tagGay MaleVice Ch. 03

Vice Ch. 03


Vice 3 – Brian Grady

Sunday morning I woke up horny but Dad wasn't in bed with me. I thought of the night before and the way he'd fucked up into my ass as I rode him. I could practically feel the way that big cock of my father's had split me open. And the quickie in my Cousin Lisa's bedroom had been something else. I rolled over and grinded my piss-hard cock against the sheet. The tacky feel of lube and dried cum in the slot of my ass didn't feel very sexy so I got up and headed for the bathroom.

After a shower I felt better and found my dad in the kitchen. He was wearing just a ratty old pair of plaid boxers and reading the newspaper at the table. I mumbled a good morning and snatched up his empty coffee cup as I passed by. I got him a refill and a cup for myself. As I set the fresh mug down on the table Dad took my hand and pulled me down for a quick kiss and a, "Thanks, Son." It didn't mean anything at the time, hell he barely looked away from the paper.

I took a seat and we talked about me heading over to Mom's house. I had the idea to start something but ended up taking off for breakfast at her house where I knew I'd find better food. Ten minutes later I was there and my mom proceeded to spoil me with a huge meal, complaining the whole time about how she hadn't seen me very much.

Her new boyfriend, Bob, was there but I ignored him. It was easy because I had so much other shit on my mind. I was still thinking about the way my dad had kissed me that morning, something about it driving me to obsess. I'd seen him do it to my mom thousands of times growing up, catching her hand as she gave him something with a kiss and a thanks. I'd seen him do it to the dozens of women he'd "dated" since the divorce, women who wore too much makeup and I figured were closer to my age than his. It was strange to be on the receiving end of such a familiar move with so much implied casual intimacy. It left a queasy feeling in my gut the more I thought about it.

If anything Monday was even worse. Between classes I texted Dad that I'd be spending the night at Mom's. The more I thought about it the madder I got. I wasn't my mom or one of his stupid bitches and still..., it made me feel like such a dumb kid because there was a big part of me that wanted my father as my boyfriend, or something. The other part of me couldn't even name what it wanted. I told myself to stop, to let it go and live in the moment, in a few months I'd be leaving for Colorado. Besides he'd told me right from the beginning not to let the sex fuck with my head....

I unlock the door of my dad's house and push it open with my hip while I struggle to hold my gym bag, my duffle bag full of clothes with my lacrosse stick wedged between the handles and keep my backpack on my shoulder. It's my weekend with him, per the custody agreement, even though I'd been eighteen for a month and could stay wherever I wanted. Even so, I'd never have missed a weekend with my father. From the living room I could hear the television and whatever game was on.

I would've called out to him, let him know I was home, but someone spoke before I could and I didn't want to interrupt. "So, I'll have it back by next weekend." I recognized the voice of my Uncle Paul, who's not actually my uncle. I hadn't seen him in awhile.

"Keep it as long as you need it. I won't be home anyway. There's a bust - we've been planning this sting for the last two months. It's huge." My dad's deeper voice carries out of the room.

"Yeah? Thanks, Jay, no worries. So, where's this place at?" Uncle Paul asks.

"Out by the highway past Seventh. It's called Bucky's, a gay strip club. You wouldn't believe the shit that goes on there." I quietly put my stuff down and close the door without making any noise. My dad never tells me any of the interesting parts of his job and I want to hear what I can.

"Oh? Like what?"

"The strippers turn tricks in the back. They have a couple rooms, sorta' like closets, back there. We suspect a number of them are under eighteen."

"How many of you are going in?"

"Ten on the inside, twelve uniforms outside to help with the clean-up." Uncle Paul whistles in amazement.

"Damn, how many you expecting to bust?" he goes on to ask.

"There's ten guys working the rooms between dances, the manager who's kinda' like a pimp and as many johns as we can catch in the act. Me and Shore've been casing the place for a month."

"Must be real hard for you to go in a place like that and pretend you're gay?" Uncle Paul asks in a loud hushed voice. He sounds almost angry and there is this strained silence coming from the other room.

I'm listening to all this and the idea of my dad getting a lap dance from a dude is making me hard when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I forgot to take it out of silent mode after school which is good and bad. Good 'cause it's not making a sound but bad 'cause it makes me jump and one of my bags hits the door behind me with a soft thump. The voices in the living room go quiet so, thinking quick, I reach back and open the door just to close it loudly.

"Dad! I'm home," I yell out, fishing my phone out of my pocket. It gives me something to look at as I walk in so he can't see the guilt on my face. I shift the duffle so it's covering the tent in my pants.

"What's up, Bri? How was school and practice?" I look up to face the two of them. They're sitting on opposite ends of the long sofa and looking over at me.

"It was cool. Hey, Uncle Paul." I tuck the phone away even though I haven't looked at the text message.

"Brian," Uncle Paul says. He's already up and moving towards me. I haven't seen him in a few years and he looks good, the same. He doesn't hesitate for a second and hugs me tight, in spite of all the shit I'm carrying. He was always around as I was growing up and it only occurs to me then how strange it is that he hasn't been around at all recently.

"It's good to see you, Brian."

"You too, Uncle Paul. It's been awhile, huh?" He lets go of me and holds me out at arm's length.

"You're looking good. Growing up quick." There's something there in his face that I can't read. It's almost like he's sad or regretful. An awkward pause settles over us and I'm not sure what to say.

I pat the duffle covering my crotch and say, "I'm gonna put my stuff away," and turn around for the stairs.

"Pizza'll be here any minute," my dad yells from behind me. I'm already halfway up the stairs.

In my room I throw all my shit on the bed and pull out my laptop. Because I'm dying of curiosity and still hard as a rock so I look up Bucky's. The website, when I find it, is one page with a picture of two young guys in briefs with their arms around each other. Above the image is the hours the place is open and in the bottom left is a phone number while the bottom right shows a tiny map with their location. That's all there is and I'm a little pissed there isn't more, I mean, it doesn't even say what the place is. I bookmark the page and close the computer to head downstairs just as the bell rings.

Dad's waiting for me to eat and Uncle Paul is nowhere to be seen. I sit on the couch and help myself to a slice of pizza. It's the opposite of Mom's house where we always sit at the table and dinner is always at six.

"Where'd Uncle Paul go?" I look at Dad when I ask and he's scowling. I can't help noticing that he looks especially hot today in his jeans and an old faded gray t-shirt. His dark hair is a little messed up like he's been running his fingers through it and it suits him.

"He had to go. He was just here to borrow some of my tools."

"I haven't seen him in forever, Dad. He didn't want to stay for dinner?"

"He's busy, Brian. He's building some cabinets or something and had to go."

"Were you guys fighting?" I only ask because there was something going on earlier. Until the divorce I'd seen him practically every day of my life.

"Just drop it, Brian." His attitude pisses me off but I let it go. We watch TV for awhile but don't talk and eventually I go up to my room and work on homework.

My lacrosse coach has this motto and it has always served me well. It has more to do with getting down the field as a team but it applies to everyday life too. So on Tuesday I make this plan. I tell my mom that I'm spending the night at Dad's but I know he'll be at work. They don't talk unless they have to so I'm pretty safe. Plus they trust me because I've almost never fucked up.

I get to Bucky's at seven. I have my ID out to prove I'm eighteen, even if just barely. I pay the twenty dollar cover and get a bracelet put on me, so the bartender will know I'm not twenty-one, and a ticket for a free drink. When the guy at the door lets me in I go down this long hallway past the bathrooms to a big room. There are a bunch of ratty couches around the sides, against the walls. In the middle of the room are what look like old theatre seats in rows and grouped around them are a few small tables with regular chairs. Over on my left is a stage area with two poles from the floor up to the ceiling and a horizontal bar that hangs down from the ceiling.

The AC is pumping and it's kind of cold inside. And dark. There aren't many lights and most of them are black-light. I glance around and see that there are only a few other guys sitting down. On the stage a guy is dancing against one of the poles in a thong. He's really skinny and his muscles make me want to laugh. An old guy in the front row is totally perving on him, which is vaguely creepy.

I have this urge to run out of the place but my need is so much greater than it. I've never known another gay guy except "Frankie the fag" who's in my class at school. I've never picked on him like some of my friends but I've never talked to him either. He's kind of effeminate and definitely flamboyant which makes me nervous and ashamed, a little guilty, whenever I even look at him; so I mostly just ignore him completely. Some of the skinny guys wandering around remind me of Frankie but I don't feel all those strange emotions, probably because they're complete strangers.

There are other guys wandering around. A few are hot and a few look like the kid on the stage. I can tell they work there because none of them have a shirt on but they're wearing jeans or baggy shorts. One is really hot and I catch myself staring at him. He's leaning over the little bar where they serve drinks. He has on really threadbare jeans with a rip in the ass that shows a smooth portion of his cheek. If he has anything on underneath you can tell it must be of the anal-floss variety.

The guy tending bar shoots his eyes towards me and hot guy looks over, smiling. I can't help smiling back even though I'm blushing. I've made it this far and I won't back down, not yet. My goal is to hook up with a guy. I've assessed the situation and now my objective is to get with this guy. He doesn't even look back at the bartender guy, just pushes away from the bar and heads straight for me.

"Hey, man," he says when he gets close. He's the same height as me, built like me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I shove mine in my pockets to hide how nervous I am.

"Hey," I say. His hand feels warm and heavy on me. I wish I hadn't eaten. He has on some really strong cologne and his teeth shine really bright in the black-light. He walks behind me and his body brushes up against my back and ass. It takes everything in me to keep on breathing.

"You looking for a dance, kid?" He asks me right into my ear and I can smell the mint on his breath over the strong scent he's wearing. It makes a little shiver run up my back. But he called me a kid and it sort of pisses me off because he can't be much older than I am. It helps because I'm not quite as freaked out as I was.

"I heard you, uh, give more than dances." I turn to face him as I say the words and take my hands out of my pockets. He takes one and puts my palm on his smooth chest.

"Yeah? Then what do you really want?" I'm so close to getting what I want that I can taste it.

"A-a blowjob?" It snuck out with the lilt on the end, making it a question.

"Sure, I can do that. You want to give it or receive it?"

"Receive." At least I'm sure about that. "How much is it?"

"Fifty," he says without blinking an eye. I have a hundred in my pocket that my grandparents sent me from Florida for my birthday. I nod and hold his eyes. He takes my hand from his firm chest and uses it to lead me to a door beside the stage. On the way by he exchanges a nod with the bartender. He leads me to a little room in a corridor full of doors.

There's a small cot inside and some shelves that are screwed into the bare wall. He closes the door and turns to face me.

"Is this your first time with a guy?" I wonder how he knows but I figure it must be obvious. I nod and he continues. "You're better looking than most I get in here. I'll blow you for thirty if you take off your clothes and let me touch you." This is going so much easier than I thought. For a second it makes me worried that something will go wrong.

"Yeah, I can do that." He watches me and I'm not sure what to do next. After a minute he sticks his hand out and I realize he's waiting to be paid. Feeling stupid I reach into my pocket and pull out the money to give him two twenties. He stuffs them into a lockbox on one of the shelves.

"If it's good you can tip me another twenty," he says matter-of-factly as he reaches for the bottom of my t-shirt. He lifts it up and I help him get it off. It's barely out of the way before he drops to his knees in front of me. He watches me with a smile as he begins to unbuckle my belt. I lean back against the door and my cock gets hard. Finally, finally it's going to happen.

The guy pushes my pants and underwear down to my ankles and my dick springs out. He takes it in hand and fists it a few times, studying my cock, while his other hand skims over my chest and abs. His eyes look less blue in the dim light but he's still really good-looking. My heart rate speeds up in anticipation while another guy touches my dick for the first time.

"You've got a big cock," he tells me then puts his mouth on it. It's hot and wet in there. He sucks on the head and slides his lips down about halfway, a firm hand working the shaft. I put my hands on the door behind me and tell myself not to cum. It's useless because after three good pulls the orgasm builds up and erupts from my cock. I had no idea I was so close and it takes both of us by surprise.

"Shit... sorry." I jerk my hips back and a shot of my cum hits him on the face then the chest. I watch helplessly as the rest of my load spews out onto the floor.

"It's usually polite to warn a guy," he says with a smile after he's spit my cum into the palm of his hand.

I'm glad he's not mad. "Sorry," I mumble for the second time. And I was sorry, a little embarrassed for cumming so quick, but mostly I was already thinking about how I was going to go home and jerk off thinking about him. I think of the way my hand had felt on his bare chest, his hand on my cock, his too-strong cologne, his blue eyes looking up at me and most of all his mouth on me. I'm already burning the images into my head.

"It's fine, bro. You said it was your first time with a guy, right?" he asks me while he stands up and walks over to the other wall. There are some shelves there with random things on them.

"Yeah," I admit for the second time. He pulls what looks like a baby-wipe out of a container on the shelf and wipes my cum off his face and chest. He's looking right at me while he does it and grabs another wipe to clean off his hands.

"Don't worry about it, the second time will be better. Hold on a minute and you'll be ready," he starts to say but he's interrupted by a gentle knock on the door of the little room. Someone on the other side softly calls out, "Chad, you in there?" The guy, who must be Chad, gets this panicked look on his face then smiles and shakes his head. He rushes over and pushes me off the door.

He opens the door, just enough to look out, and says, "I'm with someone but we're done. Give me a minute, okay?" The guy on the other side says something I can't hear and Chad responds with, "No, it'll only take a minute. Don't go anywhere." Chad closes the door and he's smiling wide. I hadn't realized what a handsome guy he is.

"It's one of my regulars, you have to go." He picks up my t-shirt and hands it to me by pressing it against my chest until I take it. I'm still standing beside the door with my pants down around my ankles. "God, I normally wouldn't rush you out of here. I swear I was even going to wait for an encore. But this guy's special. I like him a lot."

I fumble to pull up my pants and underwear with the t-shirt in my hand, feeling awkward. Chad fixes the bedding on the cot even though it's perfectly made. "There's just something about this guy. He makes me want to get fucked, you know?" I was pretty sure he wasn't talking to me so much as talking out loud. "He just has this way of taking over and... I always thought I hated it, that it was only something I could do for money." He looks over at me and realizes I'm dressed. He shakes his head a little and ushers me to the other side of the door to open it.

I walk out and the big guy on the other side steps back to make way for me. He's wearing a baseball cap and looking down at his feet so I can't see his face but his body looks good. Big and beefy with muscles under a worn t-shirt. I turn and walk down the hall. Chad is right behind me, and gushing, "I didn't think I'd see you tonight. I'm so glad you came." For the first time he kinda' sounds like a fag.

Just as I turn to head into the lounge area I glance back. Chad is wrapped around the big guy, kissing him. As I'm about to look away he pulls back from the kiss and his eyes meet mine. My father, looking right at me. His eyes widen in recognition and he pulls away from Chad. His lips part but no sound comes out. I'm not sure what it is that's moving in me but I turn and run. Literally, I run out of Bucky's and don't look back. I hop into my car and race out of the parking lot like I'm being chased.

Without thought I make my way to the highway, still in shock. It settles in slowly that I'd just seen my dad kissing another guy, a guy who'd just given me my first man-on-man blowjob. The mouth that had just held a load of my cum was kissing my father. And Chad had said he was a regular, that he liked my dad fucking him.

On auto-pilot I'm headed toward my mom's house, where I'd grown up. As the facts settle in I turn around and drive to my dad's. I let myself in and sit in the dark on the sofa, trying to come up with some sort of plan. Wondering what to say, what he'd say; if he'd try to deny the whole thing. I wasn't there for very long, ten or fifteen minutes, before Dad gets home. I still haven't thought of a thing to say or do.

"Brian," he calls out as he lets himself in. He rounds the corner and turns on the living room lights, blinking at me. "Oh, hey...," he starts and stops. We watch one another, waiting to see who would speak first.

"What were you doing there?" he asks, breaking the silence and seeming almost mad.

"Getting a blowjob. What were you doing there?" I answer then ask the question without meeting his eyes.

"I was there for work, checking out a tip." He says it with a straight face but I'd seen him kissing another guy. For a slit second I wonder if I somehow have things wrong but there's no way. Would he really try and play it off, I wonder. "And since when do you go to a place like that for sex?" He sounds angry but I'm getting pretty riled up myself. I stand to face off with him, hands loose at my sides.

"He told me, that guy Chad, he told me that you've fucked him... that you're one of his regulars." His face goes pale and his jaw ticks, somewhere between pissed and scared.

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