot head of his cock, knew what it would feel like as it went up me…..could see him close his eyes waiting for the first twinge of that feeling that says, “Oh yeah, I’m real ready to screw you, let you have my man juice right up your ass.”

I put my arms around his neck, kissed him, felt his stick get harder as it got further up.

Softly, had to say it to him, “Ya know, Dad, nobody does you like your Old Man…..I guess it’s just a family tradition.”

Twenty minutes later my Dad was on his knees eating his gift to his son…..while the son waited to make his Dad late for work….Again.