Date: Mon, 28 Apr 2008 13:51:00 -0700 (PDT) From: adm2780 Subject: Second Time Around Chapter Seven 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 Seven: Second Time Around "So, Dad, when are we movin'?" I looked over at my younger son to see that 'gotcha' grin he so proudly wore once in a while. We were on the plane headed to Philly when he decided to show off his strange ability to second guess what people were thinking or possibly planning. At times it was a very irritating ability that I could just as soon do without. There were other times I tried to figure out how to get him to direct it towards the stock market. "Move?" My older son's turn to react. "Who said we're movin'? Dad?" Frank also knew how to employ that same uncanny ability to pushing his brother's buttons. When he pulled a stunt like this on the plane I felt like pushing both of their buttons, particularly the button labeled 'disowned'. "Michael, settle down, son. Your brother's just being a wise guy." I really wanted to phrase it a little differently, but there was too many people sitting within earshot. "But, why would he say. . . ." Michael didn't know when to take a hint and leave it alone. "What part of 'settle down' did you not understand?" I tried to whisper in response. Michael pouted and Frank continued to grin. "You know, I still have the 'For Sale' signs I can hang around your necks." The really irritating part about the incident was that Frank was right. I had been thinking about a change. Kathy had been gone for over three years now. We lived in the same house and had the same friends and went to the same restaurants and everything. It wasn't unusual for someone to ask how we were doing, particularly the boys, and then mention how proud Kathy would be. As for myself, I was getting tired of people asking when I was going to date again and whether I'd thought about getting married again one day. The memories and the loss were becoming a weight that wouldn't let us move on. Nothing else was said during the flight. To keep the boys occupied I got earphones from the stewardess which the boys quickly put to use. I could see other people glancing at the boys occasionally and smiling. Each had tuned in to their kind of music and didn't show any restraint when it came to bouncing to the beat. When Michael decided he wanted to rap to the music, though, I had to stop him. Michael did not have a singing voice and couldn't carry a tune if his life depended on it. We had a two hour lay-over in Philly. Rather than ask a stupid question, I just walked the boys straight into the sports bar for something to eat. No matter what anyone says, if you want a real cheese steak sandwich, you have to go to Philly. I always enjoyed mine with an ice-cold draft. While we ate, I decided to talk with the boys. Although the original intent was to talk with them one at a time, Frank had pretty much messed that plan up. "Fellas, how would you feel if I was to suggest that we move? Possibly go south?" "You mean leave New York?" Michael asked as though the idea was completely incomprehensible. "Mikey, if you go south, you're usually out of New York. Duuhh." I looked at Frank and he knew not to push it; this was not the time nor the place. "Sorry." "Yes, Michael, I'm talking about possibly leaving New York and moving south. I don't mean right now, or tomorrow, or even next month. It's not anything I said we were going to do; it's just a thought. Wouldn't you like to live where it's warm and near the beach?" "Just think, Mikey, you could sun bathe in the nude all the time." Frank just couldn't leave it alone. "Shut up, dork face! Why don't ya just get a bull horn and tell everybody? Ass hole!" "Cool it, both of you." They looked at me and knew the limit had been reached. "Frank, one more smart remark out of you and you'll be grounded through New Years." At times like this I wanted to remember where I had put those 'For Sale' signs. "Now, both of you enjoy your sandwiches. I just want you to think about it and we can talk later." The three of us sat at the table; an island of quiet tension in the sea of chaos that one always finds in an airport. After a few minutes, Frank thought of a safe question. "Dad, is that what you and Grandma were talking about before we left?" "No, I haven't mentioned it to anyone else. If the decision is made, it needs to be a decision we make without other people pressing us. Your grandmother wants us to come back down for Christmas. I told her I'd talk with you about it and let her know." "Would we be there for the whole time off?" Michael had something on his mind. "Possibly, I really haven't thought about it that much, yet. Did you have something else you wanted to do?" "Not somethin' else ta do, really. It's like, ya know, me and Sean'd kinda thought about hangin'." "Oh, I see. Just "hangin'", eh?" I had hoped he gave me more credit. I watched both boys. Frank took it all in stride just as he did most things; he went with the flow. Michael got quiet; he withdrew into some heavy thinking. I knew what to expect, particularly since he hadn't finished telling me whatever it was he needed to tell me from our last session. I had already figured most of it out but, he needed to be the one to decide when it was time to talk. * * * * Travel and vacations can sometimes be very taxing. When we got home all three of us were feeling the need to just plop down and do nothing. Unpacking was easy; pull out the toiletries and dump the rest in the dirty clothes hamper. The boys checked their emails and the telephone messages. I looked through the mail and, after tossing the junk and sale adds, there was very little to deal with. We collectively decided that the evening would consist of soup and a sandwich followed by early to bed. While the boys got their showers, I prepared the soup and sandwiches. The shower was running and Frank fussed with Mike about using too much hot water. Then, I heard the two of them laughing over something and Frank called Mike a dumb ass. How quickly things seemed to return to normal. I knew I was home when I turned around and found two quasi-wet, naked teenage boys sitting at the breakfast bar. They were also acting goofy; we were home and things were definitely normal again. If the boys used up all the hot water, I didn't worry about it. My bathroom was served by a separate hot water heater and I took full advantage. Sometimes there's nothing more relaxing than just standing under hot, steamy water coming through a pulsating showerhead. I stood there, bent over with my hands against the wall, enjoying each beat as it massaged my back. I thought about the trip and smiled when I remembered David and the shower he gave me. Boy, I could do with one of those every night. With my eyes closed, I stood straight up and tossed my head back. I could almost not only see, but feel, David with his arms wrapped around me. I let the palms of my hands glide over my stomach and chest. The sensation caused me to shiver with the pleasure; it was nice. My palms reached my nipples, it almost felt like a shock wave coursing through me. I used my thumbs to gently stroke each nipple, slowly stroking across and then around. Thumb and forefinger combined to tweak and twist each nipple; I'd forgotten how sensitive and erotic they could feel until David reminded me. As I played with my nipples, I pictured him standing in front of me. Those puffy lips and sensuous eyes. I wanted to kiss him so badly right then that I could almost taste his sweetness. I saw him smile at me and then bend over to suckle each nipple. My mind heard me moan with pleasure. A quick pinch and twist of each nipple and my hands traveled down. Each middle finger traced the crevice where torso and thigh met, slowly moving down to tease the side of my scrotum. Each middle finger then moved in a circle, massaging the side of the magical orb it touched, while my thumbs slid along the now very hard shaft of pleasure. My mind's eye saw every move; my body relived every sensation and then some. I wanted him in front of me, caressing my maleness while he gently suckled and tongued my nipples. In my mind, I felt his fingers enter the valley between my cheeks. I didn't want the sensations to stop, but I felt an urgency that I couldn't deny. Wrapping my fist around the shaft, teasing the sensitive head with my thumb, I engaged in the age old ritual all males learn at an early age and found relief. The normal routine for me, was to dry off my body, then my hair. Before leaving the bathroom I brushed my hair out and tossed the wet towel over a rack. I had managed to do a real steam job on the bathroom, so I walked into my bedroom while I was still towel drying my hair. There sat two naked teenagers wearing Cheshire Cat-type grins. "What?" I asked. "Ohh, nothin'," Frank answered, "we came in to say goodnight but figured maybe we shouldn't disturb you." His grin grew even bigger and he was about to come apart at the seams trying to avoid laughing. "Yeah," Mike added, "we figured from the sounds comin' outta there, that musta been soooommme shower." Both boys started laughing and rolling on my bed. I had a couple of wise-asses for sons. "Do you know what happens to smart ass teenage boys?" I asked as I gripped opposite ends of the towel, flipped it over and prepared to pop them. The boys recognized the move and quickly jumped up to run out. "OW!" Frank hollered as I caught him just below his left cheek. Both boys ran, laughing as only teenagers acting silly could. * * * * Near the end of our first week back home, Thursday night, things came to a head with Michael. It was late and, after checking on the boys and locking the house down, I headed for bed. Shortly after finding a comfortable position, a sixth sense told me to open my eyes. I recognized the shadow as Michael. He didn't say anything and I didn't either. Simply lifting the sheets, he slid in next to me. I pulled him into the spooning position, held him and waited. "Dad," he spoke barely above a whisper, "love you." "Love you, too, son. Are you alright?" I asked as I ran my fingers through his hair. "No." I heard his voice shake. "I'm scared." I felt his body tremble. He rolled over to face me. He moved as close to me as he could, almost climbing on top of me. It was like he couldn't get close enough, trying to climb inside me. He lay his head on my shoulder and I felt his breath flow across my chest. He had one arm over my side, pulling on me. "Don't hate me. Please?" The pleading tone in his voice almost frightened me. "Michael, you are my son, my first born. I will never do anything but love you, but I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." I kissed him on top of his head, held him and waited. I felt him tighten his hold around me. "Dad, I think. . . I think that maybe. . .I'm gay." He fought to not cry and added, "and I'm scared shitless." He tried to crawl inside me and began to cry. I felt his tears roll onto my chest. I held him and rolled part way on my back so he lay about three quarters on top of me. I took a deep breath and only whispered in his ear, "love you." My son didn't need to hear anything else from me that night; he needed me and to know that I still loved him. He cried till he fell asleep in my arms. I lay awake all night holding him and thinking. The main thought that kept repeating itself in my mind was something Kathy always said whenever she held one of the boys to comfort him, "my beautiful baby boy." He told me he was scared; I was glad I didn't have to tell him how I felt. I was also scared shitless, for him. I lay there wondering if I could do enough to help guide him through this crisis. He needed to know that it was okay for him to be gay. There was no school for Mike the next day. I felt like he needed to stay home and rest. It took some guts for him to come in and tell me what he did, and I wanted him to know that I would be there for him. I had to go to work the next morning, but told him I'd be home shortly after lunch and we'd talk then. The big advantage was that Frank would be in school. Hopefully, that would help Mike relax and open up to me. There was something else I realized; I had absolutely no idea how to approach the situation. The morning at the office gave me time to think. When I got home I found Mike lying on the sofa, wearing my lounging pants; he let me know they were very comfortable. After I changed into some comfortable scrubs I reached for a cold beer. It was a little earlier than normal for me, but this wasn't going to be a normal afternoon. Mike gave me that hopeful, yet disappointed, look of his. I didn't hesitate to grab two frozen mugs from the freezer and we split the beer. We talked for a little while. I asked him why he thought he might be gay. Michael, in his own inimitable way, explained the situation and how he came to the conclusion. Of course, it wasn't a simple answer. He knew that I needed to know all the minutia so I could truly understand how he had reached his conclusions. Minutia included the history from the time he and Frank first discovered it was fun to play with themselves, through hearing older boys talking about playing with themselves, and all the fun experiments. He told me they learned a lot about the experiments from the stories they read on the internet. My real concern was whether Mike was truly gay, as in emotionally attracted to other guys or, if it was a physical attraction fueled by the sexual experimenting he and his brother had done with their friends. We talked quite a bit that first afternoon and over the next several days. I tried not to push the subject too hard, but let it happen when he felt comfortable. When the concentration seemed to be breaking down, or the subject got a little old, we focused elsewhere and returned to our talk when we felt like it. We did spend a lot of time on the computer. We didn't go to the porn sites or story sites. We sought out the support groups. I felt better when we found several support sites that focused on teens who were trying to discover their true feelings. I will have to admit that I learned a lot myself; I had no idea there were so many support groups out there for kids and their families. There was something else I learned that weekend. I had a very intelligent and sensitive son that I knew was going to grow into a fine young man. We built a special bond between us that wasn't there before. We talked about anything we wanted to. He was allowed to ask me anything and I promised to answer truthfully; however, he had to reciprocate. I was glad that Kathy and I had encouraged this kind of openness. I think it helped both of us when he asked if I'd ever thought about having sex with a younger guy and I admitted that I had thought about it. He even asked if it was okay for him to tell me he thought I was hot, for an older guy. We laughed and we were serious. We talked about personal things, intimate things that most fathers and sons don't talk about. We became very comfortable with one another. We sat around nude. We discussed erotic areas and sensitive feelings. While we talked he would get an erection as he described things that turned him on; I let him know it was okay. When I got an erection, and he got embarrassed when I saw him looking at me, I told him it was alright and I wasn't going to hide it. I was as human as he was and I could get aroused talking about things too. I think my son started looking at me as a person; a person other than 'dad the authority figure', capable of having feelings too. One day we were reading material on the internet and he was getting a little on the horny side; actually, a lot on the horny side. I could see him playing with himself, slowly jacking himself as we read some of the material and looked at some of the pictures. I knew what he was doing and laughed to myself. I decided to have a little fun with him and tease him more. The problem with teasing is that we don't always know when to stop. It didn't take long before I heard him whimpering as I lightly brushed my palm over his nipples. This kid was really sensitive! He wasn't watching me anymore, or looking at the internet. His eyes were partially glazed and I knew he was lost in lust. His hand had a death grip on his rod and moved so fast I wondered how he avoided hurting himself. His body glistened with a light coating of sweat. I tweaked one nipple, then the other and smiled as he yelped. I looked at him and wanted to hold him. He was nothing short of beautiful. He grunted from deep down inside himself. His body exploded as the natural result coated us both. He whined and whimpered as I held him to keep him from falling over. When it was finished, he panted and gasped for air with his head on my shoulder. When his breathing slowed, he lifted his head, looked at me and suddenly, his face reflected a feeling of shock. "Dad? Oh God! I. . .I" "Shhhhh, Michael, it's alright, son." I held his face between my palms and looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "I'll never be able to describe how special that was; how beautiful you were." I didn't think he would understand what I was saying, at least not fully, until he was older. What I felt for him at that point could not be described. I could see the mix of uncertainty and confusion in his eyes. Without even thinking about it, I held up two fingers. He followed the fingers as I scooped some of his milk from my stomach and then put it in my mouth. He just watched, mesmerized. I scooped up a little more and fed it to him. Tears pooled in his eyes as he leaned into me. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt him touch me. My mind raced in circles. The immediate thought was to stop him, but there was something in the back of my mind that said let him do what he needs to do. He had wrapped his fist around my manhood and used the palm of his other hand to massage the head. I gasped from the feelings that shot through me like electricity. He kept his head on my shoulder. I left my hands on his shoulders and held on; I allowed my son to masturbate me. Another jolt came as he teased and tweaked my nipples. Quickly, I was moaning and gasping for air. Quickly, too quickly, my body erupted and we were both coated once again. He lifted his head and looked at me; the question was in his eyes, so was that special twinkle. The answer was a light kiss to his forehead. Two fingers scooped my cream from his torso; he licked his fingers. Two fingers scooped more cream from his torso; I let him put them in my mouth. Without saying anything, I took him by the hand and led him into the shower. "Dad, that was the most fantastic thing I ever felt. We didn't do somethin' wrong, did we?" "No, son, we didn't do anything wrong. And I agree, that was fantastic!" Strangely, I felt a little guilty for letting it happen, but I knew that was from my fundamentalist background. The part of me that always fought to suppress those teachings, and stay open with my sons, told me I had just shared something with my son that very few fathers are fortunate enough to experience. I wouldn't trade this time for anything. "Dad, did you know there are some countries where boys go to bed with their dads and the dads teach 'em how to make love?" Talk about being scared! He hit the mark then. I didn't say anything and worked to make sure I didn't show any reaction to his comment. I knew where he was headed and what frightened me the most was the temptation. "Don't worry. Nobody'll ever know, 'cept you and me, what we did." He melted into me, placing his head against my chest and his arms around me. "Dad, thanks." I held him for a couple of minutes before he added, "We don't have ta be father and son; we could be student and teacher." I felt him laughing to himself. I popped him on the butt and soaped up his back. What he didn't know was how much, during our mutual masturbation session, I wanted to hold him and lay him on the floor and explore every square inch of his body. I wanted to learn with him. * * * * Frank and Sean had gone to see some new horror movie. I always thought it was interesting that they found horror movies to be more of a comedy show. They didn't care about the story; it was the special effects that interested them. Sean's mother provided the transportation and that was what allowed Mike and me to have time together that afternoon. When they came bouncing in, Mike and I were sitting on the sofa watching a ball game. At least, I was watching the ball game. Football held almost no interest for Mike. He was stretched out on the sofa under a light blanket with his head in my lap, napping. He had actually stretched out like that earlier so I could rub his back for him. "Hey, Dad," Frank called out as he entered. When he stepped in front of me, he added, "see ya got the naked kid again." I felt Mike tense up, so I squeezed his arm for him to stay where he was. "What makes you think your brother's naked?" "'Cause he always is unless you make 'im wear clothes." Frank and Sean laughed. Michael looked at his brother and about the time I was sure I heard 'ass hole,' he tossed the blanket to show them he was wearing his shower sarong. "Oh, excuuuuuse me! He's not naked, Dad, he's wearing his loin cloth." "Okay smart guy, how about if I let these two strip you and toss you out front for a few minutes. You can put on a show for the neighbors." "No way," he answered. "It's too cold out there right now. Besides, the neighborhood husbands might get jealous of the equipment." Realizing this was going no where but down hill, I changed the subject. We ordered pizza for supper and I had the boys come sit with me for a talk. My first point was to make sure they understood this was a serious, show due respect type, talk. I had decided to be more open and honest with the boys and let them know I knew some of the things that had been happening. Michael had been forewarned, so it was no big deal to him. Poor Sean, I think he lost most of the blood in his upper body when I told him I knew he'd been playing sexual games with my sons. I wondered if he was gay, too. We had to remind him to breathe. The point was to make sure the boys understood I wasn't playing shock jock with them. I wanted to be honest with them and for them to understand that I was there for them. I knew what teenage boys did. I neither condoned nor condemned their actions. Boys were boys and were going to experiment. I didn't want them doing something stupid, like trying to stick their pride and joy up one of 'em's butt. Rules were set and we agreed they were more than fair. No one, absolutely no one, was to attempt anal penetration without my consent. All activity had to be one hundred percent consensual. They were not to "play the field" and risk a communicable disease. If they had questions, they could come to me without fear of any repercussions. If they couldn't live with the rules, all they had to do was let me know and I would be more than happy to provide them with chastity belts. Frank and I had our one on one talk. He let me know he didn't think he was gay. He liked the girls and admitted to feeling up more than one of them, but hadn't gotten any further than sucking a boob. Thank God! The last thing I needed was an irate father knocking on the door, looking for my son because he got a girl pregnant. Frank admitted he and Mike had been playing around for several years and it was fun. Frank claimed to be an ordinary kid that was just as horny and needed to get his rocks off like any other teenage boy. There was one other important thing Frank admitted to me, he knew that Mike was going to tell me he thought he was gay and ask me to teach them some things. When he saw my facial expression he quickly reminded me that all teenage boys, whether straight or gay, shared a common fear. If they were about to engage in some activity, they didn't want to be laughed at because they didn't know what they were doing. Then he reminded me that ignorance was part of what caused me to freak out with Kevin those so many years ago. Sean and I had our little one on one, also. He didn't have a father at home, or anywhere else for that matter. Sean had been spending weekends, and many weekdays, at our home and I considered him to be a part of our family. I told him that if he liked, I'd act like a surrogate dad or mentor for him and if he ever needed someone to talk to, he could come to me. He knew me well enough to know that what he said to me would be private. I also let him know that I knew he and Mike had been fooling around for a while, but I didn't ask him if he thought he was gay; he needed to make the choice as to when he would talk about his orientation. He insisted it was just in fun and so they could get their nut. He also acknowledged that he knew I was serious about the rules and that I could trust him. When we finished talking, I let it go. The boys acted goofy, like teenagers sometimes do. I watched them and thought it must be nice to be that carefree. A few days earlier the world was about to end for one. All three had a secret life I wasn't supposed to know about. I laughed to myself, wondering why kids always thought their parents were never kids. My boys, including my surrogate son, were normal boys. They were going to argue, they were going to laugh, and they were going to experiment with their equipment. I accepted that. I wasn't sure how much I liked it, but I accepted it as part of their growing up. I heard a noise and looked up; three naked boys ran by me, headed for the pool. As for me; I needed a beer. End Chapter Seven To Be Continued Comments welcome; contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com