Steve and My Son
				    by
				   Situ

It was a warm summer afternoon, around 2 pm. I was sitting in my office at
home and doing some work. My office at home is a room that overlooks into
the street. My house was on a narrow street with a compound wall with a
wicket gate. I could very well see what goes on in the street. My son who
was about 15 years old had gone out to play as usual. Boys in our block
usually played in the public play ground, especially during the long Summer
vacation. As I was working in my office, I saw Steve, a neighbor boy, about
14 years old, open the gate and charge into my house compound. I was little
taken aback, because, Steve had never come into our house before. This was
the first time, I had seen him come in. But I knew Steve well, since he
studied with my son in the same high school. Steve was not a bright kid. He
was one class lower than my son's class, and was physically also little
weak, a bit more on the thin side. Apparently, when the boys play together,
spontaneous fights would break out. Some of these fights do turn out to be
violent. Boys, being boys, they fight and get together, make up and play
again. But my son never liked Steve very much and probably bullying him
quiet a lot at school also.

On this particular afternoon, I was alone at home. When Steve opened the
gate and came in, I knew something was wrong. I got up and went and opened
the front door of my house and invited him into my office. Without me
coaxing, Steve began to narrate what had happened. I went and sat in my
office chair, while Steve stood near the desk and went on to explain what
had happened. By listening to Steve, it became apparent that my son had
bullied him and kicked him in the ass. I was little concerned, because I
did not want Steve to have any physical harm caused by my son. So I asked
him, what exactly happened and where he really kicked him. I told him
whether there was any wound on his body or ass. He said, he had not seen it
yet, because he is coming straight from the play field. Steve was wearing
pants. He told me, it pains where my son had kicked him. I asked him, where
it pains, and he told me that the pain is little below the ass, on the
thighs right below the ass cheeks. My son had some kind of sneekers, and he
must have kicked him really hard and I did not want Steve to run to his
parents and cry and show the wound. If he did, my son will be in trouble
with Steve's parents whom I knew to be very unpleasant people on the
block. So I told Steve to pull down his pants and show me the spot where
the pain was. Without any hesitation, he pulled down his pants to his
knees. He had boxers that he did not pull down. I told Steve to turn around
and show me where the pain was, if there was any. He said, not much pain,
but my son had kicked him just below his ass. I did not see any bruise or
marks. Steve had a fair skin, and if there was any bruise, it would have
left red marks on the skin. I did not see any marks. But, I wanted to make
sure, that there was no mark inside the boxers. It is like an underwear. So
I asked Steve to pull down his underwear so that I can examine
closely. Without any hesitation, he pulled down his underwear up to his
thighs. His beautiful teenage ass was right in front of my nose. I did not
think anything strange in him pulling down his pants and underwear. I
examined his ass, and put my fingers on the place where he said my son had
kicked him. I gently stroked his ass, especially, just below his ass and
asked him to let me know immediately whether he felt any pain in any place
where I put my finger and pressed. He said, not much pain and so, I
continued to extend my exploration and began to gently massage and stroke
his thighs. To sooth and calm him, I was talking to him gently, like an
older brother. Then, I slowly moved my hands up and placed them on his ass
and began to kneed it gently and massaged and stroked his ass and thighs
just to get the pain relieved, if there was any. I kept asking him to let
me know if he felt pain in any place on his body. He said, no. I asked him
to turn around. To my surprise, I found that his cock was half erect and a
pretty good size about 5 or 6 inches. When I saw his partially erect cock,
I became horny, but I refrained from touching it. And so, without drawing
any attention to his erect cock, I asked him to spread his thighs little
wider, so that I can examine the thighs below the ass from the front. I
placed my right hand between his thighs, just below his partially erect
cock and went about examining and massaging/stroking his thighs while my
left hand kept kneading his ass and I kept asking him whether it was
paining there. He said no. Then, I said, it can cause damage for someone to
kick some ones balls, and asked him whether he was sure that my son had not
kicked his balls. He said, no, but only went on to point where he felt my
son had kicked him, right below his ass. In any way, now that I was
becoming little horny and not used to this gay situation, I asked him, why
he is having an erection. He said, that my touching and massaging his ass,
made him feel nice. But I ignored his remarks and went on to pretend that I
was not horny at all. I said, I need to examine his balls, so that I was
sure that there was no bruise. So I gently took his balls in my hand, and
began to massage it sensually and with my left hand I continued to squeeze
his ass. He said, he did not feel any pain, but that he was feeling some
what strange. His cock was slowly becoming fully erect, and I could see it
growing hard and throbbing right in front of my nose. Since I was sitting
on my chair, and he was standing, my face was only about 6 inches away from
his erect cock. Then I gently asked him, whether he felt any pain on his
cock. He said, no. I said, he may not realize now, but later he might feel
the pain. So I said, I need to examine his cock as well. By now, his cock
was almost fully erect and so I gently took his cock and began to examine
it as well as stroke it. He had a clean-cut cock. I could feel his
breathing becoming deeper. Then he suddenly told me out of the blue that if
I continue to stroke it, he will get a milky sticky stuff. He did not have
the right word for it. Although, I knew this would happen to a 14 year old
kid, I said, "You are too young for that. You will not get it." He
challenged me. By saying this, immediately I knew that he was enjoying my
touch and stroke and that he wanted me to continue it, while I was only
using that as a ploy to allow me more time to have access to his beautiful
erect teenage cock. I said, "No, you will not get the sticky stuff because
you are still a child." He protested and said, he can prove it. Well, he
wanted to prove his manhood. I said, "OK, I believe you, but until I see
it, I don't believe it." He asked me whether I want to see it cum. I said,
"Go ahead." He was standing. So he withdrew and there was a couch in my
office and he went and sat on it with his pants and jockys pulled down to
his knee. I followed him to the couch and stood in front of him. He told me
to continue the massage and stroke. So I knelt beside the couch close to
him. He spread his legs and the cock stood like a flag pole, fully erect. I
took the cock in my right hand and began to stroke, while with my left hand
squeezing and massaging his balls. He said, "Faster, faster". Both of us
were in a hurry. We did not want any one walking on us at that time.  (I
was afraid that my son would walk in at any time.)  I kept up the
speed. His breathing became heavier and in two minutes, he twitched and
shot his cum high up in the air and spilt all over my office floor and into
my hand. He gasped and calmed down. When the last drop was squeezed out, he
pulled up his boxer and pants, zipped, got up and said "Iv'e got to go" and
left my office and vanished into the street in a flash even without waiting
for my response. I saw him rush off into the street, and closed the door
and went back to my office to clean up the mess. I quickly cleaned up his
cum which had spilt on the couch, floor and in my hand. I was in a phase of
shock and surprise and I slumped in my chair.  I was thoroughly overwhelmed
and beyond myself by this sudden occurrence.  It happened so suddenly,
lasted perhaps for only about 15 minutes.  Yet the power and force of this
experience was so overwhelming, I could not do anything but just sit there
for an hour or so dazed and bewildered.

While sitting, I began to replay the whole experience for which I had no
credible explanation or precedence. I am not a gay person, per se.  I have
had some experience of mutual masturbating and butt fucking when I was a
teenager while I was in high school. But this was beyond my
comprehension. I am a married man with children and why did I do it and how
could I have done it, why did I do it without any premeditation and
spontaneously? I had no answers to it to this day. That exprience with
Steve, really shook me to the core. To this day, I wonder, how I could have
done it. But that experience was something of a life transforming
experience for me. Because, I became suddently aware that there was
something beyond myself which made that experience happen out of the
blue. To hold an erect throbing cock of a teenager in your palm is an earth
shattering experience. After that experience, I was for days together,
living in a kind of elevated awarness of myself - I can't really explain
what it is - but a kind of bliss and soul satisfaction - nothing really
very sexual about it - but that I had attained some kind of cosmic unity
and oneness with some erotic power and force beyond me and I began to see
the whole universe erotic wanting to be touched, loved, massaged, stroked,
wanted, nurtured, secure. It was a kind of spiritual experience. You may
disagree. One would have thought that after giving hand job to Steve, I
would have gone back to my office and masturbated. I did not, neither did,
I feel any heightened sexual urge to have sex at that time with anyone. But
it all happened, so quickly, so unplanned, and the paradoxical context in
which it happned, I still can not fathom - it was because of my son
bullying Steve, the whole thing happened. Whom should I be angry or blame?
Or be thankful to whom? Steve, my Son?  I have no answer.

What happened to Steve? Well, I saw him couple of days later playing on the
street with other kids. He saw me pass by. He gave me an understanding
smile as I walked by. And I think the way he smilled at me gave me the
impression that he must have been thankful that my son had kicked his
ass. Neither did I ever spoke about this to my son or hear about Steve from
him. This experience will remain a secret between me and Steve for ever.