Daddy Issues

by Seth King

  By the way, his dick itself is…wondrous, really. It’s reasonably long, but better than that, it’s the thickest penis I have ever seen. I haven’t bottomed many times yet, but everyone tells me girth is more important than length. If that’s true, I could have a world of fun with that thing…

  “Fuck,” he breathes, and as I watch, slowly he strokes his cock a little. My pulse quickens and my face gets numb as he runs his fingers from his base, all the way to his tip, then back again. Someone could walk in at any minute but I don’t care. I want to pursue this. “I knew this would happen…” he says.

  “You feel it, too?”

  “I feel everything. Too much.”

  “Nothing is ever too much,” I exhale, watching him. “How does it really feel for you, though? I’m overwhelmed.”

  He bites his lip.

  “Answer,” I say.

  “It makes me feel…alive, I guess,” he says.

  “Alive?”

  “Yes. And nobody has made me feel alive in a long time. I just think you might make me feel a little too alive, considering the circumstances…”

  “Stop,” I say. “We’re adults. It’s cool.”

  “How drunk are you?” he asks, his eyes changing.

  “Tipsy, but not wasted. Why?”

  He stands taller. “Because I want to do things to you, and I want to make sure you’re in control of yourself first.”

  My heart stops. “Things?”

  “Get in the stall,” he orders, and I shiver and walk into the stall at the end of the room. This happening quickly, but somehow I trust it. When I turn around, he’s right up against me, closing the door behind him.

  “Fuck,” I moan as he presses his body against me. His breath dances on my neck with the force and beauty of an August thundershower. I moan again, and Robert gasps.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re just really beautiful, Eliot.”

  I toss a smile at the ceiling. “Okay, I could get used to this. Put your hands on me now.”

  Finally he touches me. I’m wearing an expensive flannel, and my left nipple is exposed. He leans in, pushes the fabric away with his chin, and then does something that blows my mind: in one swift movement, he licks an entire circle around my nipple, then wraps his teeth around it and bites me.

  My whole body contracts, and I fall into him.

  “Fuck,” I pant. “Fuck, Robert. I want you so badly. I also think we’re going to hell.”

  He ignores me. He’s just staring down at my chest like he’s baffled or confused or something.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re just…you’re beautiful, Eliot. And this is the strangest thing in the world…but I want you, too.”

  My whole body shudders. More than anything I’ve ever craved, I want that beard on my neck, I want his big arms holding me, I want his chest hair against my own chest…

  He swallows hard. “First, before I do anything, tell me something.”

  “Yes? Anything.”

  “Way back when…how did you see me?”

  “I didn’t,” I say with a quick roll of my eyes. “No offense, but…you were kind of a nonentity. Don’t even worry about that.”

  His eyes clear. “Perfect. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. And are you okay?” he asks carefully. “Are you…is this cool with you?”

  “You’re cool with me,” I breathe. “I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. I barely ever knew you.”

  “Fuck,” he sighs.

  “What?”

  He pauses. Then he seems to decide something, and his posture straightens. “We have limited time,” he says. “Should we progress?”

  “Of course,” I gasp, and he smiles.

  “Tell me, then. Has anyone ever fingered your prostate?”

  Again, I shudder from toenail to earlobe. This man is so sexy I can’t handle it – but this is so reckless.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Have they?”

  “No, and they’re not going to now. We’re in public, anyone could come into the stall…”

  “We’re alone now. This place isn’t crowded. And I want to do a lot fucking more than that, but I figure this is a good place to start.”

  “But I…but we…”

  “Yes?”

  “But I am…out of excuses. You’re right. I’ve never felt like this. If we don’t find some way to let off steam, I’m going to lose control at any minute.”

  “Good,” he says, spitting on his thumb, and making my dick so hard I feel like it’s going to break at the seams. My pants are already mostly undone, and I pull them down lower as he peers down at me. Fuck, I can’t believe my (technical) former stepdad is about to enter me, but then again, I can. This was going to happen since the moment our eyes got stuck in one another’s – we were an inevitability.

  He yanks down my jeans further with one hand, ignoring my cock, then reaches around. Our eyes lock, my body lights on fire, and then he gets closer, closer, closer…

  He stops at my hole as I breathe onto his face. He inhales. And then his finger is inside me.

  “Ahhh,” I sigh.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Give me a minute,” I whisper.

  “Why?”

  “Because I could literally come right now. Or…very soon. I’m tight – no sex lately – and your finger is huge.”

  “Just enjoy it,” he says. “I haven’t even touched your G spot yet.”

  “My what?”

  “God, you’ve been dating twenty-somethings for too long...”

  He moves his finger inside me, and my body is rocked by a warm, thrilling feeling that fills me and transforms me. Everything in me is focusing on that one spot, that one finger…

  “Robert,” I say through gritted teeth. “I can’t handle this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. Everything combined…it’s a lot.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “Well I’m about to come. Already.”

  “Damn. We’ll have to-”

  But it’s too late. The sensation of his thick finger is too much, and I hear myself moan as my hole starts to contract around his finger. My body twitches, and I lean back my head and spurt all over the front of his shirt. When I regain control, I look down and smile a little.

  “Wow,” he smirks. “Guess you were-”

  But he’s cut off by the sound of the bathroom door opening.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  He drops me backward, and I pull up my pants as it dawns on me – I just hooked up with Robert. In public.

  I look around, but there’s nowhere to go. So we huddle in silence against the tile wall, panting. I can’t read his expression, but he doesn’t look happy. And he’s covered in my orgasm…

  After an agonizing silence, I hold my breath and glance under the stall. Then cool relief washes over me. It’s someone in cowboy boots, meaning it’s not David.

  Still, this is insane. It’s beyond insane. We can’t be doing this. It’s wrong. It’s weird.

  And it is so, so sexy.

  “Are you okay?” he asks after the intruder leaves.

  “Yes. No. I mean…I don’t know. That was hot. Like, beyond hot. Like, the hottest thing anyone’s ever done to me – that level of hot. But…”

  “But…what? You’re an adult. What’s the problem?”

  I can’t think of how to put anything into words, because he has a point. We’re in control here, and we’re grown. So instead of responding, I start pulling up my pants so I can get out of there.

  “What’s the deal?” he asks, but I don’t respond. Not to use gallows humor, but Robert dealt with my mother’s stubbornness for years. He should be prepared to deal with mine, too.

  On the way out, I pass a group of drunk girls who are laughing and chatting as they wait for their Uber.

  “Happy fucking Father’s Day!” one of them yells, and I freeze.

  “Hey,” I ask, “what
’d she say?”

  “It’s after midnight on Sunday morning,” her friend says. “It’s officially Father’s Day, hoes! Be sure to texts your dads in the morning!”

  I turn to look for Robert’s reaction as he exits the bar – but when he passes me, he is laughing so hard, he doesn’t even stop.

  Part II

  Smolder

  Eliot Prince

  I’m at breakfast with my mom the morning after the most bizarre night of my life when she suddenly looks me in the eye, which she only ever does when something is wrong. And something is wrong – we’re seated near Great Aunt Marjorie, my family’s most colorful member, who is devoutly Catholic, and also full of conspiracy theories about how all the teens in our family are either addicted to heroin and/or living secret double lives as prostitutes.

  The other thing that’s wrong is that last night I got fingered by my mom’s ex-husband. But the biggest problem is that, post-craziness, I don’t feel bad at all – and I want to explore this thing further. Maybe all the way.

  “What is it?” I ask my mom. “Still hungover? Or did Aunt Marjorie accuse you of being on heroin again?”

  “No, that was yesterday. Ugh, remember in the Outer Banks, when she left me that weird note on our car, saying my bikini was too small? She’s such a nightmare. But anyway, I…I want to talk to you.”

  “Okay?”

  She inhales. After all these years, my mom is still so hard to figure out. Our relationship has always been…interesting. We either talk on the phone every day, or she gets mad at me and pulls away for a month at a time. She’s very hot-and-cold like that. After I came out to her, there was a period when we had to get to know each other again – she said she had no idea and never suspected anything, so it was like I became a different person to her overnight. We’re probably still recovering from that, to be honest. Or maybe we never did at all, and I’m fooling myself.

  There’s one more weird part to all the Robert stuff, and it’s probably the weirdest. My mom was always childish when it came to her relationship with my dad, and when the court arbitrator asked me who I wanted to spend more time with, I knew she would be crushed – but I just couldn’t live with her. She would sometimes forget to feed me, or sometimes when I’d have friends sleep over, she’d leave us alone and go out to dinner until eleven or twelve, and I’d be mortified. So when I chose to live with my dad, she got mad at me instead of understanding that I was simply making a mature decision. She eventually cut me out of her life for a year.

  So when I say I never knew Robert, it’s because she forcibly kept me away from him. She’d call me and drop hints that she was having an amazing pool party at her apartment complex, and then make it known that I wasn’t invited. These tactics went on and on until she had an emotional breakdown when I was thirteen and was finally forced to grow up. But the subject remains touchy to this day. She never forgave me for choosing my dad, and I never really forgave her for acting like such a petulant fucking child, either. Half the time I felt like the roles were reversed, and I was the one tasked with parenting her. At her best, she’s still like more of a sloppy, much-older sister than a mom to me.

  “Eliot,” she finally asks, very carefully. “How comfortable are you having Robert here?”

  I get totally tense. “What? Why would I care about that?”

  “Because…because, well, you know how tumultuous the whole thing was, how heartbroken I was when he walked out the door…”

  “You mean when you kicked him out of the door? I remember enough to know that. You’re the one who filed for divorce.”

  “I mean, true,” she shrugs. “But it was bound to happen! He…wasn’t into me. And you know how your Grandma Sara was, too. She loved him, and would roll over in her grave – err, urn – if she knew I had him banned from here. For whatever reason, she wanted him here.”

  “Mom,” I sigh, as a little tingle runs up my spine. Even talking about him makes me want to smile. What does that mean? “We’ve talked about this before, remember? I’m totally neutral on the whole thing. It’s none of my business. He had his own issues going on, issues he had to deal with. I’m totally fine with him being here.”

  “Good,” she finally says, dark hair gleaming in the filtered sun. We look absolutely nothing alike; everyone assumes she’s a sister or aunt. Our faces are similarly shaped from certain angles, but that’s it. Without that, I would’ve sworn I came from someone else. “Honestly, I was a little thrown that Sara was so insistent on him being here, but we all know she loved him.” She squints. “Actually, she told me she knew he was gay from the first meeting, but she wanted him to figure it out for himself.” She shakes her head at nothing. “If only I knew sooner than I did. But how was I supposed to know? He wasn’t fruity, he seemed so masculine, I never suspected anything until it was too late…”

  I flinch, but I don’t say anything. For the progress she has made, my mom still isn’t perfect when it comes to dealing with this issue. Being gay is a constant study in staying graceful when your family members disappoint you, because nobody will ever be perfect. But I know people who were sent out of their homes when they came out, or even worse, so to have my mom be mostly accepting, and just slip up here and there – it’s more than I even deserve.

  But this time I speak up, for whatever reason. “Mom. I know you’re learning, but ‘fruity’ is an…awkward word to use.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She breathes. “What else do you remember of him, anyway? You were still coming over sometimes, at that point. That was before I…well, went dark on you.”

  “Um. Robert? He was just sort of…there. I didn’t notice much. I do remember the first year, when you were happier. We were cordial, I guess.”

  “Well that lasted five minutes. Then he moved into that hotel on the east side. I was devastated.”

  I tilt my head. “Mom. I heard you were dating within weeks.”

  “Fine. Inwardly devastated.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, Robert’s cool.” Then I decide to test the waters. “In fact, we’ve…we’ve been catching up.”

  She stiffens. “Catching up?”

  “Yeah, you know, since we never talked when you were married.”

  “Yeah, because he was too busy having erectile dysfunction…” she says under her breath, and then I stop breathing. “Oh my God,” she says, “I never said that.”

  At first I want to ignore it, because picturing them having relations is disgusting on many levels.

  But at the same time, it would be a huge relief to find out they never officially did anything…

  “What?” I ask. “You mean you never…it was never consummated?”

  “Nope,” she shrugs. “Never. Well, not in any real way, at least. That’s what happens when you marry a gay guy, I guess.”

  I feel the weight of Jupiter lift off my shoulders. So he never even had sex with my mom. This changes so much.

  “What’d you do on the honeymoon, then?” I ask, digging deeper when I should be backing away. This is a mess. I don’t need to get involved.

  But at the same time, all I can see in my head are his eyes.

  She shrugs. “Watch the Bravo network and drink Corona Light in the pool? God, I should’ve known by his love for Real Housewives of OC…anyway, I’m glad you got to figure yourself out before you ever had to go through something like that. It was so awkward.”

  I cringe. There is so much I am still figuring out. Exiting the closet is just the first step of a whole new life. And I have a feeling Robert just threw me the curve ball of ten lifetimes…

  But I still try to play it cool.

  “Just…be nice to him, Mom,” I say. “I doubt he has any other family unit like this. Didn’t you say his own family wasn’t so cool with his sexuality?”

  “No,” she says. “I never told you that. How’d you know? Did he tell you that?”

  I catch myself. “Oh, uh, just a guess, you know how the olden times were.”

  “Olden times? Ho
ney, we are forty-two.”

  “Mom! Just be nice to him, is all I ask.”

  “Fine, fine. How are things with David?”

  I pretend to be exasperated, but I’m glad we’re off Robert. “They’re…things. I think I’m over it. Every time I look at him I just see the betrayal.”

  “Aw, Halvard. It’s your call. Just…don’t make any rash decisions at a funeral, okay?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means what I said. Don’t make any crazy decisions.”

  Too late, I tell myself as I think of her own ex-husband’s fat, throbbing cock, and gulp.

  “Sure. I’ll be sure to stay sane.” I get up and kiss her on the forehead. “And please don’t ever use my first name again. You know how I feel about it. See you tonight.”

  “Oh,” she calls over her shoulder. “And call your dad today. You know, for the holiday.”

  “Sure thing,” I say.

  And this time, I am the one who can’t stop laughing.

  ~

  Back in my suite, I open the French doors and look out at the mountains rolling into the horizon. I smile and exhale. These Carolina hills contain the happiest times of my life – every summer was spent hiking through the ravines to find waterfalls and caves, one week every autumn was spent driving around looking at ridges bleeding the color of rust, every Christmas was spent skiing at the local resorts. It’ll kill me inside to see the family sell it, but we all know what happens when the head of a family dies – the vultures descend, and the assets are chopped up like apple pie. This place will probably have another person’s name on the deed within the month.

  I turn back to David, who is reading the news on his Kindle Fire. The main thing that’s changed since our breakup is that our hookups have gotten more sporadic. I just can’t see him the same anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken him back at all. He broke an invisible cord between us, a line we both felt but neither of us could touch – trust. And now I can’t see anything but the betrayal when I look at him. Fuck, I probably shouldn’t have even let him come on this trip, but I thought I’d be breaking his heart if I said no. Little did I know I’d just be breaking my own heart…and cock-blocking myself from Robert…