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CHAPTER 7

Delivery Guy

This series takes places in the summer of 2020, a few months before the beginning of An American Dad in London

 

BEN:

     As July turned to August, it was starting to feel as if Sam and I had lived in San Francisco our entire lives. We'd developed our routines, spent the evenings together, and felt like any other couple. Except we knew this was temporary. The end of summer would come sooner or later, and I for one, was suppressing those thoughts whenever they appeared. 

    "I still can't believe you're a dad now," my friend Josh said over lunch one Wednesday, at a vegan restaurant close to his office. Since I wasn't working, I took every opportunity to get together with friends and socialize a bit.

    "Technically, I was a dad when you met me as well, I just didn't talk about it. Actually, did I even mention I had a kid at all when we lived in London?"

    "No, I don't think you ever did."

    I felt a knot in my stomach. Josh and I lived in London for about five years. In all that time, I'd never mentioned my son? Was I really that self-centered?

    "It's crazy enough becoming a father to a newborn. I can't even imagine becoming a dad to a teenager overnight," Josh continued talking about the subject cavalierly, not sensing my unease. "Can you imagine, if a woman from my past popped up and said I had a teenage son?"

    "I can, actually," I nodded. Josh was very handsome, and he was quite the man-ho back when I knew him in London.

    "Bite your tongue. I've got other plans."

    "Yeah? Like what?"

    "I'm getting married before I turn 40."

    "Who's the unlucky lady?" I asked, swallowing the veggie burger that I did not enjoy.

    "I'm not sure yet, but I'll figure it out."

    "You got what, two and a half years left? You better get to figuring."

    "That's plenty of time. Besides, women are always more in a rush to get married than men."

    "Is that so?" I took a sip of pink lemonade to wash down the taste of the food. For all his progressive, raised-in-SF attitude, he sometimes had quite antiquated opinions.

    "It's about time. We can't be bachelors forever, as fun as it is," Josh added. "By this age, my dad was on his third marriage."

    "And that's something you're aspiring to?"

    "Course not. I just think 40 is late enough. What about you?"

    "What about me?"

    "When are you settling down? You're bi, your pool is twice as large."

    That is not how things worked, but I was in no mood for explaining this to him.

    "Mind your business," I reminded Josh.

    "I'm just saying. Do you wanna have more kids?"

    "I… I've never thought about that," I admitted.

    "Well you better think about it soon. Clock's ticking for us men as well." 

    All of a sudden, I thought of the few times I'd seen Sam as a baby and toddler. What would've happened if he was born when I was 37 instead of 17? I saw us playing baseball, and kicking a soccer ball around. Josh was right: I'd rather be doing those things now rather than in my 50s or 60s. Was Josh onto something?!

    And even though I'd never admit it out loud, having more kids suddenly felt like an opportunity to make up for everything I'd missed with Sam. 

    When I got back to the apartment, I felt some sort of anxiety that I couldn't shake off. So I turned to the one thing that was always a guaranteed distraction: porn.

    I shook my briefs off and sat on an armchair in the living room. While waiting for my phone to connect to the TV, I spread my legs wide open and started playing with my smooth balls, casually twirling them in my hand like they were Chinese meditation balls. This had the effect of making my dick start to go hard before the video even started. I looked at my reflection in the dark TV screen, letting my other hand stroke my torso and gently pinch one of my nips, admiring my physique.

    I picked a video Sam and I had shot ourselves, a few months ago in the hotel in Boston. The video had no sound but it was one of our longer self-recordings, so I slumped back even more, fully relaxing. The only thing rigid about me now was my cock.

    I watched the video and slowly jerked my cock, stopping every time I got close to the edge. I didn't want to cum, not yet. Sam would be home from work soon, and I was saving my load for him.

    On the screen, I watched as my son sucked my cock, dressed in nothing but a jockstrap that I'd bought him. He was a twink and a jock at the same time, and I envied his youth and his body, which looked better every single day. Sam took my cock out of his mouth and then turned around, making his ass face the camera. On screen, my fingers squeezed Sam's cheeks before playing with his hole, which pulsed as if to say "cum inside me."

    Lying on the armchair, I was getting close to the edge so I stopped, as frustrating and painful as it was. I took a deep breath and watched myself on TV as I started fucking Sam's ass while holding the phone and recording it. Even though the video had no sound, I could hear both of us moaning and groaning in my head, cussing out in pleasure, letting each other know how much we were enjoying it.

    Even though I wasn't touching my cock, it was pulsing so strongly that I was worried I might cum any second, hands-free. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the feeling when something happened to distract me: a knock on the door.

    "Sam?" I thought as I got up and walked to the door, bare-ass naked and with my boner swinging as I walked. He should be back in about fifteen minutes, but maybe he was early today? And he forgot his keys or didn't feel like digging them out of his bag?

    Luckily, I thought to peep through the peep hole to check. The person knocking wasn't Sam, but a delivery guy. I just remembered I'd ordered dinner for tonight earlier today.

    "One second!" I said loudly, turning around and looking for something to put on. Meanwhile, my cock still pulsed, begging to cum. 

    I saw the pair of briefs I'd left on the floor and quickly put them on. They didn't hide my boner, but I was "decent enough." Besides, I'd already met this delivery boy two of three times before. Since I didn't cook, I ordered a lot of takeout and this neighborhood seemed to be his turf.

    "Hello, Dylan," I said when I finally opened the door. The boy was in his late teens or early 20s, and his name was emblazoned on his T-shirt. This company seemed to really go for the retro-delivery look, and Dylan had a cap with the company logo to match his shirt. I smiled, amused by how much like a porn movie trope this whole situation was.

    "Hello," he replied casually, digging the food out of his large bag and not even paying attention to me at first. "Whoa!"

    Just then, Dylan's eyes almost popped out when he realized I was standing on the other side of the threshold nearly naked, in a pair of underwear that barely hid my hard cock.

    I smiled, leaning against the door. Even though it hadn't been my intention to seduce Dylan, I always enjoyed being admired. I flexed my abs to give him a bit of a show, even though I'd promised my son I wouldn't hook up with guys when he wasn't around.

    "Th– There you go," Dylan handed me the food. Since everything was paid for on my phone, there wasn't any need to stick around. Still, I looked for an excuse to show off just a little longer.

    "I'm sorry for making you wait," I smirked. "I had to put something on."

    "No worries," Dylan laughed it off. "No need to apologize about anything."

    We played this little game. Dylan smirked and his eyes went down my body. My horny cock pulsed in my briefs, leaking precum and making it clear just how horny I was. In the confines of my tight briefs, I felt like I could cum any second.

    "You know, you always do a good job," I said. "Why don't I get you a little extra tip? Be right back."

    I turned around to look for my wallet, well aware that the delivery's boys eyes were glued on me. I flexed my glutes for him as I dug out a couple of bills from my wallet.

    "Seems like a hot movie," he said with a smile when I went back to him. I wasn't sure what he was trying to say, until I turned around and realized he could see the TV from the door. The video of Sam and me was still playing: I was fucking Sam's ass like an animal.

    That was what pushed me over the edge. I was trying to save my load for Sam, but I couldn't help it: I started to cum inside my briefs. When Dylan saw that, he quickly put his hand on my cock and stroked it gently through the fabric. With the door still open, I tried to control myself and not moan too loudly, but this felt phenomenal and I couldn't hold it in.

    For about a minute, even after I was done cumming, the delivery boy stroked my cock. I exhaled loudly, catching my breath. This was unexpected, but amazing!

    "Thank you," I said. I took the bills that I was holding and rubbed them against my crotch, getting them nice and wet with my cum on them. Then, I handed the tip to the delivery guy.

    "Thank you," he said and winked at me. "See you next time."

 

Three Days Later

 

SAM:

    I wasn't really used to eating out. Living with my mom, she and my step-dad would always cook for us, and I was way too broke to be eating out while going to college in Boston. Now that Dad and I were in San Francisco, he treated me to dinner somewhere nice almost every single evening. As much as I enjoyed that, I also loved spending alone time with him. As we got more comfortable, I would ask him to just order in so that we could watch TV and cuddle up on the couch together.

    "Dinner's here," he said one Saturday evening when we heard a knock on the door. We were in bed, making out naked. 

    "I dare you to answer the door naked," I said. I was in a frisky mood, and this felt like a really horny idea.

    I wasn't sure if Dad would agree to it, but he seemed to be in a naughty mood as well. He got up off the bed, his cock half-hard, and casually walked to the door.

    "Dylan, it's you again. Hi," I heard my father say, and I went to the bedroom door to take a peek. The delivery guy seemed young, just a few years older than me. Was he gay? This is San Francisco, after all. Somehow, I got the impression that this Dylan didn't mind this one bit.

    I looked at myself in the mirror, quickly put on a pair of boxer briefs, and thought of a way to make this even more interesting.

    "Dad, is that the food?" I said loudly and strolled into the living room, feigning ignorance. 

    "Yup," my naked father said, standing at the door. He turned back to the delivery guy and said, "This is my son, Sam."

    The expression on the poor boy's face was PRICELESS!

    "Let me get a tip," Dad said to him coolly. "Would you like to come in?"

    "I– I'd love to."

​

Dylan is the main character of Dating Father and Son

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