It was a typical Saturday afternoon for Tate. It was 2:00 pm and he was still meandering around the house in his pajamas. 

His father burst into his room suddenly. He rambled on about Tate getting his lazy ass into gear and getting dressed. He reminded Tate that his friends would be arriving at the house around 4:00 pm and told Tate that he needed to wear something appropriate. His father left the room before Tate could even respond. 

Tate’s father was hosting his annual kickoff party for the Ohio State football season. The game was scheduled to start around 8:00 pm, but there would be four hours of feasting and drinking prior to kickoff. 

Tate’s mother reluctantly allowed her husband to have the party each year, but she refused to be the one who did all the cooking and cleaning. She planned a weekend trip with her sister to Chicago filled with lots of shopping and dining out. 

That left Tate’s father to do all the arrangements by himself. He had seemed pretty stressed out about the party over the previous day as he tried to get ready for the big event. 

Tate had a strained relationship with his father. Tate was openly gay, and his father did not approve of his lifestyle. His father didn’t like the fact that Tate was twenty-three years old and worked a part-time job while still living at home either. 

Tate would readily admit that he was lazy and generally unmotivated. Some of that was Tate deliberately wanting to get a rise out of his father. The other part was simply Tate trying to find his place in the world. They lived in a conservative, rural area where there weren’t many uncloseted gay men. This meant that he stood out in many ways, and he was steadfast in his refusal to hide his true self. 

Tate looked himself over. He wasn’t sure what his father’s complaint was about his pajamas. He thought that they were absolutely cute. Alright, it was probably because he had bought them at Victoria’s Secret and they were, of course, women's pajamas. They were silky, pastel-pink, summer pajamas. The shorts were rather short, and the top had a low neckline, but otherwise, they were completely appropriate. 

He paced around his room for a while. Tate didn’t have any plans for the night, mostly because he had broken up with his boyfriend a few weeks prior. He decided to hang around the house for the evening and to have some fun entertaining his father's guests. 

Tate headed to the bathroom and started to clean up for the party. He hopped into the bathtub and proceeded to shave every visible hair from his entire body. That wasn’t a large task since he didn’t have a lot of body hair anyway. Despite his age, Tate still looked rather boyish. He was often confused to be a young man of “high school” age. Tate was still quite slender, and his lack of muscular development only added to his boyish appearance. 

Once he had finished cleaning up, Tate returned to his room. He rummaged through both his closet and chest of drawers until he found the perfect outfit for the occasion. Tate smiled and chuckled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see his father's reaction. 

He remained inside his room until all of his father's guests arrived. Then he walked through the patio door and into the backyard. He walked past a series of chest-style coolers filled with assorted beverages, but mostly beer. His father glanced up from the grill and a look of horror filled his face. It was clear that he wanted to confront Tate, but he was reluctant to make a scene. 

Tate was only wearing a thong-style American Male brand swimsuit. It was rainbow tie-dye in color and fairly skimpy. The front had a low profile and Tate’s modestly sized package fit tightly into the small front pouch revealing every intricate detail. Tate smirked as he walked toward the seven men sitting at the picnic table and a few assorted outdoor chairs. He continued walking as he passed them and circled the perimeter of their swimming pool. His backside swayed seductively as he made sure that they all got a good look at his best feature. 

Although the pre-game party would be held in the backyard, there was no chance that any of the adult men attending the game would be using the pool. They were all wearing either jeans or shorts with an Ohio State Buckeyes t-shirt or jersey. 

Tate lined himself up to jump into the pool. It was the first week of September and it was nearly time to close the pool for the season. The temperature of the water had been dropping rapidly over the past couple of weeks. He suspected that it was going to be in the low seventies on that day, but he hadn’t checked the thermometer. 

Tate took a deep breath. He knew that it was going to be a shock to the system when he jumped in. The second that he hit the water, his chest locked up. He tried to react as little as he could. He thought that he was going to pass out before his lungs would work again, but eventually, he was able to regain his breath. 

Tate splashed around in the pool for about forty minutes. He repeatedly climbed in and out of the pool with his back turned toward the men or he would swim around with his bottom pointed upward. He could see that most of the men were glancing in his direction only to turn away in an effort to avoid notice. 

He could see them whisper among themselves, clearly saying derogatory things about him. Tate found it quite funny that all of these “straight” men seemed to have such disdain for him but clearly couldn’t stop watching him. 

His father was starting to plate up all of the meat from the grill. The men gathered at the table and readied for the feast. 

Tate climbed out of the pool and approached the table. He was shivering from the cold as he had been in the water for far too long. Tate’s modestly sized package had shrunk to the size of an acorn. He wedged his icy body in between two of the men. His shriveled nub stuck straight out, clearly revealing the outline of the head of his penis. 

There was grilled corn on the cob, pork chops, and assorted sausages on the table. His father was still cooking the T-bone steaks. Tate noticed that his favorite chicken sausages were on one of the platters. 

“Ooh, I love sausages!” Tate squealed. 

He reached over the men and across the table as he daintily grabbed a sausage between his thumb and forefinger. He lifted it to his mouth and gave it a seductive lick before taking a small nibble off the end. He looked around to find that he had a captive audience. It was just as he had hoped. 

Looking in his father’s direction, he said in his lippiest, most effeminate voice, “Father, the sausages are super-yummy!” 

His father didn’t respond. Tate took another nibble of the sausage and scanned the table. He snatched a nearly full bottle of Bud Light away from one of the men and took a swig. Then he backed away and strutted toward the patio door; sausage in one hand, beer in the other. He placed the sausage in his mouth as he slid open the door. He closed the door behind him and immediately burst into laughter. 

He finished his sausage and beer as he reveled in his moment of triumph. It didn’t take long for him to decide that he was not done embarrassing his father. 

He returned to his room to begin the second phase of his plan. Tate grabbed the enema shower attachment from his closet as well as his smallest dildo. He headed into the bathroom and proceeded to shower as well as perform his evacuation routine. Once he was finished, he grabbed the well-lubricated dildo and tested to make sure that everything was clear. After several rounds of relubricating and reinserting the dildo, he was confident that he was ready to go. 

Tate returned to his room and picked out his favorite Andrew Christian jockstrap-style underwear. He climbed onto the bed with his tablet in hand and settled down with his back facing the open bedroom door. 

It wouldn’t be long before the men would head inside to watch the game. He wondered how long it would take for one of them to walk past the bathroom and down the hall to peer into his bedroom. There would be no reason for them to walk to his bedroom, other than to see what he was doing. 

Tate relaxed on the bed. He put his Bluetooth earbuds in and started watching Netflix on his tablet. He kept the volume low so that he could hear when the men had arrived inside the house. 

From the time that the men entered the house, it took roughly fifteen minutes for Tate to sense that there was somebody behind him. He paused his video and turned around casually to find one of the men standing in the doorway. The man was rubbing the outline of his cock over his shorts. 

Tate quipped, “Don’t be shy. It’s not just for show.” 

Then he turned away and started playing the video again. Within several seconds, he felt two hands on his thighs and the bed rocked as the man climbed on it. His hands planted on each side of Tate just before he felt the man enter him. Either the man was slightly thick, or it had just been a while since Tate had used his dildo, but the man was noticeably stretching his anus. It was nothing extreme and Tate had handled larger, but it took a moment to adjust. He was not going to give the man the satisfaction of knowing his discomfort, though. 

The interaction didn’t take long. The man was clearly trying to finish before he got caught. Tate felt a warm spray inside of him and the man quickly climbed off the bed. Tate turned around as the man was pulling up his shorts. 

“Tell your friends that I will be open for business all night.” 

Not surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the next man to arrive. Tate simply made the “come hither” finger motion and invited the man inside. He approached the bed and dragged Tate backward so that he was bent over the edge. He slid his cock inside, grabbed Tate’s hips, and started thrusting quickly. Once again it was over in quick fashion. The man pulled out and sprayed his load all over Tate’s back before making a quick exit. 

The next several hours were much the same. Every ten minutes or so, another man would arrive. He would do his business quickly and then make a hasty retreat. The other men were making a lot of noise in the living room. Tate suspected that it was partially because they were distracting his father from finding out what they were doing. 

After a few men had come inside of him, his ass had become sloppy with jizz. He grabbed a towel and placed it underneath himself to catch the semen as it leaked out during sex. 

He wasn’t sure how many different men had fucked him, and he lost count of how many times he had been fucked after a while. It must have been around twenty in total. All of the men seemed to be roughly average in size, at least none of them stood out. 

Tate could hear that the party was winding down. The house got quiet, and Tate could hear that his father was doing some of the initial cleanup. He held his position, waiting for his father to discover him. 

As his father walked past his room, he glanced into the bedroom. It was not unusual to find Tate in some sort of awkward position or dress. This time, though, it took a moment for it to register what he was seeing. 

Tate was still on the bed watching television in his jockstrap. His legs were spread, and his ass was gaping open. Cum was dripping from his ass onto a towel and his back was covered with cum that was drying to a crust. 

His father charged into the room and aggressively turned Tate over. 

“What did you do? What did you fucking do?” he screamed. 

“I was just trying to be a good hostess, Daddy. I think that your friends liked me,” Tate answered defiantly. 

Tate thought that his father was going to strike him. He had never seen him that angry before. He wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. He probably deserved it. 

“What is wrong with you? Why would you do that? Why would you do that to yourself?” his father rambled. 

“I wanted to hurt you!” Tate shouted. “I wanted to hurt you the way that you hurt me.” 

His father backed away as he was processing Tate’s response. He didn’t say another word. He simply walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. 

Tate sat in his room for a while. It was the kind of response that he wanted, but he felt bad, nonetheless. He was confident that his father was going to kick him out of the house. That was fine with him. It was long overdue. He had lived at home for long enough. 

Tate headed into the bathroom and cleaned up. He couldn’t believe what a sticky mess he was. The bottom half of the pouch of his jockstrap was soaking wet with the cum that had already dripped out. The guys had done a number on his ass as well. He was going to be sore for a couple of days, but he had gone through that before. 

Tate went to sleep. The next morning, he awoke and headed into the kitchen. His father was sitting at the table staring at a mug of coffee. He didn’t look like he had slept. 

“You said that you wanted to hurt me last night. You said that you wanted to hurt me like I hurt you. What does that mean?” 

Tate unleashed his personal pain, “You are embarrassed of me. You are ashamed to have a gay son. You roll your eyes at me. You condemn me with your mannerisms. I am not sorry about who I am. I like who I am, and I do not accept your hatred of who and what I am.” 

“Last night was about truly embarrassing you. And your friends, your 'straight' friends, they lied and misled you just so that they could take turns fucking your gay son. Just how 'straight' are they, really?” 

Tate’s father seemed to be pained by his words. 

“Son, I am sorry, but I just don’t understand you. I do try to tolerate…” 

Tate interrupted his father, “It isn’t about being tolerant, dad. You are supposed to be tolerant of the gay guy at work, or at the gay couple kissing at the movie theater, or the gay couple holding hands at the supermarket. I am your son. You are not supposed to be tolerant of me. You are supposed to love me.” 

Tate’s voice began to crack as he spoke the last line. His father looked into his teary eyes for one of the first times in their interaction. 

His father’s voice cracked as well as he responded, “I didn’t know that I was hurting you like that, son. I guess that I have been caught up in my own feelings about this situation and never really considered yours. I just…I don’t know how to make things better.” 

“Talk to me,” Tate answered. “Just talk to me sometimes. You probably won’t like some of the things that you hear. That’s okay, you don’t have to like it. You just need to listen.” 

His father hesitated for a moment before saying, “Okay, I will try. I really will. Please don’t do anything like that again, though. At least not the second part. The first part…I think I can deal with.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t really enjoy that very much either,” Tate answered. “Maybe if it was a handful of those football players from the game last night…” 

Tate smiled at his father, and he smiled uncomfortably back. Then he outstretched his arms and embraced his son.