Daddy's Home

Boy Meets Bull

Reluctantly, I had the cab drop me off at my mother’s. I grabbed my huge duffel bag, lifted the other backpack over my right shoulder, and took a deep breath as I stared at the small one floor house my mom lived in.

I let out a sigh and glanced at the doorway, still remembering my big former “uncle” Kirk, wishing he was here. I needed him now more than ever, but that ship had sailed when my mom kicked Kirk’s brother Walt to the curb. Before I left for Europe, she had told me about a new guy, some truck driver named Allan. The name “Allan” didn’t scream sexy to me, but I had yet to meet him. When I spoke to my mom last, she had said he was a big man, and that I was sure to like him. I didn’t ask what she meant by that, now that my own big man Joe had died and left me alone. Things sounded like they were moving fast with my mom. Gone for two months, I suddenly wondered if this Allan had made his way into my mother’s home too fast.

I stopped and rang the doorbell, letting the pressure of this moment hit me. Just a year ago I was living in my own house, with the man I was in love with. Joe’s death at the beginning of this year had left me spiraling out of control. I went months before I summed up the courage to reach out to my old university professor. And then there was a brief fling with the hunky neighbour in the next apartment. But I finally escaped to Europe, a gift from Joe at our last Christmas together. So I went, alone, without him. And I let loose. Completely.

I even let loose last night, with the pilot I followed to the airport washroom after returning home.

“Brian!” My mom said through a strained smile. There was no hug, just a fake look as she stepped back and opened the door for me. I gave a smile back, and went right to my old room and tossed my stuff on the single bed and took another deep breath to deal with my mother. Nice welcome after two months, I thought to myself.

The conversation was stilted, awkward. She avoided asking me anything about Joe or how I was feeling, instead asked if I met any girls in Europe. She was back to denying that I had been living with a man for three years. And now that Joe was gone, I should get back to being straight.

After the series of men I’d had over the last two months, I started to wonder if she was right. Maybe I needed to settle down.

“How was your flight?” She asked sipping her coffee.

I flashed to the stud pilot, starting me off in the stall in the airport washroom before taking me back to his hotel room.

“It was fine. The landing was rough though.” I said through a smile, picturing him fucking me in the darkened hotel room. I felt my dick swell a bit at the memory, my ass still flooded with his semen. I could see a much needed jerk off later happening.

“You know, the Campbell’s daughter just broke up with her boyfriend.” My mom raised an eyebrow.

I frowned at her, and let that sentence float in the air before I got cheeky. “So, he’s available?”

My mom huffed and set her cup down. “I ran into Neil the other day and I was asking about his girls.” She looked off into the distance for a moment before she continued. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him at the funeral, poor thing.” She smiled slightly about something before she turned back to me. “But he did mention that Tami was single. You should give her a call.”

I had a flash of the Campbells, our former neighbours from the last neighbourhood I lived in with my mother. I pictured the girls dad suddenly, Mr. Campbell, remembering how hot he was. He was a firefighter. I inhaled deeply as my mother smiled at me, catching her stare, my thoughts turned to the notion that she was trying to forget that I had just lost a MAN and was not interested in dating any girls. A flash of fury seeped into my brain as I remembered her attending Mrs. Campbell’s funeral and not Joe’s.

“So, who’s this new guy? Al is it? He moved in yet?” I asked with a satisfying look.

She folded her arms and looked at me. “Actually yes. Allan moved in last month and things are great! I think you’ll really like him.” She said it again and I could see in her eyes that she knew I would find him attractive. But she stopped herself and picked up her cup. “He’s excited to finally meet you.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ve told him all about me.” I grinned.

Doubtful, I thought. She didn’t respond, which told me a lot. My mom was an attractive woman, only 44. She got pregnant at 19 supposedly but has yet to share who my father is or was. Never talked about. Never knew him. She lived with her mother when she had me, until she latched on the first man, then the next, then the next, but no one ever lasted too long. During the ages of 8 to 16 it was just her and I. Then Walt came along. Skinny, weird, loud Walt. With the big brute of a brother named Kirk that I got to know very well eventually. I suddenly really missed my Uncle Kirk, and how much I enjoyed his visits.

“Where is he then? This Allan?” I asked looking around.

“He’s coming home tonight. He was away the last few days doing another route. Has his own truck. So he’s gone for a few days at a time. Which really is just fine with me.” She laughed at her own joke, rolling her eyes.

I nodded absentmindedly. “Where’d you meet?”

My mom gave an odd smile, which almost seemed real, as if she was happy to have met this man. “Friend of a friend. Of a friend.” She shrugged a bit and resumed her sipping. “He’s very different than Walt.” She hesitated. “Very different.” She gave me a wicked grin and I just about cringed. But there was something about her smile that intrigued me. Like she was pushing too much for my approval, hinting that I would give it.

I retreated to my bedroom to unpack and figure out what my next move was. I had to sublet my first apartment when I went to Europe, and had no real plan now that I was back. I was in no rush to move back into that apartment. I had a brief fling with the straight guy next door, and I had heard that he was also moving on, moving out. Mario, the hunky straight man that lived next door. Too bad he wasn’t ready for a relationship. To be fair, neither was I.

As I looked back at my mother, I knew that I did not want to spend too long here at home. With mom and her new boyfriend. All I knew about this new guy was he was a good-looking guy, butch type, tough. Very different from the skinny Walt who was rough around the edges but was certainly no looker. My mom had said Allan was all man, whatever that meant to her. My real fear was that we seemed to have the same taste in men at times, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Maybe that was why she was so hell bent on hooking me up with women again.

I heard the rumbling of a car in our driveway a few hours later and listened as my mom’s new boyfriend came into the house. I hesitated running out to see what he looked like, just sat on my bed listening to the gruffness of his voice, the heavy footsteps, his laughter as he spoke to my mother. He sounded rough with a very deep voice but his laughter made him seem somewhat sweet, gentle almost in their discussions, until I heard her tell him I was home, and her voice beckoned me to the living room.

I had changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, which showed off my muscular 5’9” 25-year-old body. The tan from Europe made me look like a short model, my blue-green eyes more startling against the darker tan of my skin. I rolled my eyes at being summoned, and reluctantly scooted off the bed. Barefoot, I stepped out of my room and came down the hallway to the living room where they were waiting for me.

My heart skipped a beat as I took in the man. Allan. Big Al indeed I thought to myself. Tanned himself it seemed, with a dark thick moustache and a dark 5 o’clock shadow. His hair was thick and dark, with hints of grey at the temples and salt and peppered throughout the full wavy head he had. He was tough looking, rather attractive at first glance, wearing an oversized loose fitting flannel top and baggy jeans. He had a pair of grey wool socks on his large feet. He was stocky, with wide solid looking shoulders but I couldn’t get a sense of his body underneath his outfit. His stomach though had a small roundness to it as his flannel shirt hung down over it. But nevertheless, he looked solid and very, very rugged looking as if a lumberjack had just walked into my living room. And something inside me stirred as I looked at his moustached face.

Wow. I thought. Attractive indeed.

His smile softened his face, his dark brown eyes seemed small in his face, his nose a straight strong one, his moustache thick and bushy like a Tom Selleck wannabe, almost black looking compared to the light dusting of grey hair on his head, covering his upper lip, highlighting a full bottom one, which he licked and parted to reveal a big smile. His face was downright sexy, with that moustache that just made him look like he escaped from a Folsom leather bar. Right there, standing in front of him, I began to fantasize about what was underneath all those clothes. I guessed him to be about 6’2” or 6’3” which made me feel like a little boy standing in front of this hunky dad.

He held out a big puffy hand that looked like a baseball glove. I could only imagine what his bicep looked like underneath the stretched material of his sleeve. His shirt looked dirty, and I could smell gasoline, or oil, or “truck” on him. It filled my nostrils like a drug as I reached out to take his hand. Immediately it enveloped my smaller grip, his warm hand was surprisingly soft, and he squeezed me tight. Up close, I could see the large cavern between his pecs between the opening of his flannel shirt. At the bottom of his dirty faded blue jeans, the pair of work socks, grey with red tips at the heel, outlining the roundness of his toes, also big looking, much like the rest of him. He was big alright, and he looked like he could toss me around quite easily just from the size and strength of his handshake. He just exuded masculinity.

“Nice to finally meet you son.” He said without a thought, his voice loud and booming. The word “son” seemed to resonate with me in a weird way. His eyes stayed on mine, gleaming at me as if he too was registering that he just called me son. But as I held his grip, his eyes travelled over my body. “Looks like someone hits the gym hard.” He said before he released his hand and patted the bottom of his flannel. “Might have to work out with you sometime just to keep this down.” He laughed loud and my mom squeezed into him, putting her hand on what appeared to be a rather firm stomach.

He wrapped a big thick arm around her, and I suddenly wished it was me.

“Yeah, Allan is it?” I stammered out.

“It is. You can call me Al. I guess it’s a bit early to call me Dad.” He burst out laughing at his own joke, bellowing out and bending over a bit, his eyes back on mine, holding my gaze. “Or, my buds call me Bull.”

“Bull?”

“Honest.” He seemed to smile wider, almost ready to break out in laughter again.

I squinted at him and looked at him sideways. “As in a china shop?” I said with a sort of huff of my own, given his size.

“As in hung like one.” He let out another loud laugh and slapped me on my shoulder, knocking me a step sideways with the playful blow. My mother let out a quick “Oh Allan!” and smacked his thick leg, rolling her eyes at me. Allan gave me a wink and an evil grin, and I was suddenly even more curious about this man.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Your mother has told me a lot about you.” He said at me, lifting a finger and calming himself down from his laughing. There was a pause for a moment as I looked up into his eyes. He seemed to smile at me, directly at me, as if we were sharing a secret. But then he broke out in a wider grin and raised his right eyebrow. “So how was Europe? I wanna hear everything!” He moved backwards and sat down before I could check out his ass. Mesmerized, I sat in the chair across from him, slightly nervous as I stared at this manly man. He had to be late 40s but it appeared that he took care of himself despite his career. He had a thick neck with a big adam’s apple, and I couldn’t help but look at the bulging arms on him straining underneath the flannel shirt. Sitting there, his pecs looked like mountains. I stared at the crevice they were creating between the opening of his shirt. I could see a thick silver chain around his neck in between the light hairs I could see across his pecs. Put a cigar in his mouth and he looked like a drawing I once jerked off to. His thighs spread out in those jeans, the fabric now tight against them outlining some musculature above his knees. I couldn’t help but stare.

We talked about Europe, surprised he was this interested when my mom wasn’t in the least. We talked for a long time, him asking about me, and the longer we talked, the more relaxed I became with him. He was genuinely interested, and asked lots of questions, smiling at my every word, raising his eyebrows as I told tales. He nodded along as I talked about some of the countries I visited, asking me all sorts of questions about the sites and who I travelled with. He was actually a really nice man, something I wasn’t used to when it came to my mother’s pick. At one point my mom got up to refill drinks, and as soon as she was gone, he shuffled to the end of the seat on the couch and leaned into me.

“Hey….” He reached out a put a hand on my knee as he sat across from me. “…I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your Joe. Your mom told me about you, and Joe. And your loss. And hey, it’s perfectly alright with me. But that must have been tough to go through.” He looked at me kindly, his lips now squished together in a sympathetic head tilt under that thick moustache. He gave my knee a little squeeze. “Your mother said you were really upset about it, and I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you need anything.” He squeezed my knee again, holding it along with his gaze, before he patted it gently and then sat back, staring at me. “I mean it. Anything.”

He held my gaze, his eyebrows raised almost conspiratorially. I stopped talking, and just sort of looked back at him as I heard my mother moving back into the room.

“Thanks.” I said holding his stare. He nodded again, giving another wink that was behind my mother’s back.

“Anytime.” He said and adjusted his crotch in his jeans behind my mother’s back as she sat down beside him on the couch, keeping his eyes on me.

Am I reading into this? I thought as my mother smiled up at me.

“So are you going to take back your apartment?” She asked as she set down the drinks.

“He doesn’t have to worry about that just yet.” Al said leaning forward again, letting his hands drop in between his big thighs. “He’s got a room here. He can stay as long as he likes.”

I looked at him a little more closely, feeling my heart thumping in my chest, noticing the way he was looking back. After two months in Europe, I knew that look. I was getting it everywhere. Lustful stares, hungry eyes. It was like watching a wolf eyeing its prey. He knew about Joe. He knew I was into guys. Was he playing with me? Taunting me? Testing me?

I shrugged my shoulders, peeling my eyes away from the gaze of this masculine, blue collar man. “Not sure yet. I said I’d be gone a couple months, and didn’t really give any indication I would be in a hurry to move back in.” I thought about my university friend Sandra, who agreed to take over my place. She was working not too far from the apartment, and wanted to move out of her parents’ place, so she took mine while she looked for something more permanent. She even liked my next-door neighbour Mario just as much as I did.

Allan crossed his leg over his knee, his big, socked foot now dangling. I studied it, noting the way the heel was shaped, and how the ball of his foot was wider, the shape of his big toe underneath the wool material and the tip of his second toe slightly longer than the big one. I wished he was barefoot. Hell, I wished he had less clothes on so I could get a sense of what I was living with here.

He reached over and held his own ankle as he looked at me, noticing me staring at him. When my eyes lifted again, he held my gaze. With a very small grin, hardly perceptible underneath that thick moustache, it seemed as if he was almost antagonizing me to hold his stare.

I broke the look and got up, stretched in mock tiredness, announcing that I was jet lagged and needed some sleep. Al responded by standing up with me, shaking my hand once again a little too long this time, telling me how great it was to finally meet me. He was sure, he said, that we would get along “just fine.”

I huddled up in my room that night, falling fast asleep on my bed in my clothes, reminiscing briefly about the pilot and the washroom, then his hotel room, until my mind turned to the new man in my mother’s life. My mind went from the trimmed pilot plowing my ass to just the thought of this giant bear of a man sitting across from me, staring at me. I remembered his thick tongue licking his bottom lick, and what it would be like to kiss him, feeling that thick moustache tickling my nose, the scruffiness of his stubble against my chin, or between my ass cheeks. I pictured what he looked like underneath those clothes and began imagining ways to see him with less things on. My cock grew stiff, and I reached into my underwear to absent mindedly fondle myself, my 8-inch cut cock already thick with just the thought of him. My left hand went under my balls, tracing a line downward to my puckered hole still swollen from the previous night’s pounding, imagining my mother’s new boyfriend’s scratchy face tonguing me into a delirious state. I wet my middle finger quickly, tapping my entrance, fisting my cock with my right hand and lifted my chin upward as I stroked myself off, thinking about the large Bull of a man in the other room, and how much I suddenly needed a man like this again. I clenched my jaw, picturing Al naked, over me, between my legs, looking at me with those big brown eyes, calling me son again. I panted hard, feeling the surge rising in me as I jerked my cock, arching my back, digging my feet into the mattress as I unloaded my juice straight up my chest as I thought about this man inside me. I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if this man would fit the bill of being my dad at last.