Dad’s Substitute by Peter

Dad’s Substitute

by: Peter

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Saturday morning; I was late getting up. I was on my way to the bathroom, just past dad’s den. I stopped when I heard his voice.

“I’m terribly sorry. I know, it’s my screw-up, I wrote it down on the wrong date. Maybe you can find someone else.”

He didn’t know it, but I knew what he was talking about. I shouldn’t have intruded but I went into his den. He was standing in front of his desk with a towel around his waist, his body still wet from his shower. I walked around his desk and quickly scrawled a message on a piece of paper and handed it to him. He held it in his fingers, with a wary look directed at me.

“Well, thanks, I appreciate the compliment, and I wish I could do it but… Listen, hold on just a minute.” He put his hand over the phone and waved the note at me, still with that wary, confused look.

“I can do it. I’ve even been practicing,” I said. I was already thinking about my costume; my old torn jeans, my tool belt and work boots and my dad’s hardhat.

He hesitated for a brief moment then got back on the phone. “Let me call you back in a few minutes. Yes. Five minutes.”

He hung up the phone. “What is this? You’ve been practicing what? And what is it you think you can do?” he asked with a scowl.

“I know what you’re doing, Dad. I can take that gig for you.”

“You know… what…..?”

“I know you’re stripping,” I said bluntly. “What is it, a bachelorette party?”

“Yes. How long have you known?”

“For a couple of months. Hey, I don’t blame you, you’ve got what it takes. But so have I.”

“Yes… yes, you do.” He was obviously thinking. “But those women… Geezuss, Adam, they would eat you alive, a kid your age,” he said.

“Would that be all bad?” I joked.

“You said you’ve been practicing?” Dad said, still sounding like he didn’t believe me.

“Yeah, want me to show you? Put some music on,” I said.

“No. No, that won’t be necessary,” he said, still with a thoughtful look on his handsome face. “No, Son, you’re too young; you’re barely eighteen,” he said, shaking his head.

“Do I look like I’m barely eighteen?” I scoffed. He could answer that only one way. I was less than two weeks past eighteen, but I looked twenty. I passed for eighteen everywhere I went a long time before I was. I was six-one, two-hundred-twenty pounds of solid muscle, thanks to my dad’s inspiration and guidance. And I had his looks, no brag, as well as the other important genes he’d passed on to me; genes that arranged everything in just the right proportions, physically.

“No, you don’t, you haven’t looked eighteen for a long time, but…….”

“Then call her back. Tell her you found somebody to take your place.”

He glanced at his watch, I supposed to see if his five minutes were up before he was to return the call. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Sure. Heck, it sounds like fun. You’ll have to give me a few pointers, but I can pull it off,” I said with confidence.

Hesitantly, he picked up the phone. “This is Jack Mitchell. Listen, I’ve got somebody to take my place. No, he’s younger than me, in fact. Yes, good-looking… yes, really well built. He just turned eighteen. His name’s Adam.”

I heard the joyful screech through the phone.

“Okay, I’ll send him over.” He hung up the phone and turned back to me. “Okay, look, there are some things you need to remember. Don’t come right out and ask for your money upfront. But bring it up, confirm that one hundred and fifty bucks is the agreed on price, just so there’s no misunderstanding and you have to deal with it later. She’ll probably pay you on the spot. If not, wait till you’re ready to leave, then ask for it.”

“A hundred and fifty bucks?” I said in disbelief. “They’re going to pay me a hundred and fifty bucks to take off my clothes?”

“Actually, they’re paying a hundred and fifty bucks for what’s under your clothes,” Dad said. “Take it down to your briefs, or whatever you’re wearing, but don’t take that off. Number one, it’s illegal and number two, they have to have someplace to stuff the bills. Now they’re wanta get their hands on you, all over you. You don’t pull away, but you keep it under control. Best thing to do is wear a thong or a jockstrap under a pair of those little briefs you wear all the time. You might as well count on loosing the briefs for good, because once you take them off, they’re gone. You won’t get them back. Shower just before you leave and put on some body splash along with your deodorant. You wanta smell good for the ladies. Now when you start dancing, keep on the move till you spot somebody who’s about to piss her pants, which is usually someone with bucks in her hand, ready to stuff ‘em. Then you focus on her; make it up close and personal. Get right in her face, front and back. Women love guys’ tight butts. Let her feel, but don’t expose yourself. If she gets aggressive, guide her hand elsewhere on your body, to feel your muscles. If she stays aggressive, well, best thing to do is guide her hand inside your briefs, but without exposing yourself.

“You mean let her actually feel me?” I asked, surprised that my dad would be telling me this.

“It’s up to you, but the more fun you have with her, the more bucks she’s going to tuck in your jockstrap. Most women come with a certain amount of money they’re going to use but get them hot enough, they’ll be digging in their purses for more, and even begging their friends for money.”

“Okay, how do I stop it from getting out of hand without making her mad, if she gets too aggressive?” I asked.

“You lean down and take her face her hands and give her kiss and whisper something sweet in her ear while you dance back away from her, then you go on to the next one.”

“It won’t turn into a riot, will it?” I asked.

“I’ve never had a riot on my hands, but I can tell you… they think men are bad, women can turn into animals over a good looking guy with muscles, taking his clothes off. Those women get a look, and get their hands on a young stud like you, anything can happen. Just remember, you can always cut it short and leave if you have to, although you probably won’t get paid the full one fifty. Now, do you think you can handle it?”

“Sure,” I said cockily. Yeah, I was cocky, and I was also naïve. I couldn’t have imagined how that night would turn out.

On the appointed night, I showered, paying particular attention to my manhood and my ass. If they were going to be ogling and feeling my butt I wanted to smell good for them. Then I dug out the oldest, most raggedly worn jockstrap I owned, from my freshman year and pulled it on. There were pick-holes and tears in the mesh material and it was stretched all out of shape. I was pulling on a pair of the skimpy white briefs Dad had mentioned when he came into my room.

“There was one thing I forgot,” he said. He had a black rubber ring about two inches in diameter in his hand, and a short leather strap with snaps and gleaming silver studs. “You might want to wear one of these.”

“What are they?” I asked.

“This is a cockring; this is a cockstrap; you can take your choice.”

“Okay, but what’re they for?” I asked, feeling a little embarrassed, now, that my dad was being so open with me about something so intimate.

“They hold everything up and push it out. Not that you need any help, but it creates an enticing bulge,” he added.

“How do they work?” I asked.

“The strap you pull it up under you balls and snap it around the base of your cock, whatever snap is comfortable. The ring is a little touchy; you slip it around your cock then pull your balls up through it.”

I held the ring up with a doubtful frown. “I don’t think that’s gonna work,” I said.

“Sure, it’ll work,” he assured me. “If it won’t embarrass you, I can show you, or you can just wear the strap.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Do you believe we’re having this conversation?”

“I don’t believe my son is filling in for me as a stripper,” he said. “Your mother would have a shit fit.”

“Okay, here, show me how this thing works,” I said, handing him the ring. “It’s a bit late for embarrassment.”

“On you or on me?” he asked.

“Well, I’m the one who’s gonna be wearing it,” I said. He stepped up to me and I shoved my shorts and jock down. We were never overly modest around the house but it was still a weird feeling, exposing myself so blatantly like that to my dad. It was weirder having him touch me.

“If you do this very often, we’re going to have to get you a larger ring,” he said as he slipped the rubber ring down over my cock. He nested it snugly around the base then tugged on my ball-sack to pull one nut up through the ring. I crouched back and winced.

“Careful,” I mumbled.

“Okay, you do the other one,” he said.

I worked my other nut through the ring and pulled them both up and let them fall.

“Now pull your jock and shorts back up,” Dad said.

I pulled them up, tucking everything back inside. “Wow!” I said when I saw the difference in the appearance of my size. “Dang, looks like I’ve got both fists stuffed in there.”

“That’s gonna give you some size in your jeans, too,” he said. “The ladies are going to go nuts waiting for you take ‘em off.”

“Okay, I guess I’m ready.”

“You know, I really shouldn’t be letting you do this,” Dad said with a look of concern.

“Dad, I can do it,” I assured him.

“I know you probably can, and that’s the reason I shouldn’t be allowing it.”

“You already called the lady and told her I would be there,” I reminded him.

“I know. Good luck,” he said.

I left my dad to go to his union meeting and I headed for 2886 Radcliff Drive, clear on the other side of town. The house was a small mansion, situated back off a long, winding drive leading through thick, manicured trees. I pulled up in front of the place, grabbed my boom-box and my gym bag with my gear in it and went up and rapped the heavy knocker several times. The woman who came to the door was a buxom blonde who believed in advertising her buxoms. The first thing that came to mind, besides burying my face in those big boobs was sliding my cock back and forth between them. I had a thing for big tits. I’d never done that before, but it was fantasy of mine.

“I’m Adam,” I said.

“Ohhh,” she cooed with appreciation. “The man said you were young, good looking and well built; he wasn’t kidding. Are you sure you’re eighteen?”

“Absolutely sure, Ma’am. I can show you my license if you want.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Come in.”

“And the guy you were talking to was my Dad,” I told her.

She showed me into what she called the anteroom, which was a huge library just off the entryway. “You can get ready in here and I’ll send someone for you,” she said. She gave me a wink and a little wave and closed the sliding doors.

I got my leather tool belt out of my gym bag and slung it around my hips. I got the tools that had fallen out and put them in the belt, and took out my Dad’s yellow hardhat and cocked it on my head. I pulled on a pair of his old work gloves and I was all set. I waited and paced around the room, taking in some of the titles of the books on the shelves and kept brushing my hand down over the front of my jeans; the cock ring was making me bulge something awful. I was beginning to feel a little self conscious about it. It felt almost like I had a hardon but I didn’t. They would probably think it was fake; but they would find out soon enough when they started stuffing bills in my jock. A few minutes later I turned at the sound of the doors sliding open.

“My Mom says she’s ready for you.”

The guy was good-looking, maybe twenty two, tall, slender built but well put together, you could tell he had a real tight body.

“Your… Mom?”

“Yeah. It’s her party. Come on, I’ll show you the way,” he said nonchalantly.

I followed him across the wide foyer, the tools clanking together on my tool belt.

“That’s a sexy getup you’re wearing; the ladies are going to love it,” the guy said.

“Thanks. That’s the point,” I said, rather cockily. I don’t know why but I felt cocky as hell, as the stripper being shown to the party by the woman’s own son.

“Listen, if you don’t have to rush off afterwards, come on upstairs. My room’s the last one at the end of the hallway. Nice and private, nice view of the pool and the back lawn. Bed’s plenty big enough for two, even if you wear those hunky boots and that hardhat and tool belt.”

I was totally blown away by his offer. I’d never been propositioned by a guy before and this guy was inviting me into his bed! I didn’t say whether I would stay or not. He opened another door and stood back for me to go in.

“Good luck. I hope you come out without too many bruises and scratches,” he said.

I turned on the bomb box and turned the volume up so it could be heard from where I sat it just inside the door. It got everybody’s attention. The music blared with the beat of jungle drums and steel drums combined, suddenly soothing my nervousness. It was the CD I’d been practicing with. I strutted into the room, setting my boots down hard with each step like a young stallion, swaying my hips just enough to make the tools on my tool belt swing and clank together

“Ohhhhh!” came a collective gasp, then applause. I acknowledged their applause with a wide smile and a wave and started moving in time to the music. I had the moves down; the sway and swivel of my hips and the swagger of my shoulders, and my arms in constant motion, raised up so my biceps were always flexed, sticking out of the flannel shirt sleeves I had rolled up.

Right away I spied the nameless woman Dad had told me about. The one with the gleam of interest in her eyes and money in her hands; obviously anxious to touch and tuck. I danced over to her, bold and sexy as hell, and shoved one knee between hers so she would spread them apart. When she did I took my stance between them, up close and personal, just like Dad told me.

“What’s your name?” I asked in my best hunk-voice as I swiveled my hips at her.

“Lisa,” she said through embarrassed laughter.

“You wanta help me out, Lisa?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“See if you can get my tool belt off,” I said. I didn’t hold still for her, and she fumbled with the buckle as her hands tried to follow my movements Meanwhile I took off one glove and rubbed my hand over my chest muscles that were half bared by the open shirt. I shivered as my fingers raked over my nipples; surprised that I had feelings there. When she had my belt off I asked her to hold it for me as I continued my dance, my groin right in her face. She laid the tool belt on the floor under her chair and put her hands on my hips to move with me. The woman next to her reached out and grasped my butt. Neither of them were parting with any money and I realized that they were waiting for more bare muscle. I undid my belt and let it dangle, and undid the top button of my jeans, then danced seductively away from them to the other side of the room.

I did the routine till I had covered the full circle of laughing, panting women then moved back to Lisa.

“You still got my tool belt?” I asked, pointing at her.

“Yes,” she giggled.

“Don’t loose my belt, I need it to hold my tools.”

“Honey, it looks like you’ve got your toolbox full of tools,” someone called out. I tugged my belt part way out of the loops and offered the buckle to the woman to finish pulling it out. “Keep that with my tool belt, would you?”

I danced around the room, moving toward the women and back out as I slowly peeled my T-shirt up over my head. When I say slowly, it took several minutes before I finally pulled it off and tossed it at the women. They squealed as they lunged to grab it. At one point I took off the hardhat and tossed it to a woman. Then I untied the bandanna from around my neck and made several swipes across my chest and down my stomach like I was wiping sweat, then dropped it into the helmet.

“Hold onto that for me?” I said.

“Yes,” she squealed with delight.

“You have to tell me your name so I remember who all has my stuff,” I said.

“Angela.”

“You’ve got my tool belt and my tools—well, most of my tools,” I said, pointing to Lisa. “And you’ve got my hardhat,” I said to Angela. “Keep track of my stuff for me, ladies.”

“Can I help you off with those hunkin’ boots?” one of them asked.

I cocked my head back with surprise, laughing, and moved toward her. I placed my boot on her knee for her to untie it and take it off for me.

“What’s your name?” I asked as she slipped the boot off.

“Margo.”

“Don’t loose my boot, Margo, I don’t want to have to leave barefoot.”

“My name’s Helen; I’ll take the other one off and watch it for you,” another woman offered.

I feigned surprise again. I moved over to her but didn’t put my boot on her knee. Instead, I just stood squarely in front of her. It took a moment for her to realize that I expected her to bend down and untie it. Actually, she didn’t realize it on her own; a friend sitting next to her punched her and told her what to do. Giggling, she bent down, then slid off her chair and knelt down to untie the boot and slip it off. She stayed down there, looking up at me with almost worshipful eyes.

“Helen, you’re in chare of my right boot.” It whirled around and pointed to Margo. “Margo’s got my left boot.” Then I went on; “Lisa’s got my tool belt and my tools.”

“Most of your tools,” she put in, laughing.

“I want your socks,” another woman said.

“I want everything else,” another called out from behind me and the room erupted with laughter, including my own.

I danced around for a little bit till I chose the woman to take my socks off of me. I stood out from her a few feet and thrust my right leg out at her. She reached out but I jerked my leg back. “Name,” I said. “Jennifer.” I thrust my leg back at her and she peeled the sock off and I thrust mo other leg out for her to remove that one.

“I get everything else,” the woman called out again.

“Patience, sweetheart, patience,” I said. I danced over to the woman holding my hardhat and picked up the bandanna. I waved it around for a moment then tucked it in her cleavage. She squealed with delight and stuffed a five dollar bill in the waist of my jeans; my first money as a stripper. It was time to get down to business and collect some more bills. But first I pulled the five out of my waist and tucked it between her tits.

“I’m gonna loose this when I take my jeans off,” I said. “You hold it for me and see if you can find a more secure place to put it.”

I began unbuttoning my jeans—I wasn’t wearing a belt. Just the second top, and a few dance steps later, the third as I danced around, inviting the women to “bribe” me to unbutton the next one. I waited a little longer between each button till I had every button of my button-down 501’s opened and my fly was hanging open, revealing my white briefs; and some more bills in my pockets. I glanced down and saw how well the briefs contrasted with the tan of my abs. It was nice to see that a lot of the bills were fives and I was still in my jeans. I worked it for a few more minutes then sat on a woman’s lap and asked two other women if they would pull my jeans off for me. They gladly obliged and when I stood up there were several pairs of hands stuffing bills in the waistband of my shorts. I danced in and out of the reach of their groping hands as they felt my bare muscles and groped at my crotch and felt my ass through my shorts. It took a long time to peel my shorts down to show my jockstrap, making full turns so they could all get a view of my tight, hard, bubble butt. Dad was right, they loved my ass, but there were as many hands interested in the bulge of my jockstrap. Very quickly the waistband of my jock was festooned with bills. They grew bolder in their groping and several of the ladies felt in the side of my jock.

“Gotta keep things within the bounds of the law,” I admonished them playfully as I danced out of reach.

“Screw the law,” one of them said.

Suddenly the hostess, I think her name was Grace, came up to me and tucked what I saw to be a hundred dollar bill into the waistband of my jockstrap. I was blown away with her generosity, but she let me know what she expected in return.

“Let your hair down, stud; give my guests what they want, no limits,” she whispered in my ear. “And don’t worry about the law; I’m on the police board.”

I was in a quandary now. Her request/demand could only be construed to mean that she wanted me to go all the way; something my dad told me not to do. But he didn’t tell me she was going to be stuffing a hundred-dollar-bill in my jock as bribe money. Even without the money, I was inclined, simply because I was having such a great time exercising my exhibitionism. I loved taking my clothes off in front of the women, many of them old enough to be my mother. I had to wonder if any of them had sons my age, and what those guys would think if they knew their moms were ogling and feeling up an eighteen-year-old stud. I had to decide quickly one way or another; I had the woman’s hundred dollars in my jockstrap, and if I was going to keep it, I had to perform. As I gyrated around the small space I lingered in front of each woman, giving her plenty of opportunity to feel me up, and I was collecting more money in larger denominations; fives, tens instead of ones. Several of the women slipped the bills in the side of my jockstrap in order to get a feel of my manhood. One woman held up a crisp twenty dollar bill to show me before she pulled my jockstrap out and made a great show of shoving it down in the pouch and while her hand was in there, she really got her money’s worth. The next woman beside her grabbed my hips and pulled the pouch of my jock into her face and slobbered and even bit me gently. Fuck it, I thought. Give ‘em what they want.

I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my jock and began tugging it down very slowly as I swung my hips around in lewd motions. I had it pulled down to the hair when I stepped up on the sofa, standing astraddle the woman who had nibbled on me, and smashed myself into her face. The room went wild. The next thing I knew, she and the woman on either side of her had my jockstrap pulled down to my knees and she had my cock in her mouth!

I let her have it for a moment as I tried to grab enough courage to pull back; she was taking it too far, and I was letting her. I stepped back off the couch, pulling my cock out of her mouth and it swung around like a big chunk of beef stick. The women on either side of her grabbed for it but I danced out of reach. I finished worming out of my jockstrap and kicked it away. There were squeals on that side of the room as the women tried to catch it. I was on a roll. I was naked in front of a bunch of horny mothers and housewives and I was loving it, but also knowing that I had to end it before things got totally out of hand. But how? The only thing I had on now was my baseball cap and the women were leaning out to stuff bills in my ass crack, getting me close enough to grab my cock.

The money kept pouring out. As I danced away from them they tossed bills on the floor. Suddenly, I whirled around to see a youngish, gorgeous woman slumped down off the couch, half on the floor with her legs spread lewdly, humping her hips up and down. It was more than I could take. Despite my best intentions, my body took over and I found myself dancing over to her. I kept swiveling my hips around as I went down in a crouch, and finally dropped to my knees.

“You want a piece of me?” I asked her in a lewd tone, laughing softly.

“I want that piece of you,” she cooed.

“Where do you want it?”

“Right here,” she replied as she pulled her panties aside to expose her shaved pussy. My eyes fell, glued to the spot. I’d never seen a shaved pussy before, and it sent a jolt of lust down my spine that made my balls lurch. While I was drooling over her smooth pussy, the woman wriggled out of her panties and tossed them at me. I snatched them out of the air and put them around my neck as I inched toward her. Close up, I aimed my cock and touched the head against her smooth lips. She nearly swooned at the mere touch of it and slumped down with her arms spread out and her legs high in the air. She was warm and wet. I shoved and the head of my cock parted her lips. I shoved again and it slipped inside her. I hunkered over her and shoved the rest of the way in her.

“Ohhhhh! Ohhhh, Godddd!” she yelled as the other women screamed with delight and applauded.

What was I doing! If my dad ever found out, my ass would be toast. But my cock wasn’t concerned about my dad at the moment, and therefore, neither was my brain. I fucked her. She fucked me back. She really fucked me back, while the other women screeched and applauded. As several of them crawled down on the floor with us to watch closer and to feel my muscles, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. I couldn’t possibly fuck all of these women. I was young and horny but I wasn’t sure any man had that much stamina.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to. Most of them were satisfied to watch and goad the other more willing ones on. I ended up fucking four of them, on the couch, bent over the chairs and in the middle of the floor. Even while I was pumping my cock, I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind of those women at home in the kitchen with their teenage sons, fixing them breakfast, the poor guys not knowing that a kid their own age had fucked their mothers.

I could’ve fucked more of them. When the last one was left gasping on the floor, I pulled my still-hard cock out of her. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it. I glanced at the hostess.

“You can’t take that home like that,” she said.

“Yes. Finish it off for us,” someone said.

I was hesitant and a little embarrassed to jack off in front of them. It seemed so boyish after what I’d just done. But they kept goading me on.

“I know you know how. Good lord, my son does it every morning of his life,” one woman said.

I wondered how she knew that but I didn’t let my mind go there.

“Bring it here, I’ll do it for you,” one said as she reached out for my cock.

I let her pull me over to her as she started jacking me off. Her hand felt good, and being jacked off in front of all those women was turning me on.

“Look, I need something… I mean, I go off a lot,” I said, looking helplessly at the hostess.

“That’s her problem,” she said, and they all laughed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it for you,” the woman next to her said as she leaned in closer to her friend.

I took it that they wanted me to let it fly and shoot all over them, or in their mouths, or whatever, they weren’t worried about it so I didn’t either. It only took a few minutes, with her friend mauling my balls.

“I’m getting close,” I whispered.

The woman next to her leaned closer and opened her mouth, leaving no doubt what they wanted me to do. I hunkered closer. I knew I could easily traverse the space between us but I wanted to be on target. They didn’t know how much I shot off, and I didn’t want to leave them with semen all over their faces and in their hair and on their clothes.

“I’m coming!” I gasped finally. As others crowded around, I let it go. The stuff shot out in a thick rope, straight out, and splattered all over the woman’s face before her friend grabbed my cock and aimed it at her mouth. She got the next one, right in her tonsils.

“My Godd! Look at that! He’s like a young stallion!”

“Ohh, Godd, if my husband could shoot like that!”

I put on a good show for them. A third woman leaned in on the other side and I managed to splatter come all over all three of them. On their faces, in their hair, and all over their clothes. Finally, I was drained, and they pulled me in to suck the last of the semen out of my cock. I could feel my cock reacting and I pulled back before I got another hardon. I stumbled backwards till I was steady on my feet and began looking around for my clothes. My shirt and jeans were handed to me but I never got my jockstrap or shorts back.

“Sorry, I’m keeping it,” one woman said.

“It’s got my initials in it,” I told her, wondering how she was going to explain that to her husband or son. While I was getting dressed, some of the women gathered up the money off the floor. There was great applause when I started to leave. Several of them came up to kiss me. I kissed them back and waved goodbye as I went to the door, accompanied by the hostess.

“You will be getting more calls, stud. I’m going to recommend you to my friends,” she said. “And I will call your father and thank him for sending him.”

“Okay, but when you do, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention all that happened here,” I said. “He’ll kill me if he ever finds out I let things get so out of hand.”

“Of course. I won’t say a word. And my friends can keep a secret.”

I counted my money on the way home. There was four hundred and eighty five dollars! I was blown away. I slipped two hundred in my pocket and put the rest in the pocket of the sun visor. I couldn’t let my dad know I’d made that much money; he would want to know what I’d done for it.

“How’d it go?” my dad asked me when he got home later that night and came up to my room. I was just getting undressed for bed.

“Good,” I said, casual as I could as I peeled my shirt off.

“Just good?”

“Actually, it was pretty awesome. Its hard work, though.”

“How much did you make?”

“Couple of hundred,” I said as I undid my jeans and shoved them down. They were down to my knees before I realized that I didn’t have anything on under them.

“Uh, where’s your jockstrap?” my dad asked.

I could feel my face turning red.

“I… I didn’t get it back,” I said.

“You didn’t get it back? How did it get off of you?”

“They, uh… well, things got a little out of hand, and they took it off of me.”

“You went all the way,” he said with a deadpan stare.

“Yes, sir. I know you told me not to, and I didn’t intend to, but it just happened. Like I said, things got out of hand,” I said as I busied myself with pulling off my jeans and folding them to lay across the chair. It was a mistake; I never folded my jeans. I usually just tossed them on the floor.

“You were supposed to see that didn’t happen,” he admonished me. “How far out of hand?” he asked.

I felt my face getting flushed, which was a sure sign to my Dad that I was hiding something.

“How far?” he asked again.

“I… all the way out of hand.”

“What does that mean, besides you lost all of your clothes?”

“I kept my cap on,” I said in my own defense.

“That’s lame,” he said. “I don’t mean how far you went losing your clothes, I mean how far out of hand did things get?”

“I… I fucked four of the women,” I said.

“You what??!!!” he blurted. “You had sex with four of the guests?”

“The lady of the house gave me a hundred dollars to take it all the way,” I said.

“How much did you say you made tonight?” he asked with a scowl.

“Four hundred eight five dollars.”

He stood there shaking his head, I didn’t know if it was out of anger or disgust. But then he said, “Well, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have sent you.”

“Well, there is a problem, now,” I said rather sheepishly.

“What?”

“I… I guess I’ll be getting more calls.”

“Well, you won’t be taking those calls,” he said.

“Dad, I couldn’t help it. They got me so turned on, I got so hard, and I think most of those women were half drunk…..”

“That doesn’t excuse your behavior,” he cut in.

“But they wanted it, and they were willing to pay for it.”

“Having sex for money is called prostitution, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

He shrugged. “Well, what’s done is done. But don’t count on making any more money like that.”

“I won’t, sir. But….” I caught myself, but not quick enough.

“But what?”

“I liked it, Dad,” I said. “I loved taking off my clothes for those women, and what they did to me.”

He just looked at me and left the room.

Somehow, I knew this wasn’t the end of it. I’d had a taste of the wild side of life and I liked it. I remembered hearing about a strip club on the other side of town, called Race

The End

Posted: 06/18/10