The drive to my son’s college town is long, but the open road does something to ease the tightness in my chest—the kind that’s been there since the last kid moved out. The house is too quiet now, too damn big for just me. So I’ve been making trips, visiting the kids wherever they’ve scattered. My youngest, Jason, landed here, at a school with a campus so green it almost hurts to look at. He’s changed since he started—broader in the shoulders, deeper in the voice, the kind of confidence that only comes from finding your place. Lacrosse did that for him. I can still picture the way his face lit up when he told me he made the team freshman year.
He won’t tell me about it but I figure he’s dating too. Or at least having some fun. I mean, I don’t blame him. The kid is a stud and probably has half the school trying to tie him down. I learned two kids ago not to push these things, though. He’ll introduce me to a girl when he’s ready.
I pull into the visitor lot just after noon, the sun high and hot through the windshield as I turn the car off and lose the AC. My phone buzzes with a text from Jason
Jason: Meet you at the diner on Maple in 10.
It feels good to stretch my legs as I walk. I’d set off early to get here in time to meet up with him for lunch. The diner has that comforting smell of years of bacon grease and coffee permeating every surface, the kind of spot where students huddle over textbooks through all nighters and old men nurse bottomless cups of joe at all hours of the day. Jason’s already there, slouched in a booth with his phone in one hand, a laminated menu in front of him. He grins when he sees me, that same lopsided smile he’s had since he was a kid, but now there’s stubble along his jaw, a faint shadow that makes him look older than twenty one.
“Took you long enough,” he teases, sliding out to pull me into a hug. He’s solid—muscle under his hoodie, the kind of build that comes from hours on the field. “You look good, Dad.”
“So do you,” I say, ruffling his hair like I used to when he was little. He swats my hand away, laughing. “Still can’t believe you’re legal to drink now.” A few pictures from social media may have found their way into the family group chat after his birthday bash last month. It seemed like too wild a time for an old man like me but it’d been fun to razz him about it with his older siblings.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groans, rolling his eyes. “You gonna order, or are you just here to embarrass me?”
We fall into easy conversation over burgers and fries, the kind of catch-up that skims the surface—his classes, my work, the lacrosse season starting up. He’s got a group project due tonight, some marketing thing, and he keeps glancing at his phone like he’s waiting for someone. When his screen lights up with a text, he sighs. “Shit, I gotta run. This thing is due by midnight and one of the guys in my group hasn’t done a damn thing yet.”
“No problem,” I say, waving him off. “Go be a responsible adult.”
He grins, shoving the last of his fries into his mouth. “You sticking around tonight?”
“Yeah, got a room at the Marriott. Might hit a bar, watch the game.”
“Cool. Text me later. Maybe we can meet up after practice tomorrow?” He throws some cash on the table, but I shove it back at him. The kid got a good paying internship over the summer and now thinks he’s some big roller who can treat his dad to a meal. I’m not ready for my baby boy to be an adult quite yet. He rolls his eyes at me but pockets the cash.
I nod. “Just miss having you assholes around.”
He claps my shoulder, his grip warm. “Love you. Have fun tonight! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I watch him go, the way his backpack bounces against his shoulders as he jogs toward campus. The diner feels emptier without him. I pay the bill and head out, the afternoon sun making my skin prickle. I’m able to check into my room a bit early thanks to my hotel rewards status, a product of all these trips. I even get upgraded to a suite. It will be nice to have some space to spread out in for the few days I’m staying here.I grab a quick nap before making some work calls. Before I know it, the sun is setting and I throw on a light jacket before heading out back onto the streets where throngs of students are getting their night started.
The bar’s not far—a dive called The Lockers, all dark wood and neon beer signs. It’s early, but there’s already a handful of students scattered at the tables, a few guys in jerseys glued to the TV where some pre-season game’s playing. I grab a stool at the bar, order a draft, and let the cold bitter slide down my throat.
Tall—got a few inches on me—with long brown hair hanging loose around his face. It looks soft and now I’m imagining how it would feel to pull it while I have his body under mine. Shit, I guess it’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid. He’s leaning against the other end of the bar laughing at something his friend says. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his chest like it’s painted on. When he turns to flag down the bartender for another round, his eyes flick over me, then back, lingering. There’s a heat in that look, something deliberate.
He excuses himself from his friend and saunters over, all easy confidence. “Mind if I sit?”
“Be my guest,” I say, nodding to the empty stool beside me.
He slides onto it, close enough that I catch the scent of him—sweat and something clean, like soap. “You’re not a student,” he observes, flagging down the bartender for a beer.
“Nope. Just visiting my kid.”
“Ah.” He grins, white teeth flashing. “Dad weekend.”
He takes a sip of his beer, watching me over the rim. “You come here often?”
“Then let me show you around.” His knee brushes mine under the bar. Not an accident. “I’m Tyler.”
His fingers trace idle patterns on his glass, the condensation wet under his touch. “So, Mark. What do you do when you’re not visiting your kid?”
“I work in construction. Mostly managing commercial projects.”
“Huh.” His gaze drags down my body, slow, like he’s measuring me. “Bet you’re strong.”
I laugh, low. “I manage.”
He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Bet you could handle a lot.”
My cock twitches. It’s been too damn long since someone’s looked at me like that—like they want. But something in me still shies away from the direct approach of a man so I avert my gaze back to my drink.
Tyler takes my cue with a chuckle and continues the conversation in a new direction. “Finance. I’m just a sophomore but I’m hoping to get some good experience next summer and narrow down what exactly I want to do.”
“We could probably use someone like you at my job. I’ll be honest, my backgrounds more on the operations side so the numbers stuff is always harder for me.”
“Yeah, my boyfriend’s been encouraging me to looks at smaller firms where I could have more responsibility and learn a lot. He says I’ll hate the corporate Wall Street bullshit. He’s probably right, but the money’s hard to ignore.”
“Boyfriend?” I don’t mean for that to come out but it does. I’d gotten the vibe he was into guys pretty obviously already but I guess I still wasn’t used to straight looking guys like him dating openly. And why was he talking with me if he has some hot young stud tucked away somewhere.
He laughs at my obvious glances around the room looking for his partner. “I’m alone tonight. We’re open and both like to play with hot older daddies on the side.” I must blush at that because his smile turns almost predatory. Tyler’s hand lands on my thigh, fingers spreading possessively. “You got a room nearby?”
I swallow. “Marriott. Five minutes from here.”
He cocks his eyebrows at me in question. “Then what the fuck are we still doing here?”
The elevator ride up to my room is a blur of hands and mouths. Tyler pins me against the wall the second the doors close, his body pressing mine into the metal, his cock already half-hard against my hip. His tongue’s in my mouth before I can breathe, hot and demanding, tasting like beer and something sweeter. I groan into him, my hands gripping his waist, fingers digging into the firm muscle there.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he murmurs against my lips. Not every young guy is this enthusiastic about my old body but it sure feels great when you find one that is
The doors ding open. I stumble out, dragging him with me, fumbling with the keycard. The first room’s generic—beige walls, a desk and tv, little kitchenette, the faint hum of the AC. Now that we’re in the room, Tyler loses a bit of his urgency. He wraps his arms around my waist to bring me in for another kiss. Deep and tasting, less about exploration now and more about savoring the sensation of it. He shoves me down on the couch before crawling into my lap. His hands are at my sides as he buries his face in my neck. Before I can react, he’s yanking my shirt from my jeans before palming my chest through the fabric, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they’re hard little points.
“Goddamn,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at me. “You’re built.”
I laugh, breathless. “Right back at ya stud. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a jock like you.”
He smirks, stripping his shirt off in one smooth motion. His chest is a landscape of muscle, smooth skin expanding with his panting breaths. I reach for him, but he bats my hands away. “Uh-uh. My turn.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, his fingers working my belt open, the zipper down. My cock’s already straining against my boxers, the head damp with precome. Tyler pulls it out, wrapping his fist around the base, his thumb swiping over the slit. “Fuck, you’re thick.”
I hiss as he leans in, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. Then his mouth is on me, lips sealing around the crown, tongue swirling. He takes me deep in one go, throat opening around the head, and I groan, my hands flying to his hair. He moans around me, the vibration making my knees weak.
He pulls off with a wet pop, grinning up at me. “You like that, old man?”
He chuckles, low and dirty, before taking me back into his mouth. His head bobs, his lips stretched obscenely around my girth, spit dripping down my shaft. I fuck into his mouth, unable to help myself, my hips snapping shallowly. He takes it, gagging just a little, his fingers digging into my thighs.
He’s pulling off too soon to pull my pants off entirely. I think he might return to it but instead he sits on my knee and goes back to playing with my chest. The bulge in his jeans is impossible to ignore and I bring my hand up to caress it through the fabric.
He's driving me crazy and I recognize the familiar heat in my gut. I don't bottom very often but being an empty nester has given me more opportunities to experiment with men and I've learned that I like the energy of a young, dominant top. Something about it makes me feel wanted in a way I don’t get from other encounters.
“What do you want tonight, daddy?” He whispers as he pinches my hard bud.
I growl at the mix of pain and pleasure, pulling him closer. “I want your cock.”
He smirks, finger lazily circling my chest. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do with it?”
I shove him off me and make for the bedroom. “Ride it.”
His eyes darken and shoot to my ass as he follows me into the next room
I strip, my clothes hitting the floor in a heap. Tyler does the same, his cock springing free—long and curved to the left, the head dramatically flared away from the shaft. He strokes himself lazily, watching me. “You sure you can take this?”
I crawl onto the bed, kneeling in front of him. “I can take it.”
He pushes me back, his body covering mine, his cock pressing against my thigh. His mouth finds mine again, his kiss bruising, his tongue dominating. I whimper into him, my hands roaming over his back, his ass, squeezing the firm muscle there.
“You got lube?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Bathroom, front pocket of my toiletries.” He’s back before I even get the chance to miss his body on top of mine.
He slicks his fingers in a practiced effort. Then his hand is between my legs, his fingers teasing my hole. I spread my thighs wider, my cock leaking onto my stomach. “I didn’t see any condoms.”
“Didn’t bring any. Is that a problem?” I give him a challenging look.
“Fuck, you’re eager,” he groans, pressing a finger inside. I gasp, my body clenching around him. “Tight too. Gonna feel so good around my cock.”
He works me open, two fingers, then three, scissoring, stretching. I’m panting, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Please—fuck—”
“Begging already?” He smirks, lining his cock up. “God, you’re perfect. Such a slut for my dick.”
I glare at him, but whatever protest I had dies in my throat as he pushes in. The burn is sharp, intense, but goddamn does it feel good. He’s big—bigger than I’ve taken in a while—and he doesn’t go slow. He bottoms out with a groan, his hips flush against my ass.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hisses, his forehead dropping to mine. “Gonna wreck this hole.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his ass. “Then move.”
He pulls back and slams into me, hard. I cry out, my back arching off the bed. He does it again. And again. His cock pistons in and out of me, his balls slapping against my ass with every thrust. The bed creaks, the headboard knocking against the wall.
“You like that?” he grunts, his hands gripping my hips, lifting me to meet his thrusts.
He leans down, biting my nipple, his teeth sharp. I yell, my cock throbbing, precome splurting onto my chest. His hand wraps around my shaft, stroking in time with his thrusts.
“Gonna come for me?” he growls. “Gonna shoot all over yourself while I breed this ass?”
I can barely manage a nod as his dick reaches the perfect angle to punch my prostate with every powerful thrust as his pace turns brutal. My orgasm crashes over me, my cock pulsing in his grip, ropes of come painting my chest, my stomach. Tyler groans, his thrusts turning erratic, his cock swelling inside me.
“Fuck—fuck—” He buries himself deep, his hips stuttering as he comes, his cum filling me, hot and thick. He collapses on top of me, his breath ragged against my neck.
“Holy shit,” he pants against my still trembling body.
I chuckle, trying to catch my breath. “Told you you could take it.” I press a kiss to his shoulder. I always get a tad romantic after a good fuck.
I wake to sunlight streaming through the curtains, my body aching in the best way. Tyler’s still asleep beside me, his arm slung over my waist, his breath warm against my back. I shift carefully, not wanting to wake him, but he stirs anyway, his cock pressing against my ass.
“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
He nuzzles my neck, his hand sliding down my stomach, fingers wrapping around my morning wood. “Already hard again?”
I groan as he strokes me. “You’re insatiable.”
“You love it.” He kisses my shoulder, his teeth grazing my skin. “But I gotta run. Practice in an hour.”
I roll over, catching his mouth in a slow kiss. “Let me drive you.”
He hesitates, then grins. “You just want an excuse to cop a feel on the way.”
He laughs, pulling away to grab his jeans. He finds his phone and starts typing away while I pick up my own discarded clothes from the other room. He’s smiling at his phone when he comes out and joins me. “Can’t say I’m not jealous that I’m not the one making you smile like that.”
He gives me a withering look. “Just texting my boyfriend. Telling him about last night.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s he say?”
Tyler’s thumbs fly over his screen. “That he’s jealous.” He glances up, smirking. “I made sure to rub it in how good it felt inside you. How long are you in town? I’m sure he’d like a go at you if you’re free some time. He’s been craving a good daddy fuck all week.”
I pull on my boxers, watching him. “That so?”
“Mhm.” He sends the text, then shoves his phone his pocket, grabbing my arm and pulling me into another kiss.
I swat his ass and push him off me with a chuckle. “C’mon, Casanova. Let’s get you home.”
The drive is short, the streets lined with the same kind of old college houses, porches cluttered with bikes and empty beer cans. Tyler’s hand rests on my thigh, his fingers tracing idle patterns just like on his beer the night before, his touch sending little sparks through me. He directs me with lazy confidence—left here, right at the stop sign—until we pull up in front of a two-story with peeling paint and a lacrosse stick propped by the door. Unfortunately, I recognize this place from move in last year.
“This you?” I ask, putting the car in park.
“Yeah.” He leans over, kissing me one last time, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. “Thanks for the ride.”
Before I can answer the front door opens
“Ah, that’s my boyfriend. What a stud right?” He’s out of the car before I can answer and bounding across the patchy lawn of the lacrosse team house. My gaze follows his path to the front door, where a guy’s stepping out—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed. He’s pulling a hoodie over his head, but I’d know that walk anywhere.
Tyler’s pulling him into a hug, “Babe!”
The guy—Jason—wraps him up in his arms, his face lighting up. Then his eyes flick to the car.
His smile falters. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
Tyler pulls out of the hug to kiss him deeply. Jason’s hands find Tyler’s waist, but his eyes never leave mine.
And I realize—oh fuck—he knows.
He knows every detail of how his boyfriend just fucked his father last night.
