I Saw Daddy Blowing Santa Claus

My Dad was really going at Santa's cock, too, stroking him with one hand and cupping his balls with his other hand, while sucking him. Still thinking that I was dreaming, I rubbed my eyes awake. I couldn't believe what I was seeing and I couldn't stop myself from watching my Dad giving Santa a blowjob. Then, they started kissing, really making out. Finally, when Santa turned my Dad around, bent him over the ottoman, and started fucking him up the ass, well, I was in shock.

I thought about all the mean things my Dad had said to me over the years, the last of which were the day of my college graduation, when he called me a fag, a queer, and a cock sucker. He said that I took it up the ass, when, in fact, here he is taking it up the ass. I thought about confronting my Dad but didn't know if I should. What the Hell would I even say?

"Uhm, Dad? I saw you blowing Santa Claus, before he boned you up the ass."

Nah, that's not right. I could call him names, a fag, a queer, and a cock sucker, but that wouldn't be right either, since I was all those things, too.

I knew my Dad wasn't drunk and couldn't use that as an excuse. Maybe having gay sex was something he did in prison to survive. A lot of incarcerated men have gay sex but most never do it again, once on the outside and once having women available to them.

I mean, no one can make someone turn gay, right? Either he is born that way or he isn't. Even though Jerry Springer believes differently, just because someone has gay sex once, doesn't mean that he's gay, right? Maybe my Dad was just curious, after being around so many gay men at my party. Maybe, since he married my Mom, he's bi-sexual. To say that I was shocked was a gross understatement. What do I do? I didn't know what to do. Should I confront my Dad or not say anything at all?

I returned to my room, but didn't sleep a wink. The song, I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, played through my head, but my mind changed the lyrics. Endlessly, the song played through my head, as I lay there staring up at the ceiling.

"I Saw Daddy Blowing Santa Claus, underneath the mistletoe last night. He didn't see me creep down the stairs to have a peep; he thought I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep. Then, I saw Daddy tickle Santa Claus underneath his beard so snowy white; oh, what a laugh it would have been if Mommy had only seen Daddy blowing Santa Claus last night, before Santa fucked him up the ass."

Jesus! Finally I dozed, but woke up promptly at 6am. My Dad was already up with coffee made. If I was dead, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon would have awakened me from my grave. It smelled wonderful.

"Good morning, Dad."

I had a new image of my father now having seen him with a cock in his mouth and making out with Santa Claus, before watching Santa fuck my father in his ass.

"What will you have? I can make you bacon and eggs with toast or--"

"Just coffee, Dad. I didn't sleep very well," I said holding my head, as if it would fall off my shoulders, if I didn't.

I was still debating if I should say anything and, in hindsight, maybe I wouldn't have confronted my Dad, had he not called me all those foul and hurtful names ten years ago.

"Too much to drink? Been there and done that, no more," he said. "Today is five years, three months, and three days.

"I saw you last night with Santa Claus, Dad."

"Oh, you did?" We didn't speak for a few minutes. We both sipped our coffees in silence. Then, he spoke. "It's okay," he said. "I've finally come to terms with my inherent sexuality and with who I am," he said. "Actually, I'm glad you saw me and I'm glad you know. It's a load off my mind that I don't have to hide that from you. I was going to tell you anyway. I just didn't know how. I needed to clear the air and set things right with you and me, after the way I treated you, especially at your college graduation."

"What do you mean, Dad? What are you talking about when you said clear the air and set things straight?"

"All my life, I've been fighting the fact that I'm gay. I'm a gay man, Bob. There, I said it. When you told me that you were gay, too, I couldn't deal with it. Your open and honest confession made me confront my own sexuality and sexual orientation. I've been hiding in the closet for more than 40 years. We didn't talk about being gay, when I was your age. Now, with my son telling me he's gay, it was in my face. I should have been there for you in your life, but I was too busy fighting my own demons, which is why I drank. Your mother suspected, she thought I was cheating on her with other women, when it was other men."

I just sat there in shocked silence and listened.

"Gees, Dad, I had no idea," I said reaching out to hold his hand.

"It was different back when I was growing up. There were no gay rights, gay marriages, and gay parades. A gay man was as hated, as he was misunderstood, especially in the neighborhood where I grew up. Mothers feared their sons would turn gay by hanging out with a gay friend. We were looked upon, as if there was really something wrong with us. Even the Church regarded us as vile. Then, it was even worse when AIDs spread."

"I'm so sorry for you, Dad. I had no idea. Now I understand."

"Best we all stayed in the closet back then and I did, but it killed me and I turned to the bottle. I thought by joining the Marines that the Corps would make me a man, a straight men, but it didn't. Yet, after seeing things through sober eyes, I'm glad to have you as my son. You're the best thing in my life."

We hugged and we cried. Then, we had breakfast and talked for hours. Now, with my Dad in my life, I feel complete. I only wish Mom was alive to see us together. She would have been happy. Well, maybe not happy knowing that she married a gay man, but she'd definitely be happy that my Dad stopped drinking and was finally in my life.

Merry Christmas.