Growing up without a mother is all I remember. It was just my dad and me. I don’t remember my mother walking out on him and me because I was all of two years of age at the time. Dad tried his best at being a single parent and I tried not to rattle his cage very often because he had a temper. He never beat me, but he sure did toss a few of those fatherly stares at me, the ones only fathers can dish out. If you all know that old saying, “If Looks Could Kill” then you know what I mean. Fathers have a knack at doing that without uttering a word. When you see one of their eyebrows twitching staring into your eyes you automatically know that you’ve done something to piss him off or you’re in big trouble. My Dad would sometimes talk with his eyes telling me to go to my room also signifying he’d deal with me later without opening his mouth.
The odd time I fled to my room waiting his arrival that could have been fifteen minutes to two hours thereafter kinda made you stop and think of what you did to piss him off. By the time, he entered my room tapping ever so lightly on my bedroom door to announce himself I had usually figured out what I had done and the consequences I might have to face.
“And what do YOU think should happen to YOU for whatever I had done?” He’d asked leaning against the back of my door. “Hmm, maybe I should be grounded?” I asked praying what I replied was enough to satisfy his question. “And how long do you think that you should be grounded YOUNG man?” “Hmm, one day?” I would exclaim remembering to look at him because if I didn’t while responding he’d order me to stare into his eyes replying to his question. “A day, one day eh!” He’d utter staring me down. “TWO?” I’d ask with my voice squeaking when he didn‘t respond. “And no TV for how long would you say?” He’d usually ask. “Hmm, one day?” “That sounds, hmm, hmm, hmm, how long?” He’d ask rubbing his chin or tugging his neatly trimmed goatee if he didn‘t care for my reply. “Okay Dad, no TV for two days!” “That’s better,” he’d reply opening my bedroom door with one hand behind his back. “Just a thought Yuvraj,” dad would whisper backing out of my room. “Yes Dad?” “If we don’t learn from our mistakes what happens?” He asked. “We are given stricter punishments!” “That’s a good thing to keep in mind,” he’d reply closing my bedroom door.
If I was misbehaving around our house doing something petty all Dad had to do was fake a cough if he caught me. In addition, if I hadn’t done a chore like taking out the garbage he’d wait until we were in the kitchen at the same time and he would stare at the cupboard neath the sink until I clued in. Nonchalantly, I’d get up and remove the trash stuffing it into one of two bins at the side of our house. When I got back, he’d be staring at the sink using his eyes to tell me to make sure I washed my hands before doing anything else. God forbid if I didn’t wash my hands after using the john! “Did I hear water running after you finished?” Dad would ask when I had exited the bathroom. I’d high tail it back into the can to wash up.
I was 18 when my Dad began drinking excessively. The odd night he’d venture into my room drunk as a skunk when I’d be sleeping. He’d park himself on the side of my bed and he’d talk to me in the darkness thinking I some long lost friend. “It’s me Dad, you’re drunk!” I stated several times sitting upright telling him to go to his bedroom to sleep it off.
The following year my father stopped drinking. We never talked about his binging the year prior. He decided to get back into shape again after gaining fifteen beer pounds. He worked diligently and he bought a membership down at our local YMCA.
“You need a friend Dad,” I said when I was sixteen and a half. “Do I really?” He asked. “Yes you do, you don’t ever go out at night to do anything.” “Like what?” “Play pool, meet friends for coffee, I don’t know, meet ladies, something Dad, I don’t know,” I answered. “I’m not interested in meeting women,” he replied.
If only Dad could have read my mind after uttering the statement about not being interested in women. I had to stop myself replying because I was going to add, “I’m not interested in women either!” I bit my tongue fighting off what I had almost uttered.
I wrestled with myself for months on end asking myself, “I wonder if Dad knows that I’m gay?” I pondered on whether or not to tell him my secret. The odd time he’d ask me if I had a girlfriend at school. “No Dad,” I’d reply whispering. He didn’t pursue it further until the following month before asking me the same thing usually while eating breakfast together.
On my nineteenth birthday, my father surprised me buying me an old car that he had worked on in his garage. Many times, I’d sit on a stool watching him restoring the vehicle that he said he’d sell one day when he was finished bringing her back to life. He had rescued the old gal from the wreckers when I was 16. “One day i’ll finish and she’ll look brand spanking new!” He’d utter. When he said the car was mine, I almost feinted. I had to promise to keep her looking new and I vowed that I would.
The following year in early June, I finished high school with honors thanks to Dad overlooking my homework and or grilling me before final exams. “I never finished high school let alone ever went to college. You’re gonna be the first in our small family to attend college and get a degree!” Dad said a few times rubbing the top of my head making me squirm begging him not to mess my locks. Sometimes he’d stand behind me massaging my shoulders if I was working on a book report reading back every word that I had penned before handing in my assignment the following day at school.
“It’s gonna be awful lonely around here when you leave for college,” dad whispered from behind his newspaper with me sitting opposite him at our kitchen table. “No it won’t Dad, I won’t be living on campus, i’ll be home everyday.” “No you won’t, you’ll be so darn busy studying and spending ever free minute with friends, it’s okay son I was just talking to myself,” he’d reply. “You have to meet someone Dad, you need friends.” “Do I indeed?” “Yes Dad you do.” “All the guys I know hang out at the bar after work. If I do the same thing i’ll drink and get drunk.” “You don’t have to drink booze, drink soda-pop, drink water or drink juices!” “I don’t know Yuvraj, I really don’t know.” “Don’t you ever want to get married again?” I asked poking the center of his newspaper. “No I do not,” he answered lowering his paper telling me not to poke it. “Why not Dad?” I asked staring into his blue-gray eyes. “i’ll get married when you get married,” he shot back grinning ear-to-ear flashing a perfect smile. “Sorry Dad, that’ll be the day, I’m never getting married!” “That makes two of us then doesn’t it?” He asked.
I paused wondering if the moment was right to reveal my secret to my father. I had thought of writing him a letter but I ripped it to shreds half way thru the note. It felt ridiculous writing to say, “Hi Dad…oh yeah, and by the by, I’m gay!”
It was now or never, I figured. “Dad, can I talk to you?” I asked.
He lowered his newspaper folding it in half creasing it placing it beside his breakfast plate. “What is it Yuvraj?” He asked sitting back in his chair folding his muscular tattooed arms across his broad chest. “Yes son?” He asked staring into my baby-blues.
I cast my eyes down staring at my empty plate and dad faked a cough. I raised my head staring at him. “I’m gay,” I whispered. “Come again,” he replied wide-eyed. “Dad, I am gay.” “I thought that’s what you said,” he responded. “Don’t get upset eh,” I said watching his left eyebrow twitching. “Did I say that I was upset?” He asked. “No Dad, but your eyebrow is twitching,” I answered. “That damn thing,” he whispered using the back of his hand to rub it. “Are you disappointed with me?” I had to ask. “Should I be?” He asked in reply. “Don’t talk like that Dad, I’m not nine years old anymore, answer me!” “No is my answer.” “That’s why you’ve never seen me with a girlfriend.” “That’s what I figured when you were 18,” he replied stunning me. “Why didn’t you say something?” I asked. “Was it my place to ask and what would you have replied?” He asked. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Let me tell you something about your old man I sort of thought you already knew,” he said uncrossing his arms placing his large hands at the sides of his breakfast plate.
Dad leaned into the table staring into my eyes. “Did you ever think that your old man might be gay also?” He asked. “WHAT?” I asked stunned sitting back in my chair gazing into his eyes. “Have you?” He asked. “No, never of course not, you can’t be gay,” I answered relaxing and smiling thinking my Dad was joking around. “When have you ever seen me with another woman?” He asked sitting upright. “Like neverrrrrr,” I whispered pausing, staring into his blue-gray eyes. “Exactly and you never will, not that I have anything against women other than I do not wish to have sex with them,” he replied.
Without thinking, I rambled, “Then why haven’t I ever seen you with another man?” “Should I ask you the same question!” He shot back. “I’m sorry Dad but I just don’t believe you.” “And why not?” He asked gazing into my eyes. “Because since I can remember you’ve always been around, you never go out or do anything other than work on your hobbies, stuff like that.” “Maybe you didn’t watch close enough or at all times and besides how could you?” “What do you mean?” “First of all I wasn’t around every second you think I was. Don’t worry Yuvraj I never left you alone and went out gallivanting even when I used to drink too much or do you remember?” “Of course I do.” “Well, I’m no angel, are you?” He asked cracking a smile.
Dad continued smiling watching me blush crimson red. “I don’t have a boyfriend if that’s what you mean,” I replied. “And neither do I.” “Have you ever had a boyfriend?” I asked. “Not to speak of, have you?” “Not really Dad.” “Seems were two of a kind eh?” “It seems so Dad.”
Since dad was talking openly and honestly, I had to ask, “When was the last time you had fun with another guy?”
Dad uncrossed his arms pausing before he replied. “Define fun!” He exclaimed. “You know what I mean.” “Well Yuvraj let’s just say it’s been a while and leave it at that. Do you have your eyes set on someone, another guy?” “Not at this time I don’t,” I answered.
“You take the summer and relax Yuvraj, I don’t want you working, we’re doing fine with my wages, very nicely I might add. You take it easy this summer and keep the house in order and the yard and i’ll do the rest, okay Yuvraj?” “I can get a part-time job!” “There’s no need to do that, we’re doing just fine and I’m proud of you for graduating with honors.” “Thanks Dad, really,” I whispered smiling ear to ear. “And you’re a handsome devil at that, did I ever tell you?” “Not in so many words,” I answered beaming. “You’ll never be an ugly mug like your grease monkey old man that’s for sure,” he replied. “Don’t say things like that Dad, you’re handsome, you have a great body and there’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic, nothing!” I exclaimed. “I’m not really a mechanic son, I don’t have my license.” “It doesn’t matter Dad, you’re a mechanic aren’t you?” “I suppose I am,” he whispered dropping his gaze. “Are you ashamed of yourself?” I asked telling my father to look at me. “A little I guess you could say, a little.” “But why, tell me why Dad?”
“Well son, I never even finished high school and I wasted a few years goofing off as a teenager,” he replied. “You can always get your GED equivalent and all teens goof off,” I said smiling. “I goofed off and got a bunch of tattoos didn’t I?” He asked stretching his arms at his sides. “There’s nothing wrong with your tattoos,” I replied. “Did you know that I used to ride a bike?” He asked. “A bicycle?” I asked staring into his eyes watching him burst into a fit of vigorous laughter shaking his head side to side. “A bike, a motorcycle, a Harley!” He bellowed chuckling. “When Dad?” I asked surprised. “I got rid of my bike when you were four or five, don’t you remember?” He asked. “I don’t ever remember you having a motorcycle; did you ride with a gang?” I asked. “Nothing serious but your mother sure did when she left me,” he whispered telling me something I never knew about her. “Tell me Dad, what happened?” I asked. “It wasn’t all that special; she decided to hook up with some Pritamlal-Blow who belonged to a big rich family. She said that she was sick of being tied down needing her freedom.” “So she left just like that?” I asked. “Well, not just like that, we weren’t getting along the two of us. We should never have gotten married, big mistake…not that I regret you being born, no way son never do I regret not having you okay?” “I know Dad and thanks.” “So, she took off with some biker dude we used to know, well she knew him much better than I ever did and do you know something Yuvraj?” “What’s that?” I asked. “I never missed her, not a day has gone by that I even think about her not being around and I hope you’re not upset that you got cheated out of a mother?” He asked. “I don’t remember her so how could I miss her, its cool Dad, really it is.”
It was mid August when came home one day carrying a two-four of Budweiser on the top of his left shoulder and a bag in his other hand from the LCB (liquor control board).
I was in the kitchen tossing a salad. “What’s that stuff?” I asked when the case of beer landed on the kitchen table. “What’s it look like?” He asked reminding me that he was on vacation for the following three weeks. “I know what it is Dad but what’s it for?” I asked watching him emptying the bag placing a bottle of rye whiskey and a bottle of Kaluha on the table. “I thought that we could do some real celebrating before you head off to college.” “Dad, I’m not heading off to college. I’m not going anywhere, the college is less than two miles away and i’ll be home everyday just like when I was in high school!” I stated. “Oh no you won’t not all the time!” “Take that stuff back Dad, I don’t want any and you don’t need…” I said not finishing my sentence. “Don’t tell me what to do Yuvraj!” Dad snapped. “Sorry Dad, I’m not hungry, i’ll put the salad in the fridge along with the cold chicken and potato salad, i’ll see you later,” I replied shoving the food into the fridge before exiting the kitchen heading to my room.
“Be a stuffed shirt, see if I care!” Dad bellowed when I left the room. “Go to hell!” I shot back wishing I had kept my trap shut slamming my bedroom door.
Dad was making a racket rummaging around the kitchen. I pictured him drunk as a skunk within two hours. I heard loud rock music playing in the living room and an hour later, I heard my father trying to sing along with different rock bands. He sounded like a wounded animal and he must have thought that he sounded like a rock star because he continued singing his heart out.
It was around ten o’clock when I heard something crash! “What the hell are you doing down there!” I hollered from the top of the stairs asking dad if he fell and hurt himself. “Damn coffee table…fuck it!” He bellowed before singing a new tune. His voice sounded hoarse.
I felt like running downstairs to give him shit for acting like an idiot. I returned to my room pissed off with my drunken father. The loud rock music ceased for a half hour and I couldn’t hear a fucking thing coming from downstairs. My bedroom door was wide open.
“Should I go downstairs and see what the hell he’s doing?” I asked myself wondering if he had passed out on the floor or sofa.
My foot touched the top stair and I had to lean to the side grabbing the banister when I a loud blast of music caused me to shudder. Some such noisemakers were rocking the night away with Dad leading the band.
I decided to go downstairs to see what my father was doing. I squatted taking my time descending the stairs handing onto the banister in case I was hit with another surprise.
I was halfway downstairs when I sat on a step turning my body peering thru the spindle rails peering into the living room.
I gasped covering my mouth! My father was standing hanging onto a beer in one hand and his other hand was gripping the outline of his rigid prick thru his denims rocking his hips back and forth squeezing his stiffy. He had tossed his shirt over the chair in the corner and his socks dangled from two candlesticks on the fireplace mantel. His left shoe sat atop the TV and his right shoe was nowhere in sight.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” dad sang trying to keep up with whoever was also trying to sing strumming an electric guitar. I couldn’t make out the lyrics. I hated rock music, pure noise and crap but dear old dad just loved it!
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so fucking horny!” He declared squeezing his horizontal boner.
I gasped again when Dad leaned back jutting his hips forward squeezing his dick meat. He placed the neck of the beer bottle to his boner rubbing it back and forth moaning and groaning rubbing it more firmly. When he tilted the bottle, he poured beer along his horizontal shaft. It looked as though my father had pissed himself. He tilted the bottle up touching the head of his prick inside his jeans soaking his knob before giving it a squeeze. It looked as though his knob was stuck to his hip!
Dad stood upright tilting his head back stretching his muscular arms at his sides gripping the beer bottle in his left fist. He jutted his hips forward and I could easily see the outline of his hardon. Dad dropped the empty bottle of beer on the carpet at his side. Singing his heart out, he moved his right arm. His right fist locked onto his bulge giving it a hard squeeze casting his head down staring at what he was doing. My father grunted. “So fucking hard!” He declared, tossing his head back squeezing the outline of his prick.
Dad stretched his fingers with his arms at his sides before bringing his hands together. I thought he was going to say a prayer but he didn’t. He placed his large palms on his hard semi-hirsute chest. He rubbed his pecs. He pinched and twisted his nipples. He tugged them moaning and groaning.
Dad’s fingers dug into his washboard abs pinching each of his ripples before he stuck the tips of his fingers into his wet tight denims. “Fuck yeah,” he moaned with one or two fingertips caressing the head of his cock stuck to his hip.
Dad extracted his fingers. He unbuckled his belt before removing it. He tossed it over his shoulder. I didn’t look to see where it landed because my father undid a brass button at the top of his jeans. He tugged them and I thought he was going to split his fly down the center but his jeans didn’t have a fly zipper. He was wearing button down denims.
Dad undid two of the buttons. Gyrating his hips for a few seconds before he stopped to give his prick another hard squeeze. “Fuck yeah, so fucking stiff,” he whispered.
“Drop them Dad, take them off,” I heard myself silently whisper with my right fist inside my jeans and briefs squeezing my dick meat. My belt was unbuckled, my fly was undone, and my prick was oozing like a bitch. I squeezed my knob coating the inside of my fist. I withdrew my hand from inside my briefs. Staring at my hot looking father, I licked my palm before sticking my fist into my briefs again.
My father shimmed his hips unbuttoning all five buttons. He pinched the sides of his hips lowering his jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear! His big dick popped out of his denims rock hard bobbing up and down curved upward. His thick cut prick was nine hard inches!
His jeans tumbled to his ankles shaking his legs and his hairy low hanging plump balls came into full view. I squeezed my meat oozing precum while staring at my horny father pulling his jeans off his feet stepping out of them. He kicked his denims to the side looking down at his upright stiff prick.
Dad cooed like a horny pigeon using the tip of his finger to caress the underside of his bone hard dick. He pressed the head of his dick into his abdomen moaning and groaning before wrapping his fist around his hot looking prick.
Jutting his hips forward, Dad leaned over. I gasped! The head of his cock entered his mouth! He sucked it softly moaning before pulling his head off his knob. “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” Dad moaned licking his lips. “So fucking hard,” he whispered squeezing his big cock.
I had a perfect fucking view when my father turned to the side a few inches leaning over again taking his prick into his mouth. He sucked his knob hard. He moaned and sighed. His dick sunk deeper and deeper into his oral cavity. He grunted when his knob entered his throat. I gulped gasping for air! Dad released his stiffy reaching for his furry low hangers giving them a tender loving squeeze. My father moaned pulling his head back. He sucked his knob again giving his testicles another loving squeeze. “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” dad softly moaned working the head of his prick.
I stretched out my legs lowering my jeans and briefs down around my knees. I raised my T-shirt tucking it behind my head. My knob was stuck to my gut and he was oozing. My piss slit winked a few times and then I wrapped my hand around my stiffy. I oozed scooping it up with the side of my thumb before I sucked it watching my dad moving his head back and forth self sucking his boner. I was so temped to suck my cock but I dared not turn away from watching my horny drunken father.
My hot nude father pulled his head off his prick. He mumbled murmuring sampling his spent clear nectar. He began licking his engorged knob and he teased his pee hole with the tip of his tongue before twisting his prick working his dick ridge. “Gotta suck him again,” my father, whispered taking his knob into his hot mouth yet again.
I rubbed my piss slit with the tip of my thumb. I oozed a long thread of precum. I had to suck my knob just for a minute. Handing onto one spindle I leaned forward taking the head of my prick into my mouth. I moaned softly giving the head of my prick one long hard suck before pulling my head off my bone hard stiffy. My spent nectar tasted so good.
My father stood upright jutting his hips tossing his head back pumping his cock faster and faster. He was gasping and panting and then he started grunting when his low hangers banged the side of his fist and knuckles.
I was too involved watching my father while squeezing my prick. I could no longer hear the loud rock music blaring in the background staring at my father’s throbbing stiffy.
“Gonna blow, gotta cum so bad!” Dad groaned releasing his prick.
“Don’t stop now!” I silently blurted gasping for air.
Dad parked his ass on the edge of the sofa leaning back resting his neck on the back of the couch with his right hand wrapped around his boner pumping it vigorously with his furry low hangers jumping around.
“He’s gonna blow his loads all over himself,” I said to myself slowly pumping my stiffy.
My father’s heels dug into the living room carpet. He elevated his butt a few inches pounding his dick meat squeezing him more firmly pumping faster and faster.
My father’s furry chin touched the top of his chest staring down at his hardon. “Cum!” He bellowed. “Shoot!” He hollered. “Blow baby blow!” He yelled staring at his prick.
Dad pinched the base of his stiffy whacking his washboard abs with the head of his dick. “Cum!” He shouted tapping his hard gut.
My horny drunken father released his prick. The head of his cock slapped his gut. He gripped the sides of his head watching his boner twitching and jolting. “Cum!” He commanded.
A ribbon of his hot manseed rocketed out of his dick barrel when his prick stood upright. His spent cum arched, and his knob slapped his gut. Dad groaned and his dick stood upright again as his first rope came crashing down splashing his chin and chest. His second wad flew out of his prick followed by a third and forth rope splashing his face, chest and gut. Dad released his head placing his hands at his sides. He was breathing hot ‘n’ heavy.
I looked at the head of my dick. My piss slit winked. I lowered my head as fast as possible creaming my lips before the head of my dick entered my mouth.
I had to release the spindle because my body was squirming. I sucked my knob hard feeling my prick squirting four more times.
“SHIT!” I bellowed sliding down the balance of the stairs landing on my bare ass at the foot of the stairs.
When I dared to raise my head, Dad was standing at my feet staring down at me. He was rubbing his spent spunk into his chest. He wiped his chin before licking his palm clean.
“See what you did and see what you get for watching me jerk-off!” Dad said laughing turning around shaking his furry ass cheeks. “Shake your ass one more time and i’ll fuck it!” I shot back sitting upright. “Who’s stopping you!” He declared entering the living room swishing his rear end.