Page 5 of The Trailer Park Twink

Through my earbud, Dallas’ drunken country twang shines through as he slurs out, “Wanna sing a birthday song for my birthday boy,” sounding like an absolute lush.

“He just turned twenty. Can you believe that? Look at him. Look at my sweet boy.” In the video, Dallas spots me cuddling a little too close to my then-boyfriend.

“Stop lookin’ at him,” Daddy barks at Tatum.

I can still picture his smile when our eyes met and I slid out of Tatum’s embrace, wanting to focus all my attention on Dallas.

Music plays in the background, but he’s still slurring, even after it’s time for him to start singing.

“Hey, everybody. Every one of you, shut up and look over there! That’s my boy.

” He had a finger pointed in my direction and so much goddamn love in his eyes, it felt like the only thing that ever had or ever would exist was our two beating hearts, pumping out the words neither of us could say. “That’s my Aussie.”

Halfway through the karaoke track, Dallas finally starts singing along, reminding me via Mariah Carey that I’ll always be his baby.

With my eyes closed tightly, I chew my bottom lip, increasing the speed of my strokes.

I can picture him in front of me, knelt beneath, staring up at my aching cock, his eyes pleading.

I bring my hand to my mouth and spit into my palm, needing a bit of lube to make it more comfortable.

With a wet hand, I stroke myself again, imagining the sight of Dallas’ mouth opening and swallowing me whole.

I get a funny feeling like someone’s watching me, and when I open my eyes, I’m relieved to find I’m still alone in the bathroom. The relief is short lived, because a few seconds later, I watch in horror as the knob twists and the door swings open.

Dallas is wearing nothing more than his boxer-briefs, and the sight of his barely clothed body sends a sensation of lightning shooting up my spine. He has his towel in one hand and another pair of skimpy boxer-briefs in the other. I look up, horrified to see his eyes locked on my swollen shaft.

We don’t speak. We barely breathe. His eyes widen when he looks at my phone, seeing his drunken face plastered across my screen, singing his birthday boy a birthday song. I yank the earbud out of my ear, my eyes bulging as I use my other hand to shield my cock.

“Sorry,” I say, tugging the tail of my shirt over my dick, the outline still fully visible to him. “Fuck. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

His eyes glance at my phone again, his mouth hanging open. “Austin? Why are you watching—were you . . .?”

My breath hitches. “Was I what? ”

His mouth opens and closes a few times, but he just shuts it in the end, letting the question die on his tongue. “I need to take another shower.”

I close my eyes in an attempt to calm my racing heart. Holy shit. Dallas just saw my cock.

“Why do you need another shower?” I ask, but my voice is high-pitched and comes out sounding frantic.

His cheeks flush. “We had a little mishap. You mom had too much to drink and . . . well, let’s just say regurgitated meatloaf isn’t the most pleasant smell.”

“She threw up on you?”

He nods, looking down at the floor, unwilling—maybe unable—to look at me.

“I couldn't get hard. I tried and tried, but I couldn't get it up.

Shelly didn't take it well, and I guess she thought it meant it was her fault, so she glared at me, opened her mouth, and projectile puked on me.” He sighs, scrubbing his hand with his face.

“She says it's just because she's drunk, but I saw that determined look in her eyes.”

“So, she puked on you out of spite?” I gag, because eww.

He shrugs. “That's what it felt like. Either way, I really need to hop in the shower. If you don’t mind.”

I nod, still in shock that he just caught me jacking off. “Yeah. Go ahead.” I want to move, but I can’t. It feels physically impossible. I lie back against the toilet, trying to catch my breath. “Aren’t you going to . . .” He darts his eyes toward the door .

I know that’s what he’s expecting, but I was here first. Plus, I kind of hope this will at least grant me a quick peek at his ass when he steps into the shower again.

So, I swallow down my nerves and force my head to shake left, then right.

“I kind of wanted to finish what I was doing. When you’re done.

I can wait, I just really need to nut.” I dip my eyes down to my erection, hidden by my sheer shirt, and flex it for emphasis.

“It’s quieter here. Less chance of being overheard.

” Okay, well that’s a lie, considering my bedroom is right next door, even further from their room.

“That’s . . .” His chest rises and falls heavily, and the longer he stares at my dickprint, the heavier his breaths become. “That’s really considerate of you.” He licks his lips. “I’m proud of you for being so thoughtful.”

I force an awkward smile and nod. “That’s what I do.” I flex my cock again. “Thank you for not making this weird. I love you, Daddy.”

He blinks, breaking the hold my cock has on his eyes, and lifts his gaze to meet mine, looking punch-drunk on the sight of me. “I love you too, baby.”

“Go on. Take your shower.”

His cheeks darken as he hooks his thumbs into his underwear, and we both stare at his midsection. Fuck. His bulge is massive. No wonder Mom’s always crying when he fucks her. “Do you mind closing your eyes? ”

Fuck that. I want to see it all. Every inch of him. Every pubic hair. The parts he’s kept hidden all this time. I stare down at my own cock, leaking through the fabric of my shirt as it twitches. He must notice too, because when I look up, he’s breathing heavily.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Sorry.” Closing my eyes, I allow him the same privacy I would want if it were me in this situation. Hell, it basically was me, less than a minute ago.

The longer he showers, the harder my cock strains against my shirt. I’m tempted to say “to hell with it” and resume my masturbatory excursion, but I resist, because Daddy didn’t come here for that. He just needs to wash the vomit off his dick. That’s it. That’s all.

He only takes a few minutes in the shower before shutting it off.

Grabbing his towel off the shower rod, he doesn’t waste time with drying off, just ties it around his waist and flings the curtain open, his eyes locked on my midsection.

Locked on my crotch like he’s expecting me to be stroking it.

He’s breathing just as heavily as before, and once he finally manages to tear his eyes away from the outline of my dick, he clears his throat and steps out of the shower, making his way to the sink.

To my surprise, he doesn’t leave, he parks himself in front of the mirror and reaches down, grabbing his toothbrush.

His eyes dart to the corner like he’s seeking me out.

No. Scratch that. Like he’s seeking my cock out, because I’m pretty sure he’s looking down as he slathers cinnamon toothpaste on the brush.

I wait patiently as he brushes his teeth, my cock still standing at attention, refusing to bow out gracefully.

Yet again, my assumption that he’ll simply leave once he’s finished proves incorrect, because he doesn’t.

He just rinses the toothbrush and stuffs it into the hole at the top of the holder, then bends down and reaches into the bottom drawer, pulling out a pair of tweezers.

What the fuck is he doing?

I watch as he uses the hand towel I keep in front of the sink to wipe away a bit of the fog his shower created on the mirror. He leans in and blindly plucks at his non-existent unibrow. There’s not a single hair between his eyebrows, but he’s acting like he’s grown a goddamn bush overnight.

Fuck. I really need to come, and the longer he stays, the more I leak, and a dark patch spreads through the fabric like wildfire. The front of my shirt is basically a puddle, and I catch him looking down at it from the corner of his eyes again.

Is he waiting for me to continue? Is that why he’s still here—because he can’t voice what his body is aching for?

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back and wrap my hand around my shaft through the fabric of my shirt. I can’t exactly lift it up and whip my cock out. I don’t think he’s ready for that yet. Hopefully soon .

“Fuck,” I softly moan as I stroke myself, losing myself in the moment.

Knowing he’s here, knowing he’s watching, feels like a sexual awakening in the making.

I picture him between my legs, taking me into his mouth, and the mental image coupled with his physical presence has me making soft, whimpering, needy little noises.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, sounding dazed.

“Daddy,” I whine, and then I curse myself, because it rips him out of the moment. His eyes bulge, and he jerks his head up, looking me square in the eyes, horrified.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding panicked. “Fuck. I forgot you needed to finish.” It’s a goddamn lie, and we both know it. “I’ll give you some space.”

No! I don’t want him to go. I don’t need space, I just need him.

“Dallas, I—”

He shakes his head, cutting me off. “It’s all good, buddy. Don’t be embarrassed, I just—I’m going to head to bed. You need to get some rest too. I want you to go to school tomorrow. Don’t skip class.”

I shake my head, horrified. No. Fuck no, he’s not going to bed. “You said you would play with me,” I remind him. His eyes dart down to my cock still straining against my shirt, More pre-cum seeps through the fabric, making his eyes widen even more .

“Play with you?” he whispers, but I think he’s talking to himself. Actually, I think he thinks I’m talking about my cock. I mean, yeah, I want that, but we’re not there yet.

“Video games. You promised. You said once you were done with her, you’d make time for me.” My cock deflates when my voice cracks around the words, because he’s taking back what he gave willingly less than an hour ago.

“I promised,” he agrees, but his voice is barely there, and he seems torn. “Okay. Yeah. We can play. Did you need to finish first? I can give you a second.”

I shake my head, because even though I know I’m going to have blue balls like a motherfucker, I’ll have more time with him this way, and I don’t want to lose a single second.

Standing up from the seat, I turn to the side, my shirt barely covering my cock and ass.

I glance down at my half-hard cock and sigh.

“I’d rather hang out with you.” As I chew my bottom lip, a smile creeps into the corners of my mouth, because a plan is forming, and I want to watch it unfold. “I’m probably going to have blue balls though. Might need you to rub my tummy to make it better.”

“I can do that,” he agrees. “I’m always happy to rub your tummy.” He combs his fingers through my hair. “Pull your pants up and meet me in the living room, little guy.”

He pauses when he spots his underwear on the counter.

The dirty ones are in the hamper, and he’s still only wearing a towel.

Dallas gives my cock another stolen glance before turning his back to me, dropping his towel, and grabbing his underwear.

The strange thing is, he’s not making any effort to put them on.

His ass. Jesus-fucking-Christ, that ass is exquisite. There’s a dusting of fur on each cheek, and darker hair in his crack. Mary, mother of fuck, I want to bury my face between my stepfather’s cheeks. To shove my tongue inside his hole until he’s writhing and moaning out in pleasure.

“Aussie?” Dallas calls out, snapping me out of my haze.

“Huh?”

The corner of his lip curls. “I called your name a few times. I thought you might be having a seizure.” Why is he still just standing there?

Why is his ass still bare? Better yet, why the fuck am I focusing on the why’s and not the what’s of the situation.

His bare ass is in view. A sight I’ve dreamed of endlessly.

Through the years, I’ve only seen it a handful of times, and never for this long.

It almost feels like he wants me to see it.

“I’m going to go set the game up, baby.” He bends over to put on his underwear, and I can’t stop the desperate whine from rising out of me like steam from a kettle.

“Are you okay, little man?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me. For the record: no, I’m not okay. I’m not okay, because Dallas’ entire asshole is fully visible. Through a forest of fur, his entrance lies hidden, like an uncharted oasis .

“I’m fine,” I squeak as he lifts his underwear up his thighs. He pauses when they reach the cheeks, flashing me a wink before pulling them up. “I’ll see you in the living room. Get ready to get your ass handed to you.”

Once he’s gone, I splash some water on my face and stare into the mirror. I look blissed out of my fucking mind, mainly because I am. I almost came for Daddy, and now I’m about to cuddle up close to him on the sofa and play Mario with him.