Repaying Dad 2: Chapter 3

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Mason's an Asshole (but he already knew that)

“Mr. Jim,” Mason straightened his tie and nodded at Dad as he sat in the hair that was still warm from his father. He didn’t even glance at Bruce. Which was good. His poker face was great… but nobody in Vegas could have kept a straight face under those circumstances.

“Hey, Mason. I hear congratulations are in order.” Dad leaned forward, buttering the stupid kid up.

Mason moved a few of the binders on the desk around, trying to look important. “Yeah, Daddy thought it was time to open another store.”

“I’m surprised you’re here today,” Dad said. “I figured you’d have gone out partying last night.”

Mason nodded. For a second, he looked tired, but he quickly caught himself. “Me and some of the boys did. Hell, Dex was with us for a while, but he baled right before we went to the titty bar.”

Dad nodded, but Bruce couldn’t tell what was going through his head. For Dex’s sake, he hoped Dad didn’t come to the right conclusions.

“Well, nobody can blame you for that. Might as well get lucky to celebrate. You deserve it.” Dad was laying it on thicker than horse shit.

If his boss’ nineteen year old son had been promoted over him, he’d have been bullshit. It’s no wonder Mason took so many of the guys from the store to the strip club.

“I… well, I didn’t actually…” Mason shook his head. “Never mind.” He made a point of not looking at Bruce. “Anyway, I was promoted. Some might say it’s a little early—”

“Nonsense!” Dad said. “I’m sure you can make good decisions and wield power with intelligence. You know—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” He paused for a beat then nodded toward Bruce. “And, speaking of that—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jim. You know I respect you. And, your other son’s one of my best friends, but I just can’t hire him back.”

He hadn’t even glanced at Bruce, and it looked like he didn’t even want to use his name.

“Look, Mason.” Dad leaned forward. “I understand. Believe me. If anyone knows how worthless my boys are, it’s me. But, he really needs to work, and I swear—” He put his hand over his heart. “This little asshole will do whatever you want, whenever you want. It’ll be nothing but ‘yes, sir, Mr. Keller’ and ‘no, sir, Mr. Keller’ the whole time he works for you.”

Mason raised an eyebrow and finally looked at Bruce. “This true?”

Bruce wanted to punch him and Dad. Instead, he grunted.

Dad’s hand lashed out and punched him on the arm. “He asked you a question!”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Yes, sir…” His insides were having a nuclear meltdown. “Mr. Keller.”

A suspicious—but evil—grin played at Mason’s mouth. “Well, we might be able to work with that. Maybe.”

Dad nodded, encouraged by the way things were going. “Seriously. Anything you want. Mopping, cleaning drains… Hell, if you didn’t get laid last night, my boy’ll suck you off.

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Repaying Dad Bk2 Ch1

Since very few people follow this blog, I feel it's pretty safe to workshop my chapters here and then delete them when I publish the book. I'll post a couple of chapters a week until the book is done. Let me know if you have any thoughts--if it sucks, let me know. If you like it, let me know.

Thanks, TR--and obv this is NSFW shit

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 Bruce hadn’t realized how many potholes dotted the road until the Toyota his father had borrowed hit every one on the way into town. He stared out the window as the trees bounced by, looking at anything except his father.

“So…” Bruce started. He stopped, trying to figure out the best way to not piss his dad off even more. “It was nice of Frank to loan us this car.”

He wasn’t even sure how that would go over. His dad had made fun of the shitty little Corolla more times than he could count.

“Yep,” Jim said without conviction. “Real nice.”

They drove on for a few more minutes. Frank didn’t take his eyes off the road.

Bruce shifted in his seat, wanting the ride to be over—wherever the hell they were going. He figured there couldn’t be too much harm in at least asking about that.

“Were’re we going?”

Jim nodded slightly, as if he’d been waiting for Bruce to bring it up. “Two stops. First ones to see Spencer.”

That made total sense. His dad’s truck was at Uncle Spence’s shop. Thankfully, his uncle was the best mechanic in the county making the whole wreck thing a hundred times less complicated than it could have been.

“Cool,” he said.

Jim cleared his throat. “Yeah. He’s gonna loan me a truck until mine’s fixed. I don’t wanna keep driving this shit box.”

Bruce perked up. His friends didn’t mind picking him up, but he needed something to drive to pick up Susan for dates.

And goddamn he needed one. He’d just fucked her twelve hours before, but with all the cock and jizz since then, he needed a refresher in pussy.

“Don’t get too fucking happy.”

The smirk on his dad’s face let him know that he’d hate whatever was about to follow.

“You ain’t driving it.” Jim bumped the blinker lever and took a left into Uncle Spence’s garage parking lot.

Okay. Don’t panic.Bruce considered how to phrase his next question.

“Well, Uncle Spence is a great mechanic. He should have the truck up and running in no time.”

His dad pulled the car into an empty spot right outside the office. The large cinderblock building hadn’t changed for as long as Bruce could remember, right down to the same fading motor oil signs in the office window.

“Right?” he urged.

Jim looked at him for the first time since they’d gotten in the car. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and waited a few seconds as the engine sputtered and shook. When the shudders stopped, he said, “Sort of.

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NSFW-More of the story

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I monitored the water level as it crept up to touch the tip of the skin that had eased back to cover the head of Dad’s heavy, limp dick.

He groaned. “Oh… nice.”

A few seconds later it lapped at the bottom of his hairy ball sack. “Oh, god,” he groaned. “I usually take showers. I’d forgotten how good laying in warm water felt.” His dick thickened and grew again. “Damn good.”

I kept looking up to make sure his eyes were still closed, but had trouble tearing my eyes away from the slowly growing semi.

I watched the water eased its way up his body. His dick was finally covered and became more buoyant. He kept his eyes closed until the water reached his flat stomach. 

“Better turn it off,” he said, opening his eyes. “Don’t wanna get the casts wet.”

I dove for the faucet knobs and quickly turned them. 

He chuckled. “It wasn’t an emergency kid.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll… I’m gonna leave you to it.” I got up to leave.

“The hell you are.” Dad scooted forward in the tub as far as his extended leg would let him. “Go grab a big cup or something out of the kitchen.”

“Yes, sir…” I was out of the bathroom in seconds. We had a few large plastic cups from a fast-food place that Mom used for cleaning. I hoped that when I brought that back, I’d be able to go watch television or something until he was done and needed help getting out of the tub.

No such luck.

“You have to wash my hair,” he said when I walked back in.

I took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the tub behind him. He leaned his head back and I wet, shampooed, and rinsed his hair. It wasn’t much different than when I’d helped my cousin bathe his dog… except Dad didn’t shake when I was done. So, it was actually easier.

It also gave my crotch time to calm down. Thankfully.

When I was done, he used his good hand to push his hair back and squeeze some of the water out so it wouldn’t drip into his face. 

He scooted back and soaped his chest, stomach, and as much of his hurt arm as he could. I looked at the medicine cabinet while he rinsed himself with the cup.

“Well…” he said, and handed me the cup.

I put the cup on the sink and held out my hands, ready to help him out of the tub.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Oh. Did you want to stay in longer?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I swear… No. I’ve washed all I can and need you to do the rest.”

I swallowed. “The rest?”

He looked at me like I was an idiot. And, in all fairness, I felt like one.

“Start with this arm…” He held out his right arm.

I knelt beside the tub and dipped the soap into the water beside his hip, then ran the wet bar of soap over his arm.

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NSFW-Started yet another new story

daddyshelper

I eased the back door open, listening carefully for signs of life behind it. Mom was supposed to be at work and Mason should be at school. I knew Dad was home, but he would probably be in the living room.

That had essentially been his headquarters since the past Friday when he’d fallen at work and broken his leg and one of his arms.

I didn’t want to explain to him why I was home at noon on  a Tuesday. And, the man was like a human lie-detector, so making something up was out of the question.

What I would do about the rest of the week I would be home instead of school… that was something to think about later. One crisis at a time.

Nobody was in the kitchen, just as I’d hoped. I held my breath as I closed the back door. The soft click was no match for the applause booming out of the television in the other room.

So far so good. But that had been the easy part.

I tiptoed through the kitchen to the door to the living room, careful to make sure my backpack didn’t know anything off the counters. 

Sure enough, Dad was just where I expected him to be. Sitting on the sofa watching some talkshow old people raved about. And, best of all, facing away from the path between me and the stairs.

My first few steps were slow—and torture. I figured it was best to move quickly, like ripping off a bandage. Before I knew it, I was across the living room and at the base of the stairs.

Home free.

The first step squeaked. Fuck.

“Hey, Jordan,” Dad said, turning to look at me. “What ya doin’ home?”

I tried to be slick. “Half day,” I said cheerfully. “Teacher work day… or something like that.”

Dad’s expression went blank and he looked at me for what seemed like forever.

“Come here.”

My heart landed somewhere around my feet. On my way over, I pulled out the sheet of paper the principal had given me. I hadn’t been sure whether to tell Mom or Dad first. But, that was being taken out of my hands.

Dad sat on the sofa in just a pair or really baggy boxers and his two casts. Those shorts were the only things he owned that would make it over the cast on his leg.

He had tank tops that fit over the arm cast, but I’d seen him try to struggle into one, so it was no wonder he wasn’t wearing one. Hell, if it were me, I’d probably just want to sit around naked and not have to worry about either. But, Mom would have a fit if he did that.

Dad almost looked like a lifeguard. He always went to the gym after work, so he had the muscles and flat stomach. But, I’d never seen a lifeguard with as much chest hair.

“Your brother’s not with you,” Dad said.

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