My Boys (Part 2)

“It’s stupid, this whole trip–you can say it, Nick, we both know it,” Sean said.

“Look, Dad wanted this for us, it’s the least we could do, really,” Nick said, but Sean was more interested in feeling frustrated than talking. He waited a moment, and added, “I have things I’d rather be doing too, you know. You’re still in school–you’re on vacation. Do you have any idea how much shit I’m going to have to catch up on?”

Sean just rolled his eyes at him, and Nick leaned back in the sagging, well worn booth. “Look, can you at least pretend to enjoy yourself a little bit? Dad needs this.”

“Dad needs to get a fucking life.”

The chef came around to take their orders–Nick got a salad, Sean a burger–and then they stayed quiet, until their new dad walked in, chuffing on his pipe, beard to his gut, saw his sons, grinned and walked over. “Scoot over, boy. Make room for your Pa,” he said to Nick.

Nick looked up, and his eyes went wide, and he looked to Sean. He had no idea what was going on either. There’s no way that this could be their dad…and yet they both knew, somehow, that this was him. He was in the right clothes, but the beard, and the hair, and the pipe smoke…

“I…I don’t think you can smoke…that in here.”

“Daddy never puts out a pipe before it’s done smokin’, you know that boy. Now scoot.”

Nick slid over slowly, and Bruce plopped down into the booth with a sigh and a grunt. “Fuck, I’m fuckin’ famished boys. What did you two order?”

“Just…Just a burger and fries.”

“A salad–everything else is too damn greasy. I have new suits I have to be able to fit into when I get home,” Nick said.

Bruce stared at Nick for a moment, and then blew a plume of smoke from his nose with a snort. “No fuckin’ son of mine is gonna be eatin’ fuckin’ salad while I’m fuckin’ alive,” he grumbled, and then called out at the chef, “Hey! My boy here wants to change his order. In fact, just bring all three a us two burgers each, and a shitload of fries, got it?”

“Sure man, whatever you want,” the chef grumbled. Nick tried to object, but before he could speak, he coughed–the smoke had gotten stuck in his throat all of a sudden. Bruce pounded him on the back a couple of times, telling him to man up.

“Dad…are you…feeling alright?” Sean asked.

“Never felt better boy–but what the fuck’s up with you two? Ya’ll look like you’re at a damn funeral,” he turned to the kitchen again, “Hey, you got beer?”

“Sure do,” the chef said.

“Give us a round.”

The chef brought out three bottles. Sean was happy for a drink, but Nick tried to object–Bruce bullied him into drinking it, and then gave him his as well.

“Damn, got my work cut out with the two of you, don’t I?”

Neither of them had any idea what that meant. Sean shrugged and looked to Nick, but his older brother had no idea what was going on either. The three of them sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, and Nick gave a start when his father’s hand landed on his thigh, and then slipped inside his thigh, over to his crotch, groping at his cock. He kept trying to tell him off, to yell at him but his throat had sealed itself from the smoke, and the more his father exhaled in his direction, the more he relaxed into the booth. He looked to Sean, wondering if he could signal his brother somehow, but he too seemed to have zoned out, lying back against the back of the booth, mouth slack, taking deep breaths of his father’s pipe smoke.

“That’s better, you boys are just tired after a long day’s ride, right? Tired and hungry,” Bruce said, leaned in closer to Nick, “No boy of mine is gonna be eatin’ fuckin’ salad tonight–hell, you ain’t gonna be touchin’ a salad for the rest of your damn life.”

Nick’s frustration and confusion were growing into anger and fear. He didn’t understand what his father was doing, what he was saying. And why was he touching him like this? His father had never done anything like this–it was like he’d become a completely different person. Their food arrived, and all three of them tucked in, but Bruce ate slower than both of his boys, neither of whom felt hungrier than either could remember being in a long time. So hungry, that neither of them noticed when Bruce told the chef to make each of his boys another double helping of burgers and fries. Nick in particular found himself caught in a position he’d never felt before, with his father’s hand massaging his cock while he ate. He found himself…almost enjoying the act of eating in a way he never had before.

Finally, they finished eating, and the cook came around to clear their mess. Nick managed to look up and saw that the big, greasy lug looked just as dazed and confused as they were. His father reached out and grabbed his hand as he reached for his empty basket. “Hey man, those burgers were fuckin’ fabulous, just great. Thanks for all the cookin’ you were doin’ back there.”

“I…You’re welcome, sir.”

“I wanna give you a tip. Or rather, my boy there, he wants to give you a tip, don’t you boy?” he said, looking to Sean, “Go on man, let out your cock, my boy would love a load of cum for dessert.”

Sean’s eyes went wide, as did the cook’s, but neither of them could stop themselves, Sean twisting out of the booth to face the cook, who pulled off his apron and dropped his shorts to his ankles, letting the young man start sucking on his cock.

Nick started thrashing weakly. This was wrong, all of this was wrong, so fucking wrong. Bruce’s grip on his cock tightened, his other hand grabbed his son’s face and pulled him around. Before Nick could do anything, he locked lips and exhaled a full lung of smoke right into him. Nick took it in, the heat of the smoke horrible, and yet he pushed it back, and they shared it for a few moments. When he released Nick, he wasn’t struggling anymore–and when Bruce freed his cock, Nick bent over, careful of his very full gut, and started sucking his father’s cock, and Bruce heaved a sigh of smoke over all of them.