Dad is an Exhibitionist Ch. 02bycburton©
The warmth of the sun's penetrating rays embraced my waking body the next morning. Kicking back the bed covers, I stretched my arms and legs, then arched my back as images of the previous night swam through my mind. I felt wonderful and whole. "Wow," I muttered before reaching down to fondle my tumescent penis.
Then bolting upright, I repeated "Wow," this time aloud. Realizing that the angle of the rays could only indicate that it was late morning, my startled brain thought, "It's Monday, and the shop opens at seven." Jumping from the bed I said, 'Crap," and then "Crap" again while I fumbled around for my clothes.
After hastily brushing my teeth, I scrambled down the hall past Dad's room, worrying about his reaction to my oversleeping. One of our agreements was that I would never be late to work. He hated it when employees were late to work, and it was already, I stopped to check the clock in the kitchen, "Shit, eleven thirty" I yelled out loud.
Grabbing a banana from the counter I bolted to the front door before freezing in mid-flight as an image from the previous night came crashing into my mind. "Did that really happen?" I thought. Then I remembered that it did and my legs shook while I stumbled to the couch; my stomach was suddenly in knots. "Oh shit, shit, shit," frantically tumbled out of my mouth.
Bent forward by feelings of nausea, I cupped my head with my hands. "You had sex with your father last night," roared a cold accusation in my head.
Sitting on the couch my mind became a messy jumble of thoughts overlapping, looping around then doubling back, and in no ways coherent. My insides jangled from alternating feelings of horror, shame, pleasure and lust. In an attempt to calm my unraveling nerves, I tried to decide what I should make of our encounter. Searching inside me for an emotional point of view that was familiar; I found none. Everything which I had been known for certain seemed all akimbo.
"What does this mean?" I thought. I tried to calm down by inhaling deeply. "What happens next?" There was surely some action that I could take to quell my growing panic.
Dad hadn't come in to wake me. Was he angry? Upset? Did he regret what we did? Did I imagine it?
"Go to work", the words shouted in my head. "Get to work and just act normal," I repeated aloud. "Fat chance," I heard an alternative voice mutter in my mind.
I rose to leave the house. Shakily I opened the door and began the short walk to the metal building near the road. Though I was feeling stronger, my legs still were trembling with each step. Hunger gnawed at my stomach. Stripping back the banana peel I took a bite, and then a larger bite as I opened the back door to the shop before standing still, with a half-eaten banana in my mouth, greeted by the stares of Raul and Reynaldo.
"I'm late," I mumbled through the banana.
Raul turned to the older Mexican man and, extending his hand toward Reynaldo, twisted it side to side while mouthing in Spanish, "Mucho puta." Both men dissolved into fits of giggles and coughs as I walked past them.
"Where's my dad?" I asked.
"Houston," was the only reply.
"Oh my god," I exhaled when I remembering that he was going down south today for a meeting on a bid that he'd placed for some custom tools for an off-shore oil well job. "How could you forget," I asked myself. Then I knew why I had forgotten.
I realized that was why he hadn't waked me. "He must have left at five or five thirty," I muttered to myself. With the realization that he wouldn't be back until later in the day I relaxed a bit and, under the guise of feeling normal, began gathering some parts that I had planned to spend this week organizing in bins.
After a while I was beginning to feel somewhat better. Later in the day, while absorbed in an activity, I realized that Hank, the skinny blonde, had been following me with his eyes since I had arrived. "Like a cat," I thought.
"What?" I snarled harshly at him. After my blurting out, "What's with the stares?" he turned away with a sneer.
Mumbling to myself "Fuck you Hank" I went back to my work.
Despite my busy work the time seemed to crawl. Raul took care of any business that arrived, mostly inquiries. The other men, Reynaldo and Hank, were busy with their own jobs. I began to feel somewhat better though I knew nothing would be resolved until I could talk with my dad about last night.
What was I going to say anyway? What was he going to say?
"You give great head, son."
"Thanks Dad, any time."
I caught Hank staring at me again. This was my time to scowl until he turned away. "Trailer trash" I quietly uttered my mother's favorite term for people like Hank. "At least he still has his teeth," I thought.
Still, I paused to look at him; despite his greasy hair there was something about him that was kind of cute. He did have sexy arms, wiry but muscular; and a nice mouth. And I did have to admit that the way his butt rose high in his tight jeans was interesting.
"Damn," I said slamming down the wrench that I'd been cleaning. A stiffy was happening in my pants from eyeballing Hank.
About four thirty Dad's truck pulled into the gravel apron in front of the building. Raul went out to greet him and they stood outside talking for at least ten minutes. My dad then handed him some drawings and came into the shop.
"Hola machismos," he called out. Reynaldo looked up from welding and gave a slight salute. Hank smiled broadly at him, like he was really glad to see him. Scowling, I thought to myself, "What the fuck is that about."
I grew anxious when I realized that he was coming over to me. He set down some mail that he was carrying and said in a voice not much above a whisper, "You doing okay today?" accompanied by a light pat on my shoulder. My tension instantly deflated.
"I had trouble getting up this morning," I admitted.
Laughing as he turned to go away he said, "Well, I think we can give you that one."
That was it, nothing more was said.
He walked through the open doors of the shop and called out to Raul, "You'll need to close up buddy, and I'm meeting with Marilyn in 30 minutes." Marilyn was his accountant. Lifting his arms as though pleading to the skies he said aloud to no one, "Damn quarterly taxes."
I was watching him start the truck and then pull toward the shop when a finger signaled through the open window for me to come out. I walked up and he said, "You'll have to fend dinner for yourself tonight; I'll probably be late getting home." Saying nothing else he pulled away as I gave a slight wave of goodbye.
Simple, easy, what was I so panicked about? But with no acknowledgement whatsoever of last night from him, that felt odd.
Turning to go back into the shop I said "Good night," to Reynaldo as he passed me going to his car while in the shop Raul busied about closing up. "Can I help close up?" I asked him. "No," was his reply, "see you manana."
I headed for the back door just as Hank stepped out of the rest room slicking back his hair.
"Night," I mumbled while lowering my head when I passed him. I heard a grunt in reply.
"Go home to your fat, ugly wife and kid, you bastard," I muttered to myself. "I guess he's jealous of me," I thought, ticking off the reasons why. Why shouldn't he be? My Dad's his boss. He's a high school drop out saddled with a wife and kid; I'm going to college; he's short and skinny; I'm better looking. But then I remembered my reaction when I watched him earlier this afternoon and wondered, "Still."
Later that evening, after a dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I made efforts to district myself from thoughts of the previous night with my father. Channel surfing through the television I switched from one program to another with no success.
Finally, in frustration, I went into the back yard thinking that a walk might settle me down. For most of the evening I had been unable to separate myself from the concerned I had about my Dad's reaction. Though he had seemed casual enough during our brief encounters today, there was no indication of what he was thinking.
Worse yet, I didn't know myself what I thought about the time we had spent at the pond. Certainly it had aroused me enough so that I had experienced my first real sex with another man. I had messed with a buddy in high school, but it had been nothing like what had happened last night. I had long been very aware of my attractions to some other men. However, for my first experience to be with my own father was disturbing me. "Was it wrong?" I thought to myself.
I wasn't entirely certain that my unsettledness was due to the experience or to my father's lack of acknowledgement of our experience. Inwardly I was longing for the feel of him again. In short, I was in a muddled state.
The walk outside hadn't helped me at all. Seemingly tired, perhaps from my anxiety, I fell into bed early and, imagined the feel of Dad's arms around me. The vivid memory of how his cock filled my mouth captured me, along with the strong taste of his cum. I was soon lost in memories of the previous night while I stroked my cock to a climax before falling asleep.
Our chance to talk didn't happen until the next evening over dinner. Dad ate dinner with the newspaper spread open and his eyes focused on the story he was reading. I sat trying to eat but not feeling hungry and wondering how to begin.
Looking up from the newspaper, he caught me watching him and, with the gesture of closing a page said, "Is there something you want to say?"
Taken back by this lack of subtlety, I fumbled and stammered before starting. "Well, I guess..." as I felt nervousness growing within me. "I mean..." I started trying to say something when he interrupted.
"Say what you want to say Dave," he spoke out with some obvious irritation.
"What we did," I blurted out, "I mean, shouldn't we talk about that?"
"Okay," he said, "what do you want to talk about? What part of what we did bothers you?"
"Duh," I found myself resorting to a childish expression I'd often used while I fidgeted. "Sure, I mean, yeah...that night, that's what I want to talk about."
He sat back in his chair folding his arms across his chest and just looked at me. "Go ahead, I'm waiting; what did you want to say about the other night?" he said without expression.
With increasing jitteriness I realized that in my mind I didn't know what I wanted to say. What I really wanted was to know that we'd do it again. That it was alright with him and he wanted it to also. I just wanted to hear him say that everything between us was good. But what came out was, "You're my dad, and..." I stammered for the words, "We did things together."
He spoke slowly with a tone sounding vaguely sinister, "Yeah, it was pretty obvious what we did."
"Was that right..." I started to say while knowing at that time that no words could have been more wrong.
"Damn it Dave," he slammed his hand on the table. "Yeah, something happened between us and we're two men. Did I know that was going to happen? No," he nearly yelled. I sat upright in my chair, shocked by this burst.
"No, I didn't expect it," he continued with a more subdued tone. "But you didn't tell me that you wanted to stop either." He stared at me with his eyes narrowed to only slits.
I suppose that I was surprised by his remark. My face flushed while what felt like golf balls pinged around my stomach. I was speechless and could feel tears forming in the corner of my eyes.
He leaned forward and his face changed to an expression hinting a smile. "You're a grown man David; you'll be nineteen next month. I've never lied to you or been dishonest with what I've told you. Whatever sexual experience you've had I know nothing about, nor is it any of my business."
While I sat sucking air through my nostrils he continued. "I've suspected for some time that your interests were...." he appeared to be searching for a word, "heading that way. And that's fine with me. It's your life. I admit that I've had some of that myself. Last night was....," then he stopped. My father was a man unaccustomed to explaining himself to anyone. And he didn't like it.
At that moment it felt as though all of the emotional scenarios that I'd built in my head from our time at the pond crumbled around me like a house of cards. All I knew to express was the anger that suddenly exploded.
"Okay," I began yelling. "It was no fucking big deal. So your son is queer;" pausing for emphasis I said, "What's that make you?" I finished and stormed back to my room. He looked at me with surprise during this burst, but said nothing. I suppose he went back to reading his newspaper.
After almost an hour I lay in my darkened room in tears over what had happened. How could everything go from being so good to so messed up? I heard his footsteps down the hall and they seemed to pause outside of my door, then a few soft raps. "What?" I yelled out in frustration.
I could tell that he poked his head inside the darkened room. "Dave, I'm sorry that you're upset," he said quietly. "I was afraid that this would be like this and I should have known better. I should have never let last night happen." There was a pause before he ended with, "I'm sorry but I just can't deal with all this emotion." He closed the door which was immediately followed by the sound of his own door closing.
I willed myself to sleep but woke about two o'clock in the morning with all the possible other things that I could have said in my mind. "Why had I been so reactionary?" I wondered. "I've probably shut any doors that I thought had opened between us on that night." Feeling miserable I went to the bathroom. There were no sounds coming from his room. "How can he be so unconcerned over what we did," I thought to myself.
Returning back to my own room I couldn't sleep and sat looking out of the window at the dark night. Through the darkness, I saw someone approaching the house. At first it only appeared to be just movement back near the forest. But as I continued to follow I soon could recognize that it was my father approaching. Closer yet I could see that it he was naked and had his underwear thrown over one shoulder. I gasped when I realized that he'd been to the pond.
The next morning I awoke to a light knocking on my door and heard him call out, "It's nearly seven." Shortly afterward I heard the front door close. Rolling over in my bed in a state of morning arousal, it only took a second before I was on my feet and heading to the bathroom. Noticing that I had only twenty minutes to get to the shop, I quickly stepped in and out of the shower, brushed my teeth, dressed, and woofed down a bowl of cereal. Despite the resentments that I held toward my dad, I knew that I didn't want to be late to work two days in a row.
My work day was routine and my Dad spent most of his time his office in conversation with Raul over new specifications for a job. I knew that this was the first large job from a major drilling company that he was in line to receive, and it was really important to him. In the early afternoon he gave Raul and Rodrigo instructions for changes to the prototype and, under his supervision, they busied about making the changes that would be needed for meetings back in Houston in two days.
I was excluded from the conferences taking place between the three men. By five o'clock they were still occupied and by then had even included Hank. Even though I was the least experienced in the shop, I resented that Hank would be included and not me. I left without saying goodbye to anyone.
Dinner came and went and, according to the lights, Dad was still in the shop. Rather than spend another frustrating evening I decided to see if I could find the pond on my own. A swim would do me good.
Alone in my room I debated if I should strip to my underwear. The unpleasantness between us the night before left me uncomfortable about nudity. "Still," I thought, "two can play this game," and I removed all of my clothes except for my boxers..
There wasn't much light as I walked toward the trees. Clouds were gathering and the radio had predicted rain before morning. I stumbled on the uneven ground a few times but soon found myself at the fence. Unsure if I was at the exact location where I had crossed with my father, I paced the fence line until I felt reasonably certain of the spot to cross. Ahead of me was a narrow path going into the forest.
The trail didn't seem to be as clear as the night I was following my Dad. Of course he had known the way. Also, it was darker tonight. On several occasions I took what became an obvious dead end and had to back track my steps. Still, though trial and error, I continued on sensing that I was going in the right direction. I knew that the clearing at the pond was large enough that, if I could get reasonably close, I could find it.
After perhaps half an hour I heard what I thought was the sound of splashing water. Standing still I listened until I heard faint sounds that seemed to be coming from the direction of my right.
Turning in that direction while pushing aside branches as I made my way slowly through the underbrush, the moon suddenly appeared though the clouds and I spotted light faintly glimmering ahead. It was then that I heard the sound of voices.
Stooping over, my heart racing with anticipation over what I might discover, I crept towards an opening in the trees in front of me. Crouching behind a bush I peered ahead to see the figure of a man reaching out to help someone from the pond up to the bank. Even in the dim light I recognized my father. Stunned, I froze and held my breath.
I then heard what sounded like "Ouch, damn rocks," followed by a low chuckle which I recognized as definitely my father.
The two men stood facing each other. I saw the back of someone shorter and more slender now standing and facing Dad. They were both nude and apparently speaking together quietly. At the sight of two naked men, my heart began racing and it became more difficult to inhale. At the same time I felt jealous that my father would be out here with someone else.
In a very short time, the slender one crouched down and I saw his head go toward my dad's crotch. I gasped to realize that someone was giving my dad a blow job not fifty feet away from me.
Even though offended and conflicted by the shame of my spying, I felt a rising in my underwear. Debating whether I should leave, my curiosity over what I was watching overruled my sense of probity. Reaching down I began to rub the erection now pressing against the leg of my shorts.
The two stayed still; the only movement was from the kneeling man. Dad had placed one of his hands down over the man's head and was moving it backward and forward, just as he'd done with me, while with his other hand he rubbed his stomach.
Though trying to suppress my breathing, I reached inside the fly of my boxers and withdrew my cock, now dripping with the fluid of excitement. Wrapping my palm over my cock head I felt the sticky substance in my hand.
Abruptly the man stopped his sucking and rose and turned away from my father toward where I was hiding. "Oh my god its Hank," I almost said aloud. It was Hank who was with my Dad. Anger and jealously surged through me at once and I wanted to cry out, "No," while at the same time I squeezed my erection, now grown even harder. Not only was I watching two men having sex, I was watching two men who I knew having sex. I had no explanation for why this was so exciting to me.
Stunned, I watched while Hank leaned forward and pressed his butt against my Dad's crotch. Dad put his hand to his mouth and I could tell he was spitting.
I quietly moaned at the prospect of what I was about to watch. I started stroking my pole, now throbbing with excess blood.