Date: Mon, 1 Mar 2010 15:36:58 -0800 (PST) From: adm2780 Subject: Second Time Around Ch 50 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, then why are you here? NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and editing the chapters. Without his support, this story would not be nearly as interesting. Chapter Fifty: Second Time Around Within a week the household settled into a routine. It was a hectic routine, but a routine. Eric signed up for a short training camp to help with his turns and backstroke. He was a good swimmer but admitted he needed to improve his move off the wall. According to Eric, that's where he lost the time that had cost him a couple of first place finishes. Sean was off to track practice. His goal was to improve enough to be on the team for the 5000- meter races. It seems that was also where some of the real glory was; I just took his word for it. Frank? Well, Frank had decided that he wanted to participate in two sports, baseball and football. One of the habits the boys quickly fell back into was stretching out on the sofa and lying across my lap. Frank had no qualms about letting me know that David or no David, he still expected his time, and attention. It was while his little naked self was stretched over my lap that we discussed football. "Football? You've never mentioned wanting to play football." "That's 'cause I wasn't sure I was big enough. Most of the guys playing football are either slim and fast, or big gorillas. 'Course the gorillas are usually the linemen. Dad, one of them guys'd crush me." "So now you want to go head to head with them and get crushed?" "Noooo. That'd be kinda dumb, don'cha think? I mean, that'd be somethin' like Mikey'd do." His butt was in the perfect position to receive the smack that last comment earned him. "Hey! Ow, that stings, Dad. He can't hear us." "That's not the point. Would you like to see if the other side of your butt can sting just as much, if not more?" "Noooo. It still stings. You need ta rub some powder on it. You don't usually smack our butts that hard. I'd tell ya it needs ta be kissed ta feel better but ya might smack it again." "Now you're starting to think." While mouthing off he also reached over and picked up the baby powder they kept in the drawer. He was right. I had smacked him a little harder than normal, which really was unintentional. Usually, it was a light smack to get their attention and barely left a mark, if at all. This smack left a bright red handprint. I sprinkled the powder on his well-tanned bubble butt and rubbed it in circles. He wiggled his butt and I could tell he was repositioning another of his favorite parts for some pleasure. "You know I didn't mean to smack your butt quite so hard, even if you did deserve it." "I know," he answered and then decided to qualify his answer. "The hard part I mean." While one hand rubbed circles over his butt, I used the other to rub up and down his back. Little moans and the way I could feel his body relax told me he was fine. "Are you going to tell me about football?" "Yeah. I talked to the coach and he said I was right about not bein' big enough to be a tackle or position like that. I told 'im I didn't wanna have ta put on that much bulk. Those guys are strong and all but they got a lotta fat on 'em, too. If I got that big I'd lose too much speed ta play baseball. When I told coach that he said I was probably the right size ta play defensive end. He said the ends had ta have the speed to go after the quarterback and be strong enough to tackle running backs." "So, am I to assume that he said you could try out for the team?" "I already did; well, kinda. He had me run some sprints and do some footwork exercises ta see if I had good balance." "Did you make the team?" "Not yet. I still hafta do a try out with the team. But, I can't do that until you sign the paper I brought home. It's on the table, with a pen for you ta use." I gave him another smack on the butt. This time, it was more of a love tap. "Hey! What'd I do now?" "Sure of yourself, aren't you?" He rolled over, smiling that mischievous grin that he always used to get his way. He also flaunted a raging erection. "I'm sure of somethin' else, too," he said as he sat up in my lap and looked me right in the eyes. "I got an itch, deep inside, that needs special attention." Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over and suckled on my left nipple. There was no doubt that he was a teen in heat driven by pure lust. He suckled one nipple, then the other. He moaned and whined as he suckled and tried to hump my abdomen. I had to laugh a little, quietly of course, because he would have had to be a contortionist to do everything he was trying. I think he got a little frustrated when he realized he wasn't the contortionist. He slid down, settling on his knees on the floor. Keeping the palms of his hands pressed into the sides of my hips, he closed his eyes and moved his face around, causing my very erect manhood to rub around his face. When he stopped rubbing his cheeks against me, he opened his eyes and I saw the pleasure in them as he smiled, then turned his head and kissed his way down my shaft. I sat there and watched as he concentrated on pleasing both himself and me. He didn't rush; it was more like he savored the time and the event almost as much as me. He kissed his way down one side and then up the opposite side, never moving his hands from my hips. Watching him was special. This was the boy that I was forever correcting for being a wise ass, flippant. This was the boy that I had always known, despite his carefree façade. This was a boy wanting to be loved, and ready to give love. Frank seemed to be intent on making me lose control with his oral ministrations. I was just as intent not to let him. Reaching down, I placed a hand under each arm and lifted him up. As he rose so we were face to face, I stood and lifted him higher. He wrapped his legs around my waist as I turned and lay him on his back. He gave me a kiss and then wanted to go for my nipple again. Placing a hand on each of his shoulders and pressing him down on the sofa, I told him, "Relax and enjoy." With his butt resting on my thighs, his legs wrapped around me, I proceeded to caress his firm, young body. My pleasure was in giving him pleasure. There was no rush. His moans and whines, pleading for more, or sometimes no more, was music to my ears. It had been a long time since it was just him and me. If I hadn't kept him anchored, his flopping around and squirming would most likely have put him on the floor. However, we are all human, and I, too, reached a point of necessity. One, then two, and then three fingers lubed him and caused his whines to become screams as I found his magic spot. When I felt I had pushed him as far as I could, I positioned myself to penetrate. When he felt me at his entrance, he locked his legs around me and pulled, thrusting himself on me to full penetration. "Oh, Gaahhhd! YES! FUCK ME! HARD! Ohhhh, gaaahhhhd, pound my ass, pleeeaasse . . . . ." Frank screamed and begged in a lust filled fit. We were alone. David was working, Dean was at a practice and Mike was at the gym with Billy, pumping iron. I didn't care how loud he got. The louder he was, the more assurance I had that I had pushed him to the limits I wanted him to reach and enjoy. I was getting tired; I had been supporting myself and controlling him. He wanted me to pound him. I gripped his hips and worked him, slowly. He cried out louder and tried to force himself on me. "Nooooo. Not fair. Ohhhh, fuck me! I need it. Pound my ass!" Every muscle in his athletic young body was tensed. Sweat poured off him and his nipples stood up, begging to be pinched; I ignored them. He surprised me when he suddenly did a sit-up and wrapped his arms around my neck. Using me for leverage, he used his arms and legs to pull up off my rod and then force himself down. Air rushed from his lungs with a whine as he felt me plow into him. The surprise came when there suddenly appeared a body between us. I saw his head dive for Frank's penis which had already spewed forth two voluminous loads, but remained raging hard. Frank grabbed the body by the hips and pulled a new source of pleasure to his mouth. Sucking in what I knew to be David's substantial manhood, the boy moaned and began to hump vigorously. Quickly, Frank began emptying another load into David's sucking mouth. I knew it was an extreme orgasm by the way his anal muscles grabbed me and milked me for all they were worth. When Frank had begun his orgasm, I could see David's hips begin to hump Frank's face rapidly and knew Frank was sucking him dry. David rose up and kissed me. We shared Frank's nectar as I filled the boy's insides with my own. * * * * * * People often say teens can be challenging. My boys were no different, but challenging in a way most people would be happy to endure. All four boys, and we did count Eric as one of our boys, were into athletic endeavors that could build their bodies and their minds. Not everyone may think of body building as comparable to swimming or football or baseball. I questioned it until I watched Michael work out. He was dedicated. He challenged himself to do better, be better. What else could a parent want? Participation in athletics meant scheduling challenges. Football games were almost always scheduled for Thursday or Friday evenings. Football practice was always scheduled for after school hours and Saturday. Track workouts were after school, and sometimes on Saturday. Swimming meets could be anytime, so long as it was not during school hours. Practices, like all other sports activities, were after school hours. The one thing we could rely on was that after school hours were always busy. David, myself, sometimes Mother and Bonnie, rarely had to worry about what needed to be done next. If we weren't attending a sports event, we were playing taxi for the kid whose schedule didn't flow with the others. I had thought that getting the Cherokee for the boys to share would avoid the demands of someone playing chauffeur. It was only a matter of time before it would come to a head, but not with those doing the chauffeuring. "Dad." Frank walked in, followed by the other three boys. "We need ta talk." "Yeah, Dad," Mike added, "We need another car." "Way ta go, muscle head," Frank chastised, in his unique way, at his brother's bluntness. "Shut-up, smart-ass. Why . . . ." Mike retorted. "Whoa. Both of you." I called a halt to this. "You two think you want to go at it for a while, I'll be glad to pull out the boxing gloves. You can be locked in the garage and beat the tar out of one another while the rest of us continue to enjoy what was a peaceful day." Both boys became contrite, staring at the floor. Both wanted to say something, but were giving it a lot of thought. "Someone want to tell me what this is all about?" I looked at all four boys and waited. David stepped up next to me; he also waited. David had quickly become part of our family and the boys knew that when I wasn't around, and often when I was, David would say something to them when necessary. They also knew I would support him. If I didn't fully agree with what he said, he and I would discuss that in private. Unity was critical when handling four teens that let their testosterone get in the way of common sense on occasion. "Mr. G?" Sean spoke, hesitantly, but at least he spoke up. "There's somethin' we thought we needed ta talk with you about and Frank and Mike couldn't agree on how we should do it. Frank thought the smooth and easy approach was best. Mike thought we should just say it." "Okay," I responded, "and how did you and Eric feel?" Sean looked at Eric before answering. "We kinda liked Frank's way better. We thought if you listened while we explained the problem then maybe you'd suggest the answer we'd already thought about and then we wouldn't hafta figure out how to ask kinda gentle like to get you to suggest that answer. Understand?" David had turned away so the boys wouldn't see him trying to suppress a smile or laughter. Why is it that teens can come up with such convoluted explanations for something that should be simple? I knew that if I thought about it for a minute, there had to be some logic to that explanation. "Okay," I answered, rather hesitantly still trying to figure out if I had correctly figured out what they were trying to say. "I guess we all need to sit down and talk. However, I think there's a couple of other issues that need to be addressed first. "Michael?" "Sir?" He looked at me and I didn't say any more. "Sorry guys, guess I kinda fucked up. But, Dad, I just wanted ta get it done so's I could go workout." "And," I said to him. "Guess I was being a little too self-centered?" Mike answered. "A little?" I asked. "Okay, guess I fucked up real good, huh?" "Frank?" I looked to the one that wanted to grin, but quickly composed himself. "Sorry I called him a muscle head. It's just that he really messed up what we wanted ta do." "I didn't ask for explanations from either of you. You both were wrong. Not only that, but you brought Sean and Eric into it and now they've had to listen to all this." I looked at them, debating if I should do anything else. Restriction was beginning to sound pretty good. "Dad." Mike broke the silence. "Can we try again?" "That sounds like a good idea, Mike." "Well, ya see, we need ta . . . ." "Wait a minute," Eric interrupted, "let's really start over again." Eric then led the boys out of the room. I gave up; I couldn't help but laugh a little. When I turned around, David was offering me a cold beer. Somehow, I had a feeling I was going to need it. I already knew they were going to try and talk me into getting them another car. "You know they're right, don't you?" David asked. "Yes, but I wouldn't miss this for anything. Besides, I'm sure they've planned all this out and I wouldn't want to deprive them of trying to talk me into it. Of course, I'll never suggest another vehicle as a solution. Too easy." * * * * * * Sometimes we have to eat our words. Most of the time we are grateful that the kids never heard those words. The overlap of practice schedules, meets, school and work was driving us all up a wall. The boys needed to know they could get where they needed to be to fulfill their obligations. David and I, and possibly to a lesser extent, Mother and Bonnie, needed to know that if they had a conflict with scheduling, the boys didn't do without because we couldn't be there. We needed another car and Michael was going to have to get his license. "Dad, can't I just get a learner's permit for now and practice?" Michael asked. "Mike, what good would that do us?" I responded. "You sat on that sofa and tried to convince us that getting another vehicle was the only way to solve the problems. Now, who did you think was going to drive that vehicle? Actually, what I'd really like to know is why you are so reluctant to get your license." "I'm not afraid ta get a license," he responded, defensively. "I just don't see why it needs ta be me. I know Frank can't get his yet, but he wants to, and Eric's still got ta wait a couple years." "So what does logic tell you?" "That it's gotta be me. Do I hafta drive the others to their practices?" "Yes. You will be expected to help the other boys, just as they would be expected to assist you if the situation was reversed." "When do I hafta take the test?" "Well, today is Thursday. So, how about next Tuesday?" "That soon? Dad, I don't even have any experience drivin'!" "We'll take care of that part this weekend. And, I think we both know that in three days time you could memorize that test booklet and probably quote it backwards." "When do we get a car? Do I hafta have one like the Cherokee?" "You don't like the Cherokee?" "Uh-uh. That's parta the reason I didn't want ta get a license before. I want something a little smaller. Can I pick it out?" "Suppose I give you a budget and you boys pick out a car. Just remember, the money has to cover the purchase price, registration and taxes, and any needed repairs. Go over budget and the extra comes out of someone's allowance." "Dad! That's harsh. Who's allowance and do I get extra allowance for gas?" "We'll see. Haven't I always tried to be fair with you guys?" It was no surprise that buying a 'new' car became the focus of the boys' activities that weekend. David and I had to laugh when we heard about Corvettes or a Mach I or TransAm. I'd given the boys a budget of twenty-five hundred. If they could get a 'Vette for that kind of money, one that ran, I'd buy it myself. David and I sat back and let the boys go at it. We soon noticed that it was Frank, Sean and Eric doing joint research. Mike studied for his exam and I found him looking through the paper and surfing the net, presumably for a car. David and I decided to escape the potential insanity we knew would follow and relax by the pool. We walked outside to find three naked boys had moved outside. They were lying across two loungers they had pulled together reading the classifieds they had spread out on the ground. I thought I was going to have to go get a car myself just to protect my sanity. "Dad." Michael approached me as I was trying to read the paper; it was Sunday evening. "Yes, kiddo." "I read the book and all. Can we go take the test tomorrow?" "Tomorrow? What happened to the kid that didn't want the license?" "That was before I read the book. It's nothin'. Plus, after drivin' some this weekend, it ain't so bad?" "It ain't?" "Okay, I was just foolin' 'round. It isn't so bad and I don't think I'll have any problems. There's somethin' else, too. I think I found the car I'd like ta drive. It's used, but the man only wants fifteen hundred and says it's got new tires and all. If I find a decent car for that kind of money, do I get ta keep the difference?" I almost had to laugh. "Nice try, kiddo. No." * * * * * * "Michael, are you sure this is what you want?" "Yeah, Dad. You said I could pick it out and I said I did'n' want anything like the Cherokee. This is smaller and costs a lot less to run. It looks good and you can tell if it's in decent shape and I'm way under budget. I done pretty good, huh?" "Just out of curiosity, do the other boys know what you've chosen?" "Uh-uh. If I told 'em they'd just find some reason ta bitch about it. If I gotta drive it and drive them around, they should be happy with that." I had to admit that I couldn't argue with his reasoning. I did have some reservation about safety and, possibly, maintenance. However, if these cars were as simple as they were reputed to be, maintenance should be no problem. I did a little research on the safety issue and felt more comfortable with his choice. I was never going to be totally satisfied with the safety issue. David told me I was being a wet hen, unless they drove a Sherman tank. After a little more negotiations, satisfied I had the seller as low as I could get him, I arranged for the owner to follow me to the bank where he signed over the title and I handed him twelve hundred dollars. After registering the car, a very happy Michael led the way home driving his bright yellow 1977 VW Beetle. As we drove along I thought about Mr. Muscles driving a yellow Beetle and couldn't help but wonder if at some time Arnold ever drove a light blue Prius. When we got home, the boys gave Michael a fit. They thought it was social suicide for a guy to be seen driving around in a yellow Beetle. Mike didn't hesitate to tell them that if they didn't like it, they didn't have to ride in it. I just turned around and let them work it out. Ignoring the moaning and groaning that was bound to come when one of the boys told Mike they needed a ride, I waited to see if the boys could work things out between themselves. It was two weeks before one of them came to me. "Dad," Frank called out as he approached me out by the pool. "We need ta talk for a minute." "Is this about what I think it is?" "Pro'bly if ya think it's about Mike. You gave him extra money ta buy gas, but every time one of us need for him to take us to practice, he says we have to give him gas money. If ya look at his car, ya never see the gas needle even reachin' the quarter mark. "There's somethin' else, too. Whenever he approaches a stop sign, he's not stoppin'. He claims he can tell that nobody's comin' and it's a waste of time." "Alright, I'll have a talk with him." I didn't have the talk with Mike right away. If he knew that Frank and I had been talking and I immediately went to him and said something, Mike would be all over Frank for ratting. Frank did tell me what Mike was doing, but I thought there was a legitimate reason and protected him. Besides, I didn't want to do anything that could shut off a source of needed information. Unfortunately, I put the talk off just a little longer than I should have. The call came to me at the office. "Mr. Geoghagan? This is Officer McKendricks with JSO. Sir, could you tell me if you have a son, Michael?" "I do. He's a teenager and drives a yellow VW Beetle. Are we talking about the same boy?" "Yes, sir, I'm afraid so. I've stopped Michael for a traffic violation. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I have stopped him for the same offense. Previously, I let him off with a warning on his promise not to repeat. I'm afraid he's repeated and I'm giving him a citation for running a STOP sign. Our policy on a first offense is to issue just the warning. If there is a repeat, we issue the citation and notify the parent. We've found that we don't normally have to worry about a repeat after that." "I appreciate the phone call, officer. Please let Michael know that we talked and I'll meet with him when I get home." When I got home, Michael was not out by the pool with the other boys; he was in his room with the door closed. I went to his room and as I stepped close to the door, I recognized the moans and breathing pattern. Normally, I would walk off and give him his privacy; not this time. I didn't even knock and was glad that I insisted on no locks on doors. "Michael, we need . . . " "Dad!" "When you finish with your little project, we need to talk," I said. There was no need to wait. Michael's focus at the time had withered. I turned his desk chair around and placed it close enough to his bed that he couldn't get off the bed. "You know that I had a call from Officer McKendrick today." "Yes, sir. But, Dad, there wasn't nobody comin'. I could see all around." "That's not the point, son. The rules say you stop at a stop sign. It's a yield sign that you're allowed to go through without a full stop. Now, when you got that car I thought you would be responsible. Show me that you aren't and I'll park the car. Do we understand one another?" "Yes, sir." "One other thing. The boys tell me that when they ask you to take them somewhere, you're telling them to cough up money for gas. What's happened to the gas allowance?" "I spend some of it for gas, but my regular allowance it'n enough to pay for the vitamins and supplements I need to bulk." "Funny, I don't remember Billy calling and talking with me about you taking any supplements. I also thought we had an agreement that weight-lifting was okay so long as you didn't push it to the point of going bulky. Billy doesn't know about these supplements, does he?" "No, sir." "Mike, you're pushing the envelope pretty hard. I'd like to think that I can trust you. Show me that I can't, and I'll do the full lock down." "Yes, sir." "By the way, you'll be paying that ticket, and any subsequent tickets, out of your allowance." He didn't have to say anything; his expression said he thought I was horrible. Sometimes, I had to remind the boys that I did love them, love them enough to not be their friend, but their parent. Two weeks later, the parent had to step up again. I received another call about Mike's driving. He was endangering himself, and others. To make matters worse, I received calls from two of his teachers. Michael was screwing up in school, something totally out of character for him. His license became mine for two weeks. David and I had to go back to the schedule juggling, but that's just the way it had to be. The only change I made was that getting Mike to his training sessions was the lowest priority. I wanted Mike to realize that he must assume responsibility for his actions. If that meant he had to be miserable, so be it. When I gave his license back, I told him that if he repeated, that I wasn't just going to take the license. The car, which he now affectionately referred to as Sugar Baby, because the color reminded everyone of a pack of Sugar Baby candies, would be sold. I firmly believed that I needed, as a parent, to hold a hard line with Mike. One of the saddest moments I can ever recall was when I drove Sugar Baby up to the corner and placed a For Sale sign under the windshield wiper. Michael saw the car with the sign on his way home from school. When I got home that night I could see the tears forming in his eyes. I could feel the pain of a parent whose child was hurting. Four days later as he rode home from school he looked for Sugar Baby. It was gone. * * * * * * What does a parent do when their child is hurting, but won't talk? Mike barely spoke to me after he saw Sugar Baby was gone. I understood that in his mind I was an ogre. He was too immature to understand that I was just a parent trying to do what was right for his boy. The school kept me posted on his grades. Rather than approach him directly, I worked through Frank and Sean. Oddly, Frank stopped picking on his brother; he even tried to talk me into letting Mike off the hook. I was also aware that Mike had talked with his grandmother. In fact, Mike seemed to talk to everyone, except me. "Sean, how's Mike doing?" "He's doin' great, Mr. G. Guess he had'n talked to you yet. Sorry." "That's okay, Sean. There's no reason for you to be sorry. Mike got himself into this and he has to work it out." "Me and Frank keep tellin' 'im he needs to talk to you, Mr. G. I know he's been talkin' some, but just not the right things, I guess. Has Frank talked to ya?" "Frank? Why does Frank need to talk to me?" "Frank," Sean called out. Sean waited until Frank entered the room before he continued. "Mr. G, me and Frank had ta promise Mikey not ta tell ya somethin'." Sean looked at Frank. Before he said anything, Frank sat on the sofa next to me. I almost laughed when he lay on his back and put his head in my lap. I wasn't going to ask why Little Frankie seemed to be a little less than totally flaccid. After the tension with Mike, a little dumb relief from Frank was welcome. "Dad, Mike made us promise not ta tell. But, he didn't make us promise not to show ya what he's been doin'. You know he's been stayin' after school and missin' some of his weight training sessions, right?" I nodded in response and waited for him to continue. He reached over and took my right hand. He played with my fingers just like when he was a little guy and wasn't too sure about what he was telling me. "Dad, please don't ask us ta break our promise to Mikey. We're just now getting' where we can be around each other without a lot of tension. But this Saturday, we can show ya somethin'; it's a good somethin', promise." It was only three days off. Maybe that wasn't that much time given everything we had already endured, but it felt like a long three days to me. Sean and Mike left the house around eight o'clock, which was early for Mike unless there was something he needed to do. I didn't ask questions and just wished them a good day. Frank, David and I left the house around ten. Frank had told me I needed to drive to the school; there was something special going on there. When we arrived, I was a little surprised to see signs for the Special Olympics. I knew they had them each year, I just didn't realize that it was that time of year. Also, what did this have to do with Mike? We entered and Frank walked us around to where some of the track events were taking place. Mike was standing next to a young boy in a wheelchair. They were lined up as though they were in a race. "Mike's been stayin' after school helping to organize these games for the disabled kids," Frank said. I detected more than just a little pride in his voice. "He was afraid you'd think he was doin' it just so he could have his license back. Then, when he saw Sugar Baby gone, he just seemed to focus on this more than anything. Said he didn't care 'bout havin' a car any more if he couldn't have Sugar Baby." Staying on the sidelines, I watched my oldest son. He picked up the young boy, cradling him in his arms. The boy held on to Mike's neck with pure hero worship in his eyes. Mike was gentle with him and it was easy to see that he truly cared. "Don't you think it's time to talk to your son?" Mother had stepped up next to me. She, too, watched Michael. When I felt like the race was over and Mike had moved his young charge to a stable chair, I walked over to him. He heard me approach from behind him and turned. "Dad?" he said, surprised. "Hey, kiddo, whose your young friend?" "Uh, this is Jimmy. His brother's on the weightlifting team. He's over there with Jimmy's sister." I looked over and saw a young girl about Jimmy's age. She was also in a wheelchair. "They're twins. They were born with a defect and can't walk. Randy, Jimmy's brother said their other brother couldn't be here ta help, so I volunteered. We helped build a lotta this stuff, workin' after school." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I couldn't, Dad. I didn't want ya ta think I was doin' just ta . . . . well, you know." "You know what I think?" Mike just looked at me. "I think it was a very mature and responsible thing to do." Mike approached me and I just held my arms out. When he leaned into me and wrapped his arms around me, I wrapped my arms around him and we just stood there. I was very proud of Mr. Muscles. "Dad." I could tell he was fighting tears. "I'm sorry. I know I was a ass-hole and fucked up real bad. I swear, I won't be such a jerk no more." Before he finished he was in tears. He bawled almost like a baby, letting the tension go. I held him, kissed him on top of the head, and shed a few tears of my own. Jimmy sat in the chair watching us. I wondered what was going through his mind. "I'm very proud of you, kiddo. And, you know something else? I love you. I think my boy has taken a big step towards being a man." He caught me in what had to be close to a bear hug in response. "You two better settle down out here. I'm not sure I have enough tissues with me to handle too many of these father-son bonding moments." Mother had walked up to us, handing out tissues. I didn't care who saw us. He was my son and I had no problem letting everyone know how much he meant to me. "Does this mean we can get back ta normal and when we get home I can be mean to 'im again?" Frank asked with a sarcastic tone and a mischievous grin. * * * * * * We stayed at the school until the Special Olympics were over. Mike helped get Jimmy into his mother's van. The boy had won some ribbons and was animatedly telling everyone in his family how good Mike had been. On the way home, David rode with Sean and Frank; I had Mike with me. Riding along he sat closer to the middle of the seat than normal. He kept a hand on top of my thigh, near the knee. There was nothing sexual in it, he just wanted to feel the touch. All the way home he couldn't stop talking about the disabled kids and what a great attitude they had. He stopped when I didn't make the normal turn for home. "Where we goin'? That was our turn." "We need to go by David's storage unit. He should be there and said he needed to get a couple of things." "What kinda things?" "I think he wanted his old stereo components. Said something about adapting outside speakers to the unit." "Cool" I was lying to him, but it was a little white lie for a good reason. "Dad, do you think that maybe, someday, not soon, but someday, I might be able to have another car?" "You mean like Sugar Baby?" "Uh-uh. Sugar Baby was special; that was my first and I know I can't replace Sugar Baby. It's my own fault for fuckin' up so bad. Maybe one day I'll find somethin' that I like just as much." "I'm sure that if you look around enough, you'll find another car that you'll enjoy. Maybe you'll find one that means as much to you as the Mark means to me." "Maybe, but I doubt it, unless you let me spend a lotta money. Maybe a 'Vette?" "Well, I hate to tell you this but the money you get will be what I got for Sugar Baby. It was your car, so it's your money. Here's the storage unit, but David and Sean aren't here yet. Why don't we go ahead and start pulling out the stereo equipment?" We got out of the car and walked around the back of my Caddy. "Here, Mike. Why don't you open the unit and start bringing the equipment out? I'll make sure there's room in the trunk." When he walked away from me, I stood and watched him. I would have preferred to have been able to see the expression on his face as he opened the door, but seeing it a couple of seconds later was just as good. He opened the door and immediately let out with a scream that only needed a little censoring. "OH, SHIT! It's Sugar Baby! You didn't sell her!" he hollered as he ran over and threw his arms around me. "No, son, I didn't sell it. I knew what the car meant to you. I'm no sadist, but I am a parent and I hope we never have to go through this again." "We won't, Dad, I swear. Oh God! Did Frank and Sean know about this?" "No, only David, your grandmother and myself. In fact, if you look closely, you'll see where David installed a new stereo for you and the windows have been tinted." "Good thing they didn't know or I'd hafta kick some serious ass when we get home," he hollered as he ran back to his car and tested the new stereo. "Oh man! Listen to that stereo. That really rocks!" I laughed and cherished one of those rare moments parents get that remind them why it's fun to be a parent. My blonde muscle-man stripped off his shirt, rolled down the windows and we headed for home. Once again, the Geoghagan household seemed to be finding a degree of normalcy. At least as normal as a couple of naked lovers living with four naked, testosterone charged teens could be. End Ch 50 To Be Continued Comments welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com