You learn something new every day.
For example, did you know that in Canada, they pronounce the letter “Z” as “zed?”
And did you know that the name Häagen-Dazs doesn’t mean shit? The creator literally just wanted something Danish-sounding for his ice cream company.
And did you know that, when you’re leaving a father-son retreat in the Blue Ridge Mountains to go home and confess your incestuous, gay love affair with your father to your poor, ignorant mother, the drive home feels twice as long as the drive there?
Who knew.
As my father drove steadily toward our doom, I stared out of the passenger’s seat window, trying to distract myself with passing cars and billboards. In less than an hour, we’d be back home with my mother, who had no idea the shit storm that was about to hit her.
In less than an hour, my life would change forever.
“What do you wanna do for dinner tonight?”
The question was so innocuous, I had no clue how to respond. I just stared at my father blankly from the passenger seat.
“I was thinking we could go out to Golden Corral, like we do every year before you start school. Or, if you want, I could cook something.”
I’d almost forgotten I started community college the next morning. The events of the last weekend had been such a whirlwind that the last thing on my mind was Spanish class and remedial math.
I still hadn’t said anything, so Dad took my hand and squeezed. “It’ll be okay, Leo. I promise.”
He smiled. God, what a beautiful smile. He was so good at it that I nearly believed him.
But I knew my dad. I’d spent 18 years seeing him feign smiles or laugh politely when colleagues or friends made boring conversations and told stale jokes. I knew what he looked like when he was actually at ease and how he looked when he was pretending to be for one reason or another. Hell, I suppose now I even knew what he looked like when he was having an orgasm. Probably not something a son should know about his father, but here we were nonetheless.
Yet even though I knew Dad was putting on a brave face for me, secretly just as scared as I was, the sight of it actually did make me feel better. He couldn’t protect me from everything, but dammit if he didn’t try.
Yesterday had been proof of that. I’d never seen him take charge like he did then.
“I can’t go back there,” I’d said, practically shaking. The woods had felt dark and suffocating, but I would have spent the night in the dirt before facing the men back at camp. “I can’t be around these people right now. Please, let’s just go.”
I’d expected him to protest, to give me some spiel about how we made a commitment to be here, we couldn’t waste the money, and if I could just tough it out for one more night, we could drive home in the morning.
He didn’t do any of that. Instead, he took my hand and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
I was practically floating as he led me out of the woods back toward where we’d parked. He opened the passenger door of his Chevy Astro and helped me inside, closing it and locking it behind me. Then he disappeared around the corner, returning a few minutes later with our bags and our tent all folded up.
He must have been subject to all kinds of questions: What the hell happened back there? Did your son have some sort of mental breakdown or something? Is he fucking nuts?
If he did, he didn’t relay any of that to me. He just slid into the driver’s seat, squeezed my hand, and we were off.
It was too late to drive all the way home, as the sun was already starting to set. Plus, I think we were both a little too wired to have that conversation without a good night’s sleep. Once we’d gotten off the mountain and back toward some semblance of civilization, we pulled into a motel off the highway. It was a seedy little thing, the kind of place where you might bring your secretary and rent by the hour. Dad got us a room with two beds (to my surprise), and soon I was enjoying a hot, luxurious bath with motel soap and shampoo that probably doubled as laundry detergent.
I don’t think I’d ever enjoyed a bath like I did that night. As I washed off the dirt and grime from my jaunt through the woods, it felt almost as if my sin and shame washed off with it. Was this how it felt to be baptized? I’d considered letting Pastor Carl baptize me at one point, but that was just so I could feel a man in a wet t-shirt hold me. This felt like renewal.
By the time I got out an hour later, my skin all red and soft, Dad was sitting on the bed with a plastic bag full of takeout and a carton of ice cream.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said with a half-smile.
Hungry was an understatement. All I’d eaten that day was half a sandwich and, between the fucking, hiking, and running, I must have done more than a week’s worth of exercise (or a month’s worth, in my case).
I devoured the takeout spaghetti he’d gotten me, my hunger making the food taste like it was from some fine dining place instead of a drive-through Pizza Hut. Dad even let me eat both orders of garlic bread, though I’m sure he was just as hungry as I was. Then I cuddled up next to him on one of the beds, the two of us sharing the carton of ice cream while we watched Fern Gully.
In between bites of ice cream, I snuck a few glances up at my Dad. He seemed wholly engrossed in the film, not a care in the world behind his eyes. I wondered if he was feeling the same dread that I was. But it wasn’t entirely dread–there was comfort, too. We’d barely spoken since leaving the retreat, but we didn’t need to. It was like we were on the same wavelength, finally. Like he could tell when I needed space, or food, or comfort without needing to ask.
I’d never felt this close to him. I didn’t even need to have sex with him to feel how much he cared about me.
Well. Maybe I’m not being entirely truthful.
I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I’d fallen asleep at some point during the movie, still cuddled up on my Dad’s chest. The next thing I knew, I was on my back again, my father knelt between my spread open legs. I couldn’t remember when we’d awoken, or how I’d managed to take his girth yet again, but this time, there was no pain at all. I held his head in the crook of my neck, bearing his thrusts with an almost zen-like acceptance.
“I love you,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and gruff.
“I love you, Dad,” I whispered back, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him in deeper.
“I wanna be with you,” he continued. “Only you.”
His thrusts grew faster, rougher. I held on tight, afraid to let go.
“I wanna marry you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want you to be mine.”
For the first time since being with my father, fear crept in. Marry me? What was he talking about? Why would he say something like that?
I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. To my terror, I realized we weren’t alone. Elijah stood in the corner of the room, his face twisted in disgust.
“Dad!” I cried, frantically tapping his shoulder. “Dad, stop. Someone’s in here!”
“You’re disgusting,” said Elijah.
Dad didn’t let up, continuing to plow away at me.
“I love you so much, son,” he said, his voice choked with tears.
“What is wrong with you?” Elijah’s father stood beside him, shaking his head. “How can you live with yourself?”
“D-dad?” I looked to my father, but his face was turned away from me. I could hear him crying as he continued fucking me, his thrusts relentless.
“Leo?”
My blood ran cold at the sound of her voice.
My mother stood just by the door, her hand covering her mouth in shock. She was as pale as a ghost, and the sight of her made me scream.
“No! No, please! I… I didn’t… Mom!”
I awoke to the feeling of my father’s hands holding me by the shoulders.
“Leo! Leo, what’s wrong?”
I opened my eyes to see him kneeling beside my bed. I could see the sheets were disturbed on the other bed–he must have moved there after I’d fallen asleep.
“Son, you’re okay. You just had a nightmare.”
I blinked, the visions from my dream rapidly disappearing. The tightness in my chest remained.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “What… what time is it?”
“It’s not dawn yet. We’ve still got a few more hours. Go back to sleep.”
I grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t leave me. Please.”
He took a deep breath, then nodded.
I rolled over, making room for him on the bed. It was a tight fit, but he managed to squeeze in behind me. His body was incredibly warm, like a furnace. But the nightmare had left me cold and shaking, so I welcomed it.
He pulled the sheets over us, then slid his arm around me until his hand was resting in the middle of my chest. I put my hand on his, feeling the coarse hairs on the back of his hand.
My heart rate was still elevated from the nightmare, so I took a few shaky breaths to try to calm myself. Dad softly rubbed my chest in a way that wasn’t sexual, just tender.
In fact, if it weren’t for the stirring between his legs, I probably would have fallen back asleep within minutes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can roll over–”
I rolled to face him, taking his scruffy face in my hand. I could just barely make out his mustache from the light outside the blinds. I rubbed my thumb across it, then down his lips to his chin. I softly pried open his mouth until his lips were just parted, then I was on him.
I could tell why people called it “making love.” There was almost nothing lustful in the way I felt about my father that night. Taking him in me felt as natural as breathing. One minute, we were kissing, our cocks grinding against each other through our underwear; the next, we were wrapped around each other, his cock sliding into me like it belonged there.
I’d never made love to my father in a bed before. In fact, I’d never made love to anyone in a bed. My only experience had been in a sleeping bag or outside in the woods, like some sort of Maenad. With my father holding me by the back of the head and gently jabbing inside me, the 90-thread count sheets felt like silk.
Somehow, we went from being on our sides to me rolling onto my back with Dad on top of me. My arms and legs were still wrapped tightly around his broad back as I endured his thrusts. I squeezed him tightly, desperate to be as close to him as possible. I could tell from the urgency of his lovemaking that he was thinking the same thing I was–this might very well be the last time we would ever be together like this.
However Mom reacted to our news, I was sure she wouldn’t just give us the green light to do as we pleased. Who knew what ultimatum she might bring? What if she wanted us never to do it again? That seemed entirely likely. What if she wanted Dad to leave and never come back? That seemed even more likely. I wasn’t so sure that, if it came down to it, I could defy her wishes. But I also couldn’t see a world in which I didn’t get to experience my father’s love in this way.
Not for the first time, I wondered if telling her was the right thing to do. Would it be better to live in ignorance or know the truth? Perhaps it was a kindness, keeping this from her. But even as my father fucked me, his massive girth rubbing up against parts of me I didn’t even know existed, I knew that she needed to know.
I felt his tears on my cheek just as he was about to cum.
“Leo…” His voice was shaky. He looked at me with red eyes, sore and tired.
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
He let out a small gasp, and then I felt him throb in me. My dad’s last load. His body trembled on top of mine, his legs shaking as he released inside of me. I just held him, held him as he came and cried.
I didn’t cum myself that night. I didn’t want to. I think some part of me believed that as long as I didn’t, it wouldn’t…
Well, never mind.
Now the sun had finally risen, and we were back on the road, growing closer and closer to our destination. Before I knew it, we were turning off the highway, passing the familiar strip of homes and businesses that lined our neighborhood.
Dad was still holding my hand.
“Here we are,” he said as we pulled into the driveway.
I checked the dashboard. The clock read a little after 9 am. Mom didn’t expect us until the late afternoon, so she could still be out having her little spa vacation. The thought of waiting another 6 hours for her to get home was unbearable. Thankfully, I could see her car in the garage, so I knew she was home.
“Kathy? We’re home,” Dad called when we walked through the door.
“Mom? We need to talk to you.” My heart was racing so fast I could hardly wait to get it over with.
Dad gave me a look. “Let’s ease into it, son.”
I winced. “Sorry. I just… Mom? Where are you?”
I looked in the living room, but it was empty. Her coffee cup was sitting next to the couch, so she wasn’t still in bed. I glanced through the kitchen to the back patio, but the place seemed deserted.
“Kathy?”
Dad started up the stairs, so I followed him. I was about to call out again when I heard a muffled sound, high and distant. Dad and I exchanged a look, then continued onward.
“Mom? Are you there?”
No response. But as we stood at the top of the stairs, I could hear what sounded like voices coming from within my parents’ bedroom.
That was strange. What would she–
“Leo, wait!”
My dad reached out to stop me from grabbing the handle, but I’d already turned the knob. As the door swung open, we were greeted by a loud, guttural moan.
“Oh, good heavens, Kathy. Don’t stop!”
My eyes refused to believe the scene in front of me. At first glance, my mother looked like she’d been strapped into some amusement park ride, with black straps crisscrossing her waist. As I looked closer, I could see she was wearing a black negligee with some sort of contraption jutting from her pelvis.
That wasn’t the strangest part, however. No, the weirdest part was the woman lying underneath her, completely naked and being penetrated by what I now realized was the strap-on my mother was wearing. The woman’s long gray hair was fanned out on the pillow behind her, and, since it wasn’t in a tight gray bun, it took me a moment to recognize her.
“Mrs. Turnbright?” I said stupidly.
Her eyes locked onto me and Dad, standing frozen in the doorway. Then her face twisted into a snarl of fear and anger, and she screamed so loud that Dad and I slammed the door and ran all the way back downstairs without a second thought.
“Well,” Dad said as we sat at the kitchen table. “That was unexpected.”
“What?” I said dryly. “That Mom’s into women, or that she’s into Elijah’s mother?”
“I was gonna say that Elijah’s mother had sex at all.”
Despite everything, that managed to get a laugh out of me. In fact, the two of us were laughing so hard that we didn’t hear Mrs. Turnbright come downstairs at all.
She stood at the entrance to the kitchen, now clad in her typical floor-length denim skirt and bland, colorless cardigan. She cleared her throat, causing the two of us to turn and see her.
“Leo. Jud,” she said tersely.
Dad nodded. “Sandra.”
She made a face as if Dad saying her name might cheapen it. “I trust you had a good weekend away?”
“Not as good as yours,” said Dad. I nudged him.
She wrinkled her nose. “Crude man.”
I was about to jump in and say those were big words coming from a woman who was just caught getting pegged by my mother, but I figured I ought to sit this one out.
Mrs. Turnbright seemed to have nothing left to say to us. She took one last disdainful look at the two of us before turning on her heels. The sound of the door slamming shut let me know that she had gone.
“How do we follow that?” I said to Dad.
“Maybe we should wait.”
I felt the dread rising in my throat. “If I don’t tell her now, Dad…”
We were interrupted by my mother strolling into the kitchen. She’d changed out of her negligee and was now wearing a blouse and khakis, which seemed oddly formal considering the circumstances.
“Good morning, boys,” she said cheerily. She opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice, then poured herself a glass. “I wasn’t expecting you so early, or else I’d have made breakfast. But if you want, I could make us some eggs, or whip you up another batch of those pancakes. I think I still have the batter–”
“Mom,” I said quickly. “Can we talk to you?”
She whipped around, so fast her hair was a blur. Her face was stretched in a too-wide smile. “Of course! I want to hear all about your trip. Did you have so much fun?”
I shot a glance at Dad. “Uh, yeah. I guess. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She clapped her hands to her chest and sighed. “I just love the mountains, especially at this time of the year. You’ll have to tell me everything you did, and then maybe next summer we can all plan a trip. Oh, wouldn’t that be fun?” She turned around and started rummaging through the cabinets. “We could go camping like we used to when you were little, you loved it so much. Well, you hated it, actually, but you loved s'mores. In fact, why don’t we make s'mores tonight? It’ll be–”
“Kathy,” said Dad. “We really need to talk to you.”
She turned to Dad, her smile wavering. She beamed wider and shook her head, making her curls bounce. “All right. What’s up?”
“Something happened on the trip,” I said slowly. I looked at Dad, who nodded encouragingly. “Something unexpected… but something that I think has been brewing for a while.”
I suddenly realized how stupid I had been, not discussing what we were going to say to my mother beforehand. We should have planned out this whole conversation, including what to do if things went sideways. I knew I could just turn it over to my dad and let him be the one to break the news, but I had to be the one to do this.
I took a deep breath and continued. “As you know, Dad and I had some issues before the trip.”
She shook her head dismissively. “What father and son doesn’t? You should see the Hendersons; they fight like cats and dogs. Still love each other, though.”
I frowned. Somehow, I didn’t think Mr. Henderson and his son were boning. Though the thought did intrigue me.
“Right, well, we worked out some things on the trip.” My lips were starting to feel dry, and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I pushed forward. “And in doing so, we realized something–”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to cook you something?” Her cheer was almost aggressive at this point. “You know, I have some leftovers from last night in the fridge. Blue cheese burgers, your favorite. Why don’t I just pop them in the microwave and–”
“Mom, please shut up!” I said a little too loudly.
Anger flashed across her face.
“I’m sorry, I just… I need you to listen. I know… I know that you and Dad have a… an open marriage–”
“Jud.” Her voice was low and threatening. The smile had left her face completely. “What have you been telling him?”
Dad looked at the ground like a chastised little boy. “I had to tell him, Kathy. There was no other choice.”
She didn’t look like she agreed with that statement. She opened her mouth to say something when I got there first.
“It’s fine, Mom,” I said quickly. “I know that you and Dad have an arrangement. It’s okay. I mean, it’s weird, sure. But I get it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said icily.
She opened the fridge and started rummaging through it, pulling out a loaf of bread and a head of lettuce.
I raised my eyebrows. “Um… Mom, in case you forgot, I did just walk in on you fucking Mrs. Turnbright.”
She slammed a jar of mayonnaise on the counter. “Leo Wyte, you watch your language!”
I watched in stunned silence as she lathered mayo onto a slice of bread. “Would you prefer I said you were making love to Mrs. Turnbright?” I said finally.
She slapped a slice of turkey onto the bread and frowned. “I would prefer not to discuss my sex life with you at all, sweetheart. Frankly, it’s none of your business. No matter what you may or may not have seen.”
She peeled the wax paper off a slice of cheese and set it delicately on top of the sandwich, then stuck the other slice of bread on top. She put it on a plate and handed it to me.
“Eat it.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but it’s important.”
“Leo, eat the sandwich.”
“Please, just let me–”
“Eat it, honey.”
“I don’t want the sandwich!”
“Fine!” She yanked it out of my face and stomped to the other side of the kitchen. “I’ll just eat it myself,” she grumbled, taking way too big a bite.
I’d never seen someone chew spitefully before, but somehow, she managed it.
I looked at Dad, but he just raised his eyebrows as if to say, “I told you this wouldn’t go well.”
I wasn’t going to give up that easily.
“I don’t care what you do with your personal life, Mom. I’m trying to tell you about me and Dad. Something happened between us, and–”
“I don’t want to hear it, Leo!” She slammed the half-eaten sandwich on the kitchen counter, sending bits of turkey and cheese flying.
I watched as she walked over to the kitchen sink, turning her back to me as she turned on the faucet and started washing her hands.
“If your father told you about us, then he told you that I don’t care what he does or with whom as long as I don’t have to know.” She turned the faucet off and reached for the dish towel, still keeping her back to me. “I have worked very hard to build a life for myself. I have friends who I care about. I have work that fulfills me. I have hobbies that other people might find dull, but they bring me joy. I have a life, and, although I love you, honey, I really do–I don’t need you meddling in it.”
My shoulders slumped, all the will drained out of me. I felt numb as I watched her throw the sandwich in the trash, then grab a sponge to clean the counter.
“You don’t care? You don’t… you don’t want to know about me?”
She sighed. Finally, she turned to face me, using what seemed like a considerable amount of effort to meet my eyes. “Sweetheart, I know you very well. I love you dearly, and your father, whatever your faults may be. I don’t need to know every last detail of everyone’s life to be happy, that’s just silly.”
“Are you happy?” I asked.
She looked like I’d asked her if she spoke English. “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Do you… do you love Mrs. Turnbright?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Sandra’s a very good friend, you know that.”
I could feel the battle had been lost, but I couldn’t help myself. “I just wanna be honest with you, mommy.”
I felt my father’s hand on my arm, silently willing me to surrender. I stared at my mother, whom I thought I’d known so well, but all I saw was her crinkled eyes and her too-wide smile.
“You know, I have a massage booked for myself at 10. I really should get going.”
She walked past me toward the front hallway. I stared at the ground, listening to the sound of her grabbing her shoes and purse from the front hall closet. Then I heard the door slam shut, and my father and I were alone again.
I slumped down at the kitchen table and buried my head in my hands.
My father slid into the seat beside me and gently rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m sorry that didn’t go the way you’d hoped.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I said softly.
“Your mother is who she is,” he said. “It’s got nothing to do with you. But she loves you, she told you that. I hope you believe her.”
I stared at a stain on the kitchen table, chewing over his words.
“I thought… I don’t know. She could fix me. Or she could hate me, and then I’d have something to fix. I don’t know. I’m still just as lost as I was before all this.”
The next thing I felt was my father pulling me into his arms. I must have started crying, because I could feel wetness against his chest as I hugged him. I sobbed for a minute, letting my father hold me in our dingy kitchen.
I tried to remind myself of all the things I had in my life, everything that made my life worthwhile. My friend Gibby, as annoying as she could be. Elijah, if I hadn’t fucked that up beyond repair. A great ass, which no one could take away from me. My mother, even if her love was hands-off and from a distance. And my father, who, despite all his flaws, loved me more than any other human being on earth. Surely those things were enough.
“Hey,” Dad said finally. He lifted my chin with his finger. “Can I take you somewhere?”
I rubbed my nose. “Where?”
He smiled, a mischievous look in his eye that I’d never seen before. “It’s a surprise. Something I think you’ll like.”
Despite my reserves of hope running at an all-time low, I got back in the car with my dad. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and block out the world, but Dad seemed genuinely excited about wherever it was he was taking me. It was such a foreign emotion to me that I clung to it like a life preserver.
I expected him to take me somewhere new, but he drove toward downtown, along a road we’d been down thousands of times before.
“Where are we going?”
He flashed me a grin. “You’ll see.”
After about fifteen minutes, we pulled up to an old Irish pub. I’d driven past it plenty of times, but never actually been inside.
It was the last place I could ever imagine being at a time like this.
I got out of the car, took one look at the dingy sign, and frowned. “This is what you wanted to show me? Boiled corned beef and cabbage?”
Dad nodded at the sign. “Take another look.”
I looked at the lettering beneath the name of the pub. In little black and white letters, it read, “SUNDAY 11 DRAG BUNCH”.
I raised an eyebrow. “A drag bunch? What’s that?”
Dad beamed. “It’s drag brunch. And just wait–you’ll see.”
The pub was dark and mostly empty, dimly lit from a few neon signs hanging over the bar. A pathetic-looking stage with green streamers had been erected at the end of the room, with a small rollable staircase pushed up against the back left side.
I sure hoped someone remembered to lock the wheels.
“Danny, can I get two virgin Bloody Marys?” my dad said to the bartender.
I stared at him like he just spoke Mandarin. “You’ve been here before?”
He shrugged. “Once or twice.”
We sat at a table by the stage while the bartender fixed our drinks. I picked up the menu and immediately put it down, it was so sticky.
“I was thinking about what you said the other night,” said Dad, smiling at me over the triangular drink menu sitting between us. “About that trip to New York.”
I flashed back to the bright neon sign outside the gay bar, the handsome men and gorgeous women filing in and out all night.
Before I could open my mouth to say, “What about it?”, the lights dimmed even further.
“Ladies and gentlemen, girls and gays,” boomed a voice from a whiny speaker at the edge of the stage. “Prepare yourselves for a vision. A revelation. A walking, talking, rhinestone miracle.”
I shot Dad a raised eyebrow, but he just grinned at me.
“You’ve heard about her beauty. You’ve seen her talent on Drag Race: Alabama Vs. The World. Get ready for the gorgeous. The talented. The spellbinding sorceress of sequins herself, Sabrina Scarlett!”
A spotlight shone on the stage, illuminating an impossibly tall woman in a floor-length black sequined gown. Her skin was almost as dark as her dress, but it shone in the light as if she were carved from mahogany. Her neckline plunged low enough to show off two enormous breasts, framed by a spray of jet-black feathers that sprang out from her shoulders like wings. Her makeup was so severe I was sure her cheekbones would have sliced me open had I gotten too close.
She was absolutely breathtaking.
I didn’t even notice that music was playing until the woman lifted her hands and started to sing.
Rock on, gold dust woman. Take your silver spoon and dig your grave.
She swept along the stage like a bird in flight, her dress rippling behind her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Lousy lovers pick their prey, but they never cry out loud.
The bar was gone until it was just me and her. When she looked at me, I felt an almost physical force pulling me toward her. It took everything in me not to get out of my seat and go to her. I had never seen someone so beautiful, so sensual. Every movement looked effortless, yet never dull. I was gay as a sunrise, yet I wanted to be near her more than anything in the world.
Well, did she make you cry, make you break down, shatter your illusions of love?
Something was happening inside me. It was as if a wall had come down, a thousand walls, all collapsing at once. I was flooded with emotion. I wanted to cry, from sadness or joy, I didn’t know. I just knew that this woman, whoever she was, was pulling something out of me I hadn’t even known existed.
Ooh, pale shadow of a woman. Black widow. Ooh, pale shadow, she is a dragon. Gold dust woman.
Then it was over. The lights came back on, and she had slipped back behind the curtain before my eyes could register she was gone. I blinked a few times, feeling like I’d just woken up from a nap.
“Well, what’d you think?”
I turned to see my father grinning at me. Our drinks had been set down in front of us, though I hadn’t noticed.
“Who was she?”
“Something Scarlett, I think.”
“No, I mean… what was she?”
He laughed. “That was a drag queen, honey.”
I felt like an idiot. Of course, a drag queen. I had never really seen one up close before.
“So it was a man? But how did she have those big boobs?”
“I think that was a breastplate,” he said.
“But… but she…” I looked back toward the stage where she’d been a few moments before. “She was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
“There’s a meet-and-greet after, if you’d like to–”
“YES!”
Sabrina Scarlett came back out twice more that afternoon, clad in a different dress each time. Her second number was more upbeat, while the third was a slow ballad that brought me to tears. Each time, it felt like the room melted away until she was the only thing in sight. I had never known a woman (or man, I suppose) could have so much power, be so captivating. If I didn’t know any better, I would say there was something almost… magical about her.
Once she’d finished her last number, Dad spoke to the manager to pay for the meet-and-greet while I walked over to the stage. It seemed to crackle with electricity. I saw a single black feather lying at the foot of the stage. I picked it up and smelled it.
Cinnamon.
“Come on, Leo,” said Dad. “Let’s go meet her.”
The manager led us to what must have been set up as her dressing room. It was a small, cramped little storage room behind the bar, far too drab for a woman of her grandiosity. She sat in front of a trifold mirror, which, judging from the sequins lining the edges, I assumed she must have brought with her.
When we walked in, she caught sight of me through the mirror and smiled.
“My fans! Please, come in.”
She had changed out of her last outfit (bedazzled pasties and high-waisted sequined granny panties) into a blood-red chiffon robe. Her makeup and wig were still on, making her look like a starlet relaxing between film scenes.
Her gaze slid from me to my father, and I could see her energy change instantaneously.
“Oh my stars, it’s been a while since I’ve spent a night with a man of your caliber. Though I suppose it is like riding a bike…”
“Actually, it’s my son who’s quite eager to meet you,” said Dad. He rested a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
“Your son? Well, I bet the two of you together are quite a lot to handle.”
Dad smiled graciously. “I think I’ll let you two get acquainted. Leo, I’ll be just outside.”
He kissed me on the cheek, then left. After years of sucking up all the attention in the room so I had nothing but crumbs, it was the kindest thing he’d ever done for me.
Sabrina Scarlett watched my father leave, then let out a whistle. “Honey, if your dad’s looking for an old queen with fibromyalgia and a penchant for sloppy blowjobs, you send him my way.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I blurted out.
She smiled at me like I was three years old. “Bless you, dear. We’ll have to get that prescription of yours checked out, I’m sure.”
She turned back and looked at herself in the mirror, running a long-nailed finger across her fake, drawn-on eyebrows.
“How do you do it?” I asked. “When you were up on stage, it was like nothing I’d ever seen. You were so beautiful, so elegant. And your voice is incredible!”
“Well, you know it’s lip syncing, lamb. But I suppose the rest is all me, that’s true.” She sighed, sounding like a world-weary matron. “When you’ve been at it as long as I have, it’s hard to know whether you’ve still got it. You should have seen me in my heyday. I would perform every night in a different club, every seat in the house filled. I did my little number for queens in the Tenderloin, danced in front of sailors and merchant marines, and even did a private showing for a state senator.”
Her face started to crumble. “But now look at me. Reduced to an Irish pub in the middle of God-knows-where.” She looked back in the mirror, and her eyes seemed to shine a little bit. “I’ve still got a bit of magic left. I should do a Vegas residency. Or Puerto Vallarta. That's where I should be. Not… wherever this is.”
She looked at me again and offered a sympathetic smile. “No offense.”
I shrugged. “None taken. I would give anything to do what you do. To travel, see the world…”
She smiled politely, then her face caught on a new thought. “Actually, now that you mention it…”
My eyes went wide. I took a seat in the chair next to her. “You’re not serious? Would you take me with you? Teach me to do what you do?”
She laughed gaily, a high-pitched trill. “Well, of course not. Don’t be silly, pet. It takes years to learn even a fragment of what I can do. But I do need someone to carry my luggage and set up my sets.” She frowned. “Crispin was supposed to be my bag boy, but he ran off with some muscular farmhand in Roanoke. Can you believe that? As if we don’t have braindead muscle boys dancing at all the bars in Weho.”
My eyes shone with delight. “You live in West Hollywood? Really? Oh, please let me go with you. I’ll carry your bags, I’ll do your laundry, I don’t care–I just wanna see what you do up close.”
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes slitted. “I suppose I could show you a bit of my magic. No sense in letting it go to waste.” She tutted. “Oh, but what about dear daddy? Shouldn’t you run these things past your parents? The last thing I need to be accused of is kidnapping some child from the sticks.”
“I’m 18, I can do what I want,” I said firmly. “But… I guess you’re right. I should talk to my dad, see what he–”
Ms. Scarlett raised a hand to silence me. “I don’t have the energy for family theatrics. I’ve got another show at the lesbian bar down the street tonight, then it’s back to LA tomorrow morning for a performance at the Belmont.”
She got to her feet, leaning in close to inspect her face in the mirror. “If you want to tag along, meet me at the Marriott on Fifth Street at 8 am tomorrow, before my flight at 11. I’ll need help loading the bags into the taxi.”
She turned back to me and clasped her hands. “Well. Thank you for coming in. Goodbye!”
The sound of the door closing behind me was just short of a slam.
I clapped my hands and squealed. Who could believe that I, Leo Wyte, might actually go to LA? And under the tutelage of the most talented drag queen I’d ever seen! Okay, the only drag queen I’d ever seen, but still. I had heard of drag, of course, but nothing like that had ever come to my town before. At least, not that I’d been aware of. And I hadn’t done much research into the whole drag scene online, mainly focusing on getting laid instead.
Look where that got me.
I must have still been beaming, because when Dad saw me, he nudged me and said, “Was it everything you dreamed?”
“More,” I said dizzily.
Dad put his arm around me and squeezed. “I’m glad you liked it. I know this town isn’t the most cosmopolitan, but I wanted you to know that there’s a place for you here. I hope you realize that.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Maybe we can drive down to Virginia Beach some weekend and catch another show? What do you say?”
I felt my stomach sink. Now that the idea of leaving had been planted in my head, the thought of staying here felt suffocating.
“Dad… there’s something I need to tell you.”
We found a quiet spot in the corner of the bar to sit and talk. I told him about Sabrina Scarlett’s offer, carefully crafting it to sound more like I would be her protégé than a glorified bag boy. I could see his face faltering as I spoke, and I thought I saw a hint of panic behind his eyes.
“...So I know that I have community college starting tomorrow, but I just think this is a really great opportunity, and if you could lend me some money to get started, I’m sure I could start paying my own rent within a few months… or at least within a year or two.”
When I finally finished talking, he was silent for a moment. I needed him to say yes. I couldn’t bear the alternative. I was about to start up again when he put his hand on mine.
“Can I ask you something, Leo?”
I blinked. “Uh, sure, Dad.”
“Do you think, if you stayed… do you think you could be happy?”
The question took me off guard. I had been expecting him to ask me how I thought I could support myself when I’d never had a job, or bring up how much he’d spent already on my first semester, money that would be going down the drain if I picked up and left.
I thought about it for a moment. “No.”
He swallowed. “No?”
I stared at him, the strong curve of his jaw that was so goddamn kissable. I tried to imagine my life here, as I had the day before when I’d written that letter. Now that we didn’t have Mom finding out about us hanging over our heads, I suppose nothing was standing between us anymore. I could live at home during college, finding little moments here and there to be alone with Dad. We would explore this thing between us and see where it led, whether there was any room for it to grow and turn into something beautiful. I would graduate and get some boring 9-5 job, maybe find an apartment down the street. Dad would come over on his way home from work, and we would make love. He would grow older faster than I would. I didn’t even know what that would look like, but I guess we would cross that bridge when we came to it. I would never be alone. He would always be there to comfort me, to provide for me, to make love to me. It wouldn’t be perfect, but we would be together.
If I left, I would be giving all of that up. I’d be living all the way across the country, in a place I’d never been before, full of people I’d never met. I would on my own, for real this time. I wouldn’t have anyone to call when I felt lonely. I could fail and lose everything. Knowing me, that would be the most likely scenario. I’d be lucky to see my Dad two or three times a year. Now that I had tasted him, now that I knew how it felt to be held by him, to take him inside me, I knew just how much I’d be giving up.
But.
“I don’t think I can stay, Dad.”
He nodded, slow and resolute. “I understand.” He laughed wryly. “I think I already knew that, truthfully. Before I brought you here. Since… since you were a little boy. You were always too big for this place. For us.”
I put my hand on his. “Dad…”
He smiled at me, a forgiving smile. “You know, I don’t think I have ever seen you smile the way you did just then. You used to be such a happy little boy, always smiling and giggling over the littlest things. Then you just stopped. I thought it was your average teenage angst, or whatever the parentingbooks called it. But I think, deep down, I knew that you could never be happy here. I guess I was just trying to keep you here as long as I could. That was selfish of me.”
He turned my hand over, interlocking his fingers with mine. This was hard for him. “I want you to be happy more than anything in the world. Even if it’s not with me. Even if you’re all the way across the country. Just knowing that you’re okay, that you’re not… not suffering, like you did here–”
“It wasn’t all bad,” I said softly.
I leaned in and put my lips against his. I could feel his lip trembling under mine, then a warm wetness on my cheek as tears fell onto my skin.
“Don’t cry, daddy,” I said, sliding off my chair and onto his lap. “Don’t cry.”
I wrapped my arms around him, holding his head against my chest as he cried. It was almost silly, in a way, how I found myself comforting this big, hulking man. He’d spent years being my protector, my daddy. Keeping me safe, the best he knew how. And now that I might leave, it was like all of that armor had fallen away to reveal the sad, scared man who didn’t want to lose his boy.
“I just love you so much, son,” he said, his voice gruff and thick with tears. “I wasted so much time. I should have been there for you sooner. Told you how I felt that night you brought that boy home…”
I wiped his tears away, then bent my forehead to his. “You’ll still have me, daddy. Even if I’m gone, I’ll always be your boy. Always.”
His kiss took me by surprise. I felt the blood rush to my cock as he slid his tongue in my mouth, heedless of our surroundings. His strong hands came up behind me and held me tight, pinning me in place.
“Wait,” I said, trying to catch my breath between kisses. “Not here.”
Dad practically growled. “I need you, son. Now.”
I nodded, desperate to be naked and underneath him once more. “I know.”
He carried me out of the bar, ignoring the looks from the bartender and the other patrons. He unlatched the handle to the car door, kicking it the rest of the way open and depositing me inside.
I watched him storm over to the driver’s seat, my heartbeat racing with anticipation. We peeled out of there like we were running from a bank job, so fast I’m sure we left skid marks. I didn’t know where Dad was taking me–home, a hotel, a private stretch on some country road–but I didn’t care.
My hand found its way to his belt buckle.
Dad’s eyes drifted down, then back to the road. “Leo… It’s not safe.”
I undid his belt, then fiddled with the button of his jeans. “I’m not doing anything. Just getting comfortable.”
He shot me a disbelieving glare, but when my fingers wrapped around his cock, he moaned all the same. I rubbed him inside his underwear, feeling him grow to full length in my hand.
“Fuck, baby. Your hands are so soft.”
“My mouth’s even softer,” I said, then took him in me.
He let out a loud groan. I felt his hand on the back of my head. I knew I was being reckless, but I couldn’t wait for a motel or the privacy of my bedroom. His dick leaked sticky precum in my mouth, and I drank it like ambrosia. I slipped my hand underneath his shirt, feeling his hairy belly and the little hitches in his breath as I swallowed his cock.
“Fuck… Goddammit.”
I felt the car roll to a stop, then Dad put the car in park. I lifted my head to see we were parked along an empty stretch of road on some suburban street.
I guess he couldn’t wait either.
“Get in the back,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
I scrambled over the armrest while Dad opened the driver's door and came around the side. By the time I was lying on the backseat, Dad had the back door open and was staring down at me with that hungry look in his eyes.
“Take your pants off.”
Lying on my stomach, I undid the string on my shorts and pulled them down to my ankles. I was still wearing my thong, sky blue and cotton. I heard the car door close, then felt Dad’s rough hand spreading apart my cheeks.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful, son.”
He hooked his thumb around the fabric of the thong and moved it to the side, exposing my hole to the air. Barely a moment passed before I felt his scruff on my hole, his tongue wiggling its way inside me.
“Oh da…da…daddy,” I moaned as my fingers scraped against the window.
He ate my pussy so good my legs were shaking. I rubbed my small cock against the seat, so hard it was almost painful. His tongue brushed my rosebud until I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached back and grabbed his head, forcing him deeper into me.
“Oh God, Dad. Oh God… yes, yes… uhhhhhhhh!”
He gave my pussy one last lick, then I felt his grip on my ass as he lined himself up.
“Open up, baby… oh, that’s it. Fuck, your pussy is so soft and sweet. You make daddy feel so good.”
Taking him in me would never be easy, but I hardly noticed the pain. Breathe and relax. Let your father in. Feel him move, slow, pulsing. Open. Receive him.
He slid in to the hilt, his balls clacking against my own, then leaned in to kiss my ear.
“Good boy…”
He began humping me, little thrusts at first that moved just an inch or two at a time. He was so gentle in opening me up. That was one of the many things I loved about him. I couldn’t imagine giving this up. I didn’t want to even think about it.
“I want it deeper, Dad.”
I stuck my ass in the air, raising my hips until my ass was flush with Dad’s pubes. He gripped my waist, pulling out slightly before slamming me back down onto his cock. I let out a cry, my vision going hazy as he jabbed at that special place inside me. I focused all my energy on keeping my back arched and ass up, desperate to keep the angle he was digging inside me. He held me in place like a rag doll, his thrusts sending white-hot jolts of pleasure through my cock that made me drool a small puddle of boy-goo onto the seat.
“Ugh… yeah… fuck, that pussy… argh… oh, baby, your cunt… Jesus…”
His hands rode up my shirt, the rough, calloused pads of his fingers trailing along the soft skin of my back. My forearm was the only thing keeping my head from banging against the car door, as the force of his thrusts jerked me forward again and again. I closed my eyes and became lost to the world. All I could feel was my dad, hard and rough and deep.
Then I felt his fingers wrap around my cock as his large, rough hand dwarfed my stick.
“Cum for me, baby. I wanna make you squirt.”
In less than a dozen strokes, I was shooting my load. My legs froze up, and my asshole clamped down on my dad’s cock as I dribbled my cum into his hand. He groaned, his cock pulsing as he released inside me.
I couldn’t hold myself up any longer–I collapsed onto the seat, my cock slipping from my father’s grasp to leak the last of my seed on the seat. Dad’s cock popped out of my ass, and I felt a warm spray across my skin as jets of his cum showered my lower back.
“Oh… ohh… OH… ughhhhhhhh.”
Dad’s heavy cock thumped against my ass cheek, sticky and wet. I felt his body hovering over mine, his hand sliding underneath my waist to pull me in for a kiss. We kissed for what felt like an eternity, me still lying on my tummy, him crouched over me. His cum seeped into my skin, pooling in small puddles on my back. I was messy, wrecked, and thoroughly, thoroughly fucked by my dad.
“That was incredible,” I whispered.
“I’m gonna miss that,” he said softly.
I looked up at him with wide eyes. “Does that mean…”
He put his hand behind my head and pulled my forehead against his. “I love you so much it hurts. But I can’t watch you make the same mistakes I did.”
He kissed me on the cheek. “Go live your life. I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
The rest of the day felt like a blur. Frenzied packing as I sorted through a sea of thongs and slutty little tanks to choose only the best and the brightest to come with me to LA. Breaking the news to Mom, who took it better than expected. Taking the car to get detailed since the backseat absolutely reeked with cum.
By the time 8 am rolled around the next morning, I was practically vibrating with adrenaline. Dad had driven me to the Marriott to join Ms. Scarlett, carrying my little pink suitcase stuffed with all the things I couldn’t bear to part with. He’d bought me a seat on the 11 o’clock flight to LA and even arranged for an Airbnb for me to stay at for my first couple of weeks there.
“You call me when you land, and let me know how the flight was,” he said, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from my shirt collar. “If you need any help looking at apartments, I’m happy to fly out and–”
“I’ll be fine, Dad,” I said. “I promise.”
He cradled my cheek with his hand. “I know you will.”
“Ah! You came after all.”
I turned to see Sabrina Scarlett standing at the door to the Marriott, decked out in a denim tracksuit with a pixie-cut wig.
“And you brought Daddy. Isn’t that a delight?”
I noticed a disgruntled-looking bellboy standing behind her, pushing six giant suitcases on a luggage cart.
She turned to him and wrinkled her nose. “You can leave those right there. My assistant will load them into the taxi for me. And since you won’t be handling that part, I hope you’re not expecting a tip.”
He locked the brake on the luggage stand and stormed back inside.
I turned back to Dad. “I love you, Dad. I’ll call you when I land, I promise. And will you do me a favor?” I pulled out a small folded piece of paper I’d sealed with a piece of scotch tape. “Would you give this to Elijah for me?”
A written apology wasn’t much, but it was the best I could do before leaving town. I hoped he wouldn’t hate me, but then again, that wasn’t up to me.
He took the paper from me and nodded, slipping it into his back pocket. Then he smiled at me, his lips wavering like he was about to cry. For a moment, I thought he might pull me into one of those show-stopping kisses to which I’d become accustomed, but the fact that my future employer was standing right there watching us seemed to give him pause.
In the end, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
“Goodbye, son.”
It took a lot of effort to stuff all six bags into the taxi’s trunk, and I ended up having to share the backseat with two oversized duffel bags and my own little pink suitcase, crammed in my leg space. As I got in the car and shut the door behind me, the last thing I saw of my father was the sight of him waving at me from the front steps of the Marriott, an ear-to-ear grin on his face.
“You travel light,” Sabrina crooned from the front seat.
I wiped a tear from my eye and shrugged. “I didn’t have that much to bring.”
“Mm. That’ll change. When you’re with me, you’re gonna need luggage. Big luggage. For everything you pick up along the way.” She slid on a pair of Oakleys and gazed out the window. “Christ, what a dreary little town this is.”
“Will you really teach me what you do?”
“If you have the spark. But there’s nothing I can do if you lack talent. You can slap lipstick and an updo on a sow, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t better off as bacon. You understand?”
I stared out the window at my little town, receding on the highway behind me. “I guess so.”
“Before we can talk about any of that, we’ll need to think of a name for you.”
She turned to face me, as if sizing me up.
“Something in the Scarlett family, obviously, if I’m to be your drag mother. How about ‘Velvet Scarlett’? That’s quite glamorous. Or you could be ‘Tempest Scarlett’–something tells me you’re a fiery one.”
I frowned. “I don’t know… that doesn’t really sound like me.”
She sighed dramatically. “Oh, you young people nowadays with your individuality. Well, it’s up to you. Just try to think of something unique to you. Your greatest passion, or your greatest strength.”
“My greatest strength?”
An idea sparked in my mind. A slow smile spread across my face.
“I think I’ve got an idea.”
****************
Epilogue: Five years later
The club was absolutely packed to the brim, a sea of sweaty 20-somethings that were way past tipsy at this time of night. My flight had landed only a few hours ago, and I’d barely had time to drop my things off at the hotel before catching an Uber here.
I stood at the bar, waiting for the shirtless bartender to stop flirting with one of the patrons long enough to look at me. After a few minutes of being ignored, I cleared my throat and said, “Scuse me. Can I get a gin and tonic?”
He looked over at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but the second he caught sight of my face, his entire demeanor changed.
“Absolutely,” he said, his voice dripping with sex.
The other patron was forgotten as the boy whipped up my drink faster than I would have thought possible.
“It’s on the house,” he said, sliding it into my hand. He flashed me a mischievous smile, which he pulled off quite sexily. “Sorry about the wait.”
“It’s fine,” I said, taking a sip.
He leaned forward far enough for me to see his dark green jockstrap peeking out the back of his designer jeans. “What’s a handsome daddy like you doing in Weho?”
“How do you know I’m visiting?”
He laughed and put his hand on mine, running his fingers up the side of my arm. “Baby, I would remember seeing a guy like you in here. Trust me.”
It felt good at my age to get this kind of attention, especially from a blond Adonis like this. But I was here for something else.
I drained the rest of my drink, then set it on the bar. “I’m visiting my son. He’s performing tonight.”
He smirked, eyes popping with delight. “Really? Is he one of the gogo boys?”
I shook my head. “Drag queen.”
His lips pursed together like we were sharing a secret. “Must be a lucky guy to have a daddy like you.” Then he leaned in and whispered, “You know, I’m a top, but I’d be willing to take one for the team if it meant getting into bed with you.”
Just then, the lights began to flicker. The room filled with curling tendrils of smoke as pounding music started to play.
“Good evening fags and femmes,” said the announcer. “I wanna welcome you to another Monday Night at Micky’s. You know we keep it real down here in Weho, and tonight ain’t no exception. We got a great group of queens ready to come out and strut their cunts for y’all. Some hot and fresh girls. Some old-as-shit motherfuckers. But all of them fierce, foxy, and fabulous. Give it up, y’all!”
I gave the bartender a polite nod and took my seat near the front of the stage. The music was loud and my ears were pounding, but every second was worth it for this moment. I might be old (and getting older), but nothing would keep me from being right where I was.
The first drag queen to perform was apparently quite well-known, though I didn’t recognize her. She wore a bald cap and fake fangs, doing some sort of Nosferatu-like number that ended with her pouring fake blood all over herself. I could barely focus, so eager to see what I’d come for. How would he look? Would I even recognize him all dolled up?
Then, finally, the announcer said, “Next up on the stage is a real rising star. She been payin’ her dues and workin’ her ass off like a real fucking queen. Make some noise for… Bussy Scarlett!”
I’m sure my cheers were louder than the rest of the audience combined. The lights strobed wildly, and more smoke curled out onto the stage as the curtains began to part.
This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for.
The first thing to peek through the curtain was one of his legs, bare and long. God, those legs. What I wouldn’t give to feel them now.
As the curtain continued to slide open, I could see his leg was sticking out of the slit of a bright red velvet dress. He was padded slightly at the hips, not that he needed much there. It had been some time since I’d seen his body up close, but the boy I remembered had an ass you could get lost in.
Then the light caught his face, and I let out a gasp.
He was beautiful.
That’s all I wanted, something special, something sacred in your eyes
For just one moment to be bold and naked at your side
He wore long, red velvet gloves that ran up to the elbows. His pale skin shone under the light, the contrast with the dress making him look as if he were literally glowing. His makeup was sharp and wild, his nose pinched to a point above those pink, voluptuous lips.
Sometimes I think that you’ll never understand me
But somethin’ tells me together we’d be happy, woah-woah, baby
He glided down the runway as elegantly as if he owned it. One hand grazed down his chest as the other held a finger up to his lip. The crowd was eating it up.
When he reached center stage, he peeled his gloves off, tossing them to the cheering crowd one after the other. Arms spread wide, he looked absolutely divine.
I will be your father figure
Put your tiny hand in mine
I will be your preacher, teacher
Anything you have in mind
He was close enough for me to reach out and touch. All around me, screaming people in the crowd waved dollar bills. But now his eyes were on me.
I had never seen him like this before, so in command, so assured. The boy I knew had been so burdened by doubt, but this was an entirely different person on that stage. Under the lights, with a crowd of cheering fans, he had finally come into his own.
He winked at me, and I melted.
If you are the desert, I’ll be the sea
If you ever hunger, hunger for me
Whatever you ask for, that’s what I’ll be
He slid down slowly until he was almost sitting on his heels. Then he leaned forward and started crawling across the floor, eliciting a new round of cheers as patrons threw dollar bills onto the stage.
I nudged the person to my left and shouted, “That’s my son! That’s my boy!”
I will be your father
I will be the one who loves you ‘til the end of time
The rest of the show passed in a blur. Other queens performed that night, but I couldn’t tell you who they were for the life of me. All I wanted was to find my son backstage and tell him how proud I was of him.
The last few years had been tough with him gone. Those first few nights after he left, I could hardly sleep because of how worried I was for him. Starting over in a new city isn’t for the faint of heart, and I half expected to get a middle-of-the-night phone call asking me to fly out and bring him home.
But he was stronger than that. Like I knew he would be.
Still, you can forgive a father for his weaker desires.
“Do you know where the green room is?” I asked the bouncer, a middle-aged lesbian with her hair gelled back and a scowl on her face.
She shook her head. “There’s no meet-and-greet tonight. Come back on Wednesday.”
“No, I’m not here for that,” I said. “My son is one of the performers. Bussy Scarlett.”
She gave me a grudging nod. “Bussy, huh? Lotta talent in that gal. All right, just head through that door over there. Green room’s the last door on the right.”
I grinned, though she seemed immune to my charms (lesbians often were). “Thanks.”
I made my way through the thinning crowd and into the back hallway, which was mostly deserted except for a couple of stragglers. I was practically shaking as I reached for the door to the green room.
When I opened it, the place was empty.
“Son?” I peered inside, looking around at all the mirrored makeup stations that lined the walls. “Are you in here?”
The place was deserted. That was strange–he’d told me he’d meet me in here after the show. Maybe he’d already left?
I was about to pull out my phone to call him when a loud thumping sound caught my attention. I noticed a red door at the end of the room, leading to what was presumably a small bathroom for the performers to use.
I took a step forward and called out, “Son? Are you in there?”
No response. But I did hear a muffled groan, as if someone had stubbed their toe.
Curious, I approached the door. The closer I got, the more I could make out the noise coming from inside the room. More moaning, low and guttural. Maybe he was struggling to take off his heels?
I felt a strange prickling at the back of my neck as it dawned on me.
That little fucker.
Laughing quietly to myself, I reached for the doorknob.
I opened the door to see my son bent over the counter, completely naked. His gown lay in a pile on the floor, his wig lying carelessly beside it. The mirror above the sink reflected his face back to me. His mouth lay open in a look of ecstasy as a pantsless man railed him from behind.
“Fuck, dude, your butthole is amazing!”
It took me a moment to recognize the naked man railing my son as the blond Adonis bartender from earlier. His ass was hairless and muscular, and his cheeks rippled as he penetrated my boy.
“Mm, fuck me deep, baby,” Leo moaned.
When he opened his eyes, he saw me right away. His open mouth curled into a grin.
“That’s it, stud… Oh God, you’re such a good fuck, Jared.”
“It’s Jerrell.”
“Fuck my pussy, Jerry!”
I closed the door behind me, letting the sound announce my entrance. “Is this how you welcome your old man?”
“Jesus!” exclaimed the guy (Jerrell) fucking my son. He started to pull out, but Leo grabbed his ass and pulled him back in.
“Sorry, daddy,” he said teasingly. “You were late, and I got horny.”
He nodded behind me. “I saved you a seat.”
I noticed for the first time a small chair in the corner of the bathroom. That definitely didn’t belong here. He must have dragged it in here ahead of time, knowing I’d catch him like this. He’d planned the whole thing, the little slut.
I gave him a performative growl, then took my seat. I was already boned up from seeing Leo like this, and my vantage point from the chair in the corner gave me an excellent view of both the guy’s sweet ass and Leo’s precious little cock dangling between his legs. I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out, giving it a few tugs.
“Uh, do you want me to stop?” the guy asked half-heartedly. He was still humping my son, clearly not freaked out enough to call it quits just yet.
“No, he likes to watch,” said Leo.
Smug little fucker.
My cock was fully hard now. I slid off my pants until I was naked below the waist, never taking my eyes off the sight in front of me. Leo had clearly learned a lot from his time in LA. I watched as he pushed his ass back on the young buck’s cock, meeting his thrusts with little exclamations of lust.
“Oh fuck, you’re so big, Jerry. The biggest I’ve ever had!”
I nearly laughed at that one. Now I knew he was just trying to rile me up.
The guy didn’t seem to get it, though. He started flexing at himself in the mirror.
“Fuck yeah,” Jerrell moaned, high off his own ego. “Take that big dick. Fuckin’ slut. Bouncing on my cock. You like that uncut meat, bitch?”
I was up and out of my chair in a second. Before the guy had a chance to turn around, I had him by the waist.
“That’s not a nice way to talk to my son.”
The guy jumped in surprise. “Jesus. Sorry, man, I was just having fun.”
Leo giggled. “Daddy’s a bit overprotective. But he’s just as powerless over pussy as the next guy. Isn’t that right?”
He was goading me, but he knew me well enough that it worked. Plus, the bartender really did have a nice ass. I slid my fingers in between Jerrell’s cheeks until my middle finger was rubbing against his hole.
“That’s right,” I growled in the guy’s ear. “I can’t get enough of it.”
“Whoa… that tickles,” said Jerrell.
I slipped the tip of my finger inside, curling it toward me and eliciting a groan.
“You ever been in a train, Jerrell?”
“I took the Amtrak to Seattle when I was twelve,” he said stupidly.
Leo laughed. “I think we should show him, daddy.”
When the head of my cock popped inside his hole, I think he started to understand. Or at least it sounded like he did, if his scream of “Fuck, that’s huge!” was any indication.
Leo just laughed, still playing the role of stupid slut that he loved so much. “Mmmmm, I love sharing guys with you, daddy,” he said, practically purring as he pushed back against Jerrell’s cock.
This had the unintended (or perhaps not so unintended) effect of sending the guy’s ass further down on my cock. He let out another cry, though this one was a bit more of a moan.
“Me too, baby boy,” I said with a wink.
I grabbed the hips of the man fucking my son and slipped the rest of the way inside him, causing both him and my son to moan simultaneously. Then it was off to the races.
“Oh, fuck yeah!”
“ARGH. FUCK. SHIT.”
“Ohhh, fuck him, daddy!”
“Oof. UNF. N-no one’s ever done this to me before!”
“Take it like a man, son.”
Not to toot my own horn, but I am pretty much a certified expert on getting boys to cum on my dick. Within just a few minutes, Jerrell let out a “HOLY FUCKING SHIT” and collapsed against my son, draining his balls in Leo’s tight hole. My boy took it with a dreamy look of ecstasy in his eyes. God, he really was an insatiable bottom.
As soon as he was done, I pulled Jerrell out of my son and sent him stumbling over to the cuck chair in the corner.
“Let me show you how a real man does it, Jerrell.”
Leo hopped up on the counter, spreading his legs to let me in. I grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him in for a kiss, our first in way too long.
“I missed you, daddy,” he said softly, his lower lip pouting.
“I missed you, too, baby boy,” I said, grabbing his legs and wrapping them around my waist.
I slid inside him as easily as a knife through butter, though perhaps Jerrell’s load had something to do with it. As I thrust deep inside my son, I reveled in the tight wetness of his hole. It was just as wonderful on my cock as it had been that first night we’d made love in the tent, all those years ago.
I’ll admit, I still wish I could have him that way every night. But seeing him like he was onstage, seeing this life he’d built for himself, made it all worth it. Plus, it’s like they always say: distance only makes the heart grow fonder.
“I’m gonna cum, daddy.” My boy was tugging himself as I plowed him, and the sight was hot enough to bring me to the brink.
“Let’s cum together, son,” I said.
I held off as long as I could, until the first few jets of semen erupted from Leo’s cock. Then I let go, burying my tool deep as my seed flowed freely inside him. I pulled him in for a kiss, breathing into his mouth as we shared our orgasm and our fluids. For a moment, nothing existed outside the two of us. We were together again, like we were always meant to be.
By the time we came down, we were both covered in sweat and his cum. I brushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed his cheek.
“You’re still my boy?” I asked softly.
He looked up at me and nodded. “Always.”
Jerrell let out a whistle.
We turned to face him.
“Damn. That was hot.” He was still sitting in the cuck chair, running his fingers absentmindedly through his pubes. “It’d be pretty fucked up if you were actually father and son, though. Right?”
I looked at Leo, who grinned.
“You have no idea.”
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