I Found My Father with Another Man in His Room

You come home with your blood boiling. The keys slam against the lock and you don’t bother to keep the noise down. Those two girls from university had you turned on all afternoon, laughing, brushing against you on purpose, and in the end they left you hanging, aching with need. The only thing on your mind is locking yourself in your room, opening your laptop, and taking the tension off alone.

You shut the door and drop your backpack at the entrance. The house seems silent, or so you think at first. Your parents should be at work by now. And then you hear it.

A moan.

It’s coming from upstairs, from the master bedroom. You freeze in the middle of the hallway, your heart suddenly racing. Another moan, clearer this time. And it’s not your mother’s voice.

It’s a man’s voice.

—What a ass you’ve got, damn it —says someone you don’t recognize.

And then, without a doubt, your father’s voice:

—Fuck me harder.

Your breath catches. You go up the stairs slowly, stepping carefully so you don’t give yourself away, and your cock is already straining in your jeans because your body reacts before your head does. The moans grow louder with every step. The bedroom door is ajar.

You move closer and look through the crack.

Your father is on all fours on the bed, completely naked, and a man you’ve never seen in your life is fucking him from behind. The stranger is younger than him, broad-shouldered, with tattoos climbing both his arms. He hammers into him with hard thrusts that tear uncontrolled moans out of your father.

—That’s it, that’s it, don’t stop —pants your father, clutching the sheets.

The other man grabs his hair and yanks his head back.

—Do you like getting fucked in your own bed while your family isn’t home?

—I love it —your father answers—. I love it, you have no idea how much.

You watch the stranger’s cock sliding in and out, shining with lube, his thighs slapping against your father’s body with every thrust. Your father’s own cock hangs hard between his legs, swaying to the rhythm of the blows.

You realize your hand is already pressed against your own crotch, without you even deciding it.

You stay rooted there, your back against the hallway wall, spying through that crack as if you were witnessing the most unreal scene of your life. But it’s real. That’s your father, the same man who yells at you for leaving your room a mess, now giving himself up to that man as if he were nothing.

The stranger stuffs two fingers into his mouth.

—Suck them.

Your father obeys at once, licking, sucking, while still taking every thrust. The wet sound mixes with his muffled moans and fills the room with something obscene you can’t stop listening to.

This cannot be happening.

But it is. And you can’t look away.

—You’re a hole, did you know that? —the man says, pulling his fingers out to smack his ass, the slap echoing through the room.

—Yeah, I’m your hole —your father answers without a shred of shame.

You feel your cock hard as stone inside your pants. You know it’s twisted, that you should leave, but seeing your father dominated like that, used like a toy, turns you on in a way you don’t understand.

The stranger turns him onto his side and lifts one of his legs, fucking him from that angle while squeezing his throat with one hand. Your father pants, face flushed, eyes unfocused, utterly surrendered. His cock drips onto the sheets untouched.

—You’re going to come just from getting fucked in the ass, right?

—Yes… please —he begs.

The other man speeds up, hard thrusts shaking your father’s body. He lets go of his throat and your father sucks in a deep breath, coughs a little, but smiles like a junkie.

You unzip your pants, unable to hold back anymore. Your hand slips under your clothes and you start touching yourself while you watch that man take possession of your father.

—No marks, please —he asks between gasps, his voice breaking—. My wife…

The stranger laughs.

—Your wife? And what are you going to tell her when she gets home and smells someone else on you?

He smacks the same spot again, leaving the skin red. Your father bites his lip and doesn’t protest.

***

Then the man stops and pulls out abruptly. For the first time you see his cock in full: thick, dark, veins standing out. Your father moans at the loss and turns his head with a pleading look.

—Turn around. I want to see your face.

Your father obeys quickly, lying on his back. He grips his knees and spreads his legs, exposing himself completely. The other man settles between them and drives back in with one long thrust.

Your father arches his back.

—Yes, just like that.

From where you stand you can see everything: how that cock fills him all the way, how his eyes open wide, his mouth parted, his body trembling. And right then, his gaze shifts toward the door.

He sees you.

His eyes go wide. Pleasure is still there, mixed with surprise and a flash of panic. He opens his mouth to say something, but the stranger slams into him brutally and all that comes out is a moan.

He stares at you fixedly, unable to speak, while the other man keeps fucking him without mercy.

His hands clutch the tattooed man’s back, nails digging into the skin, and he wraps his legs around his waist, trapping him, wanting him deeper. And he does not take his eyes off yours.

He sees you standing in the hallway, your hand inside your pants, jerking off as you watch him. Shame flickers across his face for a second, but he’s too far gone to stop.

The stranger hasn’t noticed a thing. Focused, he grips your father’s thighs, drives forward hard, sweating.

—I’m going to come —he pants—. I’m going to fill you up.

—Yeah, inside —your father begs, never looking away from you.

You see the exact moment the other man empties. His body goes rigid, he drives one last time to the hilt and lets out a deep grunt. Your father throws his head back, but his eyes come right back to you, panting.

You squeeze harder, your heart pounding wildly, not knowing whether to run or stay.

***

The stranger comes out slowly, his cock shining. Your father sits up in a hurry, takes it with both hands, and brings it to his mouth, licking it all over, cleaning every trace. He does it with a devotion that leaves you breathless.

The other man strokes his hair.

—Good boy.

Your father lifts his gaze to him, the cock still in his mouth, then flicks a sideways look toward the door. His own cock is still hard, pointing upward, dripping. He still hasn’t come.

He keeps sucking slowly while watching you, fully aware that you’re there.

The man leans in, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him. A slow, deep kiss, not rough at all, the exact opposite of the brutality from a moment ago. Your father gives in, opening his lips.

While he kisses him, the other lowers a hand and wraps it around his cock, stroking him unhurriedly.

—You still haven’t come —he murmurs against his lips.

—No… not yet.

—Do you want to come?

—Yeah, damn it, yes —your father moans, pushing his hips toward that hand.

The man kisses him again, dirtier this time, and suddenly lets go of his cock.

—Prep me and fuck me —he tells him in a rough voice, staring into his eyes.

Your father blinks, surprised, but his face lights up at once. He guides him into position on his stomach. The stranger gets on all fours, lets his head fall onto the pillow, and arches his back, lifting his ass.

***

Your father kneels behind him, pries his ass cheeks open with his hands, and buries his face between them. The other man lets out a deep moan and clenches his fists in the sheets.

Your father works him with his tongue, licking from top to bottom, taking his time, soaking him thoroughly. The roles have completely reversed now: now he’s the one preparing, the one taking control.

He lifts his head for a second to catch his breath, chin shining, and glances at you from the bed. He knows you’re still there, with your hand on your cock, watching everything. And he goes back down.

Then he spits into his hand, gets it wet, takes the bottle of lube from the bed, and prepares the other man with his fingers. The stranger spreads his legs wider, offering himself, waiting.

Your father grips his cock, lines himself up, and pushes in. The head goes in easily; the rest follows with one long thrust.

—Fuck, yes —the man shouts into the pillow.

Your father grabs his hips and starts moving, slowly at first, until he finds the rhythm. The thrusts grow harder, more precise. The bed creaks and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.

Now he’s in charge. Now he’s the one fucking.

He puts a hand on the back of his neck and presses his face down into the pillow, subduing him, while he drives his cock into him over and over to the hilt. With his other hand he raises his palm and lands a smack on his ass. The sound bounces dryly off the walls.

—You like that? You like it when I fuck you like this? —your father says in a voice you’ve never heard from him before. Hoarse, hard, dominant.

The other man can only moan into the pillow, surrendered, his skin burning from the blows.

Each thrust pushes him a few inches toward the headboard. His knees slide on the mattress, seeking purchase, but the force is relentless. Within minutes his forehead is pressed against the wood, trapped.

—Harder! —the stranger begs, his voice breaking—. Don’t stop!

Your father smiles to himself and glances at you, a smile you’d never seen before, while he keeps pounding the man who had been dominating him a moment ago.

—I’m going to wreck your ass —he growls in his ear—. You won’t be able to sit for a week.

—Yeah, leave me like this! —the other man begs, lost.

The thrusts become erratic, desperate. He’s close.

—I’m coming —your father pants, and slams all the way in one last time.

He stays there, buried, trembling, letting out long moans as he empties himself. The stranger closes his eyes and throws his head back.

—I feel it, I feel it inside! —he moans, his voice broken.

***

You lean against the hallway wall, your chest rising and falling. You look down and realize it: you came without even noticing, your hand sticky, your pants stained. You jacked off watching your father fuck like an animal.

Heavy breathing comes from the room, both of them catching their breath.

—That was brutal —says the stranger, his voice hoarse—. It’s been a long time since anyone fucked me like that.

Without thinking, you bring your fingers to your mouth. The first taste is strange: salty, a little bitter, thick. Your own taste, which you had never tasted before. And for some reason you can’t stop.

—Can you on Wednesday, during the game? —the other man asks.

—Perfect —your father answers, that new voice still in him—. You know the deal.

The man chuckles. You don’t hear the rest. You slip away toward your room, stepping softly, and suddenly understand that your father spoke louder than necessary, making sure you caught the message: disappear before the other man finds you.

You go in darkly and close the door without a sound. You stand there with your back against the wood, your pants still sticky against your skin.

My father isn’t who I thought he was.

Wednesdays, during the games. Maybe other days too. You sit on the edge of the bed without turning on the light, trying to make sense of everything you’ve just witnessed. And you know, with an uneasy certainty, that the next time your father yells at you over some stupid thing, you’re going to look at him differently. Forever.