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Owen's Dad


    "So what do we think, gentlemen?" the realtor asked with a perfect smile, characteristic of his profession.

    "What do you think, Owen?" my dad turned to me.

    I walked around the empty space, analyzing every nook and cranny. It was small, but it might just be enough to fit everything I had in mind. I walked from the main studio space over to the second room. This one was even more perfect! The showers and lockers and benches were already here, and they really went with my fantasy. I could see it already...

    "It's perfect!" I said out loud, and heard the ka-ching in the realtor's mind. "You said this used to be a dance studio?"

    "Yes," the impeccably-dressed young man replied, "so it's got the huge mirror in the main space. And here," – he walked over to the locker room where I was standing – "this room is pretty much done, you won't even need to do a lot of work unless you want to."

    "I'd wanna put in a sauna and steam room," I said.

    "In that case, you can knock down all these shower stalls and do it here. You can move the showers over to the side; maybe have open gang showers."

    The man looked at me with a glint in his eye as he said that. So far, I'd thought he was straight, and that the nice haircut and bespoke suit were just essential to his job. Now, I was certain he was as gay as I was.

    "Yeah, I might do that," I smiled back. "What do you think, Dad?"

    "Well, it's much smaller than any gym I've ever been to..." my father said carefully, doing his best not to sound too critical.

    "Yes, well this isn't gonna be like a large chain gym," I said, "more like a private fitness studio. I think it's big enough to fit all the necessary equipment."

    "If you say it's right, son, I'm all for it."

    "In that case... I think I'm ready to give the go-ahead," I smiled to the realtor.

    "Perfect! I'll email you the paperwork and detail all the next steps," he replied. "And hey, once it's done, I'd love to come check it out. Maybe even join," he winked at me.

    "Oh, you can come anytime," I winked back, and Dad and I left the studio, stepping out into the cold street. It was still in the afternoon, but it was so dark out it looked like the middle of the evening. 

    "Let's go someplace for a drink," I suggested, looking up at the sky, which looked like it might start raining any second. "Come. The Falcon is just a few blocks down."

    Even though he'd been to New York countless times before, my father was hopeless at making his way around the city, so he tagged along behind me like a child while I speed-walked toward one of my favorite gay bars. Every now and then, I'd turn around to make sure he was alright and we would smile at each other, filling me with joy to have him here.

    A couple of hours ago, I'd given my dad the biggest hug when I picked him up at LaGuardia. He was a bit tired after his flight from Minneapolis, but we got him caffeinated and went straight back to Manhattan to check out the studio. Since this was about to be "the biggest purchase of my life" so far, Dad offered to come stay with Taylor and me and crash on our couch while I was going through the process. He was lending me a good chunk of money, but it was the emotional support I appreciated more than anything.

    "Oh. This is a gay bar," my father noted, looking at the rainbow flag hung behind the bartender. This wasn't my first time taking Dad to a gay bar, and I knew he'd have no issue with it. Even though it was a Sunday, the place was fairly empty and I was grateful for that. We sat at a table and my father scratched his short beard while I struggled to take my jacket off, which had become too small for me lately since I'd put on some extra weight and muscle.

    "What're the other two flags, next to the rainbow one? The brown-striped one and the black-and-blue one?"

    "Bear Pride and Leather Pride," I answered.

    "What a 'bear'? Seems to be the theme around here," Dad asked, looking at the list of drinks in front of him, which had a picture of a teddy bear wearing a leather harness and a Muir cap.

    "YOU'RE a bear," I chuckled. "At least you would be if you were gay. It's used to describe gay men who are hairier. Usually older. Bigger."

    "Well, I do have a big one," Dad joked, making me roll my eyes.

    "If you look around, that's the kinda crowd that usually comes here. The Falcon is a chain, they've got a bar in most major cities."

    "I see. And are you a bear?"

    "I'm a muscle jock dom top," I said jokingly with exaggerated confidence.

    "I only know what half of those words mean and I'm not about to ask," Dad smiled while shaking his head. "Wanna grab me a bear, Mr. Muscle Jock?"

    "Sure thing," I said and went up to the bar. While waiting there, I looked back at my dad, who was looking around the place like a curious kid. At times, it wasn't unusual to see someone in assless chaps getting a blowjob right at the bar round here, but thankfully the Sunday-afternoon crowd kept it tame for now, and kept all their privates covered. In his inexpensive sneakers and comfortable jeans, my father looked every bit a Midwestern tourist. He had a few more wrinkles around his eyes than the last time I saw him, and he'd gained some weight, but there was an air of handsomeness that I knew would be there even if he lived to be 100. After so much time in New York, I was getting jaded by some of the beauty standards around here (our 27-year-old friend Sawyer, who was younger than both my husband and me, had just gotten Botox, which I found completely unnecessary) and having my dad here provided me with some sort of connection to the "real world" outside the city that I missed at times.

    Just as I walked back to our table with two pints of beer, it started pouring outside. "We ain't gettin' outta here now. Cheers," my dad said and we clinked glasses. "So did you really like that place?"

    "I did. Why, you didn't?" I asked back.

    "I did, I'm just not sure what your intentions are. When I think of a gym I think of our local Y, and that place is huge."

    "Yeah, well obviously I wouldn't be able to open a place like that, especially in New York. What I'm looking for is a small studio. It's going to be a private club. Invitation only."

    "How does that work?"

    "Well, since I've been planning this for years, I already have a list of almost a hundred customers – friends and clients – who have promised to join. So they're as good as signed up. And I have another one or two hundred prospects."

    "So you're poaching clients from your current place?" Dad laughed.

    "Oh, they're a multinational chain, they'll be more than alright. Besides, if I manage to poach their clients with my dinky little studio, they weren't that good to begin with."

    "And what does 'invitation only' mean?"

    "It means just that. Because the place is so small, I can't afford to have too many people join right away. I know it sounds like a good problem to have, but not if it leads to overcrowding. Besides, this is New York. Just tell people they can't get in somewhere and they start begging to get in."

    "And are you gonna be able to turn a profit that way?"

    "We'll see. It might be trial-and-error at first. But I'm grateful to have the leeway to do that. Besides, I'm not going for quantity. With this place, it's all about the experience. I wanna know every member's name, and have them know mine. You can only imagine; with these huge-ass gyms in the city, no one knows your name, no one cares if you're doing something wrong. I wanna be there all the time, correcting people if they need help, offering advice."

    "I see. And you've discussed all this with Mark and Logan?"

    "Yes," I nodded.

    Mark was one of my dad's best buds. The two of them went all the way back to college. And Logan was Mark's son, a year younger than me. Both of them lived in New York. I've been training with them for years (and it just so happens, I've hooked up with both of them at the gym). They were loaded – Mark came from old money – and when I told them about my plan, they offered to be my angel investors.

    "Too bad you missed January," Dad said. "Seems like the best time of year to be opening a gym."

    "That's true. But I gotta look forward. And because my business model is different, I don't think it'll matter that much."

    By the time we were almost done with our drinks, we saw the first shirtless patron at the bar. Two tables down, a bear who looked a couple of years older than my dad took his T-shirt off, exposing his beefy torso covered in mostly-white hair. His buddy, a fellow bear who was a bit slimmer, hugged him from behind while they chatted with their friends, occasionally pinching and twisting the silver-chested bear's nipples.

    "Another round?" my dad asked as we took our last gulps. I nodded and started to get up, but he said "I'll get it" and headed to the bar himself.

    I checked my phone to find I had a few texts from Taylor. Apparently, he was spending the afternoon at his brother's apartment. At the bottom of the message thread was a photo. I tapped it open to see a close-up of a tight asshole. The person's asscheeks were being spread open by two fingers, and there was cum dripping out of the hole.

    "Just dropped a load in Rory's roommate 😈😈," the text from Taylor said.

    "Fuck!" I swore under my breath and started to rub my crotch. My cock had reacted to the picture by getting half-hard, and it felt good to be rubbing on it under the table. After years of mostly being a bottom, my husband was now exploring his top side and honestly... it was such a fucking turn-on to have him sending me pictures like this!

    I continued to stroke myself under the table, and quickly looked at the bar to check on my dad. He was standing by the bar, talking to the shirtless bear and his buddy, and I wondered if they might be hitting on him. He was definitely the type you would meet at a venue like this. Either way, he had a big, friendly, Midwestern smile on his face, which let me know he was alright.

    Looking at the picture, I continued to rub my crotch until my cock was fully hard. Just then, I noticed my dad and the two bears all walking toward our table, so I quickly put my phone away.

    It seemed like my dad had made some new friends. The shirtless bear had insisted on paying for our drinks and invited us over to their table. I looked at their friend group and they looked like a cheerful bunch, so we accepted their invitation. The only downside was that it was a high table and we would be standing up instead of sitting down, but I was okay with that.

    At their table, Dad quickly became the star of the show when everyone found out this was his first time at The Falcon. He impressed them with his vexillology skills when he pointed at the bar and said he knew what each of the flags represented. Meanwhile, the shirtless bear and I stood to the side, chatting with each other.

    "Mighty fine a'you to bring your daddy round here," he said with a Southern drawl. He probably lived in New York, but had never quite lost his original accent.

    We started chatting for a while and several times I noticed the man's eyes darting down to my crotch. I realized I was still hard, and feeling very restricted in my jeans. I rubbed my erection a few times, trying to adjust my cock and balls.

    "You alright down there?" the bear asked, looking at me intensely in the eyes. "Need some help?"

    He set his beer down and put his hand on my bulge. I stepped closer to the table in an attempt to be just a tad more discreet. By now, the place was filling up with the usual evening crowd, as well as people who were sheltering from the rain. Multiple men currently had their shirts off, a couple of them even rocking leather harnesses. My father – who'd met a guy from Wisconsin at the table – was busy talking loudly about the upsides of living in the Midwest over New York. 

    I ignored everyone's conversation, focusing instead on how pleasurable it felt to have my cock rubbed like this. This went on for about ten minutes, when the silver-chested bear decided to up the ante by unbuttoning my jeans. One button, then two, then three... until my hard cock was springing out. A couple of the bear's buddies noticed it and just smiled, winking at me and continuing to chat with my dad.

    "Nice cock, buddy," the bear said. He stroked my dick a few times until he got me to start oozing precum. Next, he rubbed my cockhead with the palm of his hand, making it more and more sensitive by the second, making me let out a faint "Mmm. Ah!" Then, he used my precum as lube, continuing to stroke the entire length of my shaft.

    One table over, just a few feet from my dad, two shirtless men were making out, rubbing their hands up and down each other's bodies, occasionally pinching one another's nips. My father made eye contact with me then nodded his head toward the two guys, as if to say "Check out those two over there." I smiled, and continued to enjoy the handjob I was getting under the table.

    As the bear started to speed up his strokes, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Wondering if it might be another sexy picture from my husband, I reached to check it. It was from Taylor indeed, but it was only a text.

    "Btw, I forgot to mention: it was Rory who took that photo earlier 😈."

    "Fuck!" I said out loud a bit louder than I'd intended to. Thinking that I was reacting to the handjob – which in part, I was – the bear sped up his stroking even more. On my phone, I tapped the picture open again. I looked at Rory's fingers, spreading his roommate's ass open, taking a closeup picture of my husband's load dripping out of it. 

    "Mmm. I'm about to cum," I said just loudly enough for the bear to hear me.

    "Fuck yeah, buddy. Shoot your load right here!" he grunted at me encouragingly. Just then, my father laughed loudly at a joke someone had said. There was nothing better than hearing a loved one's genuine laughter. As it echoed in my ears, I started to blow my load under the table and all over the floor at the bar.

    "Mmm, fuck!" I moaned out in satisfaction. Since I couldn't be heard over the loud music and chatter and laugher, I yelled out even louder: "Fuck, yeah!"

    The bear squeezed my cock tightly, jacking it fast until he got every drop of cum out of me, which is when he slowed down his movements and started to stroke very slowly, letting me enjoy the aftereffect of my amazing orgasm.

    "Good job," he said to me, lifting his hand to lick up the cum that was on there before patting me on the chest.

    "What're you boys doing over there?" my father said. "Owen, come over here! I wanna tell you a joke this guy just told me. Don't make me yell."

    "Coming, Dad," I said, putting my cock away and shooting a conspiratorial wink to the silver-chested bear. "I'm coming."

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