Falling For Daddy Ch. 01

Note: this story contains scenes of father-son incest.

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"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Oliver felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and rolled over to see his dad smiling at him.

"Happy birthday, son. You feel like a man today?"

Oliver sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He'd almost forgotten what day it was.

"I don't know," Oliver said sleepily. "What does 18 feel like?"

"You tell me," his dad said, smirking. "It's been a couple of decades since I was that age, myself."

His dad sat on the corner of his bed, already dressed in his work suit. His hand was still on Oliver's shoulder.

Oliver suddenly noticed that he was nearly naked underneath the covers. In fact, his blanket was only just barely covering his morning wood. He tried to surreptitiously cover himself.

His father laughed. "You know, I've seen you naked a million times, son. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

Oliver blushed. He still felt self-conscious about his body around his dad. Compared to his father, who was a muscular, burly man, Oliver was much more slender. His lack of muscle made him feel inferior in comparison.

In fact, when it came to father and son, they couldn't be more different. Oliver's height of 5'7" was nothing compared to his dad's 6'3" towering frame. Even their hair was different — Oliver had light blond hair, while his father had dark black hair that was graying slightly on the sides. And whereas Oliver had almost no body hair, his father had coarse black hair covering his chest, arms, and legs.

Even first thing in the morning, sitting on Oliver's bed in his work suit, his dad reeked masculinity. Oliver could see his arm hair poking out from underneath his cufflinks as his dad continued to rub his smooth shoulder with his hand.

Weirdly, Oliver could feel himself growing even harder at the feeling of his father's touch. What the hell? He must still be half asleep.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, thanks for the birthday wishes, dad. I'll see you at dinner tonight."

His father stood up, picking up his briefcase off the ground.

"7 pm at I Soda, don't forget. They're crazy busy on a Friday night but I made the reservations way in advance. We'll meet back here and then head there around 6?"

"Okay," said Oliver.

His dad leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Oliver could feel the scratch of his 5 o'clock shadow tickling him, causing him to shy away.

"I love you, Ollie. She'd be so proud of you."

He touched Oliver's cheek, rubbing him softly. Oliver nodded.

"Happy birthday, and I'll see you tonight!"

With that, his dad was gone. Oliver lay back against his pillow, his erection tenting up the blanket covering him. He put his hand on it and stroked it lazily. Surely he had time to rub one out before school.

He closed his eyes as his thoughts drifted to his girlfriend Ashley.

As he stroked his cock, his mind filled with Ashley's soft red hair and curvy frame, he found himself going limp.

Hmm. Perhaps he hadn't been horny after all. It must have just been a bit of morning wood.

As Oliver walked into school a couple of hours later, he met up with Ashley in the hallway outside first period.

"Happy birthday, booboo bear!" she said, kissing him on the cheeks.

"Thanks," he said as he took her hand. They walked down the hall towards her first class.

"I'm sorry I won't be around this weekend," she said, pouting. "My dad's making me get up ass crack early tomorrow to catch the morning tour at UMD."

"It's okay," said Oliver. "We can just do something next weekend. Maybe after my swim meet Saturday?"

"I'll be there with bells on," she said cheerily. "So, I'm sure you're devastated I won't be there tonight, but what DO you have planned?" she asked.

"My dad's taking me out to eat in the city. We go to this Italian place every year... well, almost every year."

Ashley hugged him. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. She smelled sweet and citrusy, like pomegranate. He found her perfume comforting. It reminded him of his mother's.

"I think that is so cute," she said as they ended the hug and continued walking to class. "I love that you and your dad are so close. I'm jealous, my dad's a total garbage person."

"He can't be that bad," Oliver said. "He's always friendly to me."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "That's because you're a guy. He's such a misogynist. And a bible thumper. You know he told me he doesn't even want me going to college in the first place? He thinks I'm just going to get my MRS degree."

Oliver gave her a playful nudge. "Well, aren't you?" he asked, winking.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, fuck off," she said, laughing.

He dropped her off at her class, kissing her goodbye before he headed to first period.

Oliver barely paid attention during class. High school felt like a moot point since he'd already gotten Early Admission into West Virginia University on a swimming scholarship. His mind wandered during all of his classes that day, sifting through various thoughts.

The feeling of his dad's hand on his bare shoulder.

His father's arm hair poking out of his cufflinks.

His mother's perfume.

He didn't know why, but his birthday seemed to be bringing up a lot of memories of his mother. He thought about the year before, when he was too grief-stricken to go out for his birthday. Oliver's dad had tried to persuade him to keep up the tradition, but he locked himself in his room and refused to come out.

Oliver had taken his mother's death pretty hard. He had only been a few months shy of 17 at the time, and her death had been unexpected, to say the least. He'd been in shock for the first few months, but with the help of a good therapist and his dad, he felt like he had really started to come to terms with it.

After the final bell rang, Oliver headed to the school's weight room for a quick workout before swim practice.

"Hurry up and spot me, dude. I'm doing this set to failure," said his friend Manny. He was sitting on the flat bench underneath a barbell loaded up with at least 20lbs too much weight.

Oliver rushed to stand behind the bench as he helped Manny unrack the weight. He stood over him to spot him, looking down at Manny's rippling arm muscles as he lowered the bar to his chest.

"Man, you look ripped right now," said Oliver in quiet awe.

He would kill to have muscles like Manny. Manny was on the wrestling team, so he'd been training for a lot longer than Oliver had.

Oliver watched as Manny struggled under the bar, lifting it up one, two, three times, his muscles bulging.

Manny was an absolute lady-killer, a Bulgarian guy with tan skin, thick, dark hair, and a strong jawline. He had turned 18 a couple of months before Oliver, and in that short amount of time had already gotten several tattoos to cover his muscular build.

Oliver looked over at himself in the mirror next to the bench press. As a swimmer, he had a much slimmer build. He checked out his frame, lifting his shirt to check out his tan stomach. He had a tight body and somewhat well-defined abs, which he was pleased with.

But Oliver was still self-conscious about his size, envious of the guys like Manny and his father who reeked of testosterone with every step they took.

Manny was Oliver's best friend. He'd been pretty surprised the month before when Oliver asked him to start training him, but he'd agreed nonetheless. Oliver had yet to see the results he wanted, but he had to admit that his arms and chest were looking a bit more pumped than they had the month before. He still had a long way to go if he wanted to measure up to his dad.

"Bro!" Manny said, struggling to lift the bar back up.

Oliver snapped out of his reverie, grabbing the bar and helping Manny put it back on the rack.

"Thanks, man," said Manny as he sat up on the bench. "Remember, we're going for progressive overload. If you're not lifting heavier than last week, you're not growing muscle."

Oliver nodded. "And that's how you bulked up?"

"I mean, it's part of it," said Manny. "But we're not really going for the same thing, you and I. I'm going for size. You've got more of a twink thing going on. There's only so much muscle you wanna grow as a swimmer."

"What's a twink?" Oliver asked.

Manny laughed. "Uh, you know? A twink? It's like a skinny little guy with not a lot of muscle."

Oliver frowned. "Well, thanks a lot. Why do I even ask for your help?"

"It's not a bad thing," said Manny. "A lot of people like twinks."

"They do?" Oliver asked.

Manny nodded. "Of course. I'm sure you'll kill at WVU. They'll be all over you."

OIiver smiled. It felt good to be validated by a guy as attractive as Manny. If Manny thought that he was attractive, surely the girls at West Virginia University would.

Although Oliver had been dating Ashley for over a year now, she was going to college in Maryland, and he wasn't sure if she was interested in doing the whole long-distance thing. To be honest, he wasn't even sure if HE was interested in it. He'd had little to no interest in sex after his mom died.

And Ashley had been so patient with him. She could probably have gotten some from any number of guys in school, but she stuck with Oliver through his grief. To be honest, she didn't even seem to mind the lack of intimacy.

"We're going to do a reverse pyramid today," said Manny, taking weight off the barbell for Oliver's set. "Try and go for four to six reps on this set. I'll be here if you get stuck."

Oliver laid down on the bench, his eyes gazing up at the bar in front of him. He could see Manny lumbering over him, his muscle tee barely covering his ripped body. Oliver's eyes traveled across Manny's torso. Of the tattoos Manny had gotten on his chest, Oliver was always drawn to a small tattoo of a butterfly a few inches above his belly button.

Oliver's eyes involuntarily began to drift down, following the smattering of hair leading down from his belly button to his basketball shorts.

"Anytime you're ready, bro," said Manny.

"Sorry. Let's do this," Oliver said as he lowered the weight.

What was going on with him today? He was so distracted. His body image issues were really causing his mind to go bonkers. He couldn't stop fixating on the men around him. He kept telling himself that the best way to stop obsessing was to build the kind of muscle he admired on other guys.

As he struggled to get the bar up past his second rep, he wondered if perhaps that goal was somewhat beyond his reach.

____________________

Noah sat in his office, poring over the documents on his computer as he tried to make sense of the legalese in front of him. There were days that Noah loved being an attorney, but today was not one of those days. He closed out of the email, rubbing his eyes as he took a sip of coffee and resolved to revisit it once his midafternoon caffeine kicked in.

For the hundredth time that day, he stared at the photo he kept as the background wallpaper on his computer. It was the last Christmas they'd had with Evelyn. He was sitting on the couch with his late wife while his son Oliver sat in between them, beaming. All three of them were wearing matching pajamas.

Noah had set the picture to be his desktop background a few months ago as a sort of attempt to keep her memory alive. But every time he stared at the photo, he felt the same dull pang of loss. He knew that he should change it to a different background, but for some reason doing that felt like it would be a betrayal.

He looked at his son and his wife in the picture. They were so alike — you could instantly tell they were mother and son. They had the same blond hair, the same small frame, the same soft skin...

Noah closed his eyes. His mind flashed back to that morning, sitting on his son's bed as he wished him goodbye. Had Oliver been hard? He couldn't tell, but his eyes had wandered down his son's body despite himself.

He was so smooth, just like his mother. And his skin, so tan and soft. It had felt so good underneath Noah's fingers when he touched his shoulder.

Try as he might, the feelings that had come up recently around his son had not gone away. If anything, they had gotten stronger. And now that Oliver was 18...

Noah could feel himself getting hard at his desk, imagining what it would have been like if he had reached down and put his hand underneath the blanket...

Suddenly his phone began to ring. He looked at it, then let out a sigh. He answered.

"Hey, Tony. What's up?"

"Hey man... it's going good, it's going good, uh... I just got out," he said.

Tony was his wife's brother. He was a tall, thin guy with dark red hair. Noah always thought he was kind of weaselly looking. The fact that he was calling was never good news.

Tony was the black sheep of the family, in and out of rehabs and substance abuse programs since he was 18. He never seemed to be able to stay out of trouble, and once he landed in prison, his parents had cut him off.

Noah didn't blame them. Although his wife's parents were relatively wealthy, they had had enough of Tony's shenanigans and left him on his own in a Los Angeles jail to face his latest charges.

"Oh?" asked Noah. "I thought you were in for another year?"

"Yeah, I got out early. Good behavior I guess. Anyway, I thought I'd stop by next weekend, wish my nephew a happy birthday."

"His birthday's today."

"A belated birthday then. Come on, man. You know Evie would have wanted her boy to have his uncle in his life."

Noah wasn't quite certain that Evelyn would have wanted her son consorting with a felon, but he also knew that she wouldn't have turned her brother out onto the street, either.

"How long were you thinking of staying in Montclair?" Noah asked.

"Oh, just a couple of weeks. A month at the most. I'll be gone by the summer, for sure," said Tony.

Noah rolled his eyes. It was only February — how long was Tony planning on staying?

"You can stay in the guest room for a couple of weeks. But then you gotta move on, Tony. Get a job in the city, there's tons of work available," said Noah.

"Yeah, for sure. I'll definitely look into that. Give my best to the kid, and uh, tell him happy 21st for me."

"...he's 18, Tony."

"Right. Man, 18 was fuckin rad. Anyway, I'll see you next weekend!"

Tony hung up. Noah set the phone down and turned his attention back to the computer. His mind quickly turned to mush as he immersed himself back into the legal documents before him.

7 pm couldn't come soon enough.

____________________

Oliver loved a good plate of spaghetti. Every year since Oliver was a kid, his parents would take him to I Soda, his favorite Italian restaurant in NYC, for a plate of pasta and a slice of cheesecake. Growing up just a short drive away in Montclair, New Jersey, Oliver was used to going into the city for special occasions.

This year, however, he felt anything but special.

"You ready to order, Ollie?" his dad asked. The waiter stood looking at him expectantly.

Oliver stared at the empty spot in the booth next to his father as a memory began to resurface. It was two years ago — his parents had sung him Happy Birthday, an awkward 16-year-old Oliver rolling his eyes as they beamed at him across the table.

He would give anything to hear his mother's voice now.

"I think he'll just have the Cacio E Pepe," his father said, handing the menus back to the waiter. The waiter nodded and walked away.

Oliver's dad took his hand and held it, rubbing it with his thumb.

"I miss her too, Ollie," he said softly.

Oliver looked up at his dad staring sadly back at him. He mustered a smile and squeezed his dad's hand.

"So," he said, putting on a grin, "I'm finally 18 now. I think it's time you let me drink in the house," said Oliver.

He took a piece of bread from his plate and dipped it in olive oil and vinegar.

His dad laughed. "Not a chance in hell, son. But if you like, I'll let you try a sip of my wine."

Oliver rolled his eyes. His dad had always been overprotective.

Much as this irked him, Oliver knew that he wouldn't have made it through this last year without him. His father had been like a superhero after his mother had died, taking care of all of the arrangements, dealing with the will and the funeral, and even making sure that Oliver was okay.

Before his mother died they had never been very touchy-feely, but this past year Oliver had spent many nights curled up in his dad's arms, crying while his dad softly stroked his arm and sang to him.

His dad was his rock.

"Come on, Noah. Don't be such a stick in the mud," Oliver said playfully.

"It's dad to you, boy," his father said, putting on a fake stern voice. They both laughed.

Oliver's dad looked around, then picked up his wine glass and poured half of it into Oliver's empty glass. Oliver looked up at him in shock.

"A toast, to my son," Noah said, raising his glass.

Oliver raised his and held it up, inspecting the dark red wine in the candlelight of the restaurant.

Noah looked Oliver in the eyes. "I am so proud of you," he said. "You've managed to accomplish so much at school, with your swimming and your friends, getting into college..."

His voice caught in his throat. He spoke with a trembling voice. "After everything you've been through, losing your mother..."

A tear came to his eye. He gripped his glass tightly, not looking away from Oliver's eyes.

"You're the best thing in my life, son. I love you."

He grabbed Oliver's hand again and held it tightly. Oliver looked down, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his father's gaze burning a hole in him. He knew his father loved him, but this public display of affection was still a lot for him.

Oliver clinked his dad's glass and drank down the wine, then winced. Cocky as he might be, he hated the taste of alcohol.

Noah laughed. "Not for you, huh?"

"I think I'll stick to the pasta, thanks," said Oliver as their dinner arrived.

The spaghetti tasted just as good as Oliver remembered. The candlelight gave the restaurant an almost magical feel, making Oliver's heart flutter with excitement. His head had a pleasant buzz from the wine and his face felt flush and warm. He joked around with his father, laughing as they reminisced over happy memories from when he was a kid.

"Do you remember on the trip to Kentucky when mom got locked out of the hotel? And you and I were so tired from rock climbing we slept through all her yelling and banging?"

Oliver was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. "Yes, and the maid lady had to let her in! She was so pissed!"

They were still laughing when the waiter stopped by to ask if they needed dessert menus.

"Just a slice of cheesecake for my boy," said Noah. "It's his birthday today."

The waiter wished Oliver a happy birthday and went to place the order.

Oliver smiled warmly at his dad. "I'm glad we did this. You were right to bring this tradition back. I'm... I'm sorry I couldn't do it last year."

Noah took his son's hand and held it tightly. "I'm always here for you, know that, right?"

"Of course, dad," Oliver said. His head was still swimming from the wine and the heat of the restaurant. He blinked lazily, still holding his father's hand.

All of a sudden he noticed his dad stared at him, his face growing serious.

"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," he said quietly.

Oliver frowned in confusion. What could it be?

Suddenly Oliver's heart sank. His face fell as he took his hand away from his father's.

Noah looked at him in concern. "What's wrong, Ollie?" he asked.

Oliver looked away. "You've met someone, haven't you?"

Noah raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Ollie-"

"Who is it? One of the ladies from church? It's Mrs. Burton, isn't it? Slutty Mrs. Burton? Well, fuck her if she thinks she can replace mom!"