Cat's In The Cradle

The song "Cat's in the Cradle" affects me more than most fathers. You know the one; Harry Chapin's hit with the chorus "When you comin' home, Dad?" "I don't know when, but we'll get together then, son. You know we'll have a good time then." As you might have guessed, I've not been the best father to my son, Dave. In fact, I was pretty much the Dad in the song - always missing important milestones in his life. Every time I missed something, I'd promise to make it up to him. I was always so damn busy at work... Or at least, that's what I told myself.

Anyway, Dave left town, got a successful job in the city, and we drifted apart. He'd keep in touch with my wife, but when I spoke to him on the phone, it was like "Cat's in the Cradle" all over again - "The job's a hassle and the kids have the flu." And that's the way it was for almost 8 years after he moved away. Sure, I had my regrets about the way it turned out between us, but I could see the positives - he was doing a better job juggling family and work than I had done; he wasn't neglecting his kids like I neglected him.

And it could have stayed that way forever, but one day Dave called and let me know that the next week, he was going to be in town overnight on business, but he'd be free to catch up with me for drinks. I was thrilled. I asked if he'd want me to bring his mother along, but he politely declined, saying something about how he just wanted to catch up one-on-one. I asked him why, and after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, he replied.

"Uh, I guess I kind of feel guilty about the last couple of years, so I wanted to try and patch things up between us; make it less awkward, I suppose."

The boy (ha, listen to me, "boy". He was 31!) had me there. At first, I couldn't respond because I was so touched. I quickly found my words, though. "You're not the only one who feels guilty, Dave... Sounds like a great idea."

"Great, see you Wednesday night. 7:30 at the Royal?"

"Ha, my favourite. See ya then."

Those days before Wednesday both dragged and flew. I know it's embarrassing how nervous I was just to see my son again, but I just knew that one wrong move and I'd be back to square one, or worse. When the time finally arrived, I had my wife pick out my shirt which I hadn't done since we first got engaged. Naturally, she chose something appropriate for the Royal and the occasion: Blue jeans and a polo shirt. Simple, casual, relaxed. I only hoped that I could match the outfit's statement. I kissed her goodbye, promised not to drink too much (with mock irritation in my voice), and drove over to the Royal Hotel. Despite my nerves and the traffic, I was there right on 7:30. I headed inside, grabbed a booth not far from the bar and waited for Dave.

Thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long; he walked in less than a minute after I sat down. He certainly looked successful: He wore a nice (tailored!) black suit, no tie, his blue shirt with two buttons undone, and a surprisingly thick, stylish beard. His brown hair was still combed, but showed signs of fatigue after what must have been a boring conference. While I can't help but say I was proud of him, I'm glad that wasn't the first thing I said. I stood up, stretched out my hand for a shake, and said "Dave, you look great! Uh, that is, it's great to see you, son."

He chuckled as my face turned a very un-manly shade of red and shook my hand - a firm, brisk shake that yelled "Businessman". He said it was great to see me too and motioned for me to sit back down.

For a while, nothing of consequence was really discussed - "How's your wife?", "How's the job?", the football, that sort of thing. Surprisingly, though, the conversation flowed a lot better than it had in over 10 years. Whether that was the beer or not, I can't say for sure. After Dave shouted me the second round, I finally decided to bring up the elephant.

"Son, I haven't forgotten why you wanted to meet, and before you say anything, I just wanted to apologise sincerely for being such a shitty father. I wish I could keep blaming work, but... even at the time, that wasn't a reasonable excuse. You see-"

"No, Dad, it's fine, honestly. Hell, if you didn't work so hard, I probably would've ended up lazy and stupid, but I think it was partly your work ethic that gave me my drive."

"Yeah, but you also put in time for your kids, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I've tried not to follow your lead there..." That was probably the nicest way he could've put it.

"About that, Dave..."

"Yeah?"

"I've tried to say that I blame my absence on work, how I was pressured to work all those hours, and that they didn't really give me time off even if I asked for it..."

"Uh-huh..." Dave was bracing himself for a bombshell, but I don't think he ever expected me to say what I did.

"Well, I chose to spend all that time alone. Now, this is the part where most Dads would say how they cheated on their wife or something like that, but not me. I love your Mum, and I will forever. No, I've given it a lot of thought over the past few years, and I think I'm finally ready to explain why I was always so distant with you."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't on the edge of my seat here, Dad."

"Dave, I, uh... I think I might be in love with you."

His face was impossible to read. It was devoid of all emotion, completely neutral. "What." Not even inflection for the question mark.

"Don't ask me to explain it, because I can't. I honestly can't. All I know is that I'm in love with you, and I'm finally ready to admit that to you, and to myself. I kept myself away from you so much because I didn't know how to deal with these feelings, but now that we're both grown men, I just want to keep telling you: I love you, son. I'm in love with you, Dave."

Now my words were starting to sink in. Dave was now redder than I'd ever seen him; the redness was creeping down his neck and I could see it spreading on his exposed chest. "How many of those did you have before I got here..?"

"None. I've only had the one before this one. I'd be telling you this even if I hadn't had a drink in 30 years. I'm attracted to you, I want you, I need you, I love you."

Dave kept looking around, either checking for a hidden camera, or hoping that nobody was eavesdropping on our conversation. We were pretty lucky - the football was on quite loudly. "Dad, seriously, this is definitely something that shouldn't be discussed in public, let alone a pub like this one."

"Well we can't go back home. Wonderful as she is, I don't think your mother's quite ready for this conversation."

"Obviously not, since I'm not even ready for it. I guess meet me at the hotel? Rydges. Eighth floor, room 805. Think you're sober enough to drive?"

"I'm fine. See you there, Dave." I took another sip of my beer; Dave skulled his and left without another word. I waited a few more minutes while my erection died down. Plus, it was actually a pretty good game of League on that night. Rare for pay TV.

I was able to get a park across the road from the hotel. My hands were shaking as I hit the elevator buttons, completely uncertain about what was about to happen. Was he going to confess his mutual love? Say he never wanted to see me again? Stab me for having gay thoughts about him? No matter the outcome, I wasn't going to chicken out now. I'd had these feelings for way too long, I owed it to myself to find out what happened now that I'd brought them to the surface.

After an eternity in the elevator, I finally arrived at his door. I knocked a couple of times with fists that seemed to pale in comparison to the sound of my heart beating as hard as it did the day I proposed to my wife. He answered without a word.

It was reckless, but I took my chance. After he shut the door behind me, I waited for him to turn around, then I did it. I put my hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the mouth, marvelling at how soft his lips were, how delicious he smelled, relishing the prickles of his freshly-trimmed beard. For that brief moment, I was in heaven. I knew our love was meant to be; something that felt this right couldn't ever be wrong.

Clearly, Dave did not agree with me. The kiss lasted for two seconds before his hands were on my chest, forcibly removing my mouth from his. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dad, that isn't what this is!" He gave a wide berth around me and sat down on the chair in his (huge!) hotel room. "I invited you up here so we could talk about all ...that," he gestured in my direction, "without people in the bar hearing us, starting a goddamn town-wide scandal."

"Fine, okay. Sorry, Dave." I made my way towards the lounge and sat in the middle of it. "Can't blame a guy for trying, though, right?"

"...Anyway. So, when exactly did you realise you, uh, had these feelings for me?"

"I think you would've been about in your mid-to-late teens, 19 at the oldest. I can't remember exactly what prompted it, but all I know is you did something that uh, made me hard, and I suddenly started thinking 'Holy shit, are you really thinking that about your own son?' I... dealt with that thought in the shower later that night, hoping it was just some one-time thing, but nope, I kept having these thoughts about you.

"I honestly didn't know what to do; I didn't tell anyone about it, and just buried myself in my work, distancing myself from you in the hopes that my feelings would go away, but they haven't.

"If anything, they've gotten stronger. Honestly, not a day goes by that I don't think about you in some way. Sexual or otherwise. And just let me say, it's not all physical attraction. You're a good guy, inside and out, Dave, and I think that's a huge part of why I feel the way I do.

"And let me say, once again, I'm genuinely sorry about being such a terrible father to you. This is normally the part where I'd say 'If there's anything I can do to make it up to you...' but I think I just skipped right over that part and jumped to a pretty outrageous conclusion..."

"Right... well, I guess I can understand that? The whole 'not sure how to deal with your feelings' part, at least. Being in love with me? Not so much. Honestly, I never would've thought you of all people would be gay, Dad." He chuckled, trying to relieve the incredibly awkward air in the room. I didn't exactly help when I replied.

"Oh, I'm definitely not gay. Never once looked up gay porn or anything like that on the internet. Shit, I'm sure there's heaps of sites with dads fucking sons, but I haven't even been curious to see that. If I had to explain it, I guess I'd say that I've got a singular same sex attraction to you? Not interested in any other men, just you."

"Well God, don't I feel special?"

So the night continued on that part for a while, me talking a lot about my denial, confusion and attraction to Dave, and him pretty much just staring at me with disbelief. That discussion lasted well over an hour, and I must have told Dave that I was in love with him at least 50 times. I realised that I'd been doing most of the talking since I met him in the pub, so I asked Dave what he thought.

"About what?"

"About everything we've talked about tonight, obviously."

"Shit, I don't even know where to start... All my life I've wanted you to pay attention to me, and then the moment you tell me you want to make up for lost time, you basically tell me that you wanna fuck me? Forgive me for having no frame of reference for how to react to that news." He paused, trying to find the words to phrase what he said next. While I couldn't see any signs of tears in his eyes, I could hear the emotion in his voice. "All I ever wanted was for you to pay attention to me, but you have been, for more than 14 years?" I knew it was a rhetorical question. "You've been thinking about me, even wanking over me, for almost 15 years. That was in no way the sort of attention I wanted from you, Dad." He stood up, and I joined him, sensing my time with my son was over. I braced myself, knowing that any second now, he'd yell something like "From this moment on, I have no father!"

But that never happened.

We stood there, facing each other, me waiting for the inevitable "Get the fuck out", when he calmly said "But...at this point in my life, I'll take whatever I can get."

I must have looked and sounded as confused as I felt. "I...wha?"

He gave me a small, sympathetic smile. Then my son looked into my eyes while he took a nerve-steadying deep breath and kissed me passionately on the lips. More controlled and with less force than the kiss I'd given him earlier, but (for me) just as intense. I was aware of everything in that moment. I could smell his deodorant, feel his breath as he breathed out through his nose, feel his hands work up the courage to embrace me, feel my cock starting to get hard again, straining against my underwear and making a tent in my jeans. Without even realising I was doing it, I felt my hands embrace Dave, one hand resting gently on his lower back, the other cradling his head, then running my fingers through his neat, short light brown hair. So soft. Unlike his spiky beard, which was prickling my clean-shaven face. But goddamn did I love that feeling. I moaned softly, he moaned in response. I opened my mouth and he opened his, and our tongues rushed forward to meet each other's. Finally, I was tasting my son's beautiful mouth, and even though I could still taste his beer, I didn't want it any other way. My senses were aflame, even stronger than the night Dave's mother and I lost our virginities.

Dave's hands were rubbing and exploring my back, giving me a light massage. Soon, they had lifted up my shirt, and started exploring the flesh of my back. I returned the favour; without breaking our kiss, I reached down and tugged his shirt free of his pants, and soon my fingers were wandering around Dave's smooth, hard, tight back. We moaned in unison, our lust building and building.

I stepped closer to Dave and now there was no (fluorescent) light between us. I could feel his strong, hard chest pressing into mine, his flat stomach pushing against my slightly-less-flat stomach, but most importantly, against my rock-hard cock, I could feel my son's dick was just as hard as mine, no doubt screaming at Dave to be free just as mine was doing to me. I started rubbing my cock against his, if only to remind myself that, yes, this is actually happening - you're making out with your only son. And he's just as hard as you are, Henry!

Not long after I started frotting with Dave, he broke the kiss. "Sorry Dad, but feeling you rubbing your cock against mine... I couldn't take it any longer."

I was about to apologise for moving too fast, but he cut me off just after I opened my mouth.

"I need you right now, Dad... I want you to fuck me, I can't wait any longer."

"God, I can't tell you how long I've wanted to hear those words, son. But... are you doing this because you want to, or because you think this is the only way you'll ever get attention from me? I don't want to be making you do this."

"Will you settle for a little of both?"

My reply was to reach down and start unbuckling his belt. He responded in kind, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling my zip down. I was so nervous and full of adrenaline, I struggled to undo Dave's trousers, so he took over. Just before he pulled his trousers down, he put his hand on my chest, and our eyes locked.

"I'll be honest, Dad: I've never been with a guy before-"

"Neither have I, Da-" I interrupted.

"-so I was just wanting to warn you, I don't know how well this is going to work. You know, with the..?" He was clearly anxious and uncomfortable vocalising the details of gay sex, but he'd given it a lot more thought than I had.

"The fucking? Right, yeah, I guess I never really thought about that. How were you wanting to..?" Now his anxiety was catching.

"If I bend over, and you, y'know, doggy?" He looked around the room. "I just don't have any condoms, or lube, if that's an issue?"

"Let's just see how we go, son. Now, if you're ready, I know I am."

He was. He turned around, dropped his pants and immediately bent over at the hips, presenting me with his firm, highly symmetrical and rather hairy ass. I don't think I'd ever been so overwhelmed with lust and desire before in my life. Without a moment's hesitation, I dropped to my knees, put one hand firmly on each of my son's beautiful, young ass cheeks and started licking his asshole. It wasn't until later that I realised I hadn't even gotten a proper look at his cock, even though I'd always assumed I'd be more interested in that than his asshole. I moved my tongue up and down his crack at first, smelling and tasting his musk, marvelling at how even his most intimate and private areas could look, taste, feel and smell so incredible. Up and down, my tongue explored his young ass crack before I started focusing only on his hole. I ran my tongue around his asshole clockwise, counterclockwise, up and down, left and right, and finally in and out. Throughout all this, I could hear Dave moaning deeply and softly, encouraging me to keep going, telling me how great it felt. I moaned in response, never wanting to stop.

I tongued my son's asshole for a couple more minutes before the trapped and throbbing thing suffocating in my underpants had had enough and practically screamed at me to penetrate my only child. I reluctantly stood back up after giving Dave's asshole a quick goodbye kiss, and freed my cock from my tighty-whities. My dick is nothing to write home about: It's about 7 inches hard, circumcised, fairly average girth, and is surrounded by my thick, unkempt pubic hair. That night with Dave, it had also secreted a fair amount of pre-cum which left a damp patch on my underwear. I guess we didn't need the lube after all.

"Fuck, I've lost count of the years I've wanted to do this with you, Dave," I almost whispered as I stepped into position, lining my rock hard cock up with my son's virgin asshole. I gently touched his hole with my dick, if only for curiosity's sake. Dave responded by jumping a little.

"Was that what I think it was, Dad?"

"Yes it was, Dave... I can slow things down if you w-"

"God I want to feel it inside me so fucking bad." He chuckled after that, probably amused by just how eager he sounded compared to how he first reacted that night.

Like my son, I couldn't wait any longer, so I once again lined up the head of my cock with his hole and slowly pushed my way inside. I must have felt good inside him, because Dave started pushing back towards me, moaning deeply. I was about half an inch inside him, so I gave him a little more.

"Fuck, you feel huge!" Dave cried.

I smiled as I forced more of my cock inside him. I was trying to take it slowly, knowing that anal sex takes some breaking in. Still, Dave was eager for my dick and I didn't want to disappoint him. It went pretty smoothly for a while, until I was just about halfway inside him.

"Oooh fuck, Dad, I don't think I can take any more. Goddamn it! I think any more and it'll start hurting."

"Shit, okay, do you want me to stop?"

"No, not stop...just, don't go any further in, just fuck me with what's already in me. I want to feel you moving inside me, I want to feel your cock pumping in my ass."

Well, fuck, that was all I needed to hear. I let go of my cock and grabbed both of Dave's fairly prominent hips with both hands, clamped on and started thrusting in and out of my son with half of my cock. I gotta tell you, I didn't care about going balls-deep inside him; just to have any part of me inside his delicious, hot ass was enough for me. My son's asshole felt incredible: so warm, so tight, so young, so... right. Stand there in that hotel room, my son bent over in front of me as I fucked his virgin ass, I knew my absence when he was a kid was more than forgiven.