We Need a Daddy

We Need a Daddy Part 1

By Frank Lee

By the time Eddie and I moved in together last summer, my relationship with my dad had become so strained that the two of us either avoided each other completely or when together were almost constantly on the verge of trading punches. It all stemmed from his fury at my being gay. I never should have told him in the first place. Coming out may be the smart thing to do for most guys like me and I guess it's what experts advise, but it sure turned out to be a disaster for me, at least with my father. When I discussed it with my mom, she surprised me by her calm reaction. She told me she already knew, which really floored me because I had just figured it out myself. She could not have been more reassuring, and the way she dealt with it made me feel really good.

I was lulled by her positive reaction into thinking Dad would also understand and tell me he still loved me no matter what. I should have known better. We had never gotten along well going back to way before he found out he had a gay son. I got good grades, lettered in two sports every year of high school, and was on track to go to college, maybe even on scholarship. But nothing I did was good enough for that bastard. He was a stranger -- a hostile one -- from as far back as I can remember. And the thing that really annoyed me most is that he never even tried. Long before I even knew the meaning of the words, much less realized that I was one of them, he would delight in calling me "faggot" or "sissy." It was like he wanted to hate me but had no good reason so he made up one: I was not manly enough. The son of a bitch never had time to play catch with me, but if I dropped a ball playing catch with others or missed a shot on the basketball court when he happened to be watching, he'd say something like, "No faggots allowed here; you'd better learn to do better than that." I know it takes two to get along, but I never was able to let go of my resentment. Still can't.

Anyway, my closest friend from the last two years of grade school, all through middle school and high school, right up to this very moment, has been Eddie. Let me tell you about Eddie. Our personalities are similar but different enough to be complementary. He is more outgoing, mixes with people more readily and is a slightly better athlete. I don't tell him that. Don't want him to get a swelled head. But he knows that I know it. I am a little smarter than he, and he knows it, even though he has never actually said so. When he first moved into my neighborhood and was the new kid in fifth grade, I was immediately drawn to Eddie like to a magnet. It took me a few weeks, but I finally invited him over to my house to play one Saturday, and from then on we were inseparable, doing homework together in my room or his, going to movies together, sharing a tent on Boy Scout camping trips, spending most of our free time with each other. I even went to the shore one summer with his family. I got along pretty well with his parents, certainly better than with my own father, but my focus was always on Eddie, not them or his little sister.

It never occurred to me in those days that this infatuation was love, but looking back, I now realize that's what was going on. Oh, one other point I need to mention: Eddie is totally gorgeous. When we started going to the mixers and dances, I'd stand back in admiring awe watching the girls flock to him. They were all over him. I had my share of female admirers too, but Eddie was far more of a catch. With his blond, curly hair, sky-blue eyes and dimpled smile, he was a dead ringer for Christopher Atkins. He's the guy from the old movie, "Blue Lagoon," with Brooke Shields, where they're naked, sliding down a waterfall. Except that Eddie is cuter. His looks have only gotten better over the years. Eddie is the kind of guy you only wish you could be one-tenth as handsome as. But it is more than that. Whenever I'd catch a glimpse of him after not seeing him for a while, my whole body would shiver as though his spirit took control of me. Maybe that's why we have always been so close. We are kindred spirits.

In high school, we were team mates on the football and track teams. He got the starting quarterback slot in sophomore year and held onto it for three years. I played defensive line backer, getting into about half the games and sometimes starting. He ran the quarter mile, and I sprinted and ran the hurdles. In the beginning I didn't think much about my gut attraction to him physically, but over time I began to realize I was actually lusting for him. That was why I wanted to be with him all the time. Soon enough, early in ninth grade, my stiffening cock confirmed that this feeling was sexual. I would sometimes get a hard-on when we were together, but more often when I thought about him while I was going to sleep at night or other times we were apart. I don't think he suspected anything back then because he wanted to be with me too. It wasn't just me pushing and pulling us together. We would always talk about this girl or that girl and the size of their tits, never anything even hinting at guys liking other guys. After gym class and football practice, when I saw him naked in the showers, I was mesmerized by his body, the way his muscular, curvy butt cheeks stuck out behind him in symmetrical perfection, the way his beautiful cock and balls flopped around when he would lean back against the shower wall, swaying from side to side and letting the water cascade down his chest and over his pubes. I usually showered before he did and was dried off and dressed by the time he finished, but I'd position myself where I could watch him in the shower, and then I'd linger in the locker room shooting the shit with him so I could see him naked as long as possible, toweling off and dressing.

Even though we were best buddies and shared a lot of innermost thoughts, ambitions and fears, I was scared of saying anything about how much he turned me on. As it turns out, my fear was kind of idiotic. Or, I should say, our fear. He was going through the exact same feelings. We both worried about how the other would react instead of sharing what was actually a mutual attraction. We could have become lovers two or three years before we did, when we first started realizing we were secretly lusting for the other and then when we both, around the same time, realized that we were gay. I still kick myself for forfeiting those additional years we could have spent together intimately.

What triggered our opening up about it to each other was my big blunder at home with my father. He was being such a jerk, and it got worse and worse till I just had to get away. I thought about packing up and taking a bus to San Francisco or New York. I cornered Eddie one day toward the end of our senior year, right after track practice, and told him the whole story, my physical attraction to him, that I thought my lust was turning into love, the blow-up with my father, my despair and wanting to run away. I had promised myself when I started out that I wasn't going to cry, but I let myself go and sobbed like a baby. He listened without saying a word. I kept watching for any sign of disapproval. There was none. When I finished, he stroked my neck tenderly, took my hands away from my cheeks and, smiled broadly. Holding my head directly in front of his, he blurted out: "Chip, I'm gay too. I'm gay! We're both gay. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, man."

I couldn't believe it. What a complete relief! I stopped my blubbering and we stared at each other for a moment. Then he pulled my lips to his, and we kissed for a long time. It was heavenly. I mean I heard an entire army of trumpeters, stars flew across the sky like a Fourth of July fireworks finale. I didn't care if anybody saw us. Suddenly what seemed like the whole world crashing in on me had become my real world opening up for me, and here I was with the one guy I wanted to share this new world with.

We decided to take a year off before going on to college. His home situation was not much better than mine, so he jumped at my suggestion that we get an apartment together, work for a while and save up so we don't have to mortgage our future with student loans. I was a little worried about how well we would get along, whether we would get on each other's nerves living together, two very young bachelors, neither one with many domestic home-making skills. But that was the only concern. It did not bother either of us that former classmates, might gossip. "Fuck 'em" was our attitude. Unwinding with a six-pack after a long work week, we'd expand that: "Bring the best looking guys in here and fuck 'em till they can't walk." Then we would dissolve in giddy laughter.

Our love life is great. Being young, hung and always full of cum, we have sex of one sort or another just about every night, sometimes twice or more. We spend Saturdays and Sundays to around noon cuddled in bed. If we didn't have chores around the house and errands, we'd never get out of bed. We are both sort of versatile, but honestly, Eddie is the consummate fucker, and I am very happy to be his fuckee most of the time. We both decided to keep our relationship closed, at least for the time being, so we don't bother with condoms. I love to suck on his big fat dick and get it all slicked up so he can plow my hole and I can feel that manhood pumping in and out of me. We both enjoy rimming. Words fail me when I try to describe how pleasurable it is to have Eddie's tongue flicking my butt hole and pushing inside. The moist pressure and the sensation of his tongue working its way deep into my hole send electricity-like flashes coursing down my legs to my toes. Eddie loves to see my body reacting to his lovemaking. He'll see my toes curling up behind him as he licks my ass and wrap his hands around my feet so he can experience my sensation for himself. God, is he a good lover! When he has my hole loosened up enough to stick two or three fingers inside, he'll kneel up behind me and rub that juicy hard pecker head all over my cheeks and leave a big smear of pre-cum. Then he'll stab into my butt hole and come to a hard landing way inside me. The slamming sensation against my gut always gives me an intense rush. The first two or three times he fucked me I came within minutes of being impaled. I wanted the feeling to last a lot longer, so I have worked on holding off from cumming, and he has worked on timing his thrusts -- slowing down, speeding up, pausing - so we can go on and on and on a long time before finishing. It's been one very sweet, uninterrupted honeymoon. Maybe we are late bloomers, both being 18, but we are learning fast.

We have been so happy together that I sometimes wonder if it is all a dream, if this kind of active sex life is destined to fizzle out. One day in the middle of March I nearly had a cow when Eddie said something that made me think those nightmare fears were coming to pass. We were sitting on the couch in our underwear, watching TV. Eddie said, "Something is missing." Oh, God, I thought. Here it comes.

"What do you mean," I asked. "Aren't you happy? What are we missing?"

"Well," he said slowly, "I am very happy. I don't want you to think this has anything to do with you or the way we make love. Correction. It does actually have to do with you, in fact with both of us, but it is not anything wrong, so don't worry."

"Hey, out with it," I said. "What's up? I can't stand this fucking suspense."

"OK," he said, and continued, choosing his words carefully.

"You know how we both grew up with shaky father-son relationships. Yours was probably rougher than mine, but mine was no picnic."

"Well, I hate the guy, if that helps define the issue," I said.

"OK, I guess that's the way I feel too," he said. "And that is just my point. I feel cheated, as though I grew up without a real father and instead had an overseer and a mother as parents. Shit, the guy never got off my back, always criticizing. What few words we exchanged were him ordering me around or forbidding me to do something I wanted to do. He took me to the zoo once, and that was it. Nothing you could call father-son bonding activities ever. He hardly ever came to the games, which I guess is true of your father too. At least I never saw him there."

"Oh, he did come to the games at first," I said. "The first three or four in sophomore year he sat in the stands scowling. When I'd get home he'd tell me everything I did wrong. After that he never bothered to show up. So yes, they are both pricks. We grew up with non-fathers. Is that supposed to be big news?"

"Hey, don't get testy," he said. "I realize this is not a pleasant subject, but I think we need to confront it, confront this big hole in our lives and maybe do something about it."

"I'm all ears," I said. "If you can figure out how to 'do something about it,' I'd like to know. But if you are cooking up a double assassination, leave me out. Those lethal injections don't agree with my system."

Eddie laughed. He could tell I was loosening up from my initial sour disposition at having to deal with memories of my father.

"Here's what I think," continued Eddie. "We need a daddy."

That stopped me short. As I thought about it, I realized that Eddie was onto something brilliant here. We both missed out on what most boys have growing up, a nurturing father-son relationship. Why not make up for it now? Except that now the nurturing would be suited to our being two perpetually horny, good-looking (why be modest?) guys who can never get enough sex. Besides, Eddie once told me of a fantasy wish to make it with an older man, and that idea had resonated with me immediately.

"We do need a daddy," I said. "But who? Where? How? Neither of us knows much about the gay scene, let alone the older gay scene."

"I have some ideas," Eddie said. "You know, I have some very favorable memories of our days at Ridgemont."

He was referring to the high school we both attended. I began to get an idea where he was headed.

"Does your favorable memory involve Mr. Collins, the soccer coach?" I asked. A big grin broke out on his face.

"You're a fucking mind reader," he said. "Did you have a crush on him too?"

"Big time," I said. "I would not have called it that then, but looking back, that is what it was, a crush."

Rod Collins, a math and P.E. teacher and coach, was one of the nicest faculty members at Ridgemont and a favorite among students, always willing to listen to their problems. He was also tall, dark and very handsome. He was nearing retirement when we were in school and might now be retired. One thing I liked about him was that he never seemed to be judgmental. He treated everyone the same, whether he had them in his class or on his team or not. I didn't think of him as a "father figure" back then, but when Eddie mentioned his name, I thought the description fit him well.

"You know he wasn't married," said Eddie.

"Hmmm," I said. "No, I didn't know that. Let's look him up and invite him over."

"Bingo!" said Eddie with a laugh.

Our conversation about the need for a daddy took place late in the day, so we started our quest the next morning. My job at the supermarket is pretty restrictive, with timed breaks, not much chance for personal phone calls, and people always looking over me. Eddie works in an office as a computer handyman and has more leeway, so he volunteered to do the research. When we got home that evening he said we were set up with a dinner date the following week at our house. He said Mr. Collins remembered both of us favorably and seemed happy about renewing contact.

"When I told him we were taking a year off before college and were living together, he said, 'Oh, that sounds like fun,' which I thought was an interesting comment," Eddie said.

"Very interesting," I replied. "Maybe we hit pay dirt with our first candidate for a daddy."

That night we when we crawled into bed, Eddie said he wanted me to fuck him for a change.

Maybe it was the soon-to-be realized prospect of bringing an older guy into our lives. Whatever the reason, I did not object. The idea of screwing him, of having those adorable buns caressing my shaft, was a huge turn-on. Eddie looked over and noticed the tent pole rising from my groin under the sheet.

"Wow," he said. "Looks like 'Little Chip' is warming up to the idea of getting into my hole."

I was amazed at how hard my cock got before we even started making out. He pulled the sheet gently toward him, exposing my rigid manhood, which was now as hard as I can ever remember. It was twitching up and down, pointing at my face then flopping on my belly then springing up again like a flag pole, the purple head throbbing, the veins all swollen along the shaft. Pre-cum formed a big bead at the piss hole and slowly drooled down the head, followed by another and another. Eddie turned onto his side so he could stare at this spectacle straight on. It had us both mesmerized.

"God, I just want to watch that thing dance and ooze," he said. "It's gorgeous."

When somebody compliments my looks or sexiness it is a huge turn-on, so his remark only served to make me still more excited, if that were possible. He knew I loved this teasing, holding off on foreplay, letting our bodies get fired up to a crescendo of lust just by being in each other's presence and drinking in each other's beauty. As he brushed the hairs on the side of my thigh with the back of his wrist and kept his eyes glued on my dancing joy stick, his own cock stiffened up too. He pulled the sheet off his own torso, making his hard cock spring out in its own little dance and unveiling the magnificent package I'd grown to crave. There his cock was in all its glory, curved a little to the left and toward his stomach, stiff as an iron railroad spike. I reached for it, but Eddie pushed my hand back.

"Let's just lie still and admire each other's tools a while before putting them to work," he said.

I grinned and moved my hand up to his face and pulled his lips to mine. As we kissed, the idea of Mr. Collins between us flashed through my mind and I felt a renewed surge of passion. I turned on my side to face him, and my ultra hard wet prick helmet traced a path along his leg, leaving a trail of sticky goo clinging to the hair. I ran my thumb through the clear liquid on his leg and drew my hand up to his mouth. Gazing into my eyes, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to scrape the pre-cum off my thumb. It was a brief but amazingly erotic gesture, and as he did it both our cocks popped up to fully perpendicular stiffness. Now there was no stopping me from taking the matter into hand, specifically, getting a good grip on his engorged manhood. Eddie's cock is so thick when really excited like now that I can't even get my hand all the way around it. But I have fun trying. I was determined to get his hot poker into an even more intense state of arousal so it would stay rock hard while I was poking his innards like a battering ram. Cupping my hand along the underside of his shaft, with my palm caressing the biggest, thickest vein on the underside, I started stroking up and down the entire length, pausing at the top of each cycle to give the head an extra squeeze then rub the piss hole with my thumb. One time I ran my thumb nail across the hole and felt a shockwave emanate from his body. Our hips were pressed together, and it was as though the current passed right from his butt cheek to mine. I looked at his face and saw his eyes bulge out and his jaw drop to his chest.

"Oh yeah, babe," he whimpered. "Do that again, only harder."

The reaction emboldened me.

"So you like a little pain?" I said. "How's this."

I pushed down so hard on his throbbing helmet that he squirmed in agony and twisted his torso away from me.

"A bit much," he replied weakly.

As he turned back to face me he cupped my balls in his fist and pulled down on the sac, making a circle of his thumb and forefinger and trapping my quivering nuts in a taut balloon of scrotum skin. Holding them tight like that he brought his sweet lips down to my groin and swallowed my prick whole, choking when my cock head filled his throat. He started sucking, his lips firmly locked around my meat and kept it up in a steady, relentless rhythm until I got so close to cumming I had to pull his head off. My cock popped out of his mouth like a baby bottle nipple just when the baby has started to get used to it. And like a baby deprived of a bottle, Eddie whined aloud and tried to get it back in his mouth.

"Hold on," I said. "You've got me right up to the edge and I'm gonna pop my load if you keep it up. I want to spill my seed inside your butt and watch some drain out of you and suck out the rest. So don't make me lose it too soon."

"Do it," said Eddie. "You're making me so fucking hot. I want you inside me now."

He rolled over on his side and brought his ass right up to my slick, raging boner so the pink lips of his hole were lined up with my cock head exactly. All I had to do was thrust my groin forward a tiny bit and I was inside that magic chute. Oh, what a feeling. He pushed backward to envelop the entire shaft and started pumping as steadily with his ass as he had just been doing with his mouth. Somehow I managed to muster up more stamina than ever and was able to last a long time like that, him shoving his ass back and me thrusting forward in a perfectly coordinated rhythm. We switched to a hands and knees doggie fuck without disconnecting our private parts, and then I really laid into it with all I had. If there's a heaven, I was there at that moment, and I wanted the moment to last forever. Finally, I sensed the unstoppable churning in my balls, and my jizz spurted forcefully up his butt in an unending series of huge volleys, followed by a whole slew of powerful after-shocks. I could feel my cum oozing out around my shaft. I was thoroughly enjoying the tight grip of the love tunnel in which my cock was nested in such a perfect fit. I wanted to delay exiting just yet, so I grabbed him around the chest and gave him a couple more slam dunks right up to my groin bone. Then I let my gradually relaxing fuck muscle slowly slide out of his wet hole and bent down to suck the rest of my drooling cum out of it. I turned him on his back so I could suck his cock and take in another load, this time his freshly churned batch boiling up from his swelling balls. He was so horned up from the fucking I gave him that he lasted only a minute or so before giving up his man seed through that thick fire hose of his. It shot in eight huge gushes to the back of my throat and down my gullet. I swallowed the warm juice and slowly disengaged my lips from his still throbbing shaft and gently kissed the top of his dick head. I lay on him, chest to chest, nipples to nipples, and kissed him, pushing my tongue way into his mouth, under his tongue, along his teeth, all over the insides of his mouth. I rolled off him, and we fell asleep in hardly more than a blink.

The next day I went shopping for the meal we would serve on our big night. It was to be steak and potatoes, which we had concluded would make the most macho impression for our daddy.

Eddie's older brother Jim's friend Art Rooney works at a wine and beer place, and my last stop before heading home was to visit him in the alley behind the store and pick up our pre-arranged two bottles of Merlot to go with the steak. I should have given more thought to using Art. He and I have a bit of history, predating Eddie. We played around some in sophomore year on weekends when his parents were away. It was never anything serious, but I should have thought about the risk of meeting with him again in these circumstances. He was never quite over our relationship. During our junior and senior years he'd asked me several times if I thought we should get together seriously and try having a steady relationship. I tried to be considerate of his feelings, so I never made it as clear as I should have that we had no future. He kept entertaining the thought that we might be a match, and, in truth, I found him very attractive with his rough-hewn good looks, so I was never all that anxious to blow him off. When I got to the alley, he had the wine ready in a paper bag, and I gave him the money. As I went to take the bag, he held onto it and grinned.

"How about a blow job for your old pal," said Art. "That can be my tip."

He always was a brazen son of a bitch, so I shouldn't have been surprised by his blunt approach.

"Hey, you know I'm with Eddie now," I said, a bit annoyed. "We are exclusive with each other."

Art reached down to my crotch and grabbed a handful of the boner I had sprung in the car while thinking about the evening ahead.

"Listen," he said. "I'm not asking to fuck you like before. Just suck me off quick. I am ready to shoot a load. Do it for old time's sake. I can feel down here that you want to."

I had to admit I was getting turned on by Art's sexy body, bewitching smile and the nine-incher I well remembered jammed up my ass. I noticed it now tenting out his bright floral-pattern board shorts and tried not to lick my lips too eagerly. He was revving up my engine just standing there in his torso-fitting T-shirt and saggy shorts, still holding onto the wine. I let go of the bag, and he put it down on the sidewalk while I loosened his belt and fished his ultra stiff pecker from inside his pants. Man, he wasn't joking when he said his pump was primed. As I pulled out the shaft, the damp head moistened my fingers, and I reached them up to his lips to let him lick the pre-cum. It truly was like old times, holding that hot, thick cock and about to taste it again.

"All right, since you are doing us a favor," I said. "But only this one time. After this, please don't expect me to stray again just because I still am turned on being with you."

Art nodded a "whatever" nod, put the palm of his hand on the back of my head and silently guided my mouth to its target. I dropped to my knees and stuffed his horse cock way down my throat. All it took was about a dozen tight-lipped suctions up and down that enormous shaft, and the horned-up store clerk who used to be my classmate was unloading pent-up buckets of cum down my insides. I didn't lose a drop. The cum that didn't go down my throat sat on my tongue long enough for me to snowball some into his mouth.

It was a hot few minutes, but I immediately regretted it, feeling I had betrayed the love of my life, Eddie, no matter what the excuse, and vowing to tell him when I got home ... or at least eventually I picked up the bag, shook his hand and headed home with the groceries and wine, not very proud of myself but determined not to let this diversion ruin our evening.

Eddie was a little agitated because I was out longer than planned, but he didn't give me any sign of suspicion. I fully intended to tell him about my indiscretion at some point. Things were moving along quickly, and I decided to put it off. We were now fully occupied in preparing for the arrival of our daddy.

I put down everything and took him in my arms for a deep tongue kiss.

"I'm starting the potatoes," said Eddie. "And I have a special plan for how we serve them, which you will see when I mash them. All we'll need is two hard cocks, so you can guess what we'll be doing."

He asked me to get the salad ready then put the potatoes on to boil and lit the grill. Besides the salad I took care of setting the table and straightening the living room. Mr. Collins was due in 45 minutes, and we were trying to save ourselves for him, so we kept our hands off each other except for some anal play. When we were finished with what we could do in advance, Eddie shoved my favorite butt plug up my bung hole and twisted it around a few times, making my dick spring hard. I fingered his hole, and he too threw a nice stiff boner. We played a few minutes then showered and got dressed to greet Mr. Collins.

We spent the last few minutes discussing how best to transform our former faculty mentor into the daddy we wanted him to be. This was not an insignificant concern. We had no idea how our proposal would go down. Yes, he seemed intrigued on the phone by our living together and probably knew we were a gay couple. And still he agreed to come over. Yes, he himself was most likely gay, so we were comfortable taking the minor risk that he would be shocked and hostile about our proposal. But all the uncertainties paled against our palpable excitement about what we hoped and thought lay ahead.

Before we knew it the doorbell was ringing.

(To be continued)