Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2001 12:49:19 -0400 From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com> Subject: Father Figure - G/M Y/A Father Figure By Tom Cup Copyright 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving an adult/youth sexual relationship. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Tom Cup Short Story Library. Join the Tom Cup Library at: http://tomcup.iscool.net to support this and other stories by Tom Cup. New at the Library: Calvin, Chapter 25 Angel, Chapter 11 David's Christmas Present (Revised) The Day My Life Began by Miguel Sanchez A Place Called Home, Chapter 6 In Memory of Steve, Chapter 1 Terms of Living, Chapter 1, Tommy -- The Return, Chapter 2, Loved by Joey (Short Story) Thank you for your support and as always your e-mail is much appreciated. ************************************************************************ Dedication: This story was written for a very special friend - you know who you are. Thank you for the times we have shared. I love you. Tom. ************************************************************************ Father Figure By Tom Cup "To whom it may concern, A month ago, while visiting your fair city, I ordered a pizza to be delivered to my room at the Ramada. While the pizza was excellent, I wanted to write to you to express my sincere appreciation of your delivery personnel. The young man was courteous and friendly. He made my trip, which could have bordered on the depressing, joyous. It is not often that I meet a young man that shows such breath of humanity that I am compel to write to an employer, but such a person was this. I wish all who know him to realize what a special young man he really is. It was a pleasure for me to know him, even if but for a little while. A satisfied customer." What was it that first caught my attention? I was seventeen and working as a pizza delivery boy. The night started out as usual; get a call, make a delivery. A few of the calls came from the nearby Ramada Inns and Suites. As I entered the elevator with the Pepperoni and extra cheese pizza and turned just as this older gentleman entered, smiled, and pushed the button for his floor. He asked how I was doing and told him OK as I focused on the backlit lights counting the floors. He asked if I liked my job and I smiled, telling him it was OK. I noticed his smile and the doe like look in his eyes. I felt so relaxed in his presence and, though our meeting lasted only about thirty seconds, his image was seared in my consciousness. As I exited to finish my delivery, he called out and asked my name. "David," I answered. Being a pizza delivery boy, you have your good days and bad days. Sometimes you get these mother of all orders, way out on the edge of your territory, and think you will wind up with a decent tip -- only to wind up with a, "Hey, great dude. Thanks." Like, that's going to pay the bills. And then there is the little old lady that you know is going to stiff you cause she's on a fixed income, and is watching her money cause, God knows, if she doesn't, she might not be able to leave her grandkids the millions she's got stashed away for a rainy day. She turns out to be the one that makes your night with a more than generous tip. So you learn not to judge people too quickly, at least until after you get the tip. There's plenty of time to listen to tunes as you drive here and there. There's plenty of to think your own thoughts, to fantasize. That's what I was doing as I dropped off my last delivery and head back to the shop. I couldn't get the old guy out of my head. He was so soft spoken and dignified. I guess you could say distinguished. I thought about what it might be like to be his son -- my dad was not really a father to me. I mean, he paid the bills and everything but we didn't have what I would call a "father-son relationship." He was rather cold to me so I would often play this game of choosing another father. You know, like I was really adopted and I ran into my real father, and we recognize each other immediately, and he would hold me and tell me he loved me. -- I pretended the older gentleman was my father. I played little fragments of conversations that we might have with each other in my head. He would be kind and loving to me. He would be everything a boy could want in a father. I made several more deliveries and returns to the shop before getting another order from the Ramada. Valerie laughed asking if I had a secret admirer. I asked her what she was talking about and she said, "Well, the guy asked specifically for you." When I got to the room, sure enough, it was the guy in the elevator. He invited me in -- and though I usually stood out in the hall and waited, I did enter the room - as he gathered the money for the pizza. He asked if I would like to come back later, after I got off work. I smiled and told him that I wouldn't be off until late, around two in the morning. He said that he didn't mind waiting if I really wanted to come back. I told him that I did. He smiled, patting and lightly rubbed my back, as he handed me the payment and a hefty tip. I was excited and worried. He had asked for me specifically. What if someone found out? We hadn't discussed why I would be coming back but I guessed that he was a boy lover. He would hold me just as I had imagined earlier. And we would do other things also. My mind was spinning and the night sped away before me. When my shift ended, I hurriedly got dressed in my street clothes and drove immediately to the Ramada. He was smiling as he invited me into the room. I was surprised that he took my hand, holding it as he guided me to one of the two chairs. We sat and talked. He cared about every part of my life. I felt loved and wanted. His hand caressed mine. I loved the silky softness of his flesh, his smile, his laugh. I wanted to be his boy. When he stood from his chair, I stood with him and faced him. I knew what he wanted and I was ready to give it to him. I melted in his arms, my head on his shoulders, he held me, stroking my back and telling what a good boy, a precious boy, I was. He held me and spoke to me like my dad never had, like I always wished he would. "Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispered. "Yes," I answered. I will do anything you want. It didn't need to be said. He understood. He lifted my chin and kissed me gently. Then he smiled at me, looking deep within my eyes. I felt his hands opening my shirt. I wanted to scream, "I love you, daddy," with all my heart. He undressed me completely and laid me on the bed. Admiring me, while undressing himself, and telling again what a beautiful, good, and precious boy I was. He lay with me and we wrapped our naked bodies together. His hands roamed freely over me, exploring my youthful body, sending waves of pleasure through me. Each touch confirmed that I was, indeed, OK -- I was a beautiful boy. There was nothing wrong with me. Unlike being with my dad, he was making me feel as if I was a prefect boy. All my fears and anxieties disappeared with his touch. I was his most beloved possession, an object of worship. His tongue explored my body. His mouth gently nibbled my nipples. His hands played with my balls, cock and my ass. I gave myself to him. I wasn't concerned about getting off myself; I simply wanted to please him, to make him happy. I rejoiced to the sound of his pleasured sigh as he entered me. As he rocked slowly in and out of me, whispering his thanks, I wanted to cry for his joy and mine. I was finally making my father happy. My father loved me, was making love to me. I was his boy. My father loved me. "Oh God!" he cried as I welcomed his seed into me. I would have him now forever; some part of him would always be with me. His ecstasy and pleasure in that moment filled me: fulfilled my life. We slept intertwine. I woke before dawn, watching him sleeping peacefully, contentedly, next to me. I kissed him lightly. How could I ever thank him? Would he ever know how much the night meant to me? I quickly and quietly got dressed and headed for home. I didn't even know his name. I didn't need too. What child thinks of his father by name? You don't call your father Harry, Joe, or Bob. No, I didn't need to know his name. He was my father and he loved me. Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com