Reunion With My[24] Estranged Father [49] (Pt.1)
After so many years of not seeing my dad, we were finally about to be reunited.
It was a hot day and the sun bore down on me, causing my shirt to cling to my back like Velcro as I took my final steps to the bar.
The place was a dive. Dingy and almost invisible if not for the swarm of drunken barflies huddled outside.
Meeting here was dad's idea. Meeting at all was dad's idea, relayed via a text out of the blue. Seeing this place, I knew he had to have reached out while under the spell of drunken sorrow.
I could've gone the rest of my life happy having never seen him again, but the news that he had fallen on hard times right when I had was too tempting to resist.
I was hoping that by seeing him at his worst, I might be rewarded with an ego boost. Plus, he said drinks were on him and I could really use a drink.
Twenty minutes passed as I waited outside, repeatedly telling the same man I didn't have a lighter before dad showed up. I barely looked up from my phone as he quickly muttered a faint apology.
"It's fine." I retorted, placidly yet firmly.
He nodded and gestured to the door.
"Shall we?"
Without a word, I got up from the bench and turned to head inside.
The stench of ale-soaked carpet assaulted my nose immediately. I could feel dad's smirk as he took a long, deep breath before chuckling at my twisted grimace.
"What are you having?" He asked, suddenly.
"Cider, thanks."
"Go find us somewhere to sit. I'll get a round in."
I scanned the room, fighting the urge to roll my eyes as they glimpsed middle-aged harlots and alcoholics galore, all transfixed on their various 'hilarious' nothings.
Off in the distance was the one table nobody had either crowded or taken every chair from. The surface was littered with hours-old glasses and cigarette packets, but beggars can't be choosers.
It would have to do.
I took the seat facing the bar, finally getting a good look at my father for the first time since my childhood.
His hair was short and wavy. Messy, but not unkempt. It was a deep brown with silver dancing throughout.
He wore a thick beard, which punctuated his strong cheekbones and framed his near perfect teeth as it almost completely enveloped his upper lip.
His eyes were draped in a calm sadness through a lens of striking steel blue.
Noticing how handsome he was was frustrating and made ever more annoying as he approached.
Like mine, his shirt clung to his skin as though it were glued. Through patches of sweat, I could make out a body I could only dream of.
Bulky and furry.
His arms were tree trunks with thick fur as bark, ending in large hands with thick fingers, both gripping a glass tightly.
I had come to feel better about myself, and yet here was a man who looked like me, if I were my own type.
I had never felt so self conscious.
"Here we go," he said, placing two glasses on the table, "two ales."
I stared at him blankly.
"You asked for cider," he groaned.
"I asked for cider."
"I'll take it back."
"Don't worry about it. It's already here."
Dad sat down slowly. Glancing around the room, embarrassed to have let me down twice in five minutes in our first meeting in over a decade.
I could feel that he was expecting comfort. I left him flustered.
Maybe I could still get that ego boost after all.
We sat in silence for a while, though silence is hardly the word when you're surrounded by cackling drunkards.
The ale tasted like piss, but I kept sipping. Slowly slurping as to push dad to break the silence. Hiding my smirk all the while.
"Finished with these, love?" Called a voice from behind me. I turned to see a barmaid gesturing to the mess our table came with.
"Oh, yeah... thank you."
She collected each glass and discarded piece of trash slowly, tossing them into the bucket under her arm.
"You're very quiet today, Jim," she said, nudging my dad in the arm.
"Long day, Mary," he said, not looking up.
"Who's your friend?"
Dad paused for a second, looking up at me. I raised an eyebrow.
"This is my son, John."
Mary put her hand on my dad's shoulder and gave me a smile. She finished clearing the table and left without another word.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"I don't have a lot of people to talk to," Dad paused for a moment and cleared his throat before continuing. "Mary is the one who convinced me to reach out to you."
"Oh."
"She's helped me see how much I..." Dad looked directly into my eyes, "How much I let you down. I'm sorry."
I looked at him for a moment. He had let me down. A lot. But in his eyes, I could see how much he wanted to change. How hurt he was to know how much he hurt me.
I definitely wasn't going to get that ego boost.
"Water under the bridge," I said, clinking his glass with mine before downing the rest of my drink. "If you get me a cider this time."
Dad laughed, obviously relieved. His shoulders relaxed for the first time and he leaned back in his chair. A button on his shirt came loose and one side fell, revealing a patch of thick chest hair.
I couldn't help but stare as he quickly finished his beer.
"Message received," he chuckled. There was a lingering pause before he looked down to see what had caught my attention. "Sorry! This old thing loves to pop open from time to time." He laughed again before getting up and fixing his shirt. I smiled sheepishly. "Cider?"
"Cider. Thank you."
Dad offered a half-hearted finger gun as he stumbled away. Clearly he was a bit of a lightweight. Though I can't exactly throw stones after my wandering eye took a vested interest in my own father's chest. But fuck me, it was a nice chest. What I wouldn't give for a man with a chest like that. I could spend hours nestled in all that fur between two perfectly rounded pecs. Shelves of hairy bulk. The kind of chest no pillow company could ever compete with.
I fought to regain my composure. At the end of the day, the owner of that gorgeous chest was of course my father. Forbidden fruit, as it were. If only I could stop thinking about it.
Dad was on his way back, this time with a tray. He held it above his head with one hand as though he were a butler, flexing his arm and puckering his lips as he strutted back to the table. This really didn't help to calm my mind after the whole chest situation. Now I just had more ammunition.
Arriving at the table, he carefully placed the drinks on the table. First a beer, then another. He paused for a moment and pantomimed knocking on his head sarcastically. He laughed as I rolled my eyes then produced two ciders, placing them in front of me and holding the tray over his chest. Out of sight, out of mind. I could finally breathe again.
"I thought I'd buy you two to make up for the mistake earlier," he mumbled with obvious shame, as he hugged the tray awkwardly, still standing over the table. His arms were beckoning me as they tensed against the damp plastic circle. Fucking hell.
"It's fine, really. Thank you," I sputtered, trying to hide the lump in my throat, but failing spectacularly.
Dad slid one of the ciders closer to me.
"You should lubricate a little," he said with a chuckle. "That's a hell of a frog in your throat."
Did he have to say 'lubricate'?
Dad quickly returned the tray to the bar and hurried back to the table. His shirt was damp where the tray had been, causing his chest to peek through the fabric almost completely. I did my best not to stare, but dad noticed almost immediately.
"Holy shit," he laughed, gesturing to his chest. "We haven't seen each other in a long time and now here I am giving you an eyeful!"
I laughed, hard at first, but quickly petering out into an awkward chuckle as I realised how little I minded seeing so much of him. I took a long sip of my drink.
"I don't mind," I said, trying not to sound too eager. "It's not exactly the first time I've seen a man's chest."
Dad guffawed, holding my arm. His hand was warm as it gripped my bicep softly, almost covering it completely.
With his other arm, he took a long sip from his second beer before looking down at the table. "Yeah, it wouldn't be for me either."
His fingers tapped my arm lightly. We locked eyes for a second and gave each other a knowing smile.
That's when he realised he was holding my arm and slowly pulled it back. "Sorry, I'm not used to drinking so quickly. I tend to nurse a pint all night."
"You don't have to apologise so much," I said, touching his arm. It was huge. Firm. "Try to relax a little."
"You're right." Dad leaned back again, leaving his arm on the table. My hand still holding it loosely. His shirt button popped open again and I pulled my arm back as if he could feel my heart beating faster.
We sat in silence as he reclined in his chair, keeping his arms on the table when he wasn't sipping on his beer.
I was leaning against the table, trying not to be obvious as I looked him up and down. He might have been a terrible father to me, but he was an absolute vision. He was the hottest man I'd ever seen. If I hadn't known he was my father and we bumped into each other in a club, I would've spent the whole night trying to sleep with him. What is wrong with me?
Dad looked at me through squinted eyes with a cheesy smile. I looked back at him. puzzled.
"What?" I grinned.
"You're really handsome," he said before leaning forwards, "I know I'm supposed to say that because I'm... whatever, but I mean it."
I was stunned. All the thoughts that had flooded my head all night came rushing back all at once as I stammered and let out an awkward laugh.
"Thank you," I said finally. "Coming from you that means a lot."
"Coming from me?"
Shit.
"Y-yeah."
Dad stifled a cocky grin as he finished what was left of his last drink.
Dad pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocked and shook it lightly, raising his eyebrow at me.
"Sure," I said, reaching out my hand. He passed a cigarette to me and placed another behind his ear. He stood up slowly, fighting gravity as he did so. I started to stand, but realised that the front of my shorts was unusually tight. My dick was hard as a rock. Why was he so hot?!
"Coming?" Dad asked, standing over me.
"Yeah, just a sec," I begged, hoping he'd take a head start, but he just stood there, watching me.
I stood up slowly, turning away from him as I stumbled behind the chair. Using the backrest as cover, I turned to face him. Dad snickered before leading me out the back door.
It was dark now and there was a chill in the air as rain began to fall.
"That's the problem with the weather in this country," dad said, lighting his cigarette, "Never know if it's coming or going."
I shivered slightly, still covering my boner with my arm as dad handed me his lighter.
I looked down, seeing that my crotch was thankfully covered by the darkness, so if I had to be the weirdo who got hard from looking at his own father, at least it wasn't visible. I quickly lit my cigarette and handed the lighter back to dad.
"You cold?" He asked.
"A little," I said, rubbing my arm. "I wasn't really expecting rain."
Dad gripped my arms and rubbed them up and down for a minute. Still holding them he asked "Better>" I nodded, not wanting to call too much attention to myself as my dick twitched aggressively.
"Do you want to go somewhere with a bit more light? I can barely see you."
"No!" I snapped back. I pulled out my phone and held the screen near my face.
"Okay, weirdo," He responded with a laugh. Dad took a long drag of his cigarette before turning back to me. In the phonelight I could see his chest again and my dick throbbed harder. I looked up to his eyes quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed. "I'm having a really good time with you tonight. Thank you for meeting me."
"Me too."
"Can I...?" Dad opened his arms slowly, offering a hug. I knew it was a bad idea, but I didn't have a reason to say no, so I accepted.
Dad came in close, wrapping his huge arms around me. His chest pressed against my cheek. My dick throbbed so hard I thought it might tear a hole in my shorts. Dad was mumbling apologies in his drunken stupor as he pulled me even closer. I could feel my face getting redder as my dick pressed against him. I would have pulled away, but it felt so good.
I didn't know what my dick was rubbing against, but I didn't care as long as he was drunk enough not to notice. As he pulled away, I instinctively covered my dick with my hands again.
"I think your phone was digging into me for a while there," dad said with a laugh. Shit.
I looked down, realising that I was so preoccupied with covering myself that I forgot I had my phone in my hand. It was now shining a light directly onto my bulge. I also realised that dad's hands were still holding my waist. My erection was going nowhere.
My arms were trapped in place. I fought to turn off the light without calling too much attention to my dick or making him let go, but I was too late. Dad looked down and let out a "Woah".
"I'm so sorry," I said quickly.
"It's alright, it happens to the best of us," dad said leaning in and whispering, "Especially after a few drinks."
Somehow the relief of tension allowed my dick to relax. Now we were only at a semi, rather than burning at attention. I could work with that. We finished our cigarettes and dad led me back inside.
"You want to come back to my place? I can give you a spare jacket and some jeans," Dad asked as we made it back to our table.
"Sure, I'd like that. Thanks."
[Let me know if you'd like a part 2. I'm really enjoying writing this down. It reminds me a lot of my true experiences.]