It had been a little over three months since my father and I left the hospital with Jay and Becca. Living with Jayden Lorri in his New York estate had been a blessing, a miracle. Although he owed us nothing, Jay wanted to devote his wealth, his life, to give my father and me a chance at happiness. I enrolled in online classes, working towards my GED. I wanted to go to college, to get a job in the medical field. I wanted to make Jay proud. As for my dad: life was not as sunny. He had lost some weight, as well as a significant amount of strength. But with Jay's love and support, I remained hopeful.
We remained living in the spacious basement while Jay lived and worked out of the upper levels of the house. I had no idea what he actually did beyond taking meetings and working out. Jay would always come down to visit, sharing plenty of alcohol and illegal drugs. For the first few weeks, I kind of assumed he was retired.
Relaxing in our living space, that was how I learned about all the jobs he was turning down. Jay, apparently, didn't need to work. And as he said in his own words, Jay did not have any desire to leave us for an extended period of time.
"You're my family, my world," Jay said as he took a long drag off an expensive marijuana joint (special ordered from Dubai.) In a gesture of true joy, he blew a ring of smoke. "I've never been so happy." Jay turned his head and kissed my father on the lips. "Tastes great, right? Come on, Marcus, have a taste."
I expected him to hand me the joint, but instead, he pulled me onto his lap. I could feel his throbbing cock, begging for release. (But I already knew it wasn't for me.) I took a long drag before attempting to hand back the drugs. "Thank you."
I always knew when Jay spent the night in my dad's room. The two men were loud and the entire basement floor smelled like marijuana and lube. Starting in the shared living space, they would smoke, take pills, and fondle each other as they undressed. Once they made it to my dad's room, the two could easily fuck for hours.
I did my best to give them privacy, slipping away to my own room under the guise of studying (and trying to contact Becca who had the habit of leaving for days at a time.) I was desperately lonely, so in my boredom, I found a way to cut a hole in the wall, giving me a view of my dad's bed. Resting comfortably with my back against a wall, I armed myself with tissues and lube, awaiting the start of the show.
Jay had a special set of toys he brought from his collection; clamps, plugs, collars, and chains. The vibrator was my favorite. Jay would take his time, guiding the long black leather massage toy down my daddy's chest to his tight stomach teasing his hips. The vibrations were loud, I imagine it hurt like a bitch.
My father always whimpered when the tool grazed his cock. The noise he made was a cross between a gasp and a prayer. And it was so fucking hot.
Jay's breathing was intense. "Do you like that, Val?"
My father nodded, panting like a dog in heat.
"You want more?" Jay's voice was like honey; thick and sweet. In my mind he was tracing the inside of my ear with his tongue, ending with a tender bite to my earlobe.
I rubbed my tip, coaxing out precum. For a moment I thought about the internet stories of guys sticking things inside their urethra. It seemed excessive, but I needed something more. "Oh, fuck me." At that moment, I wished I owned a vibrator, but my fingers would have to do. I was masturbating hard, focusing my thumb on my tip. There was so much precum, I felt like I was pissing myself.
I glanced through my hole in the wall. Jay was reaching for something out of view. "I need you to breathe," Jay said, his Irish accent was coming through. "Just focus on your breath." Jay applied a generous amount of lube to his hands. He reached for my father's amputated leg, massaging the scar tissue. "You're so fucking beautiful. So strong." I could hear Jay pumping his shaft, moaning softly, preparing his own cock for what was to come. "I want to see how much you can take."
I repositioned myself for a better view. Jay started to play with my father's ass; fucking him with two lubed fingers, then three. soon he went all in. He was fisting my father with one hand while gripping the man's neck with the other.
"Oh fuck, yeah." It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. I wanted so badly to be choked by Jay. His hands were big, strong, powerful. Unfortunately, I did not prepare a way to limit my airway while engaging in self-pleasure. I would have to use my imagination to live vicariously through my crippled naked father.
My daddy's cock was hard, pressed against his tight, slender stomach. He was reaching for himself, but his grip seem to falter. His hands were too weak to gain traction, leaving him to Jay's mercy.
Jay still had his hand inside of my daddy's ass, opening him like a sick sexual puppet. "Do you want it inside you?"
"Yes," my father said in a whisper.
Jay smiled, pressing his tongue into his cheek. "Say it louder."
The tone of his voice made me ejaculate all over myself. It was like a ripple of pure power, something meant only for a select few to experience. `Yes, please.'
Jay was massaging my daddy's prostate, his fist practically visible through my father's stomach muscles. It was difficult for my father to speak over the gasps of intense desire. "I want it inside me."
Jay slowly removed his fist. There was a slurping sound as the lube covered fingers moved lower, gripping my daddy's balls with a tight, tender squeeze. "Do you want the toy or my cock?"
"I want you to tear me up inside." My father arched his neck, his mouth agape. "I want to die in your arms."
I couldn't tell what was chosen, but when he put it inside my daddy's ass, my cock erupted all over again. Exhausted and (mostly) satisfied, I reclined on the floor rubbing my own cum on my skin. My nipples were hard, sensitive. There were tears in my eyes: I needed to be fucked. They'd probably let me watch if I asked. Not like I had anything (or anyone) else to do.
I reached for my phone, checking my email. Turns out Becca was in Orlando with some friends. 'Having a blast in Epcot. I'll bring you back a plushie.' Becca came and went as she pleased, leaving for weeks at a time. For whatever reason, she still considered herself to be my girlfriend even talking about getting married. (I assumed she meant that as a joke.)
The next day, over a breakfast of coffee and cigarettes Jay announced he was leaving for a month-long job in Curacao. "I wouldn't go if I could help it, but this was at the request of an old friend."
"Curacao?" The island was in the correct hemisphere, but it was still abnormally far.
"Did you already tell my dad?"
"Yes," he said while choking down his coffee. "He's supportive."
He was lying. My father likely gave his blessing, because what the fuck else was he going to do? "That's fine," I replied through gritted teeth. "I can watch him for a while."
"While I am sure you are more than capable, I have made arrangements with the hospital to send over a nurse."
"A nurse?" The idea that he just picked out a nurse without even asking me sent my mind into a mild rage.
"For physical therapy and such," Jay continued, unable to look me in the eyes.
"Sounds good." I didn't care for the idea, but the decision was not mine to make. Hopefully, I'd at least get a name I could do an internet search of.
"He'll arrive tomorrow morning."
I paused with a look of shock. "Does that mean you're leaving tomorrow?" No, that couldn't be true. `Think logically, he probably just wants to meet the nurse and make sure this person is a good fit.'
Jay nodded silently; the sadness was visible in his dark expressive eyes. "You have to believe me; I wouldn't do this to you if it wasn't an emergency."
"Emergency, really?" More likely whoever asked him to hop a plane on short notice CLAIMED it was an emergency. Either way, the very next day a male nurse arrived (he was only introduced to my father, but I had his emergency contact info) and Jay took a limo to the airport.
I sat at the kitchen table flipping through the packet of forms. The nurse, Michael, was a man in his late forties with several degrees in respiratory, neurology, and physical therapy. He was scheduled to come by the house for eight hours a day until Jay's return date (which was not listed.)
At first, everything was good. My father spent his days in the garden with his iPad. Sometimes he sketched using the stylus tool. His hand seemed to adapt well to the small plastic pen. (Especially after Jay found a way to attach it to the device's cover.) My father could create simple shapes, plants, animals, even moments in time. It was like a view into his soul. Other times I found him recording journal entries using some sort of built-in mic. I assumed he was also in contact with Jay. This was why I originally didn't tell him my father suffered multiple sleep seizures (for every night Jay was gone.) During the day, the nurse gave him pain medication via an IV line. (Or at least that's what I assumed he was doing.) At night I stayed by his side. I could handle keeping him warm, comforted. Everything would be fine.
I was on my phone most of the day texting back and forth with Jay. (Admittedly, while I should have been studying.) On the set of 'Untitled Sheena Sakara project,' he was (allegedly) bored out of his mind. While Jay was good friends with several cast and crew, the actual work was limited and he was there more to act as a wingman when they went out as a group to various local bars.
`Hey, J.'
`Hey, Marcus. So, fucking great to hear from you.'
`Really? Not having fun in Curacao?
`On set with fuck-all to do. What's a good time to start a video call?'
'Anytime is fine.' I stopped myself before hitting send. That wasn't the correct response. 'Give me a sec, I can check with the nurse.'
Jay's reply came right away. 'If your dad is asleep, I don't want to bother him. Just let me facetime with you.'
`Sure, why not. Let me get on the laptop.'
I opened the brand-new Dell laptop Jay bought for me and logged into my Facebook account just in time to catch the request. "Jay?" I double clicked on the accept button.
Jay was reclined on a beach, holding his phone directly above his head. "Hey, Marcus. Can you hear me?"
"Sort of," I replied taking in the view. "It might help if you weren't holding your phone like a selfie stick."
Jay sat up, holding the phone closer to his face. "Any better? the cell service is absolute shit."
"We could go back to texting."
"I missed seeing your face. You have your daddy's blue eyes."
"I missed you too." Bathed in the island sunlight, Jay's beauty was intoxicating. "So, how's your dad?" His voice drifted off. "Still losing weight? The nurse said something about a feeding tube."
Wait, what? This was news to me. "I don't think so. I mean, he's not that far gone." Did he already know about the seizures?
"Yeah." Jay nodded. The image buffered, as he lowered the phone, possibly to blink back tears. "You're right."
"It's fine, really," I attempted to say. "Worse case I can send my dad back to the hospital."
"Yeah, of course," Jay swallowed the emotion in his throat. "I don't know why the fuck I took this role. They already have a stunt coordinator from the Japanese cast."
"Jay?" I wanted to comfort him, to hold him, to beg him to come back to New York. If I asked, Jay would have come home on the next possible flight. And if there were no flights, I had no doubt he'd find a way to walk across the Atlantic Ocean. But there was the matter of the emergency. I was yet to get a straight answer as to what was so special about this job.
Jay put down the phone, allowing me a view of him searching through his pocket for a cigarette. "I haven't done shit. But I have to stick around for my scene." "I thought you were there as a fight choreographer." He had mentioned it in passing, and the photos of him with the stunt crew seemed to confirm this.
"No," Jay said with a groan. "I even got a fuck ton of lines to learn." He paused taking a long drag. "I miss you guys so much."
There were more tears; he was a big strong martial artist crying over the thought of his lover dying thousands of miles away, but there was nothing I could do. "Did you want to speak to my dad?"
"No," Jay said as he picked up the phone, gifting me a view of his eyes. "Just tell him..." he bit his lower lip, contemplating the perfect answer. "You tell your daddy I found some strong shit; we're talking meth laced with horse tranquilizers."
"That sounds safe."
"I'm going to try to sneak it home inside my asshole."
"So, he'd better stay alive. I get it."
"Thanks. I love you, kid." Jay took a lengthy drag off his cigarette, releasing a long stream of smoke from his lips. "Have you heard from my daughter?"
"Last I heard she was in Florida. Don't be surprised if you run into her." Actually, I had no idea where Curacao was in relation to Florida, but knowing Becca I could see her hijacking a yacht from an elderly sugar daddy.
Jay started to laugh. "Yeah, I can see that."
I was about to reply when suddenly a female voice shouted at Jay in (what I assume was) Japanese. "What was that?"
Jay groaned. "I'm needed on set, I got to go."
"Oh, okay, sure." The feed closed without so much as a goodbye. It was actually kind of creepy.
I went about the rest of my day. I tried to study, but after the first hour my mind was too cloudy to absorb anything. With my phone in hand, I went upstairs to Jay's weight training room, to work out with his equipment. I started out with my shirt on, deadlifting a humble amount of weight.
I wanted to be choked, I needed to feel pain. I sat up, looking to the weight bench. A smarter person would only attempt to work out on that apparatus with a spotter. Me, I would just have to try and test the limits of my strength. I placed fifty pounds of weight onto the bar and did a few dips. Easy enough. So, I added more.
I could lift sixty pounds for a few reps, so I tried eighty. Even a hundred pounds seemed too easy. I took off my shirt, rolling it into a blindfold. The refreshing cold air on my skin opened all of my senses. I added a little more weight; how much? I wasn't even sure. I was able to accomplish only three reps. The first sent bolts of intense pain through my arms and chest. The second gave me a sense of warmth like an extra-strong space heater. And the third?
I soon found myself with the bar on my neck. The pressure was terrifying. For a moment I was afraid of dying. `What is death other than the ultimate release?' I started to lose consciousness, but as my mind hit a plateau, I felt a high better than any drug. My body was suffering, but only through suffering can you truly feel alive. With a blast of raw powerful energy, I raised my shoulder, causing the bar to flip sideways off the bench.
Having touched death's cock, I masturbated until I fell asleep on my mentor's weight bench. I awoke to darkness and the distinct buzzing of a text message. 'What the?'
It was a link being sent over and over. With the titles consisting of random gibberish, it was clearly spam, or a virus. I tried to close the windows, but for whatever reason, the moment my finger grazed the URL, the page opened in a fraction of a second. `Holy fuck.'
It was a live stream, revealing a hotel room with bright white walls and a view of the moonlit beach. I continued to poke at the x button in the corner, hoping I would be allowed to leave of my own free will. Eventually, a prompt appeared, `Are you sure you want to leave the 956328651p36187 stream?"
I was about to click `yes' when I heard the sound of a shower turning off. The main event was about to begin.
Jay, still dripping wet lay on the bed. He had a towel around his waist, which he opened, revealing his cock. He was freshly shaved, with his flaccid shaft resting against his stomach.
"Are you ready, my love?" asked a digital voice. It sort of reminded me of the horror movie 'Saw.' (Was the voice about to ask him to play a game?)
"Ready as I'll ever be."