Three's Company

One night, Bradford had come home from work at the gas station and found his father sitting down in the kitchen having drinks with an unknown man. His father had introduced the stranger as an old friend who was going to stay with them for a while. That had seemed strange to Bradford – since when did his father have friends? And old friends to boot? But Bradford no longer had it in him to say anything since he had come back to live with the old man. His own divorce had left him virtually penniless and he had had no choice but to go and live with the old tyrant. That was how Alfredo, since that was his name, had settled in the guest room.

Very quickly, though, things had taken a decidedly unusual turn. A couple of days later, when he had come home, Bradford had found a hot meal waiting for him. The dining room table was set and Alfredo had yelled towards the kitchen : “Ted, your hard-working boy is home! You can bring him his dinner!” Now Bradford was absolutely flabbergasted. His father had never done anything around the house. When his wife was still alive, she was the one doing all the chores. When Bradford had come to live with him, he had found the house in a shocking state. So he had become the housekeeper, shopping for food, cleaning everything and cooking meals when he came back from his shifts at the gas station. His father had simply told him that since he was grown-up, he had to pay for his keep. “That’ll teach you to let a woman take advantage of you,” he had added. Inside, Bradford had felt very angry and humiliated, but he hadn’t dared say a word. He had always let his father be the boss, just like his mother before him.

But on that night, Bradford’s whole world had gone topsy-turvy. On that night, his father had cooked a meal for him and his guest and then washed the dishes afterwards while he and Alfredo were smoking in the rec room. And after a while, Alfredo had told him: “I see you are surprised by the changes in Ted. I guess until now, he’s been quite the… how do you say? Household tyrant?” Bradford had nodded in agreement. That was an understatement if there ever was one. During the meal, his father who would usually, go on and on about how the food wasn’t hot enough, or some other thing, had hardly said a word.

“As you can see,” Alfredo went on, “that has changed. It’s never too late to change your ways, that’s what I told Ted. And I told him that it was shameful to let his son come home from a hard day’s work and have to cook his own meal. I think I got to him, somehow.”

Bradford had wondered about the hold Alfredo seemed to have on his father. How exactly had he gotten to him? 

During the next few days, Bradford had started to suspect the exact nature of that hold. He had heard noises at night – it sounded as though his father was joining his guest in the guest room. 

Finally, Bradford’s curiosity had got the best of him and he had gone to take a peek inside the room. What he had seen was his father tied spread-eagle on the bed and being fucked by big fat Alfredo. And obviously liking it a lot, even though his moans were muffled. 

On that night, Bradford had quickly retreated to his own room. So that was why his ornery old Dad had become so tame! He was being fucked by a man! The house tyrant had finally found his master! Bradford was happy about that. But shouldn’t he have been shocked? How could his own father let himself be used like that? Was Alfredo’s cock in his ass so good? Bradford didn’t like that thought. Why was he even thinking that? He had gone back to sleep with very mixed feelings.

But on the next night, Bradford had gone back to spy on his father and Alfredo. And on the next one too. And he had begun touching himself while spying on the two men. Never quite managing to go so far as to get an orgasm, though. Always retreating to his bedroom after a few minutes.

Until tonight. Tonight, after dinner, when Bradford and Alfredo had retreated to the rec room for smokes, Alfredo had said: “You know, Bradford, it is not right for a grown-up man like you to be spying on his father like you do.” Bradford had started to protest that he wasn’t… that he… and then, his eyes had crossed Alfredo’s jovial but piercing eyes, and he had had to look down in a silent admission of guilt. “Do you like what you see at night?” Alfredo had asked. Without looking up, Bradford had nodded. “Well, then my friend, you can be included in our little… arrangement. But it will have to be on my terms.” Without quite realizing what he was doing or saying, Bradford gulped and answered: “I’ll do anything you say.”

What had followed had been a feverish blur: he had been ordered to stand in front of one of the rec room’s stud beams, and Alfredo had called out to his father, who had come in the room wearing only a pair of briefs that looked like a girl’s panties and carrying some rope. His father had blushed when he had met his son’s incredulous stare. Afterwards, when he had helped Alfredo tie Bradford to the beam, he had avoided looking at him, as if silently saying: “It’s not right for you to see what you are about to see.”

But now, an hour later, still bound and gagged, Bradford had seen plenty. In his trousers, his hard-on was begging for release. Alfredo was being orally serviced by Ted, and now he was winking to him as if saying: “Want to be next?” And even though the gag prevented him from saying anything, Bradford knew what his answer would be.