THORNE:

    A few days ago, Dylan and Brody had joked about both of them taking me out on a date for Father's Day. I'd laughed but this morning when I woke up with Dylan, he told me they had made reservations, and I realized it wasn't just a joke. Normally on Father's Day, my son would come up with a fun treat for me but we didn't make a huge deal about it. So this year, it felt rather special to be getting dressed and heading out to a nice restaurant in the Haight, one that all three of us had been wanting to try. It was a small place with an intimate feel, and it was nice to be out with the two guys I loved most in the world.

    We'd been seated at a round table with three chairs, and our server – a blonde in her late twenties – approached.

    "Are you guys celebrating Father's Day tonight?" she asked in a high-pitched voice. If this had been a gay male server, we might have all slipped in a few "daddy" jokes and double entendres to see if he would catch on to our sexual dynamic. Both Brody and Dylan enjoyed that kind of thing, as did I. But I could tell this young lady was probably too innocent and too professional to engage in conversation like that. As the obvious father at the table, I paused to consider how I should respond.

    "Yep. My brother and I wanted to take Daddy out for a date night," Brody answered, beating me to it. My son's face was a mask of seriousness. I just rolled my eyes and grinned. Dylan was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.

    "Okay... great!" the waitress said, breezing past the weirdness that she may not have even perceived. "Should we start with a bottle of wine?"

    We took her up on that offer, and by the time the food arrived we were already on our second bottle. Over the course of our meal, both Brody and I had scooted our chairs closer to Dylan's on both sides. By the time the main course arrived, I was getting handsy with my boyfriend under the table, and I was pretty sure the same thing was happening on the other side of him.

    At one point, I'd reached for Dylan's crotch only to find my son's hand already there. I let my fingers brush against his for a second while we made eye contact. My son blushed a little, which I thought was adorable, and then withdrew his hand, perhaps deferring to me on "my" holiday. 

    After a while, Dylan and I had switched. Now it was his hand on my crotch, rubbing my growing cock. I was getting eager to leave and go back home, so I could jump in bed with him and drive my dick up his ass. But just then, our server had reappeared to ask if we'd like some dessert and my son had insisted that yes, we would love some.

    "Your sons are taking good care of you," the waitress smiled at me while Dylan manually pleased me under the table.

    "Oh, you have no idea," I chuckled.

    By the time the dessert arrived, I was sporting a full boner and actually had to grab Dylan's wrist and make him stop before I blew a load in my pants. I was not in the mood to spend the rest of the evening with a sticky wet patch of cum. 

    "Stop," I begged Dylan, as much as I was enjoying what he was doing. His reaction was to give me a shit-eating grin. He was probably even more keen to continue now that he knew he was fucking with me this way. He allowed for a short reprieve, before putting his hand back on my boner and rubbing up and down. Thankfully, we were in a rather secluded part of the restaurant, with not too many people able to see us.

    Frankly, I wasn't worried about strangers seeing us as much as I was about my son sitting at the same table. For the past few months, Brody and I had worked hard to make our relationship with Dylan work. We'd thankfully reached a point where we could all go out together like this without feeling jealous or uncomfortable around each other. But apparently, Dylan was getting a bit too comfortable, at least compared to me.

    "Don't worry, no one's looking," I heard my son suddenly say. He and I made eye contact and I realized he knew exactly what Dylan and I were doing under the table. He was keeping an eye out for us!

    This prompted Dylan to look around, lick his lips, and do something even more daring: he got down on his knees under the table and started to pull down my zipper.

    "Are you fucking serious?" I said quietly, startled by his action. Brody and I made eye contact again, and I thought I spotted a small smirk appear on my son's lips.

    My lips might've been saying "no" but my cock sure as hell seemed to be screaming "yes!" Released from the confines of my pants, I now felt Dylan's breath on my rock-hard cock before he leaned in and took it in his mouth, making me gasp with pleasure.

    "Everything okay?" the server had reappeared to check up on us. "Anything else to drink?"

    "No, I don't think so," Brody replied coolly, while I bit my lip and tried not to moan out.

    "Anything for your brother?" the waitress asked, pointing to Dylan's empty chair. 

    "No, I think he has everything he needs," Brody said, and the girl left to tend to another table. 

    "This is fucking crazy," I said to Brody, even though I was really getting into it by now. 

    "Hey, it's all part of your Father's Day present," he smiled, and I wondered if he and Dylan had planned this in advance. The two younger men were obviously more comfortable than I was when it came to the concept of sharing a boyfriend, as proven by their little stunt at the theater recently. "Maybe I could learn a thing or two from them," I wondered. 

    With that, I decided to relax and let my boyfriend work on my cock under the table. Since there was a large tablecloth that went all the way down to the floor (something you don't see often anymore) Dylan was able to remain perfectly hidden. When I looked at Brody, I noticed the bicep on his right arm, which seemed to be pumping back and forth. Was he… was he jerking off?

    "Are you doing what I think you're doing?" I asked my son, unable to control my curiosity. 

    "What, you get to have a blowjob and I can't jerk off?" he said jokingly.

    I wondered if Dylan was also pleasuring himself under the table, or if all of his attention was directed at me. If I wasn't mistaken, I could feel both of Dylan's hands on my cock, in addition to his lips. He was probably hard but ignoring his own boner, probably intending to blow a load inside my son instead whenever they got a chance. 

    For a moment, I got the image of Dylan fucking Brody stuck in my head and I couldn't get it out. Since embarking on this crazy journey together, I'd overheard them fucking in Brody's room several times. Usually, I got hard and started jerking off on the other side of the wall, often timing my cumshot so I would explode at the same time as Dylan, while my son yelled "Fuck yes, breed my ass! Make me your cumdump!"

    Hearing phrases like this by my son didn't really surprise me. I'd always raised him to be sex positive and open minded, and growing up in San Francisco has had its effect on him as well. I remembered years and years ago, when Brody was nine and I took him to San Francisco Pride, and there was a man in a jockstrap with the word "CUM-DUMP" written on his asscheeks in sharpie, walking right in front of us.

    "Daddy, what's a cumdump?" Brody had asked me at that point, and I offered the most appropriate answer I could come up with, something like "a man who likes to have sex with lots of other men." Thankfully, Brody had lost interest and there were no follow-up questions at that point, but all these years later I couldn't act surprised to see my son be as sexually adventurous as he was.

    "Fuck, I love this," I moaned as I neared the edge, my cock almost ready to explode in Dylan's warm mouth. 

    "Go for it, Dad," Brody encouraged me. We made intense eye contact once again and I noticed his arm pumping faster and faster, probably leading up to his orgasm as well.

    "Are you gonna blow?" I asked my son and he just nodded his head. It felt crazy that all of the people around us were just having a regular meal, unaware of the pleasure my boy and I were feeling. Staring at each other's eyes even deeper, I started to cum inside our boyfriend's mouth, biting my lip once again to hold back from shouting out. I could tell by the expression on my son's face that he was also blowing his load under the table. Brody gave me a wink, confirming that that's exactly what he was doing.

    For almost a minute, Dylan drained every drop of cum that he could get out of me. He polished my cockhead nicely with his tongue, and then finally put my softening cock back in my pants, zipping them up. 

    "No one's looking, come back up now," Brody whispered and Dylan reappeared. The whole scene had lasted less than ten minutes, but it was so intense that it had felt like an hour. 

    "Now that's a Father's Day I won't forget anytime soon," I exhaled deeply after my intense orgasm, the aftereffect of which was still making my whole body tingle.

    "The first one of many," Dylan smiled, taking my hand as well as Brody's and giving them an affectionate squeeze.