The Right Choice

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2005 by Barton.

Illustration of The Right Choice

There was a Godawful racket coming from my garage. It sounded like a cross between a group of guitars getting smashed to pieces and a drum set being played by an overenthusiastic little kid. I wasn't upset. I had sounded just as bad once upon a time.

I stopped the car outside the garage and entered by the side door. Brian was playing his guitar with a lot of enthusiasm and only an ear that was practiced could recognize as a modicum of real talent. Brian would one day be a talented artist. Now was the time of him and his buddies making a loud racket. He'd get better. That is, I hoped I wasn't so out of touch with the music business that he was already good at what he was playing!

Brian looked around. "Hey, Dad!" He waved the group to attention and the music died down. "Whassup?"

"I got a few friends coming by tonight." I said. "Wanted to invite all of you to stick around for supper and meet them."

I got the enthusiastic response I expected. "Aw, man!" Brian groaned. "Do we have to? Can't I go over to Don's house and eat with him tonight instead?"

"You really want to meet these guys." I said. "All of you. Honest."

"Well...." Brian looked around. The other three guys (Don, Harold and Steuben) didn't seem too thrilled, but they nodded. "Okay, Dad, we'll all be there."

"Good." I said and hid a smile. These guys were in for a treat. I wondered if I'd have to make introductions or not.

When the doorbell rang, I had Brian go answer the door. I waited with the guys around the living room, and waited for the words to come. And they did.

"Mark Holloway? Jason Whitley?" Brian gushed. "Jesus fucking Christ, guys, come here! We're being visited by fucking Quake First!'"

"Quake First?" Don burst out and the three all ran to the door. I followed more sedately.

Yes, it was three of the four guys of Quake First, the band who had just released their number one record "Oil and Skin." They were in town as part of their promotion and I had called and invited them to dinner.

I walked in and Mark looked over the adoring kids' heads and said, "Hey, Mike! Good to see you again. Man, it's been years, hasn't it? What are you doing these days?"

"I sell insurance." I said. To their dumbfounded looks, I said, "It's good work, and I'm good at it."

"Jesus, man." Mark shook his head. "I still don't understand it."

"So don't try." I said. "Come on in and have dinner. After, if you don't mind, I'm sure my son and his friends would love a chance to jam with you. The garage has been turned into their studio."

"Sure." Mark said, kindly. "Which one is yours?"

"The one who answered the door. Brian." I said, pointed at him.

"Good to meet you, Brian." he said, shaking hands with him (again, this time a real handshake, not the star-to-fan, but man-to-man.

"Dad? You know Mark Holloway?" Brian asked me, dumbfounded.

"I sure do." I said.

"You haven't told him?" Mark asked, surprised himself. "Brian, your dad used to be our bass guitar. He could have been part of Quake First."

"Wow." and my son's look at me, like he was seeing me the first time, was just what I had been hoping for when I learned my old band was back in town!

My son had fun after dinner, which they understandably rushed through. Mark lingered to hash over old times with me, but he and I finally went out where the other two were keeping my son and his buddies entertained, and incidentally teaching them a bit about the music industry. They were lapping it up.

Mark walked over and picked up two guitars, handed me one. "What say we put the old band back together for a few minutes?"

"Sounds good to me." I said and while I hadn't played a guitar much in the years since I left the band, I found my fingers moving over the chords like an old lover. We bashed out "My Only Girl" and it felt just like home.

The guys stayed long as they could, but they had an early flight and took off at ten o'clock. Brian's friends left at the same time, the guys gave them a ride back to their homes. Brian and I were left alone in the garage, and I sat in the only chair in the room and Brian squatted onto his heels beside me, something he had picked up in his days of playing high-school football.

"Quite a night, eh, son?" I said. "You didn't know your old man could whale on the guitar, did you?"

"God, no!" Brian said. "Jesus, Dad, you and Mark Holloway? You were a part of Quake First?"

"We called ourselves ‘Four for the World' back then." I said. "No hit records, playing gigs whenever and wherever we could, saving up our money to make a record."

"Dad, what happened?" Brian said. "You could have been a part of a band, had hit records and you quit? You could have been part of Quake First, for God's sake! What happened?"

I looked at him. "You did."


"I was with your mother back then." I said. "She was something of a hell-cat, but so was I. Partying all the time, doing things I hope to God you never do. And she got pregnant, and we got married and you were born."

"They handed me you in a blue blanket and I looked into your eyes and I realized that I had a choice to make. I could be either a guitar-player in a band struggling to make it big, or I could be a father, the kind of father I wanted to be for you. So I quit the band, and got a job and prepared to settle down with Sharon and be the regular, middle-class American dad." I made a face. "I should have realized Sharon wouldn't want a guy who sold insurance as a husband. She hung around a while to see if I'd change my mind, and took off when you were about a year old. I can forgive her for that, I was ready to be a father but she just wasn't ready to be a mother." Sharon had vanished, I hadn't heard from her since Brian was five years old, and the last visit from her had been pretty grotty. Brian had no clear memories of her that I knew about. I managed a smile and said, "Hey, count yourself lucky. If I hadn't quit the band, you might have been dumped on my mother and father." Christian fundamentalists of the worst sort (there are plenty of good ones, I want to say, but my parents aren't that kind), so Brian grimaced.

"I'm glad you picked me." he said.

"So am I." I said.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about your quitting the band before?" Brian said.

"I thought about it." I admitted. "But hell, son, you might have decided you were to blame for me missing out on a bad opportunity or something. If you weren't out to make it in a band yourself, I might have never told you. As it is, you knowing the members of Quake First personally can't hurt your chances. You need to practice more before you try it, of course. You guys are still pretty raw."

"We'll never sound as good as Quake First." Brian demurred.

"Don't even think that way." I told him. "We started out sounding the same as you. Worse, even."

"Geez, dad." Brian mourned. "You could have been in Quake First. You could have been famous. And I messed that up!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" I said, lifting his face up. I stared into his eyes as bright as an angel's, as beautiful as a bluebell, as blue as the summer sky. They sparkled with incipient tears of remorse. "Nobody made me give up anything. I chose to be with you. I love you, son. I've loved you ever since I held you in my arms and you were less than fifteen minutes old."

"I love you, too, Dad." Brian said and his smile and wet pink lips were so damned kissable that I couldn't resist. Brian wasn't surprised, he reached up to meet me halfway.

The intensity of that kiss was startling to me. I hadn't dated anything but my hand for more years than I cared to tally up. You can't work full-time and raise a child and date. I was lucky my job as a salesman let me set my own hours. And Brian was only eighteen, the age when your hormones are raging full-tilt.

So the kiss turned into an open-mouthed, burning, yearning kiss that went into our hands moving over each other's backs, and I must have stayed in that kiss for almost thirty seconds before I realized just what I was doing and pulled Brian away from me.

"God, son!" I said huskily. "What is going on here?"

"I love you, Dad." Brian said, panting heavily. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, son." I said and that was when Brian launched himself at me again, his lips pressed against mine, and I felt myself reeling. What was I getting myself into here?

By the time that kiss ended (I didn't fight it off the second time, it never entered my mind to), I was beyond thinking of consequences or whether I should or not. There's a part of your brain that shuts down when you get aroused enough, or maybe it's still there and you just ignore it.

"Mmm, Dad." Brian whispered to me in his soft baritone voice. Such a beautiful voice my son has, and it was like he was singing to me in those words. "Dad, I want to do it with you. Can we do it, Dad, please? Please?"

Like I said, my brain was turning off the other options before I could think them. I didn't answer except to pull him to me another time, and now I was kissing that superbly soft skin of his neck, it was the color of ivory and smooth as polished jade and soft as butter, and it tasted like all the dreams I had ever had, all the chances I'd ever passed up returned to me again, all the joys of the world were there, just under my lips and tongue and I could suck at it all I wanted to.

"Oh, God, Dad, oh, God, oh!" Brian gasped. "I want you, Dad, I want you so much. Let me touch you, Dad, I need to touch you, please let me touch you."

I couldn't deny him anything in that moment, I let go of him so that his fingers could slip my jacket from my shoulders and off my body onto the floor, so they could slide the tie loose from my throat, so it could undo the buttons on the shirt beneath, and it joined my jacket and my t-shirt, too, all of them danced off of me in fluid rapture, and as Brian's fingers threaded the hairs of my chest and wove them into lines of warm delight, I got hold of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, leaving him bare above the waist.

"Let me take you, Dad." Brian sighed, and it was like his words were singing a song just for me. "Let me open you up and let me take you, I want to take you, I want to make love to you, Dad, just this once, maybe, but make love to you."

Again, my only answer was in my actions, I slid down in the chair and his fingers now worked my belt open, and then my fly and then my briefs and then he was grasping hold of my soul, of my life, of my very core, and he brought it up and it filled out for him and he groaned in his need as he fell to his knees and his lips, those beautiful boy lips, they expanded and swallowed me down and I was amazed at his adeptness, at his expertise.

"Oh, God, son!" I groaned as he milked at my manhood, bringing my pleasures to exploding life. "God, Brian, yeah, that's my boy, suck my cock, son, suck it for Daddy, God, oh, God, yeah!"

"Mmm-hmmm!" Brian crooned as he nursed at my prick, as he slicked my pud until it shone in the overhead yellowish light and he turned my pale white manhood into gleaming silver virility incarnate.

"God, son, who have you been practicing on?" I gasped as he let go, and stood up and began to undo his own belt and jeans. "I haven't had a job like that done on me since...God, never!"

Brian just grinned. "Times have changed since you were my age." he said. "A guy has to learn all he can, you know."

That was one of my often-repeated bits of advice to him, so I had to smile back. "Glad to hear you've been listening. I wasn't so sure before now." Brian dropped his trousers and briefs to his ankles and I looked at his young manhood, and said, "Mind if I get some of that before you get back to work?"

"I was counting on it." Brian said and he stayed only to lift one leg free of pants and briefs before he straddled me and pointed his teenaged cock right at my mouth and throat.

I wasn't in his league of sucking cock, my own sexual experiences were more memories than skills these days. But I knew what had felt good on me, and I took my son's dick into my mouth and I tried to repay him for the marvelous work he had done on me, I found his cock pouring precome into my mouth and the hot salt of that just flavored the meal of my son's prick and made it juicier. My saliva flowed as if I were eating a meal, and I plied it over Brian's dong just as he had mine. Meanwhile (I heard rather than saw), Brian was doing something, reaching behind himself, and then he said, "Okay, Dad, hold on while I ride you like you were one of my buddies."

"So that's where you learned this." I said as he guided my prong to his waiting tuckerhole. Any doubts I had about his virginity vanished as he took me with an ease that said he knew all about the joys of having sex with another man. Boy? How long had he been doing this? I knew boys learned all about sex much younger than me, I had tried to be available to Brian and answer his questions when he had them, but he hadn't said anything that would let me know he was this experienced in sex. Guess I wasn't the only one in my family keeping a big secret!

So my manhood slid with ease into the tight entrance to his body and it was all comfort and warmth and soft, silken sensuality. When Brian was completely impaled upon my cock and I looked into his eyes and only saw the softness of joy upon his face, I gave over any reluctance.

"Come on, son, get that ass moving." I gasped. "Your old Daddy needs to shoot a thick load up there."

"Oooh, yeah, Dad." Brian breathed huskily, his voice still holding that melodic timbre that convinced me he had a future in music. "God, you're bigger than the other guys, you are filling my ass full and then some!"

"Take it easy as you need to." I assured him. "I'll let you do the work while I take it easy and just enjoy it."

"Getting lazy in your old age, huh?" Brian said and I laughed. Then Brian began to move and my smile vanished as I opened my mouth and groaned with his every move. My son, my own son, was a total professional in riding a man's dick, and he was working his dad's prick with all the skill of any longtime lover. I felt like I'd been fucking Brian's ass for years, it all went so easily, he was my height and my size and he meshed with me so well, we were like two halves of a whole. The whole of a family of two.

As Brian's body sped up, he turned his plunges into a more rocking sort of motion, and when he did that, I found I could add my own hunches up into him and not knock him aside in any way. Soon we were a synchronous pair of lovers, father and son, younger lover and older man, the two of us in a convivial, coordinated contortion of conjugal consummation, and as my ecstasy increased, my motions became higher, faster, more bestial rut than harmonious dance of delight.

I groaned and caught hold of Brian's buttocks and I held him in place while I hunched upwards into him, the urgency of my need boiling inside of me, I felt like a dime-store boat floating on an endless ocean of desire, I couldn't sink and couldn't control myself, I could only rise up with the wave, up, up, up and up!

And crash with it into climax! "Oh, God, son, I'm coming, I'm coming!" I grunted at him while I rammed his butt and he groaned from the feeling of his father's cock pumping into him hard and fast.

"Yeah, Dad, shoot it in me, fill me full of it, Dad, I want you to shoot it all inside me, all inside me." And Brian sat down on my lap hard, and he held on tight. All I could do in my helpless rapture was wriggle under his weight in my frenetic need, and I finished myself that way, I clenched in climax and I whirled into orgasm, my cock ejaculated hot daddy seed up into my son's ravaged butt, and I felt his bowels flutter under the load, as Brian grunted in hard liquid syllables, and I wondered if he was injured, and then got my answer as his adolescent seed splashed against my chest and shoulders, hard, fast, thick jets of young tumescent sperm pouring out of my son's body and onto my own, soaking my chest as I pumped my own jizz up into his tender ass.

Done, Brian clung to me, tightly gripped me as his own climax wracked his body and he shivered and spasmed and the heat of our bodies commingled the sweat and the sperm onto both of us, until he let go and pulled away, and it was a sticky mess between us that linked us with a dozen bright white stringlets of his jism held by a splotch on his chest and mine.

"God, Dad, oh, God!" Brian sighed. "That was so fucking hot!"

"You were so fucking hot." I modified.

Brian's hand stroked my hair all mussed and soaked with my sweat now. "I guess I was worth keeping after all, huh?" He said.

"I never doubted that for a moment." I assured him once again. "From the first time I held you, I never looked back. You were always worth it to me, Son. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad." Brian said. "Now why don't you and me go get in bed. Like you said, we still need plenty of practice before our band is ready for the big time."

"And I have to go to work tomorrow, too." I agreed. "We'd better both hit the sack, right after we shower all this spunk off both of us.

Brian just giggled as he helped me gather up my clothes and walk into the house through the kitchen door side.

I showered and walked out nude, ready to get in bed. Brian was already in there, a grin on his face.

"You planning on sleeping with me from now on?" I asked him.

"You don't mind, do you?" Brian said.

"Of course not." I said. "Long as you know what you're doing."

"I thought I showed you that back in the garage." Brian said. "You chose me, and now you've got me."

I grinned and turned out the light, got into bed.

Oh, yes. I had made the right choice!


Comments, complaints or suggestions?
E-mail me at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

(The Story You Just Read is Available in "I Love You, Daddy!" book)