CLIFF:

    I've done a lot of things in my life I am not proud of. What I was most ashamed of was that I didn't know just how many children I had. Often, the women I had them with didn't want anything to do with me. Some of them were sleeping with multiple men so short of taking a paternity test there was no way of knowing. I never liked using protection, and despite my decades-long use of alcohol and drugs I remained fairly good-looking (at least compared to most people in my circles) so access to sex was never an issue.

    That was all behind me, though – at least the worst of it was. My youngest child is 13, I think. That's when I got the vasectomy, once I was able to afford it. I couldn't say I was fully sober now, but I was doing much better. I even had a job that I'd managed to keep for longer than six months. Slowly but surely I was turning my life around, even though at times it was hard to figure out where to begin. 

    And then last week I got some news: a woman I used to live with for a while had gone missing. It had been months since anyone saw her; whether she up and moved or whether she was still alive was anyone's guess. The problem was: she and I had two kids – two boys named Reed and Landon – who were living with her. I lost most of my contacts when my previous phone was stolen, so I couldn't call them and check up on them. After some asking around, I found out the two boys had gone to live with their half-brother Darren – another one of my sons. I managed to find out his address; he lived about 60 miles away from me these days. With Christmas coming, I realized this was the best opportunity to try and reconnect with my sons – if they'd have me. I sure wouldn't blame them if they declined.

    On Christmas Eve, I showed up at Darren's doorstep, one hand holding a bag of gifts and the other hand knocking on the door. When my son answered, I was taken aback by a couple of things. One: he was naked except for his underwear as far as I could see though the narrowly opened door. But also, this was my first time seeing Darren in twenty years, so to see him all grown up almost brought tears to my eyes. The last time we saw each other he was a scrawny 13-year-old. Now, he was all man, with a large body and a hefty package in his boxer briefs (even though that was the last thing I should be looking at; it still caught my eye).

    "Dad?!" Darren gasped. I'd barely nodded when he slammed the door in my face. 

    I stood there feeling despondent. After all, what did I expect after all these years, a hug? I was a deadbeat dad and there was no way around it. I was getting ready to turn around and leave when I heard Darren shout "Hold on!" from the other side of the door. There was some shuffling; maybe he was putting some more clothes on. I stood still for over a minute when he finally reopened the door, this time fully dressed.

    "Hey," he said more coolly. "Wow. I haven't seen you in a while."

    "I know," I did my best to smile. "I hope it's okay I showed up unannounced."

    "It's fine. But I'm not on my own," he announced.

    "Are… Are Landon and Reed staying with you?" I asked.

    "So you know?" Darren said with a look of surprise.

    "Yes," I confirmed. "I found out recently. One of their teachers has a cousin who I know from rehab. So I did my best to make sure they were okay."

    "You did your best?" Darren said, clutching the edge of the door tightly, his nostrils flaring in objection to my choice of words. "They lived on their own for three months before their school called me. And then they had to come live with me – a complete stranger to them."

    "I– Thank you for taking them in," I said as humbly as I could.

    "That's okay. They needed a father figure. I know from first-hand experience."

    By this point, I had a feeling Darren was saying things just to hurt me, but I couldn't fault him for it. After all, what he was saying wasn't incorrect.

    "Is it okay… Can you ask the boys if they want to see me?" I asked Darren. 

    "C'mon in," he said, finally opening the door wide and stepping back.

 

LANDON:

    "This is a really nice place," I heard the familiar voice say as it neared the living room where Reed and I were. We'd put all of our clothes on, but Reed still had my load up his ass when our father walked into the room.

    The two of us hadn't seen Dad in about two years – not long compared to Darren, who hadn't seen him in two decades. Dad walked in and gave us a hug and some Christmas presents that probably cost no more than $20 total, but it's the thought that counts. He looked good, better than I'd ever seen him. For once, he didn't even reek of alcohol. Of course, I knew better than to expect miracles from him. There were other times in the past when he'd show up acting all nice and polite, only to disappear a few days later. But for now, I still gave him the benefit of a doubt.

    Dad stayed for a couple of hours that evening. He told us about his new job, asked us about school, and checked if we needed any money. He mostly talked to Reed and me; whenever Dad would address Darren, Darren answered curtly, almost impolitely. 

    The following weekend, Dad showed up again – and again the weekend after that. Pretty soon, we had a routine of seeing him every weekend. Sometimes he came to Darren's house, other times we went out for dinner. When we were out, Darren never joined us. He was still skeptical about our father's intentions, even though I could see a better, healthier side of Dad. He never drank anymore, and he seemed to take his job pretty seriously. He did his best to track down our mother, but there was only so much he could do. One thing he did find out was that there were no Jane Does matching her description, which probably meant Mom had left rather than ended up dead somewhere.

    Before we knew it, another three months had passed. Dad was yet to miss a weekend for visitations, even if it meant driving 60 miles to see us. One Saturday, he and I were having dinner on our own at a taco place. Reed was busy tattooing a customer, and Darren had declined to join us once again.

    "So how long do you think you boys will be living with your brother?" Dad asked. 

    "Probably until the end of the school year," I said. "Reed will be 18 soon and we'll try to get a place of our own as soon as we can afford it."

    "I wish I could help you out more, invite you to live with me," Dad said. "But you know I live in a motel for now. We'll see what happens in a few months."

    "What's it like living in a motel?" I inquired.

    "It's alright. This one's pretty decent and safe as far as cheap motels go," Dad shrugged. 

    "Do you think I could visit some day?" I asked out of the blue. For some reason, I felt curious about the place my father called home, even if it was only a motel room.

    "Uh, sure," he said, somewhat taken aback. "It'll probably need to happen on the weekend. I gotta work and you've got school during the week."

    "We can go this weekend," I suggested. 

    "Well, if we drive there tonight it'll probably be too late to come back. You'd have to spend the night there," Dad said.

    "I see. I assume there's only one bed?"

    "Yes. I mean, you're welcome to share it with me for a night, if you really feel like coming over. But you probably won't be comfortable."

    "Oh I'll be fine. I share a bed with Reed every night," I said with a smile.

After dinner, dad drove us back to the motel he was staying at. We had a casual chit chat during the ride, and at one point he asked about girls. I wasn't ready to tell him I was gay, let alone hooking up with my brothers. So I just gave him my usual, "No, there's no special girl."

    Dad wasn't joking about the state of the motel. It was off the side of the highway, seemingly in the middle of the desert. The walls had been painted pink but were super faded. We got to his room, and he let us in. I could sense his apprehension. The furniture was sparse – a single bed, nightstand, and a small television on a bureau.

    "Home sweet home," Dad laughed awkwardly. "It's not much, but it's clean."

    I smiled reassuringly which seemed to help. He took off his jacket and practically sprinted to the tiny bathroom, not even bothering to close the door. I heard him unzip his pants and then the telltale sound of someone unloading a very full bladder. It was a long car ride after all. His piss gurgled loudly, almost like I was in there with him. 

    When he was done washing up, he came out wearing just a wife beater with his jeans still unzipped enough for me to see his plaid boxers. I used the bathroom after him but closed the door for privacy. Afterward, I found Dad lying on the bed. He had ditched the jeans and was just wearing that tight undershirt and loose underwear. His legs were spread wide, and I could've sworn I caught a glimpse of his balls. 

    I could see he really was getting himself cleaned up. His body was looking more muscled than I ever remembered, probably from work. He had explained he'd been working shifts at a warehouse. I can imagine all the manual labor was the cause of his now toned physique. 

    I propped myself up on the wall next to him and we watched some TV and chatted. I found myself a bit nervous, as I realized my dad was now actually… kinda hot! Especially since he was down to his underwear and within touching distance. I kept glancing down at his boxers, hoping they might slip, and I might get a chance to see his cock. 

    Before long, we were both yawning and decided to go to sleep. The room was feeling a little cold, so once under the covers it was nice having the extra warmth from Dad's body. Once the lights were off, he even ditched his undershirt. I stayed in my T-shirt and I managed to take off my jeans without him seeing my skimpy briefs. 

    As soon as his head hit the pillow, Dad was asleep. Within ten minutes, he was softly snoring. It didn't bother me. It was almost soothing in a way. I, however, couldn't seem to sleep at all. I kept thinking about what he might be hiding under his boxers. My hand went inside the pouch of my briefs and my cock was rock hard in seconds.

    Once I was positive Dad was fully asleep, I managed to slide my underwear down to my knees. I slowly started jerking off, reminiscing back to Christmas Eve when Dad first showed up, and nearly caught me fucking Reed. 

    Topping my brother was fun, but I much preferred when he fucked me. We did it a few times a week, sometimes switching positions and going at it for hours. Even last night, I woke up to Reed's boner spreading my asscheeks and sliding into my hole, depositing a few wads of fraternal cum inside me. Some of it was actually still inside me…

    With my other hand I managed to reach for my hole. I fingered myself while I jerked off, using my brother's cum as lube – all while my dad was sleeping right next to me! The riskiness of it was such a turn on. Somehow I managed to stay quiet. 

    I had a second finger shoved into my hole when I finally felt my load getting close. I moaned softly as my hot sperm landed on my stomach. I breathed deeply, enjoying the relaxing sensation that washed over me. I didn't have anything to clean up with, so I scooped up my cum and swallowed it all. I carefully pulled my underwear back up. My father stirred but didn't move. I was in the clear and suddenly felt much sleepier.