Daddy Issues Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)
The usual disclaimers apply: this is a made-up fictional story for adult readers only.
This story is an experiment in writing something longer, kinkier, and more romantic. There are 15 chapters in all, and I will post new chapters on a regular basis. If you like it, consider dropping me an email: billdrake@hotmail.com. Reader emails are what inspire me to write.
I owe a lot here to fellow writers. My bud a4f101 gave me great feedback on earlier versions and his writing initially inspired a lot of roleplay in this. There's also a significant debt to the stories of Bad Dad, Habu and Peterbilt. Thanks to all of you guys and the other writers who get me off.
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Daddy Issues
1
"What do you think of that guy there?" Josh Carter's friend Darren was pointing out a porn-star looking guy dancing shirtless on the dance floor. It was Darren's 27th birthday and they were doing a ritual bar hop, nursing cocktails and scoping out the talent. This was the two men's third bar of the evening.
"Nah, not my type" the 23-year-old blondish-brown-haired, green-eyed stud rebuffed, noncommittally. "Besides, it's your birthday, not mine."
To be honest, Josh's interest was drawn to the end of the bar, where a forty-something man stood leaning against the rail. He was really well-built but not a muscle bunny - just a firm masculine body encased in his Izod polo shirt and faded jeans. He stood arms crossed, his gaze fixed forward but his blue eyes regularly darting over Josh's way. Occasionally their gaze would meet, sending a jolt of anticipation through Josh, before one of them would play chicken and turn out glance away.
Josh was beginning to detect a hint of smile on the man's face, but felt he had to cool it before Darren become suspicious.
"Fuck that," he friend slurred, already tipsy on Red Bulls and vodka. "That's why you don't get laid, my friend. Too fucking picky." He poked his finger playfully into Josh's firm chest for effect.
Josh wasn't sure he was ready for another one of his friend's lectures. But Darren meant well. And in a way he was right... it had been five long weeks since Josh last got off with another guy. A Chelsea hunk who'd logged online the minute his boyfriend left town. Josh ended up in the dude's apartment with his cock wedged in a talented throat. Chelsea guy gave great head and got him off, but even so Josh found myself conjuring up his favorite fantasies to help him along.
All of those fantasied involved older men. Men old enough to be his father.
One of these days, I'll admit it to Darren, Josh thought. Or to anyone else in their twenty-something happy hour set. But he'd heard the derision in Darren's voice when Josh even so much showed interest in an older man. "Him?" he'd say. "Might as well go on DaddyHunt, Josh. That guy's at least 35."
Yeah, Darren could be a dick sometimes, but he was just following the type he was into: trim, young 20s, jocks and jock types. Like Josh. That's how they'd become friends in fact. A one night stand the first week Josh had moved to New York. They hit it off more as friends than as lovers or boyfriends and were pretty inseparable since then.
Maybe this was the night he'd admit his daddy fixation to his buddy. Maybe he'd walk right up to Mr. Polo Shirt at the end of the bar. Maybe he'd find out what it was like to hook up with an older guy, beyond the couple he'd met online.
Only Darren was now making out on the dance floor with a hot shirtless Latino guy, who was bumping and grinding against the birthday boy.
"At least someone's getting lucky tonight," Josh complained to himself, as he looked over at the end of the bar. Mr. Polo Shirt was gone. Fuck.
He checked his phone. 1:10. Might as well call it a night and head back to Brooklyn, where he splurged each month on rent for a 1-bedroom apartment. He texted Darren a goodbye and happy birthday wishes and went to the coat check. Mr. Polo Shirt was coming back from the front of the line, jacket in hand.
Their eyes met at he walked by. Up close he looked even better. Clean-cut but masculine, and definitely more muscular than Josh had first guessed. Looked like an ex-jock, the way he carried that packed build. Mr. Polo Shirt smiled and continued on by. Josh's head cranked to watch him walk past. At least he could enjoy the view before he walked out the door.
The 23 year old was feeling down as he exited the bar, but his eyes lit up to see the man there, waiting for him, hands in his jacket trying to stay warm in the chilly early spring night.
"Hey," the man said.
"Hey," Josh said. "What's up?" He wished he had a clever line to come out with, but that's all he had.
Didn't seem to matter. "Was trying to decide whether to go home," the man replied. God, his voice was great. Rich tenor, with a laid back California vibe.
Oh man, Josh thought, this daddy's looking to score tonight. "Me, too. Kinda slow in there."
The two looked at one another, sexual tension definitely there. But Mr. Polo Shirt was trying to read the younger ex-jock. "Wanna walk over and check out the Boiler Room?"
"Yeah, sure."
The two walked down the quiet street, slowly, each unsure what to do.
Finally, Polo Shirt spoke. "You live in the neighborhood?"
"No. Brooklyn." At times like this - and really only times like this - Josh regretted not living in Manhattan. He'd invite this hunk back to his apartment in a heartbeat. "You?" Maybe he could fish for an invitation.
"Chelsea," the man said "But the guys in the East Village are way hotter."
Josh laughed. "Yeah?"
The man had stopped now, a little in front of him, and turned. "Yeah." With that, he stepped up and grabbed the back of Josh's head and drew him into a kiss. It was magical, the guy had the kind of kissing technique Josh never realized he was missing. The kiss lasted about 10 seconds, and it was enough to make Josh fully boned.
"Wow," he said.
Polo Shirt's eyes were all on him now. "Fuck, you're hot." He said it like he couldn't believe he was scoring with a guy like Josh. Then their faces met again. Another smoldering kiss. The guy's crotch pressed into Josh's now and the two men could feel the boner in the other.
"This way," Josh hissed as he pulled the man into a deserted dark corner behind a dumpster. The two attacked one another ferociously now, making out, tongues battling and hips grinding. Josh reached down and grabbed Polo Shirt's erection. The guy was hung all right. Good length, nice cylindrical shape, but the best part was the girth. The man was pushing into beer can territory and just holding that hardon excited Josh.
As Josh fumbled with the jeans zipper, the man started to object. Josh shushed him.
"It's OK. No one will see. I just gotta..." he said without finishing as he crouched down and licked his lips before putting the fat cock into his mouth.
The man fought off a swear word and instead just gave an audible hiss as Josh's throat enveloped his prick. The kid was good, he thought, real good. Especially now that he was bobbing up and down... eager, hungry.
It took a second for the man to get over the fear of getting caught but soon he was entering the zone. Enjoying some of the best head he'd had in a while, from a guy who looked and acted like a bona fide college jock. He went from trying to get excited to trying to hold back the ejaculation. It was a lost cause. He nudged Josh's head to give him 2 seconds warning and then fired right into that tight, moist cocksucking mouth.
Josh slurped it all up and lapped the dribbles from the man's cock head. Nervous now, the man pulled back and stuffed his prick back into his jeans, quickly zipping up in case someone came by. He noticed that when the younger man stood up, there was sperm on his hand and he was cramming his own 6-and-a-half inch prick back inside his jeans. Josh had jerked himself off while giving head.
The two felt awkward now.
"I don't usually do that," Josh said, embarrassed.
Mr. Polo Shirt wasn't sure if he believed him but he nodded. "Yeah, a first for me. But fuck, that was great. Thanks, man." He leaned in for a quick kiss. "Listen, I should be getting home. It's getting late."
"Yeah," Josh said. "I gotta be getting back to Brooklyn."
"Cool. Well, good night."
"Good night."
The two went their own ways. As Josh rode in the cab across Brooklyn bridge, he wondered why it was always like this with him and older men. Quick to get his rocks off, but the minute he was done done, he just wanted to get out of there. Darren's right, he thought, I should just find a guy my own age to date. This daddy thing is fucking with my head.
Mr. Polo Shirt aka Ryan Miller stripped down and crawled into bed, cursing himself for letting a young stud like that get away. I should have at least given him my number, the man thought. Well, there's no way he'd go for me. Not in that way. He was just looking for sex before last call and I happened to be the one.
"But damn, that kid could give head, all right," he said aloud, to no one, before he drifted off to sleep.
2
It was always hard growing up gay in the family of a professional athlete. Mike Carter played football in the NFL. Not exactly a mega-star, but you learn from an early age that being in the pro leagues is special and people treat you accordingly. Everywhere Josh went, his dad was treated like royalty. They lived in a suburban Florida community, where Mike was a local celebrity.
It's hard to live underneath that shadow, the son found out. Josh took up ball, did OK in middle school and even made the varsity cut, but by junior year it was apparent he wasn't going to be destined for a college scholarship much less an illustrious career. Especially when an injury sidelined him one game. Josh took up lacrosse the following year and realized he was just better at that, anyway, despite the pressure he had to be a star athlete. The pressure to be Mike Carter's football prodigy of a son.
Coming out was just another strike against Josh. His Dad took it in stride, but Josh could tell he was disappointed. That he felt he'd failed in raising a real man. "You're my boy and I'll support whatever life you lead," he said, in a tone that told me this was his final word on the subject, "but just don't bring any one home. Don't think I or your mother are ready for that."
Josh was not one to mope and if any thing he drowned his sorrows in sex. Moved to New York out of college. Got a good job that worked him too many hours, but the upside was how frickin' easy it was to get laid in the city. Men were everywhere: at work, on the street, online. The biggest rush came in the realization that guys wanted him. Wanted him really bad. He don't know what it was but he had "it"... the looks, the body, youth, the whole jock thing. Had a couple of men tell him his cock was perfect. Guys wanted his dick, wanted to suck it, to rub it, to get fucked by it. Josh was 22 years old and happy to oblige.
He held off getting fucked, though. Till one night. Trolling an internet site, one older man kept hitting him up. The guy wasn't an A-list beauty, but he was really handsome in his way. Even in chat he had the gift of gab. Soon he was telling Josh how he likes to break in cherry guys. Rather than being put off, the young ex-jock was stripping down his trousers and stroking his hard as nails cock. Turned out Tim lived three blocks from him. Invited him over. In ten minutes Josh was knocking on his door.
Tim took his time. So much sex had been wham bam and over. Even though Josh didn't know this guy's last name, the older man made love to him, pushing him down to the bed and crawling on top of his tall, built frame. Kissing every inch of his muscled body body, from the smooth upper chest to the sensitive nips down the treasure trail Sucking Josh's hard cock. Rimming him. Caressing his chest and neck. By the time Tim started sinking his prick in, Josh felt relaxed and ready. Getting screwed felt pretty fantastic he decided.
Josh Carter was hooked.
Josh couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Polo Shirt. The guy was perfect. In his head he replayed their tryst and jerked his cock, but he edged himself all day, always stopping before shooting, letting his balls pulse and his cock dribble onto his abs. It was nice to have a new guy in his fantasies, he thought getting up and slipping on sweatpants before laundry to get his mind off sex. He hesitated and talked himself out of it a dozen times, but come 11 o'clock on Saturday night, he was showering and douching, just in case, and putting on what Darren had called his "fuck me" outfit: a worn Ohio State lacrosse T-shirt, his beaten Mets cap, and some jeans that showed off his bubble butt perfectly.
He showed up at the scene of the crime. The bar was even more packed on Saturday night than the night before. Maybe he'd have to make a couple of passes around the crowd to spot him. But no dice. Josh even waited an extra hour, then another. The crowd thinned out. Mr. Polo Shirt definitely wasn't showing up tonight.
He was about out the door when a man walked up to him. Fifth guy of the night to do so, actually, but this was the first older guy. Josh would guess late 40s. Salt-and-pepper, medium build with a little middle-aged spread, corporate looking dude. Probably a professional dude by day but he had on a sleek designer gray T and dark jeans. Handsome, but not in Josh's league. And not in Mr. Polo Shirt's either.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.
"Yeah, I guess," Josh said, not sure if he wanted anything with this man. He realized it came off as diffident, but the man took the opening anyway and was going to the bar to get him a vodka and 7.
"I can't believe you're here alone," the man said returning with the drinks. "You're the hottest guy in the place, by far." Sometimes the direct approach was a turn off for Josh, but something about this guy's easygoing confidence was turning him on. That, and he was feeling super horny from an afternoon of edging and an evening of thinking about Polo Shirt.
"Maybe I'm not their type," Josh said, gesturing to the packed place.
The guy looked the young stud up and down, taking his time and being obvious. "You're everyone's type," he finally said. "You can't kid me, I've seen you turn down 3 hot guys and that's just in the last 30 minutes."
Josh blushed.
"Sorry," the man said. "Didn't mean to be too forward, but well, I've been watching you for the last hour, at least."
Josh's defenses were starting to melt more. He was grooving on this guy's flattery, maybe it was just what he needed tonight. He offered his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Josh, by the way."
"Patrick," the man replied, grasping Josh's hand in a firm, business-like grasp.
The two made small talk for a bit, setting into a good rapport, until Josh said, "Can I ask you a question?'
"Yeah, shoot."
"What made you come up to me? After you saw me turn down three guys? I'm curious."
Patrick shrugged his shoulders. "What did I have to lose? Can't live your life afraid of rejection. And, yeah, trust me, I know you're way out of my league.... no that's OK, you don't have to deny it, I know it, bud. But the way you were standing there, kinda waiting, I got this sense you were looking for something tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And had this vibe that maybe you're into older guys." His eyes were boring into Josh's know. At first Josh averted his gaze but then got the courage to stare back, signaling his mutual desire.
That made the older man smile. "Fuck, I'm right, aren't I?"
"Yeah," Josh grinned, no longer shy but relieved to have it in the open.
"Cool."
The two stood, their faces a foot apart, eyes locked. Josh's hand drifted forward and bumped against Patrick's, which gripped onto it and held it.
"I so want to kiss you right now," Patrick whispered.
"Me too," Josh said, and their faces met for a slow kiss.
"Nice," Patrick said as they broke apart.
"Yes."
"Tell me," Patrick said. "You're young, you're hot, you like older men. Why hasn't some guy calling you his boyfriend? Or you not into dating?"
Josh normally kept his emotions guarded in these situations, using sexual aggression as a shield. Something about this guy made him open up. "Other way around."
Patrick looked at him questioningly.
"A lot of men like younger guys, but they don't want to date us. Maybe we're not mature enough for them or we make them feel old. Or maybe the guy's ashamed that he's fucking someone young enough to be his son. Or maybe we would embarrass him in front of his friends." He thought about Steve, the 48-year-old advertising exec he'd had a few dates with. The sex was great, but it felt like that's all it was. The whole vibe was off for dating. Pretty soon it had turned into late night booty call texts, until Josh called it off.
The man laughed.
"What?" Josh asked.
"It cuts both ways, buddy. You don't know how many young bucks I've met who are interested in some daddy dick. Only the second they blow their load, they're scrambling to get out the door. Don't get me wrong. I've had some mindblowing lays helping a guy like you explore his desires, but well... tell me you haven't not called a guy back because you were ashamed at how good the sex was."
Josh blushed and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, maybe."
The man flashed a pearly white smile and clapped Josh's back with a friendly pat. "Don't worry, stud, I'm not passing judgment. I'm just saying it's hard all around to really connect with someone. Here," he clinked glasses "To new friendships," he said.
Josh sipped then spoke. "So... I take it you're into younger guys."
Without missing a beat, he answered. "Yep. College boys are my favorite." He looked at Josh as if he wanted to ask a question.
"Sorry. Just graduated," he replied to his silent query. "I'm 23."
"You look younger." He paused and took a swig of beer. "I shouldn't be saying this, but, well, if you wanna use me for a night of daddy sex and kick me to the curb, I won't complain."
Those brown eyes were boring into Josh's. Eager, nervous. Patrick leaned forward, and Josh did, too. Right there in the bar, their mouths met and lips connected again. The kiss sent goose pimples down Josh's back.
"Let's get out of here."
"Yeah."
Ryan Miller was miles away, on a quick trip to Las Vegas to meet an old baseball buddy of his on the West Coast. Greg was straight and married but the two men had always had a no-nonsense friendship.
"All right, who is he?" Greg said as the two leaned back against the casino nightclub bar.
"Who?"
"The guy you've been moping about all night. What gives? You got a case of heartbreak, buddy?"
Ryan laughed, a little wistfully. "Nah. I don't even know the dude's name. Just a hookup from Friday night."
"Damn, you gay guys," Greg kidded. "Seriously, how'd he get into your head? Or should I ask?"
"I dunno. He's just perfect. A college kid, jock, big but not too big, my type to a fucking T." He lowered his voice. "And you ever meet someone he gives good head? I mean, really fucking good head?" He didn't always talk sex details with his friend but the alcohol had loosened him up. Besides, it felt good to get it off his chest. He'd been thinking about Josh nonstop the last two days.
"Yessir, buddy," Greg winked. "I'm married to her."
"Maybe I should have put a ring on it," Ryan joked and the two clinked their drinks.
"In the meantime... plenty more fish in the sea."
"True that," Ryan chimed in but inside he knew he wasn't getting any younger.
Josh slept in on Sunday. Better than he had in a long time. He really should get laid more often. He pulled down the sheets and was greeted by a nice piece of morning wood poking up nice and high. I thought these puppies would have been drained, Josh thought, as he cupped his balls.
He'd been prepared to bottom last night, but as he and Patrick wrestled around the bed, the older man let Josh pin him underneath. "Fuck me," he'd growled into Josh's ear, "Fuck me, College Boy," his legs spreading and latching around the young ex-jock's waist. If Corporate Daddy wanted it, who was Josh to refuse? The man had offered to let Josh take him bare, but Josh had insisted on a rubber. Sheathed up, slathered on some lube, and then took his time opening and penetrating the man's hole.
Patrick had grunted when Josh's prick punched all the way in. The younger man didn't have a prizewinning cock in size, but it was big enough to make itself known. And it did. Both men paused and made out, till Josh felt the tight anal walls relax a little. Then it was time to fuck.
They did it face to face for a while, till Patrick asked to flip over. He lay flat, except for his nice, hard ass that stuck straight up. "C'mon, now, fuck your daddy," he growled.
That did it. Flipped Josh's switch. He pounced now, covering Patrick's older body with his own perfect muscled framed. Wedged his hardon inside the man and started fucking again. Hard. Pinning the man's arms to the bed. "Like this Dad?" Throwing it out there....
"Yeah son. Harder. Fuck Daddy harder."
They were doing full-on roleplay now. A first for Josh, and it was driving him mad. The words spewed out, nasty father fantasies that were bottled up. And Patrick played along, feeding him sex talk right back. It didn't take long before the two came, Josh a half-minute behind Patrick. When the young man pulled out, his prick was still half-hard, a thick balloon of semen trapped in the condom's tip.
Patrick had invited him to stay over, but Josh declined. He felt embarrassed, even ashamed now that it was over. It had been amazing sex, but now Patrick the Daddy had turned back into Patrick the ordinary corporate guy. Josh just wanted to get out of there.
Man, I'm some kind of fucked up, Josh thought. Reliving last night's events and telling himself it was just sex play. Fantasy. He started a slow stroke on his morning bone, feeling the excitement return.
He let go of his cock and walked across the room. Grabbed his laptop and powered it on. Plopped back on the bed. He had a folder where he kept his hidden stash. Some dad-son stories from the internet which they were great, but if Josh really wanted a good strong ejaculation, he had a couple of special jpegs. It was wrong he knew but he took them of his father with a cameraphone when he wasn't aware. Toweling off after a shower, changing bathing suit at the beach. Even soft, his phallus was magnificent. Then there was a face shot a local newspaper photographer had made of him, the rough sun-kissed texture of his face and the steely blue stare did it for Josh.
All right, Josh more than admired his father. He desired him. From his teenage years, the younger Carter would jerk off and shut his eyes til he could see him vividly. Mike Carter in all his 6'5" glory. Bare chested blond fur covering his torso. In Josh's fantasies his dad would reach down and undo the button on his jeans and that was enough to set him off. To spew his load everywhere.
Even years on, at age 24, it was enough to make him spew everywhere. That one photo of his father with the after-practice sunburn and the steely blue stare.
Josh thought of Mr. Polo Shirt. He would't say the looked like Dad exactly, but there was something about him. Same height, same strong jaw and roman nose, same hair color, same jock demeanor, same steely blue-eyed stare. Josh knew he'd go back to that same bar, trying to find him again.
In fact, he repeated the process that Sunday night. Even ended up at a couple of Chelsea bars, just in case the man stuck closer to his neighborhood. It was a needle in a haystack, but something compelled Josh. He wanted to see the man again, to suck the guy off again. But mostly he wanted another chance.