Messy Adventures With A Special Someone

[bruffyT]

So I finally want to put electronic pen to digital paper and write up some of my messy fantasies (and the occasional messy realty) on here to share with you… the catch being that these stories will depict messy play with my own father. Now although most of these are fantasy, they were developed in my mind due to several real life messy incidents with my dad, and these too I hope to share with you!! I’m thinking each post will be its own stand alone event (although this first one ended up being a little longer than expected, so I have split it into two - to see what kind of response I get) and then each post will end with three possibly future stories that you guys can vote on to hear next… sound good? All sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.


Number One: The Three Course Dinner

Dad was being more anal than I’ve ever known him to be. Here I am, sat alone in the hotel lobby on my 25th birthday - all because everything isn’t perfect. I mean in his defence, he’s ordered me a bottle of expensive looking red. Sipping a glass while I wait, and the rest will be sent up to the room when I need it. And I feel like he’s arranging a classy affair as he’s asked me to get out my graduation suit. A nice navy three-piece number. I’ve paired it with a classic white shirt today, not the brightly coloured, pattern, eye-sore I’d picked out for graduation. I’ve gone for a baby pink tie too, which you can see more of because of the plunging, u-shaped neckline of the waistcoat. I even took time slicking my hair back into somewhat of a quiff, and bought new shoes for the occasion - it’s not often me and dad go for a fancy weekend away. And I was feeling great - even got a wink from the cute barman slash receptionist slash room service waiter. He seemed to be the only one working, darting about here, there and everywhere without breaking a sweat. He smiled politely every time he passed me. My phone buzzed violently,

“It’s all ready - Dad”. I hated that habit of his. Mind you Mum does it too - they end every text with “Dad” or “Mum” as if they’re not already saved into my contacts and I’ll never be able to tell who they are. Got to love parents, right?!

I neck the last of the wine, and ask the barman if I can take the rest of the bottle with me - wouldn’t want to disturb him for half a bottle. Then I head upstairs. It’s only when I’m a floor away do I realise I’m nervous, the little skitty butterflies doing cartwheels and nosedives internally. I can’t tell if this feels more like a first date, or a dodgy Grindr hook-up. Or am I excited? I take a swig from the bottle - no-one’s in the stairwell, they won’t see. They won’t care. And why am I even taking the stairs? There’s a perfectly good lift to the fifth floor. Am I buying myself time? Oh god, this really does feel like Grindr. With my dad? The splash back from the bottle leaves a little red speck on my white collar. I rub at it violently, which only makes it worse. Shit. A bead of sweat trickles down from my forehead, right to the tip of my nose. I dab it away. I’m halfway down the corridor. I stop. Adjust my collar. Taste my breath. Even take a second to see my reflection in the black of my phone screen. It flashes on, and vibrates in my hand.

“You on your way? - Dad”. I breathe in deeply, to steady myself. Why does this feel like a date?

I get to the suite door, and a young man in uniform is stood there beaming at me, holding the door open.
“Have a wonderful evening”, he bellows as he waves me in. I step into the room and he closes the door behind me. I hear him wheel the room service trolly away. I walk down the corridor, past the bedroom on my left, and into the open plan living space. Dad is stood beside a dining table covered in food. Soups, and pasta’s. Steaks and chips, with risotto, ramen bowls, even a chocolate cake with a little candle, and tiramisu! My favourite.
“Happy Birthday, son!” He’s beaming at me. I can’t help but smile too, and all that weird tension vanishes. I go to him and hug him. He too is in his smartest suit - similar to the one in his wedding photos. Classic black and like me, paired with an almost identical white shirt.
“It looks wonderful”, I take in the sight of all the food, “How on earth are me and you going to eat all this?”
“Don’t worry about that”, he takes the bottle from my hand, and fills my glass, before filling his. “Here’s to my boy turning 25 today! A quarter of a century old - who’d have thought you’d make it this far, eh? Cheers!”
“Cheer’s you massive tool”. I go to sip my wine, and suddenly find myself feeling wet. I take the glass from my lips, and look down to find dad is pouring his glass down my crisp, white shirt. “Dad?”. He just looks at me and smiles, continuing to stain me with the red wine, coating as much of it as possible. “This is my nice suit!”
“Don’t worry about that”, he says again. Then it dawns on me.
“The food will be cold by the time we get to…
“Don’t worry about that”, he interjects. I take one last sip of wine before emptying the contents of the glass down my father’s own white shirt. He soaks in quickly, covering his whole front in slightly opaque, red goodness. I notice his chest hair suddenly becoming visible, and one side of his shirt which is moister than the other reveals his nipple, blurred slightly. Dad picks up the bottle and see’s how much is left.
“No need for a glass for this amount”, he says as he proceeds to empty the contents over the dry half of his shirt. I smile.
“This is going to be fun”, I sigh.
“Indeed”

“Oh, before we sit down, order a dessert.”
“Mum never lets us eat dessert before dinner”
“Well Mum isn’t here, is she?”, I don’t need to answer. Dad thrusts the dessert menu in my hand. “You don’t need chocolate cake or tiramisu, but pick wisely, okay son?”. I know what game he’s playing, and I don’t even need to overthink this. I know he’s going to make me wear this, and I love to get messy!
“I’ll take the trifle” I say it so quickly it’s as if I assumed it was on the menu.
“That’s a sharer dessert are you su…?”
“Don’t worry about that” I say before he can finish. Dad’s straight on the phone to room service. Once he’s hung up he turns to me.
“This is one of your presents, so it’s a bit special to the rest of tonight”
“How do you mean?”
“Well Son”, he grasps my shoulders and squeezes, “When the young man brings the trifle up, you’re going to say this to him…”, he leans into my ear and whispers.
I gasp. I begin to sweat again.
“But that’s… that’s…” I breath in, deeply, “That sounds fun.” And just as the excitement builds in me there’s a knock at the door. Dad nods at me and smiles,
“Come in” he calls. The young boy in the uniform enters the room with a large, perfectly made bowl of trifle in his hands.
“Room service”, he bellows. He’s cute. I realise. Not my usual type, but cute. Probably 18, but potentially a little younger. But i’d guess this was a university side job for him. So I’m sticking with 18. He glides towards the table and realises there is no space. “Where shall I place this?” Dad nudges me. I cough.
“It’s my birthday today” I start,
“Happy Birthday to you... “ he pauses. Waiting for a name.
“Thomas.”
“Happy Birthday, Thomas” he smiles.
“Th-thank you”, I stutter, “It’s my birthday today”, I repeat, “I am 25 and that is an important number. So, I would like you to give me a present”, the boy goes to say something, but I hurtle on, “I would like you to pour that trifle down the front of my underwear. It is my birthday after all”. There’s an awkward silence in the air. I cough, just to break it. The boy hasn’t stopped smiling, but his eyes say otherwise. Dad nudges me again. Shit. I forgot the next part.

I unbuckle my belt, loosen the button to my trousers, zip down the fly and let them crumple to the floor at my ankles to reveal by briefs. I never wear briefs. And Dad knows that. Not unless I’m feeling sexy or want to show off for a boyfriend. I suddenly feel exposed. And they’re a silly pattern - my favourite brand! But they’re a cow skin pattern. I suddenly feel silly. But I always said fun was sexy. And that’s when I notice the boys eyes do a little shoulder shrug of their own, and mutter “Fuck it”, to each other. The boy takes a step closer. I hold the elastic waistband out for him. The three of us can clearly see my cock, semi erect, inside. But none of us are excited for that view. We’re excited for what else is about to be in there.

He begins to pour. For a while the trifle clings to the bowl. But then in one go a large dollop of cream, custard and strawberry jam splats into the underwear, wrapping delicately around my cock, and latching onto my pubes. Dad begins to sing,
“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birth-...” the boy joins in as he continues to pour, “Day to you”. At this point the front is full, and it begins to force itself out the leg whole. Custard and jam is running down my inner thighs, both sides, and I can feel the cream making its way into the back of my underwear, nestling between my butt-cheeks.
“Happy Birthday to Thomas, Happy Birthday to you” They finish together, dad begins to clap as the last few drops of the strawberry jam and custard combo drip into the mess in my pants. Most of the Lady’s Fingers that line the bowl were still there, but one or two dropped in with the mixture. The boy, without being prompted, or indeed asking permission, delicately reached in and grabbed one of the surface Fingers. I snapped the elastic closed after him, the trifle slightly oozing over the top of them, and down the bulging front. The boy took a bite from the finger,
“Have a wonderful evening” he says, heading towards the door. He leaves. Me and dad look at each other and burst out laughing. I pull my trousers up and do them back up, the size of my underwear makes me look like I’m wearing a nappy, we both laugh again. He places his hand on my back, and walks to the table. He pulls my chair out for me, and I sit down with a slight “oh” and a moan as the trifle repositions itself.
“So… soup to start?” Dad questions.

To Be Continued

[Gayboy0021]

This is great haha!!!

[CapnKink]

Indeed, don’t stop