CHAPTER 1
If You Want… I Can Suck Your Dick
This story was available to Gold Supporters in September 2021, which is when it takes place
HENRY:
I rushed out of the hospital elevator, sweat dripping down my face like a waterfall. I ran, dodging carts and wheelchairs along the hallway. After ten years, I didn't want to wait a minute longer.
I bumped into a nurse with a familiar face that I'd seen many times over the years.
"Is it true?" I asked her, struggling to speak while trying to catch my breath.
"Yes," she replied with a kind smile. "He's awake."
I wanted to hug and kiss her, but instead I kept running down the hallway, all the way to the very last door. There, through the open blinds in the window, I saw a couple of doctors tending to the only patient in the room, a middle-aged man. The top of his bed was raised so he was lying at a 45° angle. Incredibly, his eyes were open.
"Dad," I said out loud, tears gathering in my eyes. I was just about to reach for the door when a hand grabbed my right shoulder and squeezed it firmly.
"Henry," said a deep voice behind me, "I know you're excited to see him, but I think we should talk first. Come with me, this'll only take a few minutes."
There was only one person in the world that I would listen to right now, and that was Dr. Neil O'Hara. Not only was he a top medical professional who had been here every step of the way, but he was also a neighbor, living just a few doors down on Stag Meadow Lane.
I followed Dr. O'Hara to his nearby office, where he poured me a glass of water and invited me to sit down.
"As you already know, your father is awake," Neil announced formally, with a hint of a smile. "We are very pleased this is the case. However, he is still very fragile, which is why I wanted to talk to you first."
"Fragile how?" I blurted out nervously.
"Well, obviously, after lying in bed for ten years he'll need some physical therapy, but his body seems to be in surprisingly good shape given everything that's happened. More importantly, Tom is fragile mentally. It's too early to diagnose him but… your father has no recollection of who he is."
"What does that mean?"
"My assumption – and this is only a suspicion for now! – is that he may have amnesia."
"Well– Well, is that normal? Will he snap out of it? How long does he need to stay in the hospital for?" I had so many questions, I didn't know where to begin.
"Henry… Your father's been in a coma for ten years since his accident. I don't like using the term 'normal,' but this kind of condition doesn't come as a surprise to me after all he's been through. We don't know how long it might last; he might indeed 'snap out of it' sooner rather than later. However, I think it would take a while and some therapy to do that. And to answer your final question: I don't see a reason why he should be kept at the hospital much longer. Other than the loss of memory, he's in good shape mentally and I do not believe he is a threat to himself or others. So, if you want to, you can take him out in a couple of days. I assume he will be under your care?"
"Yes, yes," I nodded so strongly it made my head hurt. "I'll be taking care of him, he'll come live with me. Now, when can I see him?"
"How about right now?" Dr. O'Hara smiled and led me out of his office, so I could speak to my father for the first time in ten years…
11 Years Earlier…
Summer 2010
TOM:
Although I believed each of my sons was a genius in his own way, I sometimes wished my younger son Henry would stop being so stubborn and listen to me a bit more. While his older brother was working on getting a master's in molecular biology, Henry had decided to major in English. I was worried about Henry's career opportunities with what many considered to be a "worthless" degree, but I tried to be supportive of my boy no matter what.
Things were different back in my day. I had my sons young, when I was 17 and 19. The market was good and I'd managed to get a more-than-decent job straight out of high school. It also helped that I had a supportive wife, a year older than me. With some assistance from our folks, we built an idyllic suburban home for our family on a cul-de-sac where everyone knew everyone and neighbors helped each other out.
Today, I was picking up Henry at the airport. These days, my wife and I were empty-nesters, except during the summers when Henry came home from college. He'd just finished his junior year and was about to turn 21 in a couple of weeks. Just as I was going to get in my car and back out of the driveway of #2 Stag Meadow Lane, I noticed my next-door neighbors from #3 playing catch with their dog in their front yard. I figured I'd say hi so I walked closer to them, standing next to the large wisteria plant my wife raised in our yard.
"Howdy, neighbor," I used a clichéd phrase to go with the clichéd scene of father and son Stephen and Rory Johnston playing with their golden retriever on their perfectly manicured lawn. They greeted me and walked closer so we could chat for a bit. "You excited about summer?" I asked the younger Johnston.
"Yes, sir," Rory replied politely, scratching his dog behind the ear.
"You starting high school in the fall?"
"No, sir. One more year," Rory answered, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked at me.
"Well, enjoy it while you can. Before you know it you'll be off to college, just like Henry. I'm off to Philly to pick him up at the airport now," I informed my neighbors and I got in my car, waving at them as I drove off.
At the airport, I expected to see a smile on my son's face when he came out of the arrivals gate, like usual. He and I were always buddies and looked forward to being reunited. This time, however, Henry came out looking like someone had just died.
"What's wrong, bud?" I asked as my son got in my car and told me that he and his boyfriend had just broken up. Even though I'd never met the guy, I was always against their relationship, but it was another instance where Henry preferred to be stubborn rather than listen to me. What bothered me most was how head-over-heels Henry was during the past two years while they dated, even talking about "being together for life."
"Your first relationship isn't necessarily gonna be your last," I reminded my son during our drive home.
"Ha! You're one to speak. You're literally married to your high school sweetheart."
"Yes, but your mother and I are the exception, not the rule. Plus, we had you boys early, which kept us together. You're child-free; enjoy your youth while you can! Now, what do you have planned for your 21st?"
"Nothing," Henry exhaled in a defeatist manner. "None of my old friends live here anymore. I got no one to celebrate with."
"Okay, enough of this sulking. Here's what we're gonna do: you and I are gonna rent a hotel room in Philly for your birthday and we're gonna go crazy. We're gonna hit all the clubs! Gay, straight, you name it! Whatever you wanna do, I'm down."
"Oh yay, a night out with my dad," Henry said sarcastically, but I could tell he was trying to suppress a smile.
"Beats a night at home, crying and jerking yourself off to sleep. And I'll have you know your dad is cool as fuck. I just turned 40; I won't even be the oldest person at the club. C'mon, what d'you say?"
"Fiiiine," my son agreed, making eye contact with me and failing to suppress that smile any longer.
—
A couple of weeks later, my younger son and I were drinking in a hotel room in Philly, which was apparently called "pregaming." Even though he was just turning 21, Henry had been drinking for a few years already. I rarely got a chance to let loose like this, so we both went pretty crazy. We ended up at a gay club at Henry's behest, where I watched him make out with at least ten different guys. That didn't upset me; on the contrary, I was his wingman, encouraging him to go after every hot guy that looked at him. Like many other people at the club, Henry and I took our shirts off as the atmosphere got heated; and I got more than a couple of young guys rubbing my chest fur or twisting my nips, trying to flirt with me, which I found flattering rather than disturbing.
On our way back, my son and I did something even crazier: we saw a tattoo parlor that was still open and decided to get tattoos. Henry picked a Gemini sign to go on his upper arm. In my inebriated state, I decided to go with the silliest thing I could think of: a heart tattooed on my asscheek. My son laughed and sat next to me as I pulled down my pants and exposed my ass to him and the tattoo artist. There was plenty of teasing and laughter and half an hour later, when we were done, Henry went to the bathroom to take a piss, and the tattoo guy quietly said to me,
"While your kid is gone… If you want I can suck your dick."
"Nah. But thanks, though," I smiled.
"Will you at least show it to me?"
"Well since you asked so politely…"
With that, I pulled my dick out and wagged it a few times for the tattoo artist. To my surprise, I even popped a semi while doing so. The guy smiled and before we left he told us our tattoos were on the house since it was my son's birthday (really, I assumed it had more to do with me flashing my junk).
When we got back to the hotel, Henry and I were a bit more sober but still in a quite jovial state. Back in our room, I told him the tattoo artist had offered to give me a blowjob, which made my son laugh some more. Then, he surprised me with a revelation of his own.
"Well, at the tattoo studio," Henry said, "when I went to the bathroom… I didn't just go there cuz I needed a piss."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well…" and here he paused for a second. He was holding back from admitting something, but his drunken brain wanted to blurt out the truth. Eventually, the drunk side won. "Well, I went to the bathroom cuz I needed to jack off."
"Really? You got horny after all that making out at the club?" I teased.
"More like, I got horny after staring at your ass for half an hour," my son said.
I was kinda taken aback to hear this, but also weirdly flattered.
"Hahaha. You think your old man's got a nice booty?" I said, pulling down my pants again and mooning my son, the tattoo on my right asscheek covered in Saran wrap.
"Haha, yes you do. Just please don't call it 'booty' again," Henry laughed as I shook my ass in his face, trying to dance but probably doing an incredibly cringeworthy job at it.
After a little while, I stopped and I turned around, trying to hold my jeans and my underwear up. In the back, my ass was still hanging out. In the front, my jeans were unbuttoned but my dick was covered; only my pubes were out on display. I noticed my son looking at them, probably surprised to see a few grays in there at this point.
"So, I did turn down that guy's blowjob," I continued, "but he asked to see my cock and I showed it to him. So that's what paid for our tattoos, just so you know."
"Shut up! I can't believe you did that," my son reacted, still smiling and laughing. "What did you show him?"
"What do you mean, what did I show him? I showed him my cock," I said, still trying to hold my jeans up. They kept sliding down but in my drunken state I was in no rush to button them back up.
"How? Show me," Henry insisted.
Since we were playing this game, I pulled out my cock and started wagging it in front of my son, just like I did to the tattoo artist earlier. This wasn't the first time Henry saw my dick; in the past both of my sons had seen me come out of the shower or change clothes in front of them on rare occasions. Besides, there was nothing sexual about this. I was stumbling and helicoptering my dick, acting like a drunk frat boy, like I used to do with my buddies. It was just a silly male bonding ritual. My son laughed, but made sure not to take his eyes off my privates the entire time. Letting go of my pants, they now dropped to the floor. Apparently, showing off had an effect on me, since I was once again popping a semi in no time.
And then, almost out of the blue, my son placed his hand around my cock. I looked down, unsure how to react. Granted, I'd initiated this foolery but this – him touching me – was on a whole nother level!
Before I had a chance to react, Henry's hand was not only holding my penis but also stroking it up and down. This had the effect of my cock growing even bigger, enjoying the stimulation it was receiving. This was pleasurable, no doubt about it, but that didn't make it any less wrong.
Henry and I made eye contact and we didn't say a word. The fact that I wasn't pushing him off me said enough, as did the fact that he wasn't pulling away. We were drunk, and unsure what to do. So we just went with it. My gay son jerked my cock slowly, watching it up-close as precum started to leak out of my yawning piss slit. Next, Henry's hand rubbed my cockhead and gathered the precum that was on there to use as lube. My son's touch of my super sensitive glans made me flinch. I was now completely hard. Even though my sons had seen my cock before, this was Henry's first time seeing me boned up. He watched attentively, as if trying to memorize every detail of my dick: its circumcised head with a large ridge, the veins running along the shaft, the trimmed pubic hair and hairless ball sack. His father's cock in its erect state, up-close and personal!
I placed my hands on my hips and started thrusting gently. Now, Henry mostly held his hand still and I was the one doing the movement, sorta like I was fucking his hand. This felt good and I closed my eyes, which made the sensation on my meat even more intense. I sped up the thrusting, and my son's hand tightened its grip around my rod.
Back and forth, back and forth my hips swung, leaking precum all over my son's hand. My ears were ringing with the music from the club, the buzzing of the tattoo needle. I thrust even faster and now Henry had both of his hands on my member, working it like an old-school butter churner. I filled the hotel room with my moans and grunts, drunkenly losing myself in orgasmic pleasure as I…
"AAAAAHHH, fuck, I'm cumming!!!" I shouted, barely giving my boy a second's notice. The very next moment, my dick was shooting out jizz which landed squarely on Henry's handsome face. I opened my eyes and looked down as my younger son's mug got coated with the cum that made him, getting absolutely glazed all over. I was in awe of my own cumshot as more and more semen continued to squirt out. Henry's brothers and sisters ran down his cheeks, lips, and chin; and he licked his lips while maintaining intense eye contact with me. That particular gesture made me blow another wad of cum, landing it on Henry's nose and watching it drip down into his open mouth.
Since it was obvious he enjoyed the taste, as soon as I was done cumming I placed my right hand on Henry's smooth-shaven cheek and scooped up all of the cum that was on there, guiding it to his mouth and watching him swallow my discharge. I repeated the same on the other side of his face, all the while we looked each other straight in the eyes.
"Let's… Let's wash up and go to sleep," I said, putting an end to a 21st birthday unlike either of us expected.
