My Loving Amish Father

Eli returns from a life-changing rumspringa. Now eighteen, his home is no longer the Amish community he grew up in, but rather, a rural trailer park where his excommunicated father moved to. After four years of living in a bustling big city, the quiet and simple life isn't exactly what Eli had in mind. However, he's willing to put up with it in hopes of growing close to his irresistibly handsome father.

Eli has warded off plenty of horny men just so that he could save himself for the one and only who matters most to him: the man who gave him life and even gave him his own name. He doesn't just have sexual feelings for his own father, but romantic ones too.

Now, wherever Father goes, son goes.

Even if it's right inside the shower stall where a different kind of wash could alter their father/son relationship in the most forbidden of ways.

My Loving Amish Father is a 3,500-word short story.

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The door finally opened, and Father stood tall, sporting a stunned face. Of course, he was stunned. He probably hadn’t expected to ever see me again. Four years, after all. At forty, he looked the same: short and light-brown curls, warm and hazel eyes, rough and suntanned skin, and lean all the way. He wore a white tank top that revealed some brown hairs peeking out from under his arms. He had it tucked inside a pair of fitted, dark pants he still had since before his excommunication from the community. He was still handsome and virile as ever, even with the short beard and growing moustache—Amish men didn't wear moustaches for political reasons.

In contrast, I was clean-shaven, but had recently considered growing my beard; I wondered if I’d look as handsome as him.

I suddenly couldn’t look at him anymore, but I could hear him choking up with emotion.

“Well, blessed be!” That raspy voice in a breathy tone, cracking. Yet for the first time since before I’d left, it filled me with something I shouldn’t have been feeling in my dick.

“C-can I come in, Father?” I couldn’t hide the shame in my voice.

“Oh, son, of course!” He stepped aside, allowing me to enter, and he shut the door. As I was about to burst from my emotions, his strong arms held me close.

I lost it and sobbed, quietly at first.

“It’s okay, Eli. Let it all out. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He pulled off my hood and kissed the top of my buzzed head, just prickles of brown hair barely there.

His sweet affection only made me cry harder.

“I never thought I’d see my boy again. I prayed every morning and night to see you again, and I prayed in between as well.”

I was torn again, just like when I’d started developing these feelings four years ago, shortly before rumspringa. His scent: masculine, dried sweat, light musk, and no cologne, comforting in both my heart and dick.

After some minutes, I let go and sniffled, wiping my eyes and cheeks with my sleeves.

“Thank you for this visit. Will you live with me?” Oh, Father. His hopeful tone said it all.

I nodded, too emotional to speak. I sniffled again.

That put a stronger, warm smile on his face.

I looked around the tiny place that had just one bedroom. At least, I assumed there was only one. How could another one fit in this narrow “hallway” of a home? There was wood paneling everywhere, and a couple of small, curtained windows on the front wall.

On the right side of the place was a worn, brown couch for two with random stains and a few tiny rips, and a tiny bookshelf across from it. No TV or stereo, unsurprisingly. Actually, that was it for the living room.

On the left side was a wooden kitchenette that needed updating, a small card table and two foldup chairs against the front wall, a narrow shower stall right beside the left end of the kitchenette, and a toilet beside that. The sink in the kitchenette was the only one, cluttered with dish soap, hand soap, and toiletries, and a small mirror hanging from above. Finally, an archway that revealed the edge of a seemingly-big bed. Everything was dull in color and style, which proved Father hadn’t changed a bit.

Ugh, I needed a drink. “Do you have alcohol?”

Father looked puzzled. “Goodness, son. Why would you need that?”

I shook my head, muttering, “Nothing, forget it.” I should’ve known better than to ask that. Of course, he didn’t drink and probably hadn’t left his old ways of living.

He inhaled and exhaled, attempting a tiny smile looking pained. “Look at you. My boy is a man now.”

I managed a tight smile, wanting to chat, but also tired and emotional and just…lost.

“Do you have any other clothes? It’s too hot to wear that, don’t you think?”

“I have nothing, Father. And I need a shower right now.”

“Go ahead. The shower stall is right over there.” He pointed to his left, just before the archway to the bedroom. “I’ll go in after you, so you may want to take a quick one because the water gets cold fast and it takes a moment for the hot water to come back.”

I decided to lower my voice to avoid being heard. The neighbors were too close, and some of their windows were open from what I remembered seeing. “Take one with me like you used to, I don’t care.” I wasted no time getting naked, feeling spaced out from the reality and confusion and whatever else I felt.

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