Daddys Birthday 1

Editor's Note: story contains gay male sexuality.

*

"Happy Birthday, Dear Dad! Happy Birthday to you!" My father smirked at me, before quickly blowing out all the candles on his cake.

"Ah, no boyfriends." I said, sitting next to him at the table. My father was gay, so was I. He never came out to me, and I never came out to him. We just sort of always knew, I guess.

When I was younger my father used to bring his boyfriends over fairly often. But none of them ever really lasted. He had me when he was really young, and as such, most of the men he met were young, and not prepared to deal with a child. As soon as my mother had given birth to me, she'd stepped out of the picture. But it's fine, I really love my dad. He makes up for her not being here.

"No! I can't be single for another year." He exclaimed before laughing.

"I know, especially now that you're so old." I said with a smirk.

"Forty is not old! I'm in my prime."

He was right about that. He looked great.

My father works in construction. He's been working with the same company since he graduated high school. Throughout the years he was able to move up into management, but he didn't lose his muscular physique. He was fit, he was always weight lifting, training for marathons or half-marathons.

He was different from me in that way. He had an athletic build, whereas I was more slim. I was still fit, but I was a dancer, and I had that sort of body. But I was definitely more drawn to his body type than mine.

"You're twice my age, Jeff. I'll have to send you to an old folk's home soon." My father laughed again.

I glanced at the clock behind him.

"Shit," I cursed, "I have to go. I'll be late!" I quickly stood from the table, grabbing my bag from the kitchen counter. My father followed me.

"I wish you could stay. You haven't even had a piece of cake yet." He said, frowning. He looked so sad. I wished I could stay too, but I had work.

"I'll have some when I get home, around one. You'll still be up then, right?" I asked, pulling my sneakers on. He rubbed his hands through his thick brown hair.

"Yeah, the guys will probably still be over. I guess you can meet them then." He said, giving me a small half-smile.

"Sure, Dad. Sounds great." I stood, pulling him into a tight hug. He was taller than me, by about six inches. He kissed the top of my head before releasing me. He always did that, kissed the top of my head. I realized, as I got older, that it sent a sort pleasurable shudder down my spine.

"Happy Birthday, Dad." I said, before quickly leaving the house.

I felt bad. It was awful having to leave him on his birthday. He had been trying to introduce me to his friends for a while now, and I still hadn't made the time to meet them.

And to make matters worse, I was lying to him about my job. He thought I was a bartender, which was true, Monday through Thursday. But today was Friday, and I'd be working at TKO, the gay strip club about ten blocks from our house.

If my father knew about it, he'd die.

My father didn't always have a lot of money. He'd had me when he was twenty, which is far too young to have a child. But he always tried to give me the best. So as soon as I was old enough to get a job, I got one.

After I turned 19, I was able to start bartending, and was making a pretty good amount in tips. But I make a lot more stripping. Most of the money I make goes towards savings, so I can go to college. I give the rest to my father, who is way too reluctant to take it.

I don't mind though. I sort of feel like we're partners, we take care of each other. And I like that.

Besides, I don't really mind stripping. It's not like I feel used or dirty. It's just a job, that's all. But my father wouldn't see it that way, so there's no way he can ever, ever, ever find out.

"Hey Ty, we switched the rotation. You're on the floor tonight. Check the schedule." Tom said, as I entered the building. I nodded my thanks to him and carried on into the back to change.

The entire thing was all very organized. We had specific times that we went on to dance. The more popular the stripper, the later they went on.

We had five stages. Four smaller ones, and one main stage. Usually I only worked the stage if one of our more veteran dancers was sick or away. Which was fine with me, I found serving drinks and giving lap dances got me the same amount of tips. But the work was easier because, ironically enough, I'm pretty shy. I'm better with one on one interactions.

I went to the back room and began undressing quickly. The server's uniform was pretty basic. A pair of silver spandex booty shorts and a bow tie. (Because we had to look "classy").

As I pulled the shorts on I felt a strong hand grip my ass cheek.

"Hi Paul." I said with a smirk. Paul pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around my stomach. I could feel his erection through his pants. Must've just come off the stage.

"Mm, you dancing tonight, babe?" He asked, kissing my neck.

"Not on the stage."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to buy a lap dance then. How much do you charge again?" He asked, grinding against me. I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Whatever the price baby, you could never afford it." I said, quickly pecking his lips. I gave him a wink, then left the back room.

"You're such a tease!" He called after me. I chuckled.

Paul had been trying to get into my pants ever since I started working here. But we weren't really supposed to date coworkers, and that's what it would take to get into my pants.

I'm not easy. As I said, this is just a job, not a lifestyle.

Sure, I'd been a little promiscuous in high school, blowing my boyfriends in the front seat of their cars during lunch. But no one had ever fucked me. I was waiting on that one.

Yeah, call me old fashioned, but I want to actually care about the first person I sleep with. And yes, I get that saying that is sort of ironic.

If I was being completely honest, I was holding out for one man in particular. It would probably never happen with him, but I would wait a few more years, just in case.

"Ty, these drinks need to go to table seven." I nodded at the bartender, Matt, before grabbing the tray and heading off to the table.

The night seemed to go by quickly. I gave a good amount of dances, I'd have a good tip at the end of the night. I'd get my father something nice with it. I still felt awful about leaving him on his birthday.

Around midnight I served table nine. There was a group of three men waiting.

"What's your name, babe?" One of the men asked me as I set their drinks down. He looked about middle-aged. He was cute, had black hair and brown eyes.

"Friends call me Ty." I said with a wink. I looked around the three men. They were all about the same age, late thirties, early forties.

"How old are you, Ty?" A different one asked, smirking at me.

"Twenty." I replied, smiling back at him. I ran my fingers through my blonde hair. It was a lie, I was only nineteen, but I'd be turning twenty in a week. I was born exactly seven days (and twenty years) after my father.

"That's perfect," The first man said with a large grin. "How much is it for a dance?"

"It's $20 for a song, full contact." I answered with a smirk. I knew I had him.

"Done." He said, handing me a twenty. The music changed, a new song began.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and lowered myself onto him, grinding my body against his.

Dancing was easy. It came very naturally to me. I think being a virgin for 20 years actually helped, I had a lot of pent up sexual energy.

The man I was dancing for seemed to be enjoying himself. He was smiling at me, his hands rested firmly on my hips, his eyes locked with mine. My hands roamed his shoulders, down slightly onto his chest. He was sweating slightly, from me or the heat in the room, I wasn't sure. But his breath was short, I could tell he was getting close. The song was almost over.

"Wow, I leave for a couple minutes and Roman buys a lap dance? I miss everything." A man behind me said. I smirked, grinding against the man one final time.

The man, Roman, gasped quietly, his hips jerked upwards, his hands gripped me forcefully as he came. He panted quietly as his orgasm died, his grip on me relaxed, the song ended.

"Whoa. That looked like a good one. How much for a dance?" The new member to the group asked. I smiled and climbed off of Roman, turning to face him.

My eyes widened in surprise and horror as I faced my father. His mouth dropped. We stared at each other for a good twenty seconds, the other men in his group began to worry.

"I-I-I'm actually off now. My shift's over." I lied, hurrying quickly into the back room.

Oh. My. God.

My father had caught me. He'd caught me giving one of his friends a lap dance.

And it had turned him on. No. I had turned him on.

My cock stiffened.

Yes, I'm attracted to my father. He's gorgeous, anyone would be attracted to him. And he's nice, and sweet and...protective.

Protective. My father is protective, and when I get home he's going to give it to me for putting myself in this type of situation. Shit.

And, on top of it all, I've ruined his birthday. I'm terrible.

I looked in the mirror in the back room, willing my erection to go down. I still had another half hour of my shift, but with any luck my father and his posse would be gone.

I sucked in a deep breath and entered the main floor feeling guilty and ashamed. Thankfully my father and his friends were gone.

***

I stood outside the front door for at least five minutes, trying to figure out a plan of attack.

There was only my father's truck in the driveway, so he probably didn't have his friends over. Maybe he'd gone to bed. Maybe I could just sneak up to my room and deal with it tomorrow.

Shit.

I breathed deeply, opening the door.

The lights in the living room were off. That was a good sign. I kicked my shoes off and dropped my bag at the front door. Usually I'd take it up to my room to hide it, but my father had already seen my outfit, and besides, he wasn't the type to rifle through my things anyway.

I walked quietly throughout the house, heading for the stairs. But my plan of sneaking to my room was foiled, my father was sitting in the dining room, waiting for me.

He sat at the head of the table, chewing his lip anxiously. He was running his fingers through his thick brown hair, his brown eyes looked me up and down.

"Sit down, Ty." Dad said quietly, motioning to the chair to his left. I nodded and reluctantly sat.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry I ruined your birthday." I said quietly. My father just shook his head slowly.

"I don't even know what to say," He said, sighing deeply, "I want you to quit, obviously. But I can't make you and I won't force you. You're nearly twenty, you're old enough to make your own decisions." I nodded slowly, processing what he was saying. It was so much worse that he wasn't angry, he was just sad. It killed me.

And I felt doubly guilty, because just thinking about this situation - my father watching me give his friend a lap dance, was turning me on. My father had never seen me so sexual before, and before he knew it was me, well, he wanted me. He wanted me. That turned me on more than I could say.

"Can I ask you something, Dad?" I asked, eyeing him. He nodded, rubbing his eyes.

"Was I good?"

He looked at me startled.

"What?"

"Was I good? Good at dancing? Did it... did it turn you on?" I asked the last part quietly, anxiously.

"That's...that's completely irrelevant son." He said, standing. He went to leave the dining room.

"Please don't be mad at me Daddy." I said. I hadn't called him Daddy in a long time. It was something that just sort of came out when I was scared. But it worked. He stopped, and sighed again. He looked at me, rubbing his neck. He looked so worn out.

"I'm not mad, son. It's just... I don't like the idea of you being with other men. They won't take care of you, they don't love you... it's just... but I guess it isn't my place. You're an adult, Ty. I just still see you as my little boy, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I know, Dad. But I... I haven't been with anyone. Not like that." I said, standing. I moved towards him slowly.

"Really?" He asked, "You're still a virgin?"

I nodded, "Yeah, Dad."

I wrapped my arms around him, and pressed my ear against his chest. His arms in turn, held me. And he kissed the top of my head.

"And I'll always be your little boy, Dad. That's not going to change." I said.

"I know, son, I know."

We pulled away from each other only slightly, and I leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His hands trailed down my back, resting on my hips. We looked at each other.

"Son," He breathed softly, before I pressed my lips against his. Our lips moved softly together, tenderly. The kiss lasted for maybe five seconds before my dad pulled away.

"Ty, we can't." He said, his hands falling away from my body. My cock was rock hard already. And I could feel his erection through his pants too. I persisted.

"Why not, Dad?" I asked, wrapping my arms around him again.

"I-I'm your father, it's not appropriate." He said quietly. He didn't push me away. His arms just hung limply at his sides.

"Jeff, you said it yourself, no one else will love me or take care of me the way you do." I said, looking up at him. I needed him, needed this.

"Don't call me that, son." He breathed, avoiding my eyes.

God, I'd been in love with him for so many years. No way I could handle rejection from him now. He didn't move. I tried one final plea.

"I'm in love with you, Daddy."

He looked down at me. There was a look in his eyes I had never seen before. I couldn't place it. He looked sad and lustful and desperate all at once. For a moment I thought he was going to push me away, run to his room and shut me out.

But then, his lips were on mine.

He was rough, dominating. His kisses were desperate, so were mine. My father's hands moved to my waist, and he held me, almost painfully tight. He was in control.

God, I had wanted this for so long. And now that the dam holding it all back had been broken, there was no stopping it now.

My hands travelled up his chest, feeling his muscles. I was eager, more eager than I'd ever been with any of my high school boyfriends. I was with a man, my father. He was masculine and dominating and protective. He'd take care of me. He always had.

My father's tongue traced my lips, and I opened them, allowing him full access to my mouth. His tongue moved with mine, exploring me desperately. My hands flew to his hair, and I gripped his delicious brown curls, holding his face to mine.

He pushed me back slowly, still kissing me, until I was trapped between him and the dining room table. My father's erection pressed forcefully against mine, I moved my hips slowly, further stimulating our hard members.

My dad's hands moved quickly to the backs of my thighs. He picked me up easily, setting me onto the dining room table, so our faces were the same height. His kisses slowed.

He took my face in his hands, and finally pulled away. His earnest brown eyes stared deeply into mine.

"Son," he breathed softly, panting "if we do this, there's no going back. Are you sure you want this?"

I gently brushed his cheeks with my fingertips, feeling the short stubble there.

"Daddy, I've wanted this for years." I murmured, pressing my lips against his, in a short, tender peck. He smiled, the right corner of his mouth pulling up.

"Me too." He admitted sheepishly. "I love you, son."

We kissed again. Both of us were filled with an urgency, a disparity, as though we had no time, though we had all the time in the world now. His lips moved to my neck, and I tilted my head back, softly whimpering as he sucked and nibbled the sensitive skin there.

My father's hands gripped my thin white t-shirt and eagerly pulled it over my head. He threw it onto the floor with a growl. His hands ravaged my chest, hips and stomach, feeling every inch of my exposed flesh. I felt powerless against him, but I loved it. I wanted to give everything I had to him.

I pulled his shirt off gently, dropping it carelessly to the floor. My hands moved along his body. He was so deliciously warm. My fingers curled softly in his chest hair, and he let out a soft groan against my neck.

We pulled each other closer, our bodies nearly flush. I let my hands trail down his chest, feeling his sculpted body, my cock aching for release. When I reached his jeans I undid the button eagerly and pulled down the zipper. My father finished the job for me, pulling down both his jeans and his boxers quickly, and kicking them off.

I gently took his hard prick in my hand, stroking the length. My breath caught.

"Jesus, Daddy." I breathed, looking down at his impressive cock. It was at least 9 inches, and fairly thick. I swallowed, my eyes widening in surprise. My father chuckled.

"What's the matter son? You see dicks this big at work, don't you?" He asked. He was right, I did. I just assumed those were reserved for, I dunno know, porn stars and strippers, not site managers. I had no idea how this would fit into my unused asshole.

"Does it make you nervous, son?" He asked gently, taking my chin in his hand and looking into my eyes. I nodded slowly. "Do you want to stop?" I shook my head.

"Daddy'll be gentle." He cooed, pressing his lips tenderly against mine. He had always taken good care of me. I trusted him.

I slid off the table, so I was standing in front of him. I unbuttoned my jeans, shimmying my hips a little so they fell to the floor. My boxers went with them.

I was completely exposed to my father, as he was to me. His hand gripped my cock, and he stroked me slowly. I could already feel the pressure begin to build in the pit of my stomach, just being this close to him. My eyes fluttered closed.

"That feels good, Daddy." I moaned softly, my arms locking behind his neck. His lips moved to the crook of my neck and he kissed me gently.

"Don't be nervous now, son. Daddy's going to make you feel so good." He murmured. His hands moved to my ass, and he squeezed it, my cock jumped in excitement. My prick was rock hard, and aching. I needed him to make love to me, I needed him to do it now.

"Turn around for me, son." He said, pulling away to look at me. I nodded up at him, and turned, resting my hands on the table top.

"God, you're beautiful, son." He breathed, gripping my bottom again. His cock slid between the crack of my ass, teasing me. I shuddered against him, backing up slightly.

I heard him spit, then I felt his wet fingers gently rub my asshole. I whimpered, my breath hitching.

"If it hurts, you just tell Daddy to stop, okay son?" He said, pressing his middle finger against my hole. I nodded, biting my bottom lip. I wasn't going to stop him, I didn't care how much it hurt, I wouldn't stop him.

His finger entered my ass, probably up to the first knuckle. I groaned at the invasion, my back arching. I breathed slowly through my mouth, willing my body to relax, to let him enter me.

"Good boy." He said softly, pushing more of his finger into me. My toes curled against the hardwood floor, I hissed in pain. He slowly began thrusting his finger in and out of me, stretching my hole. My ass clenched around his finger, holding him inside of me.

His finger ran past the sensitive nub inside of me, and I moaned loudly, my back arching again, this time in pleasure.

"Do it again, Daddy." I whimpered. He chuckled softly behind me, stroking my prostate again. My fingers pressed firmly against the table, while I whimpered with pleasure.