Oz Beach Boy Looks for His Father

"I know, Darby," I said. "You're the best...I love you. Everything will be okay."

We all said our goodbyes, and then Odessa and I went back to my apartment for a night of stress-and-fear-driven sex that involved a lot more thrusting, hard-driving hip movement, and yelling from me than usual. I later went down on Odessa for nearly half-an-hour which eventually got me feeling more relaxed and in control. We eventually slept warmly in each other's arms.

The next day, I filled out all of the forms Big Bill Prince had collected for me, and received an emailed statutory declaration from Tiffany stating it was her belief that Pelican Bay State Prison inmate, Jack Tyson, was indeed my biological father. I scanned everything off, and shot the forms through to Odessa, who in turn passed them onto her father.

While hanging out naked in my apartment with Odessa the following day, I received an email from an administration officer at Pelican Bay State Prison providing me with a time, date, and complete list of instructions and conditions for my Zoom call with inmate Jack Tyson. It would happen in two days' time.

The fully clothed Odessa ran her hands over my bare, smoothly waxed butt as I bent over at my computer and responded with an official email stating that I understood and agreed to all of the aforementioned terms and conditions for my call with Jack. As I typed, Odessa slid her hand between my legs from behind and began gently massaging my big, pendulous nut-sack.

"How about a blow job?" Odessa whispered. "That might relax you, lover."

"It certainly would," I said, and turned around to face Odessa, who quickly dropped to her knees and sucked my huge cock until I got hard and then eventually came in her warm, welcoming mouth.

Matt and Jack "Bull" Tyson finally meet...

Two days later, I showered, shaved, got dressed in a smart button-up shirt and chinos, and carefully slicked my longish sandy-brown hair back from my face. Odessa was in her apartment, with both of us agreeing it would be better if I did this alone.

With nervous sweat lightly beading my forehead, I sat down in front of my computer, and followed the links to my pre-arranged Zoom call with Jack "Bull" Tyson...the man who had unknowingly turned my entire life upside down.

My computer screen filled with the foreboding insignia of Pelican Bay State Prison, which then faded to a screen of plain text stating that my Zoom video call would cut out at ten minutes, and also that it could be stopped at any time as determined by Pelican Bay State Prison officials. I sucked in a deep breath in anticipation, and closed my eyes for a long moment.

And then, finally, the face and upper body of Jack "Bull" Tyson finally appeared on my computer screen. At last, I was face-to-face, if not in the flesh, with the man I was now certain was my father.

Not looking at the camera, Jack "Bull" Tyson had his head cocked down with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. As he cupped his hand around the smoke and lit it with a cheap plastic lighter, I looked at the screen in quiet wonder.

Jack "Bull" Tyson looked just like me, only after a life of very obvious pain, brutality, stress and drug use. He was still strikingly handsome (yes, arrogant of me to say considering our likeness), but his nose looked as if it had been broken at some stage, and there was scar tissue around his eyebrows.

Jack's face was scarred and lined, and there was a small, scratchy tattoo of a spider just near his left eye. His long, shoulder length hair was a mix of grey and sandy-brown, and was pulled back into a ponytail with a plain rubber band.

Dressed in what I assumed was a prison-issue light-blue t-shirt, Jack's muscled forearms were resting on a metal table in front of him, and they were covered in tattoos, a swirling mix of old, faded professional ink, and crude, simplified images obviously attained inside.

Jack "Bull" Tyson looked like a tough, mean, hard man of brutal experience ready to strike at any moment. Though somewhere in his fifties, Jack looked fit and agile, with big, broad shoulders, bulging biceps that strained against his t-shirt, and a fearsome barrel chest.

Taking a long, intense drag on his cigarette, Jack "Bull" Tyson slowly turned to look at the camera, an intimidating, slightly sinister smile spreading across his handsomely battered face, before reams of smoke billowed threateningly out of his nose.

"Well, fuck me," Jack looked right at me and said quietly, his voice deep and hoarse. "It's me before my life turned to shit! I'll be goddamned. Look at you! You're me."

"Hi, Mr. Tyson," I said earnestly. "I'm Matt..."

"Fuck all that shit," Jack said immediately. "You call me Jack. We've only got ten minutes. I know who you are, kid. I had to sign off on everything before this got set up. You think I'm your old man, don't ya?"

"Yes, I do," I responded nervously. "I'm almost certain of it..."

"I'll do a DNA test or whatever you want," Jack said and smiled, "but just looking at you is proof enough, kid. Jesus Christ...you look fit and strong like me too. Fuck it, have you got a big johnson like mine?"

"I do, yeah...almost down to my knees," I replied with a sheepish smile. "And I have a birthmark on my shoulder just like the one on your lower back."

"Fuck, you've got the ol' back stain too?" Jack said incredulously. "Fuck me..."

"Yep, a big, dark thing across my shoulder," I responded.

"And you say your mama is Tiffany," Jack paused and laughed. "Fuck, I wish I could have given you my name instead of you having to take hers for your whole life. That's a life sentence, right fucking there, kid."

"It sure is," I replied. "The bane of my existence."

"So, you think I fucked Tiffany when I was in Australia making those dirty movies?" Jack asked.

Despite his tough, battered, bad-ass appearance, Jack "Bull" Tyson was surprisingly amiable, and he seemed wholly open to the fact that I was very likely his son. He seemed genuinely fascinated by the whole situation, and appeared happy to help and talk, like this was a pleasant change from the daily grind of his life...which it very likely was.

"Yes, I do," I replied. "The movies were Taken Down Under and That's Not A Cock, This Is A Cock."

"Some of my best work," Jack said and laughed, a bruising, hacking sound like nothing I'd ever heard before. "I did two more gay ones while I was there too...Opened Up Down Under and Cock-A-Dile Hump-Me. Classic cinema, kid! Oscar winning shit!"

"They sound...interesting," I responded, smiling. "My mother says she was at the cast party for these films."

"Oh, yeah, that was a wild scene," Jack said, and took a long drag on his cigarette. "My memory is fucked from all the drugs I took...I'm clean now, but I was jacked on everything for years. Meth, horse...everything. I do remember that cast party though. I think a lot about all the women I fucked...it gets me through the night sometimes."

"Tiffany says she was in a threesome with you and your co-star from That's Not A Cock, This Is A Cock," I offered. "Do you recall that?"

"Yeah, but I doubt she would have even felt that other guy inside her," Jack replied with a sneering laugh. "He was a fucking mope, and he was hung like a hamster. Kid, have you got a photo of your mama? From back in the day?"

"Yes, I do," I replied, and help up a photograph of Tiffany from the 1990s, in which she looked beautiful and energetic.

"Oh, yes...yeah...I'll be goddamned," Jack said after taking a long, hard look at the photograph. "Does your mama have a pair of angel wings tattooed across her back?"

"Yes, she does," I replied of the striking tattoo which I always recalled looking at with fascination when Tiffany would walk around in a singlet, or on the very rare occasions when she would take me to the beach and, yes, sunbathe topless.

"Well then, yes, kid," Jack said with a smile. "I did indeed have sexual relations with your mother...Tiffany, was it?"

"Yes, Tiffany," I replied.

"I didn't remember her name, but I do remember this," Jack said, and then paused. "Sorry about this, kid, I know she's your mama...but I recall that this...Tiffany...actually wanted me to fuck her in the ass, but I couldn't quite get it up the whole way because I'd already fucked three other chicks that night."

"Okay," I responded, again hearing things about my mother that I would have preferred not hear.

"My johnson was hard enough to go in the front door, but not the back door...if you know what I mean," Jack said, almost appearing embarrassed. "So I fucked Tiffany the usual way, even though she wanted it in the ass. I remember that much at least. We had a good time. She was real pretty...much prettier than any of the chicks I fucked for those Aussie movies, that's for damn sure. I'm sorry that your, ah, conception wasn't a little more romantic, kid."

"That's okay," I responded. "Thanks for being so honest, Jack, I really appreciate it."

"Do you want me to do the DNA test, kid?" Jack asked. "I know you're mine...I don't need no fuckin' blood test to tell me that. You're me, kid. But I'll do the test if you want."

"I've got all the evidence I need," I said, smiling. "The facts match up...and we look too much alike for it to be a coincidence. We both know it."

"Damn straight," Jack said, and smiled. "Where do we go from here, kid? It's way too late for me to start playing papa, and I sure as shit ain't qualified to give you no fatherly advice or any shit like that. I'd like to stay in touch though."

"That would be great," I said with a huge smile, excited at how well this was going. "I'd love that."

"You write me some letters...I like to read," Jack said. "You tell me about yourself...what you do, what you like, the kind of shit you get up to...I'd like to hear from ya, kid. You seem like a good boy."

"I'll do that," I said quickly. "I'll definitely do that. You'll write back?"

"Sure as shit, hell yeah," Jack replied. "I ain't got nothin' but time, kid. I like to write letters. I've got a few creepy pen-pal chicks, you know? That's fun, but I'd like to get letters from you too. I'll write you back, kid."

"I'll look forward to hearing from you, Jack," I offered.

"I never even knew you existed, Matt," Jack said quietly after a brief pause. "I would never have been a proper father, kid, but it breaks me up knowing you've gone through your whole life not even knowing who your old man was. My papa was a fuckin' asshole, but at least I knew who he was."

"Well, I'm glad I know you now," I said sincerely. "It's better late than never. I'm really happy."

"Yeah, me too," Jack said, smiling. "I fucked so many chicks, I always thought there might have been little bulls running around somewhere...just not in Australia! You're a nice surprise, Matt."

"Thanks, Jack...are you doing okay in there?" I asked awkwardly. "I can't imagine what it must be like in Pelican Bay."

"It's okay," Jack said, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I've been in and out of these places since I was a kid. I know how it works. I'm an old man now. I've got some respect in here. I killed a lot of cops...that helps. I've got friends who watch my back too. If someone fronts me, I can still mix it up if I have to. I've broken my fair share of jaws, kid."

"Oh, right," I responded, trying to absorb how truly intense Jack's life must be. "You have to fight?"

"Not for a while...not for a long time," Jack replied, and took a drag on his cigarette. "But I've been in plenty of scraps...won most, lost a few. For this joint, I'm old. They leave me be now. Nobody wants to fuck me in the ass anymore. There's not much value in fucking me up. I help some of the kids with their reading, get involved with some different programmes, keep my nose clean, stay off the shit...I just get through the day."

"You'll never get out?" I asked.

"Fuck, no," Jack replied with a laugh. "I smoked three cops, and two wannabe cops...I ain't goin' nowhere. As the saying goes, kid, the only way I'm gettin' outta here is in a motherfuckin' box. End of story."

"You really killed all those men?" I asked, perhaps pushing my luck a little.

"Tried and convicted, kid," Jack replied matter-of-factly. "We were all doing our jobs. I was the robber, and they were the cops. Everyone knew the score. They tried to kill me, but I was better at it, and I killed them. If they had a problem, they shoulda got jobs as dentists or taxi drivers. They got in my way, and they got shot. That's the way the dice rolled."

"Jesus, Jack," I muttered, "that's intense."

"I'm sorry, kid," Jack responded with a smile. "Your old man is a prime fuck-up...it's best that you know that. I'm a killer, a thief and a drug addict...and a few other things too, none of them good. You look at me, and you do the opposite. Take me as an example of what not to do with your life. Are you clean, Matt? You done any time?"

"Jack, I'm clean," I replied. "I've never been in trouble with the police."

"Good boy," Jack said with a smile. "You keep it that way. You like boys or girls, Matt?"

"Girls," I replied. "I like girls...I like girls a lot...I've done a lot of crazy shit...probably nothing compared to you, but I've put it out there."

"You've laid some pipe?" Jack asked with a chortle. "You like to stack your pussy? Line it up and shoot it down?"

"I like to get as much pussy as I can," I replied, a little surprised by my desperation to receive Jack's approval. "I've got a girlfriend now, but before that...I was busy, man. I haven't been diagnosed, but I think I'm a sex addict."

"Well, fuck me stupid," Jack said, guffawing heartily. "The apple doesn't fall far from the fucking tree, huh?"

Just then, my entire computer screen went a light blue colour, and a block of text appeared accompanied by a buzzing noise. "Your Zoom connection with Pelican Bay State Prison Inmate #7786 will terminate in one minute, beginning from...now." The handsome, battered face of Jack "Bull" Tyson then reappeared on the screen.

"We gotta wrap it up, kid," Jack said with a smile. "It's been fun. Thanks for reachin' out. You make sure to write me, okay? Tell me a bit about yourself, and then maybe later, we can do this Zoom shit again? I wanna hear about some of that fucking you've been doing. I've got some stories too. We can trade pussy tales."

"I'd really like to hear your stories," I responded. "It's been great meeting you and speaking with you, Jack."

"As far as papas go, I might be a bad draw," Jack said, and then took a drag on his cigarette, "but at least you've got yourself a father now. See you later, son. You get writin', okay?"

"I will, Jack," I said firmly and sincerely. "I'll do that. I promise."

And with that, the entire screen once again went a light blue colour, and another block of text appeared, again accompanied by a buzzing noise. "Your Zoom connection with Pelican Bay State Prison Inmate #7786 has terminated. Thank you, and have a nice day."

I sat and stared at the screen in front of me. I was a mess of sadness, surprise, happiness, relief, warmth and appreciation. I still couldn't quite believe it. The pits of my shirt were soaking wet, and my whole body was tense and tight. I was still in shock.

My father was a hardened American prison lifer with a shocking history of horrific violence, multiple murder, and bad porn acting...but despite all of that, Jack "Bull" Tyson seemed like, as they say in the states, a stand-up guy. Jack "Bull" Tyson was my father, and he was okay...and so was I.

Thanks for reading!!!