Prodigal Father

Inevitably there was a small disagreement over something minor that blossomed into a shouting match between Raul and Steve that ended up with Steve spilling out a sarcastic remark on what he knew was going on between Raul and his son.

The atmosphere in the house for the rest of the evening was decidedly frosty. Raul didn't come to Steve's bed. In the middle of the night, when Steve awoke and Raul still hadn't come to his bed, Steve rose and padded down the hall to Ty's room. Raul wasn't there either. But Ty was there, naked, lying on his bed, and looking absolutely delicious.

Steve stood in the dark outside Ty's room, watching Ty's body bathed in moonlight. And his hand went to his cock and he masturbated, half dreaming of Ty working his body like Steve had seen him fucking Raul.

The next day, Steve discovered that Raul had cleared out. He didn't appear for work and he wasn't at the house that night. Or the next night.

But Ty was there. Ty took up the slack of Raul's disappearance at the docks, and he was skilled enough now to manage it. Ty became indispensable at the boatyard. And he was there, in the house, in the evening.

Ty began to walk around the house in next to nothing. And he brought home porn videos, and he'd sit on the couch in front of the TV and watch them and play with his cock.

He was driving Steve crazy. At first Steve would hang back in the dining room, working on company papers on the dining room table, within sight of the gay porn showing on the television, but where he couldn't see Ty. But all the time he was sitting at the table, his mind was seeing Ty even if his eyes couldn't.

After a few days, Steve would knock off working at the table before the porn video finished, and he'd come into the living room and sit in an overstuffed chair where he could watch Ty climax at the high point in the film. Then he'd get up and go down the hallway to his own room and shut the door—and jack himself off to the vision of Ty.

The first time Ty fucked his father was a couple of weeks after this pattern had set in. The night was dark. It was raining and there were flashes of lightning. The air was hot, and close, and sticky. Steve was in cotton sleeping shorts and laying on his belly on his bed, trying to go to sleep, but held awake by details of the mornings work running through his mind—and being pushed aside by thoughts of Ty's body. Of Ty's smooth, youthful muscles, the beauty of his blondness, the strength of his fucking of the Cuban, Raul.

Steve heard a noise and he looked up at the open door to his bedroom. He thought he saw the naked body of Ty leaning against the door frame there, illuminated by a flash of lightning. But he assumed he was hallucinating and he shut his eyes tightly and opened them again. Another flash of lightning revealed the doorway to be clear.

But then he felt the heaviness of Ty's body coming down, full length, on top of him, the slickness of Ty's hot body on his, the muskiness of his scent, the hardness of the muscles.

Steve felt fingers digging at the cotton material covering his butt, and he heard the ripping sound of the material, and he felt the cool, lube-slathered fingers at his entrance. And he groaned and gave a small yelp as the fingers entered him, roughly and deeply.

Ty's body was covering his, trapping him completely, holding him within constraining bounds as Steve writhed at the rough opening of his channel. Then Ty's cock was invading him, stretching and punishing him. Skin on skin. No condom here. The skin of the son rubbing against, chaffing, the sensitive channel of the father.

Steve tried to spread his legs, tried to widen the access to his channel, but Ty tightened the vice of his thighs encasing Steve's, wanting him tight, wanting his channel to feel the full fury of a young, vigorous, monster cock.

The father moaned and whimpered and cried for mercy, but Ty fucked on, the moaning of the bedsprings matching those of the father. Steve reached over his head and grabbed at the slats of the headboard as Ty rode him hard.

After an eternity, Ty put a hand under Steve's belly and brought him up on his knees and then continued fucking him doggy style, his hand now reaching around and grabbing Steve's dick and pumping it until Steve came with an exhausted cry and collapsed on the mattress. But Ty just followed him down and fucked on.

Ty came twice inside Steve before Steve drifted off into sleep in exhaustion. When he woke, it was morning—more than an hour after he should be at the boatyard—and the only evidence he had that the night had been real was mussed sheets, a sore channel, and ripped sleeping shorts.

Ty wasn't in the house. But when Steve reached the boatyard, Ty was there, working away on a boat hull as if nothing had happened the night before.

Neither father nor son said anything about the fucking in the night—not that day, or the day after it happened again, or the day after the next time.

Steve was horrified, confused, and frustrated by it all. Ty was his son. But Steve also was totally aroused by what was happening. The Ty who fucked him was a vigorous hunk in the night. There was little connection to be made to the snot-nosed ten year old Steve had deserted in Baltimore.

Steve told himself it would have to stop. But the more he told himself that, the more of an obsession it became for him. And now being taken in the night, in secret almost, wasn't enough. Steve wanted to fuck in the daylight—joyously and like any committed couple would. It didn't matter that Ty technically was his son. He wanted Ty to be his life partner. They already were partners in the business. There wasn't anything Steve had that he wouldn't give Ty—just as long as Ty fucked him.

He spilled out to Ty what he wanted one sunny afternoon in midsummer after Steve had stood in the bay door of the drafting and construction hall and watched Ty, shirtless, work on fitting and polishing a teak deck on a small sailboat. Steve couldn't take it anymore. He told Ty that he wanted to go back to the house with him then and there and wash and fuck with him in the shower, and then to fuck the rest of the day away on Steve's bed—in the daylight. Acknowledging to the light of day that they fucked.

Ty merely put his hammer down, smiled, and led Steve to the pickup. They fucked under the running water in the shower, Steve's legs hooked on Ty's hips and his face buried in Ty's chest as the younger man pushed Steve's back up and down on the soapy stall wall tiles with the strength of his cock.

And then, in the full daylight, Steve laid on his back on his bed, his legs spread, while Ty stood between them and fucked Steve interminably while kneading his nipples with strong, calloused fingers, the two men's eye's locked on each other's.

Three changes of positions and two comings deep inside Steve's channel, and Ty left Steve to drift off into fully satiated sleep, while the younger man went back to the shower.

When Steve came out of sleep, it was twilight and the house was silent. Too silent.

He rose off the bed—painfully, as Ty had worked his channel like never before—and went to the door to Ty's room. Ty wasn't there. In fact, there was little of Ty there. His closet was bare, and the room looked like it had been stripped of everything that had made it into Ty's room.

Steve drunkenly moved down the hall, swaying and hitting both walls as he stumbled.

The note was on the dining room table. Next to it was the company checkbook. The balance had been zeroed out.

Through blurry-eyed tears Steve struggled to read the note: "You fucked the family. Now I hope you know how it feels to be completely fucked."

Steve sank into a chair by the table. He didn't have to look around to know that Ty had taken everything that wasn't nailed down—all that Steve had worked for for nine years. And even then, wherever Ty was, he still owned half of the company. And everything was in the company name, including the house.

He was trembling—trembling from frustration and anger. But the anger wasn't directed at Ty. Steve was angry with himself—because all that Ty had taken didn't matter a bit to him. What mattered was that Ty was gone. That Ty wouldn't be there tonight to fuck him.