Date: Mon, 14 Jul 2008 15:31:32 -0700 (PDT) From: adm2780 Subject: Second Time Around Chapter Sixteen All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a realistic level. If you are looking for sex on every page, then this is not the story for you. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author, Dwight Wilson, at adm2780@yahoo.com This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between males, adult and minor. As such it is homoerotic, designed for the entertainment of mature adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral dilemmas, please exit now. NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and editing the chapters. Want to read a couple of good stories? Try "Never Take Love For Granted" or "One Gift To Give". They are both excellent. Chapter Sixteen: Second Time Around I had barely managed to get comfortable enough on the hide-a-bed in Dad's old study when I felt something rocking the bed and my younger son trying to burst one or both of my eardrums. "HEY, DAD! YOU AWAKE YET?" "Nooooo, and if you want to be around to open presents I suggest you go back to bed." I could hear three distinct voices giggling. They giggled worse than girls. "No way! Grandma's already got coffee brewin' for ya and breakfast is almost ready. She said we had ta wait for you ta get up before we can open presents." I felt the bed being bounced around again, and then, something about the size and weight of a teenager plopped down next tome. He wasn't any too gentle about it, either. "You guys get littler every year. You know that?" "Yeah, and you love it as much as we do. C'mon, Dad." Michael had joined the disturbance. I had a pillow over my face and peaked out from under the edge to see where my boys were. When I spotted the closest one to me, not lying down, I threw the pillow at him. He just ducked and threw it back. All three boys, Eric was following only a half-step behind my two boys, thought that was the signal to pile on top of me. Three teens putting pressure on your bladder that early can be very painful. "Is your Aunt Bonnie up yet?" "She should be; we yelled loud enough when we came in here." "Okay, guys, I know it's Christmas morning and everyone's anxious to see what Santa brought. Right?" "Right! Let's go. We've already looked. The boards are nice. When can we use 'em?" Boards? What boards? I didn't get them any kind of boards; although, a paddling board might be appropriate from time to time. Either Bonnie or Mother did something and didn't tell me. "Dad? How come you looked so funny when we mentioned the boards?" Michael was serious; there really were boards under the tree. "I looked funny because I have no idea what you three are talking about." "Yeah, right," Frank answered. I really didn't. "Okay, slow down. Let me get dressed and I'll be right out." "Dad! Dress afterwards." I looked up to see Eric coming at me with a cup of hot coffee; starter fluid. I didn't even see him leave, but when I looked at the door again, there was Mother. Okay, so Eric didn't leave. Mother wore a smile that said she was enjoying all this. She was also holding my bathrobe. She gave the robe to Frank and I was glad she had the consideration to exit the doorway while I climbed out of bed in all my natural glory. The boys saw my morning problem that all males have and laughed like crazy; then they turned around to see if Mother was still there. * * * * The sight of the tree with all the presents surrounding it brought back a lot of memories. It was the same type of tree that I remembered, with many of the same decorations. Some of the decorations had belonged to my great-grandmother. The presents were spread and arranged like a real show piece. They didn't look like that when I went to bed the night before. I knew that Mother had been up early in the morning doing what she always enjoyed doing at Christmas. Half the presents didn't come out until after we went to bed Christmas Eve. Santa did his thing. The boards the boys had mentioned earlier were under the tree. Three boards, same shape, different colors. It was a good thing the manufacturer wanted his name and the product name prominently displayed; it relieved my ignorance. It was going to be interesting to watch the boys learning to ride skim boards at the beach. Bonnie and Bob came out right behind us. I gave Bonnie a questioning look, wanting to know if she had gotten the boards. Bonnie just shrugged and threw the questioning look back to me. That left only one person. It seems Grandma had somehow become hip to what teenagers wanted at the beach. Imagine that! "Should we have breakfast and then open the presents?" Mother asked, feigning innocence. "Grandma! No! We need ta open presents now! We can eat later." That was a three part answer from three boys. I wished I had it recorded, particularly the 'we can eat later' part. Since when? Kids never understand, at least not until they are grown and kids of their own, that the best part of Christmas morning to an adult is to sit back and watch their children open the gifts. The looks of absolute innocence, combined with awe, are priceless. Those times make the rest of the year, putting up with the kid's shenanigans, tolerable. Three adults, each with a hot cup of coffee to provide stimulus, and three giddy boys sat down to open gifts. The skim boards were not marked as to what board was for which boy, they got to choose their colors. Eric jumped up and placed his board on the floor and we got a dry-run demonstration of how cool he looked on a board. Mother pulled out a gift for each boy that turned out to be their sports watches. Those expressions reminded me to grab the camcorder. Almost as endearing was the expression on Mother's face when the boys gave her a gift -- the watch. I decided that 'make a big to-do over presents' was a special gift that all grandmothers possessed and kids and grandkids relished. The big topper for Mother was when she opened the bracelet that had all three boys' birthstones in it. When Mother unwrapped the large photo we had made of me and the boys, together with the smaller individual photos, I thought she was going to cry. Mother prided herself on her self- control, so watching her struggle to maintain her composure was a testament to what the gift meant to her. The gift that almost pushed me over the edge, emotionally, came from the boys. I knew Mother had a great deal to do with it as soon as I opened it. While I unwrapped the gift, the look of anticipation and excitement on Frank and Mike's faces was, again, priceless. It was a photo album and as soon as I opened it and saw Dad's picture on the left and Mother's on the right, I almost broke down. The pictures were the ones they had made just after they were married. Both were young, good looking, and happiness just radiated from their expressions. The rest of the pictures were of me, Bonnie and other family members, including my grandparents, as we were growing up. Those pictures brought back a lot of good memories. My holiday was complete. The funny part was when the boys opened some presents and found the expected clothes. One item they didn't expect was silk boxers. All of us almost rolled in the floor when Mike held his up and asked, "What're these for?" Only my genius IQ son could ask such a question so innocently. The process of opening, examining and showing off presents took half the morning. The boys wanted to call Sean and wish him a Merry Christmas and let him know there was a package coming up for him. I reminded them that Sean was most likely having a Christmas morning just like theirs, and they shouldn't disturb his family gathering quite so early. They could call after we had our dinner. Pulling out a new video game quickly had their minds moving in a different direction. * * * * "Richard, have you called Artice?" Mother asked. "Not yet. It's not quite noon. Do you think she's up?" Aunt Artice was Mother's youngest sister; she was also a night owl. Aunt Artice thought people should go to bed just before daybreak and not get up until sundown. It was actually a habit she developed more years back than I could remember. All I could remember about an explanation was that her skin was extra-sensitive to the sun and she worried about skin cancer. It seems a relative somewhere along the way had skin cancer pretty badly and Aunt Artice attributed the illness to being out in the sun too much and not eating the right foods. I also learned many years back to let what she said about how eating the wrong foods caused most illnesses, go in one ear and out the other. I wondered what she would think if she knew my boys didn't have tan lines. No way did I want her to learn that little tid-bit. The lecture would be unmerciful! The question from Mother was really a reminder to me to call Aunt Artice and let her know what time I would be over to pick her up. She had a driver's license and a car. The car was one her husband had purchased for her as a wedding gift and had not been out of the garage for at least twenty years. She kept after me to get it running again so she could drive herself around. One day, when I was driving her to an appointment, she asked me if we had always driven on the right side of the road. The decision was made then that Aunt Artice would never be allowed behind the wheel again. "Hey, Dad," Frank called out to me, "when you go to pick up Aunt Artice, can we go too? We wanta see that car she has locked up." "That old Hudson she has? Frank, you'd be lucky if she let you see it through the window. She protects that thing like it's the most valuable object on this earth." "How come?" "Frank," Mother stepped into the conversation, "your dad was the last person to drive that car on a regular basis. I don't remember exactly why or what happened to your dad's car, but he wound up without transportation. Artice offered to let him drive the Hudson if your dad would put a battery in it and tag it; which your dad did. I think he drove it for about a month and then returned it to her. A couple of weeks later she drove it to the grocery. While she was shopping, someone stole the windshield wipers. At that point in time, they no longer manufactured the cars and parts were hard to find. Anyway, your Aunt Artice took the car home, parked it in the garage, and it hasn't been out of her driveway since then; nor has she allowed anyone other than your Dad near the car. All of that happened before your mother and father married." "I'll tell you what," I turned to the boys, "why don't we wait and, while she's here, we can bring up the subject of the car and see if she'll invite you over to see it. If she doesn't, then you'll know she wants to keep it locked up and behind closed doors. Good enough?" "I guess. Seems kinda strange to me, though," Frank responded with the other two nodding in agreement. What I didn't want to tell the boys was that strange was normal for Aunt Artice. The boys were quickly distracted by their new sports watches, which they probably thought as much of as Aunt Artice did of her old Hudson, and they headed outside to do whatever teens do outside. Bonnie squeezed my arm and motioned for me to follow her to the study. What now? "I wanted to ask you something. Are you still going to the guest house at Patty's?" "We planned to. I thought we'd stay here and go Sunday morning. Why?" "I just wanted to be sure you were going and taking Eric. You know that discussion we had before Thanksgiving about Eric and his dad? Well, let's just say I think Bob knows, but he hasn't said too much. He's been giving Eric a hard time though and I want Eric to get a break. It doesn't matter what Eric does, it's not good enough. Bob's also making crazy comments about what real men do; that sort of thing." "Has Bob gotten physical with him?" "Not that I know of and Eric says he hasn't. I think Bob knows that if he touches him, I'd probably have him picked up; I'd put a frying pan to the side of his head first. Bob's a big man and Eric's still just a kid, whether he thinks of himself that way or not." "When do you plan on leaving?" "We had planned on leaving Sunday morning, but I may stay here. I told Bob that Mother would need some help putting all this stuff away and that you'd be gone with the boys. That would also give me some time with Mother. The truth of the matter is that he and I are pretty close to going our separate ways. I didn't want to throw a damper on the holidays or, most likely, we'd be split now. Mother knows; at least part of it. We've been talking." "If you split, will he give you a hard time?" "I don't know. I don't think so. It wouldn't do him any good. I'm not afraid of him and I know that he is afraid of you. He wouldn't do anything that might risk a confrontation with you, so we'll be fine for the holidays. Actually, while you and the boys are gone, Mother and I can talk and I'll be making some decisions. Do me a favor? Keep your cell phone handy. Okay?" "You know I will. You do me a favor; call me if you need me -- don't wait till he hurts you or Eric. Okay?" I would not encourage my sister to leave her husband. I didn't believe in encouraging anyone to break up a family. The real downside would be if I encouraged her to leave him and then she changed her mind later. Then, I'd be guilty of causing the breakup. However, if she left him of her own volition, I'd be there to support her. * * * * Aunt Artice hadn't changed much over the years. When something new or unexpected popped up, she forgot about everything else going on around her. She was also known to be slow. When I say slow I'm talking about physical movement, primarily. When we got to Mother's, it took her longer to get out of the car than it did to shut the car down and unload the packages to be taken inside. This lady was so slow she made cold molasses look like a white water rapids. When we got to the front door, Aunt Artice, leading the way, opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted the boys. The normal exclamations of how long it had been since she had seen them and how much they had grown, followed. Aunt Artice still didn't move. Bonnie tried to coax her. "Aunt Artice, you comin' in? Who's that behind you?" 'It's just Richard, and . . ." She laughed so hard at having held the door open and stopped in the middle of the walking path that she couldn't finish the statement. "There's someone there besides Dad," Frank commented. Then I saw teen heads bending around to see what was going on. "SEAN?!" Mike yelled. "Man, how'd you get here?" Mother had Aunt Artice by the arm trying to lead her inside. Frank and Mike were all over poor Sean who was still balancing packages. I was left outside while my sister was in tears, laughing so hard at this whole fiasco. Poor Eric just sat there and stared, trying to figure out what was happening. When they finally let me come in and set the packages down that I carried, some semblance of order was restored. The first intellectual question came from my older son. "Dad. Did you know Sean was comin'?" Michael really worried me sometimes. "Mike, your Dad picked me up at the airport. He had to know I was coming. Since the envelope I received said it was from you and Frank, I figured you did too." "What envelope?" So much for winging it for Michael. "The envelope with the plane tickets." "Oooohhhh, yeah! That envelope." Michael looked as though he was proud of himself for faking his way through that one. I just shook my head and laughed with the rest of them. Mother was really getting a good laugh out of this one. "Mother, believe it or not, I go through this type of thing with them on a daily basis." "Michael," Mother's tone turned serious, "are you going to introduce your friend to everyone?" "Oh, yeah. Sorry, Grandma." Mike even blushed for us before he did the introductions. We all got another laugh when he got to his grandmother. "Sean, this is my grandma. Grandma, this is Sean." Mother picked up immediately that Sean wasn't too sure what he should call Mother, who quickly remedied the situation. "Sean, everyone here has been calling me Mom, Mother or Grandma. There's no reason for you to be any different. You call me by whatever you feel the most comfortable with." Sean paused for a moment. "Well, I call their dad 'Mr. G'. Would 'Mrs. G' be okay since your Mr. G's mom?" "If that's what you're comfortable with, then I'm now 'Mrs. G'." Mother looked at Sean and smiled. "You know, that doesn't sound nearly as old as 'Grandma', maybe I should have all my grandsons call me that." I could tell by the look on Aunt Artice's face that she wasn't sure she approved, but we really didn't want to ask. "Since we haven't had our dinner, and everyone is now here," Mother continued, "suppose we eat dinner, then we can open presents again, and then have some dessert?" Posed as a question or suggestion, it was really a directive. * * * * There are two really good things about a big turkey and dressing dinner; in addition to all the good food. First, it comes only once a year so you have fifty-one and a half weeks to work off the weight you put on. Second, it is highly conducive to a nice nap stretched out on the sofa. I could remember when I was able to stretch out on the sofa and nap and a bomb going off wouldn't wake me. My problem wasn't a bomb; it was four wired teens acting like a quartet of six year olds. There was no doubt that the coming week at the beach was going to require four boys go jogging around dusk. The boys were real good about helping to clear the table following dinner. Bonnie helped Mother put away food and load the dish washer. I was putting away condiments and whatever I could find to stay out of the way, including taking the napkins to the laundry room. Bob, well, Bob was being Bob and doing nothing; which was very helpful if you knew Bob. Bonnie announced it was time to open presents. Four boys rushed in like little kids racing for the sofa. The sofa slid back about six inches when they plopped down on it and when I looked at the boys their expressions clearly said either 'oops!' or 'oh, shit'. Both applied. I changed my expression a little and they removed themselves from the sofa and found a spot on the floor so Mother, Bonnie and Aunt Artice could sit on the sofa. Handing out presents from Aunt Artice and to Aunt Artice, I regretted missing my nap. Christmas would be here again by the time she finished opening her gifts. The surprise came when Mother asked me to pull out something that was stashed behind the china cabinet. I pulled out another skim board. "Hey, Sean, that's what Santa brought us. We get ta use 'em next week," Mike volunteered. "Michael, where did you put your skin board?" Mike pointed towards the bedroom, and I continued. "I don't think this is a board Santa brought you boys this morning. It has another name on it. The tag says "To: Sean, From: Santa". The handwriting said 'Mother'. Mother watched Sean very intently and was really pleased with his surprised expression. She was extremely pleased when Sean surprised her with a gift of a very nice silk scarf and matching leather gloves. It seemed that Sean's mother had picked up the gift in advance and packed it in his suitcase. Whether Sean knew it or not, he had just scored some major points. I had the boys wait till it was close to bedtime to give Sean his other gift. It was to be something special between them. I decided not to give my boys their bracelets yet. I had seen the look on Eric's face when Frank and Mike got gold chain necklaces. He didn't really look hurt because he didn't get one, but there definitely was a look of envy and I didn't want Eric feeling like the odd man out for this vacation. All three boys were proud of the bracelet and Eric thought it was cool. While the boys celebrated and had fun, I declared my self worn out and ready for bed. The four boys had my room and I left it up to them to figure out who slept where. I had my bed in the study and, never did a hide-a-bed feel so good. After a quick shower, I slipped between the sheets and laid a pillow over my head to block out the teenagers silliness. I knew they would probably be up most of the night. Good, that meant they would sleep late the next morning. That bubble burst when I felt something jolt my bed. There was a warm body lying next to me trying to push his butt into my stomach. It didn't take much of a feel to realize it was Michael. What was he doing in my bed? 'Why aren't you with the boys?" "Frank's bein' a dick. We pulled sticks ta see who had ta sleep on the floor and he rigged it." "I take it you got the short straw?" "It's not that, Dad. I took the floor like I was supposed to and he kept throwin' little paper balls at me. I didn't think you'd be happy if I just punched 'im out at Grandma's, so I got up and left. Besides, you feel good'n soft." "I'll assume that was meant to be a compliment?" I teased him as he lay on his side and moved back to spoon himself into me. Michael used my left arm as a pillow and entwined his fingers with mine. With my right hand, I ran my fingers through his still damp hair. You could almost hear him purr. He rolled slightly onto his stomach. "Dad, you can rub my back some if ya want to." Michael would never be accused of being subtle or not making his wants known. I did rub his back for him and enjoyed watching him gradually shift so that I had full access to his back; heaven forbid that some portion didn't receive its fair share of attention. When I let my hand rub down near the small of his back, I realized that he had dropped his sleeping bottoms before getting into bed. Like I said before, Michael wasn't too subtle; he wanted attention. I retrieved the bottle of powder from my suitcase and sprinkled it over his back. He lay fully on his stomach, shifting his forearms under his head to use as a pillow. I rubbed and teased his back for him and he would let out with a little whimper or squirm and I had to smile. The palm of my hand passed lightly over the silky skin covering his buttocks. After a few minutes, I used the fingernail on my first finger to lightly trace a line down the crack of his butt. Mike drew his breath through clenched teeth and whimpered while he wiggled his butt. I had to laugh when I retuned to rubbing his back and he flexed his glutes to make his cheeks bounce and spread his legs. Definitely not too subtle. My middle finger moved down through his crack, pausing momentarily to tickle his anal ring. When he whimpered and goose bumps appeared on his cheeks, I moved my finger down to massage his perineum. Mike spread his legs to give me access and rolled his body back towards me. When he was spooned into me again, he lifted his right leg and lay it over my thigh; I had full access to his body. It was amazing to lay there with him and watch him enjoy the sensations coursing through his body. While I continued to massage the perineum with two fingers, my thumb moved up and down his raging shaft. Shifting my body, he took the signal to turn over and face me. He kept a leg, now his left leg, draped over my legs and wrapped his arms around me. With his face buried in the side of my neck I could feel his hard breaths and hear his soft whimpers of pleasure. My right hand reached over his hip and stimulated his sensitive areas. When I moved my hand to reach between us and cup his sac, he shifted to separate us a little. Supporting him with a hand between his shoulder blades, I reached down and tongued his over- sensitive nipple. He whimpered and whined as he tried to push more of his nipple into my mouth. Michael moved his left hand between us; I felt my own raging shaft encased in firm warmth. He was reduced to a whimpering puppy who couldn't get enough, but needed to give more. His fist opened and closed on both of our shafts with the beat of his heart. When he started humping, he also began pumping both of us; I continued to tease the sensitive area around his anal ring and raked my nails over the softness of his butt and thighs. Both of us perspiring, both of us breathing hard and whimpering, we spewed our seed over each other in an intense orgasm. When I began to cum, he removed his hand and we humped into one another. Each thrust producing another shot of our juices, causing us to hold one another tighter. I held him until I felt his body relax and then let him lay back; I also rolled to my back to regain control of my breathing. I felt his finger on my lips and opened my mouth; he fed me our mixed juices. I did the same to him and we continued till we had raked it off our bodies. Raising myself up to prop on an elbow, I used my fingers to push the hair off his forehead and gave him a light kiss. Whether he realized it or not, Michael had just experienced love-making 101. "Merry Christmas, kiddo." End Ch Sixteen To Be Continued Comments welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com