COLTON:

    With the exception of the weather, life in Seattle was shaping up pretty well so far. I still hadn't found my own place, but my dad and I developed a routine and it didn't feel like we were stepping on one another's toes too much, even though we were still sharing his fairly tiny apartment. I went to the office five days a week, which gave my father some space and privacy during the day. In the evenings, Dad often went out to see clients. Sometimes he took his massage table with him, but other times he left it at home, which I thought was weird but I figured he might be going to clients who already had a massage table at their home (as unusual as that seemed). 

    I was also quite happy with my new job and everyone I worked with. Our whole office got together for a party before Christmas, and some of my coworkers were celebrating New Year's together as well. I was invited to the New Year's party but I decided not to go. Instead, my dad and I chose to ring in 2023 on our own.

    "I think this is the first time we've been together on New Year's since I can remember," I told my dad on December 31st.

    "Yeah. Last time, you were probably five years old," he nodded nostalgically.

    Dad and I had some champagne and enjoyed a cozy evening together. At midnight, we stood by the large windows, which provided one of the best views in all of Seattle while fireworks lit up the sky. Dad put his arm around me and I leaned my head against his shoulder. I realized he was still using the same cologne that he used when I was a kid. It transported me back in time. I put both arms around Dad and squeezed him hard. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated having him back in my life. For a brief second, I felt a powerful spark inside my chest – as powerful as the fireworks going off outside – and I almost kissed Dad on the lips. Thankfully, I managed to get a grip and I veered my head to the left, giving my father a more appropriate peck on the cheek instead. 

    "Happy New Year, Dad," I said in a raspy voice.

    "Happy New Year, son," he smiled profoundly before adding, "I love you."

    "I love you too, Dad," I replied, feeling very emotional – more than I was comfortable with. I cleared my throat and I turned my head away before my father could see I had tears in my eyes. "I– I gotta go take a piss," I announced abruptly, unwrapping my arms from around my dad's torso. 

    I set down my champagne flute, grabbed my phone off the table, and I scurried to the bathroom. Once the door was safely shut behind me, I stared at myself in the mirror and tried to analyze why I was so overemotional all of a sudden. Granted, I'd had a good amount of champagne but I couldn't blame it all on the alcohol. It's not like this was my first time drinking. All I knew was that it had something to do with my dad – with being in his arms as we left the old year behind us and entered a new year, full of new possibilities. There was even that sudden urge to kiss him, which was WAY inappropriate. It might be okay for a little boy to give his parents a peck on the lips, but not a full-grown adult such as myself. I told myself that it only had to do with the fact it was New Year's, when you were expected to kiss the person you were with at the strike of midnight.

    Just then, the phone in my hand vibrated. I looked at the screen to read a text message preview that said: "Happy New Year! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️" The name of the sender was Troy, and I wrecked my head for a moment trying to figure out who I knew by that name, especially someone who would send me so many heart emojis. Suddenly, I realized the phone I was holding wasn't mine – it was my dad's. 

    That's when it started to make sense: all those evenings Dad would go out without his massage table. He wasn't going out to see clients; he was going out to meet his boyfriend, Troy. I smiled, feeling happy that my dad was seeing someone, even though I was disappointed that he hadn't shared the news of his relationship with me. I took a quick piss, washed my hands, and I returned Dad's phone where I'd found it.

—

    The following day, Dad and I both slept in late. That relaxing feeling of knowing it's a holiday, plus the low-key sense of renewal and new beginning that January 1 brings, made it a pleasant and quiet morning. Dad kept the heat turned up high, so the apartment was nice and toasty. Soon after I'd moved in, I'd noticed that my father, just like me, slept in just a pair of underwear most nights. This morning, neither of us put on any more clothing as we had coffee and breakfast in the kitchen. While Dad prepared the food, I sat behind him and stared at his glutes, amazed by how well his ass filled out his black boxer briefs, making a mental note to ask him for his workout routine. 

    Dad had a massage appointment scheduled for the afternoon, an in-call, so the table was set up in the living room. About thirty minutes before the client was scheduled to arrive, she texted to cancel. Although she cited the rain as the reason, Dad laughed and commented that she was probably just too hung over to leave the house on New Year's Day. He didn't seem too bummed about the cancelation though.

    "Just a shame I got the bed and everything else set up for nothing," my father commented as he started to put the aromatherapy candles back into the storage bin he kept them in.

    "You know..." I said out of the blue, "I've never had a massage before."
   "What?!" my father responded with disbelief. "Never in your life?"
   "Nope," I answered, a little amused at his reaction. I'd purposely kept this information from him, because I knew that the moment he found out, he'd probably insist on giving me some kind of massage. It would have felt like some kind of obligation, which I didn't want. But in this moment, with the table all set up and me enjoying a day off work, it seemed like an ideal time to let my father make the inevitable offer.

    "Well, son, now seems like the perfect time," he said, just as I'd expected. "How about you just hop on up here?"

    "Sure," I agreed with a smile, setting aside my phone and standing up to stretch. "Um... so, just get on the table? Should I... leave my underwear on?"

    "It's totally up to you," Dad said in a reassuring tone. "There's a towel right here on the table. Feel free to drape that over your lower body, or really whatever makes you comfortable. I'm going to go wash my hands." He stepped away to go into the kitchen area, and I heard the faucet come on.

    Alone in the living room, I pondered whether to get naked, but only for a moment. It wasn't like this was some strange dude. This was my father, who'd seen me naked as recently as yesterday morning in the bathroom. I slid off my boxer briefs and tossed them onto the couch. Climbing onto the massage table face-down, I suddenly felt a little weird and exposed. I was about to reach for the towel and try to awkwardly cover myself from this position, but then Dad came back in and I figured it wasn't worth the effort.

    With my face buried in the little cushioned hole at the top of the table, I listened to my father moving some things around on the nearby table where all his oils and other accessories sat. Some subdued, ambient music started playing from the speaker under the TV.

    "Okay, we'll get started," his voice said from somewhere near my left side. His tone was even softer and more soothing than normal – his "work voice" probably. His hands touched my back lightly, and I was surprised to feel that his fingers were warm. When he washed up, he must have let the water get hot to ensure he didn't shock me with a cold touch. "I'll use different pressure depending on what the specific muscles need, but just let me know if it's ever uncomfortable."

    "Sure," I said, wondering what I should expect. I thought about some of the massage videos I'd watched, but quickly realized that those were porn, not actual professional massages, and I shouldn't be thinking about that while getting massaged by my own father.

    I heard the plastic pump on an oil bottle squirt a few times, and then Dad's hands started moving around my shoulders and upper back. The oil somehow made his skin feel even warmer! Immediately, I felt myself get more relaxed, and I let out a long, slow breath. It only took a minute or two for me to understand why people loved this.

    Dad found some tense spots in my neck, shoulders, and lower back, working out a few knots with gentle pressure that was never painful, even if there were moments that made me let out a gasp or two. He talked about the muscle groups and how certain activities could put too much stress on them. I listened to most of what he was saying but my mind was drifting off here and there.

    When he spoke about oblique abdominals, my father's hands slid down and gripped my sides, right between my ribs and my hipbones. His fingertips were touching the massage table, nearly sliding in between the table and my stomach. It was... oddly intimate, and I felt a shiver rush up my entire spine as I sucked in a quick breath. Also, somewhat distressingly, I felt blood rush right to my dick and I felt it swell up.

    If my father noticed that reaction, he gave no sign of it. He did some work on the muscles in that area and gradually moved his hands to my lower back. My cock continued to swell up in the confined space it occupied, pressed between my belly and the table. Dad briefly massaged my glutes – which felt amazing – before quickly moving further down to the backs of my thighs.

    He gave each leg some dedicated attention and while my now-full erection didn't subside, I got lost again in all of the sensations and kind of forgot about it (or maybe it was that I was trying to forget that I was hard while getting touched by my own dad). That's when Dad pronounced he was finished with the legs and it was time for me to turn over.

    "Um... actually this is feeling amazing," I said, which was true, but not the reason I wanted to stay on my stomach. "Can you just keep working on my back and stuff?" Dad didn't reply at first and I heard the faintest hint of a chuckle under his breath. I somehow could tell he was smiling.

    "You know, Colton," he began, "it's normal to… I mean, it happens to a lot of guys, it's not a big deal…"

    "I'll just stay like this," I said, sounding a little more terse than I'd intended. I was feeling a mix of embarrassment and eye-rolling amusement. This felt like a story you might read online in a thread of mortifying experiences: "This one time I threw wood while my dad was giving me a massage."

    My father didn't say anything further and just returned his attention to my calves. I realized that somehow my hard-on had swelled up even more... as if somehow the thought of turning over and letting my father see my erect cock had gotten me even more aroused. Or maybe it was just the slight, gentle rubbing of my cockhead against the sheet-covered table as Dad worked my leg muscles up and down.

    As my father worked his way back up my legs, the subtle up and down motion continued and before long I started to feel a little wetness at the tip of my dick. Which of course, only made it more sensitive.

    Dad's hands moved away for a moment and I heard the oil bottle pump again, and then I felt them again, but this time right on my ass. He proceeded to work those muscles over just as much as he had all the others on my body. I figured that he was skipping my ass after that initial squeeze earlier, which would have been fine. But now that he was really digging in, the sensations were just as amazing as everything else had been. Perhaps more, since now that he was basically moving my entire pelvis around in small ways, he was basically grinding my cock into the table for me.

    I thought about saying something, maybe asking him to go a little easier. But it all felt so good, I really didn't want him to stop. I let out a long breath and just decided to enjoy all of it.

    When Dad's hands shifted position, his fingertips were pointed inward and digging into the cleft of my ass, right at my tailbone. And while his hands were nowhere close to my asshole, somehow what he was doing was producing some responses in that location. It was like he was squeezing my cheeks in just the right way to make them rub up against my sphincter. That sent another couple of shivers up my spine, and I suddenly felt a tingling sensation build up inside me.

    By the time I realized what was happening, it was much too late to stop it. My cock began twitching against my stomach and I felt the warmth of fresh cum bursting out. I know I gasped a couple of times, and my father must have felt my glutes clench up in his hands. He just continued to work those thick muscles, taking advantage of the clenching in a way that made my orgasm even more intense.

    I must have shot six or seven blasts before it was all said and done. My head was swimming a little bit and I managed to catch my breath and avoid letting out the moan that was at the tip of my tongue. Maybe Dad knew what had just happened, or maybe he didn't, but I wasn't about to make a bigger deal of it. I somehow knew he wouldn't either. Maybe this happened with lots of guys, too.

    "Okay... I think we're all done," Dad whispered in that same, soothing tone. I traced his fingertips along my spine in a way that put me at ease. "You should be drinking water for the next few hours, and let me know if anything feels weird or tense. I'll... give you some privacy so you can... take a shower if you want. Or whatever you need to do."

    Then, he gave me a gentle pat and rub right at the small of my back. "Happy New Year, son," he said, and then disappeared down the hallway to his bedroom. I lifted my head up right as he turned the corner, and caught a glimpse of my dad adjusting himself in his tight boxer briefs. It seemed like he was filing them out a little more than usual, but it was only a quick look so I couldn't be sure. I stood up and grabbed the towel that I'd tossed aside earlier, and used it to wipe up the load I'd just shot on my father's massage table.​