Birthday Gift For Friend's Dad Pt.1 (Patreon)

It had been Trevor's birthday that day, and he'd just turned forty. He'd stayed single ever since his wife walked out years ago. 

He was actually my best friend, Mike’s dad. Mike and I had been best buddies forever. After I turned 18, I moved out of my parents place, found a job and enrolled in a university. The only problem was finding a place to live. I stayed in a couple of dorms for the first few months but then Mike asked me to move in with him. He had plenty of space in his room and it was only him and his dad. His father, Trevor, had welcomed me easily. I had many sleepovers at their place growing up, so I wasn’t new to it but still staying permanently for a few years felt a bit odd at first.

My first year at their place went smoothly but then Mike left for university across the country. He knew I was gay from the start, and he never had a problem if I brought guys over, he just asked me to let him know beforehand, so he could give me privacy.

Coming back to present Mike wanted to hold a big party for his dad but he couldn't make it back due to finals, so he asked if I'd step in and help celebrate on his behalf. Both of them had been nothing but generous and kind to me, so of course I said yes.

We planned a low-key night at the local bar with a few of his buddies. Mike called all of them. They'd all sworn they'd show, but I should have known better, half of them bailed at the last second, leaving the turnout smaller than we'd hoped.

Around six that evening we started getting ready to head out.

Trevor called from the hallway just outside the bathroom that he was jumping in the shower first. I hollered back “Go for it” from my room, I'd already taken a quick one and was tugging on my jeans. My shirt was still downstairs though, forgotten on the ironing board after I'd pressed it earlier. I stepped into the hall and started toward the stairs.

Halfway there my feet locked to the floor. The bathroom door hadn't been pulled all the way shut. I eased closer, heart thudding, and peeked inside. Trevor stood in the shower stall with his back to me, water streaming over the wide span of his shoulders, making his skin shine. When he bent to grab something off the tile, his ass pressed flat against the steamed glass. Through the space between his thick thighs I could see everything, the heavy hang of his cock and balls swaying gently.

Truth is, I've been attracted to him for longer than I care to admit. I've never breathed a word of it to anyone, but I always seemed to find excuses to steal a look whenever he was showering. He'd even walked in on me once with a guy from class, my mouth full of cock, and all he did was chuckle, ease the door shut, then roast me about it over dinner later. It turned into this running joke between us, him reminding me to lock the door or asking if I needed “straight-guy tips” just to make me squirm and laugh.

He straightened, squeezed shampoo into his palm, and worked it through his short, dark hair. My own cock twitched hard in my jeans. I pressed the heel of my hand against it.

Only when he reached for the faucet did I snap out of it. I bolted back to my room before he could turn and catch me staring. My shirt was right where I'd left it, neatly folded. I yanked it on fast.

Trevor asked what time we needed to leave. I looked up and there he was at the top of the stairs, wearing nothing but a white towel knotted low on his hips. He still kept himself in good shape, broad and solid. Dark hair spread thick across his chest and narrowed into a line that disappeared under the towel. He asked again and I fumbled an apology, saying ten minutes tops.

He cursed playfully. When I asked what was wrong he answered deadpan that he'd been hoping for a quick wank before we left.

I couldn't tell if he was serious or just pulling one of his filthy jokes. His humor had always run crude, the kind that caught me off guard and made my face heat up. Then he turned, tugged the towel free for a split second, flashing the firm curve of his ass cheeks before heading to his room.

Five minutes later he was back downstairs, dressed and ready.

He checked if I was good to go. I said I still needed to do something with my hair. He groaned like I was killing him, teasing that we'd never make it out the door at this rate. I shot back that it wouldn't take long; he countered that I always took forever.

I laughed and told him gays like me were worse than women when it came to getting ready. He told me to shut up, but we were both grinning as I brushed past him toward the bathroom.

In the bathroom I scooped some wax, worked it through my hair in thirty seconds flat.

He called up asking if I was finally done. I said yes; he claimed he'd been waiting an eternity.

We left the house together and walked a few blocks to the bar. The second we pushed through the door a ragged chorus of “Happy Birthday” hit us, the few friends who'd actually shown up. Trevor winced, he hates being the center of attention but flashed a polite smile.

He waded right into the small group, shaking hands, slapping backs. While he made the rounds I headed to the bar and ordered us each a pint.

He joined me a minute later. We clinked glasses and knocked the shots back together. I videocalled Mike and then we cut the cake. It was followed by more laughs with his buddies, a couple of small gifts handed over. It hit me then, I hadn't brought anything. I stood there wondering what the hell I could get him that would actually mean something.

By the time the clock nudged past midnight the place had emptied out. One by one the guests hugged Trevor goodbye, promised to text tomorrow, and drifted off until only a couple of stubborn stragglers remained.

I asked if we should head home. Trevor agreed he felt completely fucked. We pushed away from the table, waved at the remaining faces, and made for the door.

We started up the pavement toward home. I asked if he had enjoyed the night. He said it had been great. I was pleased, until he added that one problem remained.

I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. What problem? He turned to face me. I repeated the question, louder this time.

“I’m fucking horny,” he said.

I let out a laugh and started walking again. “Fuck sake.”

He caught up quickly. “Oi! What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I just thought something was seriously wrong.” I kept moving.

“I was serious,” he said as he laughed.

We reached the house without further conversation. I pushed the door open, stepped inside, and flicked on the hallway light. Trevor followed, close enough that I felt the heat rolling off him.

“What am I supposed to do about it?” I asked, kicking my shoes off and heading toward the stairs.

“Lots of things.” He answered with a smile that stayed fixed even when I glanced back.

I shut the front door and laughed despite myself. “What?”

He leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Well, you could suck my cock.”

My jaw dropped open before I could stop it. He had never thrown out anything like that before, not even in his crudest, most beer-fueled jokes. I stayed silent thinking he was just kidding again and turned away. I climbed the stairs and went straight into my bedroom.

I peeled the shirt over my head. I reached for the button of my jeans. “Are you gonna suck me off or not?”

I spun around.

Trevor stood fully naked in the middle of my bedroom doorway. One large hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking upward that made the shaft thicken and lengthen. 

I had wanted this for years, fantasized about it when I jerked off. I had never believed it would cross from fantasy into reality. Yet here he stood, stroking himself openly, eyes locked on mine with drunken certainty.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Wanks don’t satisfy me enough anymore.” He said. “I know you love sucking cocks so I need you to sort me out.”

My gaze dropped back to his cock. Even though it was soft it looked impressive. Now, under his own hand, it had grown hard, veins stood out along the length, the head flushed darker and glistening at the slit. My mouth went dry.

I reached down and adjusted myself through my jeans. My own erection strained painfully against the denim, trapped and throbbing, the head already leaking enough to leave a damp spot.

“So?” Trevor prompted, snapping my attention back to his face.

I said nothing. I took one step toward him, then another.

“Come on.” He kept his hand moving, slow pumps that kept him fully erect, the foreskin slid back and forth over the swollen crown.

I closed the remaining distance. My right hand lifted, hesitated, then made contact with the center of his chest. I dragged my hand downward, tracing the slight rise of his belly, following the dark line that led straight to the thick bush at his groin.

His breathing changed when my fingertips brushed the wiry curls. I looked up.

Trevor stared back at me. The expression on his face bordered on raw desperation. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

My hand hovered there, inches from wrapping around him.

I looked back down at his cock. I reached out with careful fingers and nudged his hand away from the base. His grip loosened immediately, letting my palm take its place.

The instant my skin met his, warm and velvet-hard beneath my touch, Trevor sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck.”

I wrapped my fingers around him fully. I started stroking all the way up to the flared ridge. With each upward stroke the foreskin bunched neatly just below the crown, then glided back down on the descent, exposing the slick, rosy head again. I watched every inch of the motion, mesmerized by how the skin moved so smoothly over the hard cock, how the veins stood out more prominently each time blood surged through them.

“Sit on the bed,” I told him, releasing my hold completely so he felt the sudden absence.

He stepped around me without a word. He lowered himself onto the edge. His balls hung heavy between them, drawn up slightly from arousal, the dark skin was wrinkled and dusted with hair. He leaned back on his hands.

I stepped forward until my knees brushed the carpet between his legs. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “I need it.”

I sank to my knees, settling between his spread thighs. I looked up at him again then reached for his cock once more.

I leaned in. My lips parted around the broad head first, sealing tight just behind the ridge. I tasted him immediately. I swirled the tip of my tongue across the slit, collecting that bead, then traced slowly around the entire crown, pressing into the sensitive frenulum on every pass. His thighs tensed hard on either side of my shoulders.

“Fuck, baby, that feels good.”

I opened wider and took him deeper. Inch after inch slid past my lips, stretching my mouth until my jaw ached in the best way. 

I drew back until only the head remained trapped between my lips, then sank down again. My tongue flattened along the thick vein on the underside, massaging it with every pass while my cheeks hollowed on the upstroke. I could hear the slick sounds filling the quiet room.

“Oh fuck.”

Another thick pulse of pre-cum leaked onto my tongue and I swallowed around the head without breaking rhythm. My throat muscles squeezed him, rippling along the crown, and he groaned “That’s it, work on daddy's cock.”

Hearing him call himself daddy made me throb. My cock throbbed inside my jeans. I could not wait any longer. I reached down with my free hand and my jeans shoved down along with my underwear just far enough to free myself. 

I wrapped my fingers around my shaft and started stroking in perfect sync with my mouth on him. picked up speed on both ends.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Trevor suddenly said.

I sucked harder, took him deeper, fought past my gag reflex until my nose pressed into the hair at his groin. I massaged the pulsing vein while my lips sealed tight around the base of the head. His cock swelled noticeably between my lips, the tip flared against the roof of my mouth.

“Oh fuck.”

He came with a grunt. The first thick spurt hit the back of my throat. I swallowed reflexively, but more followed immediately, globs after heavy globs flooded my mouth. I kept sucking through every spurt, while gently squeezing the base with my fingers to coax out the last drops. His hips jerked then stilled as I milked a few more drops out of him.

At the exact moment his cock started to soften, I started cumming. Thick ropes of cum shot across the carpet in front of me until I had emptied myself completely. I moaned around his softening cock.

I stayed on him until he had gone mostly soft, then eased off. 

I looked up at him and he was smiling at me. “That was amazing, baby.”

I wiped my mouth. “Good… Thought you would’ve lasted longer though.”

He chuckled. “I will next time.”

“Can’t wait.”

“I’m gonna go to bed before I pass out,” he said, already shifting like he might stand.

“Just sleep in here.” I said.

“Okay.”

He lifted the corner of the duvet, and slid beneath it. 

I pushed myself up from my knees. I kicked my jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, letting them pool on the floor. I grabbed a clean towel from the top of the pile, and wiped up the streaks and puddles of my cum from the carpet then tossed the towel back into the corner.

I walked to the bed.

“Get in then,” he said.

“I’m coming.”

I dove under the covers and scooted backward until my back pressed flush to his chest. His arm came around my waist immediately, pulling me against him. His softening cock nestled snugly against the cleft of my ass. 

He reached up over my shoulder and flicked off the bedside lamp. 

We lay like that together until we both fell asleep.

To be continued...