Page 41 of Father Figure

Two dads was one too many.

What did I need from him? I still needed his love. I still needed his friendship. I craved his admiration and respect. No matter how old I got, I never wanted to stop being his little Nicky.

Just as I was about to log off, the website asked me if there was anything else I wanted to add to my cart at the last minute. I was pretty sure I had everything I needed, but then I saw a pink shirt that said ‘Daddy’s Boy.’ Holy fuck. My light bulb went off and my dick kicked.

Daddy's Boy. It was so wicked and nasty, so taboo.

I wanted to be his boy. I already was, but I wanted him to say it to me when he was touching my cock. I wanted him to let me call him Daddy. I wanted him to spoil me and make me his most precious boy. I mean, he already did, but I wanted him to say it. I wanted him to say Nicky Boy or Nicky, my boy. Sam called me Little One or Little Nicky and it made my dick half hard, but to hear it from Cass? I'd probably combust in my pants. I'd probably never have the balls to tell them that.

How did you tell someone you've known most of your life ‘I want to stop calling you my dad's ex and start calling you Daddy.’ It took big balls, and mine were very small, as Sam liked to remind me.

I joined my dad at the kitchen island, hopping onto the barstool beside him. Excitement thrummed in my veins, and I was practically bursting at the seams to tell him about my research, and the new things I’d bought, but I could hardly do that. My dad had dated Cass for years and had probably loved him, which made our situation awkward as fuck. And although I didn’t see anything wrong with dating an older man, I was afraid to tell my dad, as if I were doing something wrong. I hadn’t even told him I was gay!

I guessed I needed to start there.

My stomach felt swirly and sick from the nerves. What was I supposed to say? Was there a right and wrong way to do it? Did everyone who came out to their parents feel like they were about to have a heart attack? Could it be classified as a lie of omission if I intended to tell him before I died? I wiped my hands on my jeans and then balled them tight until my blunt nails dug into my palm.

“D-dad?”

He shoved a forkful of chicken into his mouth. “What’s up?” he asked as he chewed.

“I’m—there’s someone I like.” Fuck, now, he was going to ask me who. I should have left potential partners out of the equation.

“That’s great, bud. What’s her name?”

Pushing a lump of mac & cheese around my plate with my fork, I tried to stall. The longer I drew it out, the more awkward it would feel. Just do it, Nicky!

Staring down at my lap, I blurted, “I like boys.”

He stopped chewing. He set his fork down on his plate. He folded his arms on the counter. He stared at me.

“That’s—wow, okay. That’s goo—fine—um, that’s great. That, you know, you figured that out.” He grabbed desperately for his glass, chugging water as if he were choking.

Swallowing hard, I tried to fill the awkward silence with an explanation. “I didn't know when I would be ready to tell you. I’d probably never be ready,” I huffed. “But I felt this overwhelming pressure to just get it out there, done and over with. And it made me feel sick to my stomach to lie to you.”

“Nick, I'm not mad at you for being who you are or for being honest about it. I'm mad at myself for not seeing it sooner. Maybe I saw what I wanted to see,” he sighed. “What I'd hoped to see, instead of what was right in front of me all along.”

When he slid his arm around my shoulders, I lost the battle against my tears and broke down, bawling like a baby. My dad opened his brawny arms and crushed me against his chest, just like when I was little. Why was I even crying? Nobody died. Heck, it went better than I’d expected. I just felt emotional and full of adrenaline, and it was all coalescing into a tidal wave of feelings that threatened to drown me.

“I love you, dad.”

“Love you, too, bud.”

Two days later, my toys arrived! I ran straight to my room, locked my bedroom door just to be safe, and spread everything out on my bed. The neon pink prostate massager screamed at me to pick it up. I still wasn't sure exactly where my prostate was located, even after researching several diagrams. Today, I was going to find it—me and Pinky.

Tearing open a packet of the water-soluble lube, I coated the toy and then kicked off my shorts and undies and laid down on the bed with my knees bent and spread. Starting with my dick, I smeared the leftover lube around my shaft, giving it a few satisfying tugs. It began filling with blood, and I reached lower, cupping my balls. That familiar tingling warmth spread through my lower half as my dick got harder. A drop of clear fluid formed at the tip of my crown, and I smeared it around the head, making tiny electric fingers crawl up my shaft.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the pillow and just let myself feel as I explored all the ways I could make myself feel good with touch. When I was rock hard and ready, I squeezed the last bit of lube from the foil packet on my fingers and smeared it over my hole, clenching tight at the contact.

Relax, Nicky. Pretend it's Cass.

The tip of my index finger slipped inside with ease, and the feeling was indescribable. I was immediately hooked. The heat in my groin intensified, and my dick throbbed like it had a pulse. I continued to tease myself, sliding in and out, but I couldn't reach deep enough to try to find that special place inside of me.

Picking up the little pink toy, I pressed the rounded end against my rim, gradually increasing the pressure until it popped through the ring of tight muscles. The sensation was startling, and I didn't know if it hurt or felt good, but it burned in the most delicious way. I was able to slide almost half of it inside my channel before pulling it back out again.

Then I turned it on.

Holy fuck, that really shook things up!

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