It was my Dads birthday, he was turning forty. We had made plans to celebrate it in the bar, with friends. My dad had been single for a long time, so it was important that he was around people that loved him.
Four weeks before, I made loads of phone calls, inviting everyone. Little did I know that most would let me down. Everyone said they would be there, but one by one, most backed out.
Being only twenty one, I still lived at home with my dad.
At around six o'clock, we started getting ready for celebrations.
"I'm jumping in the shower, Son." Dad called from outside the bathroom.
"OK." I shouted, from my room.
Already showered, I started to dress. I had just pulled on my jeans, when I saw that I didn't have my shirt. After a second of thinking, I remembered that I'd left it downstairs.
I walked out of my room and headed toward the stairs, started to fasten my jeans along the way. My whole body paused when I saw the bathroom door was open.
I listened for a minute, before moving toward the bathroom. I looked round the corner, to see my Dad in the shower cubicle.
He had his back to me. This made for a great point of view, when be bent over, pressing is almost smooth ass against the glass. I got an amazing view of his cock and balls, through his legs.
After picking up a bottle is shampoo, he stood back up. He squeezed some shampoo into his hand, then dropped the bottle onto the shower floor.
I continued to spy on him, while he worked the shampoo into his hair. My cock began to shift, when I saw foam run down his back. The foam reached his butt and began to slide down his crack. This caused me to involuntary reach for my crotch.
Through my jeans, I rubbed at my cock. I began to throb, while watching my father rinse off. I was enjoying the sights, so much that I almost missed my Dad turning the shower off.
I quickly ducked out of sight, before he had chance to turn around. I rushed down the staircase, hoping that I hadn't been heard.
I went through the house and into the kitchen. It was where I had left it, laying on the ironing board. I pulled my shirt on, while walking back through the house.
At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped, to fasten my shirt.
"What time to we have to leave?" Dad said.
I looked up, to see him standing at the top of the stairs. He was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. The sight of him stunned me, so much that I forgot the answer.
My father was always in good shape. His body looked so good, especially while wearing that towel. He had muscle, but just enough fat to hide his abs. His chest was coated in dark hair, sometimes I used to be jealous of.
"Well?" Dad said.
"Sorry, what did you say?" I said, playing the whole innocent thing.
"What time are we going?" He did.
"We should leave in about ten minutes." I said, while fastening the last button of my shirt.
"Fuck!" Dad snapped.
"What's wrong?" I said.
"I was hoping that I had time for a wank." He said.
Unsure whether or not he I was joking, I just smiled.
My Dad has always had a strange sense of humour. Him joking about wanking, was nothing new.
"I'll finish getting ready then." He said.
Just as he turned away, he pulled his towel from around his waist, flashing his ass just before going out of my sight.
I went up the staircase and round to my room. I put a silver chain around my neck, and put my watch on. It must of taken me a while to do that, because when I turned around, Dad was stood in the doorway and fully dressed.
He looked so good. He wore black jeans and a white shirt. Each item of clothing, tight enough to show all of his best bits.
"Are you ready, Son?" He said.
"Just need to style my hair." I said.
"Oh god, we will never leave on time." He said, smiling.
"It won't take long." I said.
"You always take forever to get ready." He said.
"What?" I said.
"You gays are worse then women." He said, laughing.
"Fuck off, Dad." I said.
We smiled at each other, when I walked past him, heading for the bathroom.
My Dad had known about my being gay, for a while. The day I told him, he just laughed and said something like "tell me something I don't know."
In the bathroom, I took the pot of styling wax from a shelf. I quickly worked a little into my hair then washed my hands. I looked into the mirror, to see that Dad was behind me again.
I couldn't help but scan his reflection. His arms bulged from the short sleeve shirt. His face, coated with stubble that matched the length of the hair on his head.
"You ready then?" Dad said.
"Yep, are you?" I said.
"Yes, I've been ready ages." He said, with that cheeky smile of his.
"Let's go then." I said.
-let's cut the story short-
We left the house and walked down the street, toward the bar. As we walked in the door, My Dads guests started singing happy birthday. He hated that, he's never liked being centre of attention.
Dad quickly worked the room, saying hello to everyone. While he did that, I ordered some drinks for us. I got us a pint or larger each and a couple of sambuca shots.
My Dad came over to me, smiling. We downed the shots and started to chat while we sipped at our pints. We continued like this for the rest of the night, more shots and larger.
-back to it-
After about four hours, Dad started to look a little tipsy. By this time, most of his guests had left.
"Shall we go home?" I said, slurring each word.
"Yeah, I'm fucked." Dad said.
"Let's go then." I said.
We walked toward to door, while waving at the remaining guests.
"I'll call you tomorrow." I shouted over my shoulder, while walking out of the bar.
We started to head up the pavement, toward our house.
"Did you have a good night?" I said.
"Yeah, it was great." Dad said.
"Good." I said.
"There is one problem though." Dad said.
"What?..." I stopped in place. "What's the problem.
