Look, I’ll be the first one to admit, that I kind of fucked up the whole fatherhood thing. But hell, getting laid-off from the job you’ve had for thirty years…I never thought I’d end up working for some construction company, but that’s what happened. The marriage slipped around then too. I was just so tired of pretending, you know? Pretending to love her, pretending to want to fuck her, it just…it was impossible. Jack got kind of shoved to the side, I admit. I wasn’t always there for him. I was off being single again, I was partying and fucking, so what if I…I should have been there, I know, but how in the hell do you try and bridge that gap, you know? He fuckin’ hated me, and I never saw him until the state dumped him on me, after his mom ended up in prison for drug possession. It wasn’t what either of us wanted, believe me, but I tried my best. I got him to school every day, I tried to make sure he had dinner. I sacrificed, I didn’t fuck nearly as many men as I wanted to, I had to resort mostly to blowing and getting blown on the construction site with the rest of the guys, with the occasional quiet fuck back at home. Well, they were never that quiet, I guess, but I scream when I cum, I can’t fuckin’ help it!
When I tried to talk to him, he’d just bottle up, or we’d fight. “You’ve changed!” he’d say. Well yeah, so fucking what! It fucking happens, I’d tell him. I told him he’d change too. That one day he’d look at himself in the mirror and not recognize himself either. It’s called growing up, and being a fucking man. Did I think I’d be this slobby muscle bear chain smoking cigars back in my twenties? Freshly married, with an office job, and a kid on the way? Fuck no. You never think you’re gonna change, and then you fucking do. Because you have to. Because you want to. He was always so insistent. He had this fuckin’ image of me, from when he was kid. Like I wasn’t allowed to be who I wanted to be, if he didn’t like it. Well fuck him, I’d say, and then call a guy up and fuck his brains out against our shared wall, ramming the dude in to it, making the fuckin’ plaster shake. Heh, Jack fuckin’ hated that, good fuckin’ times. There’s no better fuck than an angry fuck, you know?
Anyway, he wanted to go to college, but I had no money to send him there, and I was still paying off my own loans nearly twenty years later. What had college gotten me anyway? Almost none of the guys I worked with had gone to college and they were all doing just fine. I was venting to Foreman about it one night, when he’d invited me to stick around and suck his cock for a while, and he was the one with the idea. Why not bring Jack to work with me for a week? Let him see what I did, and how much I liked it. It was a great idea, but then Foreman always has great ideas, so I wasn’t surprised. Jack hated the idea, but I made it conditional. He had to come work with me for a week, and if he could handle it, then I’d cosign his college loans if he still wanted to go. His eyes lit up at that–selfish fucker. Don’t blame him though, he got it from that bitch.
Heh, that first day he stuck out like a sore thumb. I introduced him to the crew, all of us hulking, hairy, filthy roughnecks stinkin’ of beer and cigar smoke, and he’s this chubby eighteen year old kid–fuck. Foreman though, he put on the charm, and put Jack right at ease with a few jokes, and led him off to his trailer to complete some paperwork. I lost track of him that first day–I was workin’ with Max on some stuff, but we got so horny we ended up fuckin’ on a pile of bricks all through lunch. That afternoon, I saw Jack working with Carlos, mixing cement, and something about my boy workin’ with his hands made me so damn proud. Goin home that night, he even admitted to enjoying his day somewhat, but he kept lookin’ at me a bit odd–or rather, at my cigar. He’d never been curious about my smoking–he’d ridiculed me for it from the day he’d started living with me, but that night he asked if he could have one. I was only too happy to help him out, and we shared a stogie and a few beers, stayed up to late, and were both a bit hungover the next day at work.
Over the rest of the week, Jack spent most of his time in the morning with Foreman, and then worked with the rest of us in the afternoons. On Wednesday, Foreman and I had a long chat while he fucked my ass over his desk, and he suggested that Jack and I leave work early, and go take him to the barber and to get some real clothes for the worksite. Another great idea–Foreman is just fuckin’ full of them. When I left to go find my son, I found him on his knees in front of Luis, sucking his cock! Fuck, I was kind of freaked out, but I hid and watched, and damn my boy could work that shaft, it was makin’ me jealous. I didn’t say anything. I waited until they were finished, before walkin’ over.
We got him a fauxhawk, some workwear and boots, and on a whim, we decided to get our nipples pierced. At home, we had cigars and beer to celebrate, and I got him plastered. He couldn’t resist, I had his mouth around my cock, fuck, he was hungry for it. He must have wanted me for so long–guess that means this gay shit’s genetic right? Turns out Jack was a raging fag just like me. By Friday, he was just one more guy on the site, like the rest of us. Bullshittin’, smokin’, drinkin’, fuckin’. He fucked me while everybody watched before we all went out for Friday night beers (and bears) at the Eagle, fuck, I was so proud of him. Needless to say, he decided college wasn’t for him–he dropped out of school and came to work with us. We still live together, ‘n we couldn’t be happier. See? Things always change, and you never know when they might change for the better.
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