Date: Fri, 2 Oct 2009 03:30:36 -0700 (PDT) From: Sean Hardy Subject: Birthday Surprise .... The two hour drive it took from my off-campus apartment to my hometown gave me some much needed time to think about things. The highway seemed like a blur as my mind flashed back to memories I had long since left behind. In my head, I saw myself at sixteen again, upstairs in my bedroom, playing around with Adam McAlister. He had been so beautiful to me:, six feet tall and built like an Adonis. He was a point guard on our school's basketball team, and I was the geek who was tutoring him after school. Adam needed to pass biology and, somehow, we had skipped right over the life cycle of a plant, and onto the anatomy of a very aroused teen boy. Adam was tall and lean, and had a beautiful cock that I loved worshipping. He had dark blonde hair that was cut short, and amazing blue eyes that I would lose myself in while trying to concentrate on getting him a good grade. I had done the tutoring as a favor to my teacher and, also, the hopes of achieving a long-time fantasy of mine. He was crude, and not the brightest crayon in the box, but I didn't care. I had lusted over Adam McAlister for most of my high school career, and all it took to get into his pants was to overly inflate his ego and shower him with compliments. I was no smooth talker, but I had heard rumors of Adam's vanity. He suspected I was gay and, after a particularly dramatic argument with his cheerleader girlfriend, he angrily confessed to me that he was so damn horny, and didn't know what it took to get a blow job from a stuck-up princess wannabe. Out of nowhere, I found myself telling him that I'd blow him. It's cliché, and every good porno has used the line a thousand times, but, hey, it worked. Adam looked at me curiously, and then shrugged his shoulders. I stood in front of him with a blank expression on my face, until Adam grabbed me by the neck and forced me down to my knees. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he had asked, as I stared into the crotch of his blue denim jeans. I had never done anything sexual before; not even kissed anyone. I cautiously unzipped his jeans and pulled his shorts down. He wasn't hard, but after a few light strokes his dick came to life and brushed against my face. I still had no clue what I was doing, but I began to take him into my mouth and let him do the rest. He grabbed my head with his big meaty hands, and began to thrust in and out. I hadn't given any thought to what was going on around me, when, suddenly, the door to my bedroom opened and there stood my mother with a basket of laundry. I hadn't actually seen the door open, but when I heard the basket plummet to the floor, I jerked back from Adam, and froze in terror. My mother's mouth stood open in silent awe of the sight she'd walked in on, and although you couldn't hear it, I'm sure that was the moment when her heart broke. I had always been raised with the ambitions of the "Great American Dream": everything in my life leading up to the wife and kids, and the little dog running around the white picket fence and, in less than a minute, I had shattered those dreams forever. Adam, being the gentleman he was, quickly zipped up and dashed from the room, nearly knocking my mother over upon his escape. I was still on my knees in the middle of the bedroom, and struggling to come up with something that would make the situation better. I heard the front door to the house open and slam shut and, suddenly, the spell was broken and my mother shook her head and turned to leave. From that moment on, I was yanked from inside the "closet" into the harsh reality of day. I was forced to tell my parents that I thought I was gay. My father, being the typical old fashioned man that he was, didn't say much. My mother cried and cried, and, for the most part, tried to pretend it hadn't ever happened. I never flaunted my sexuality in front of my parents, and never commented on my social life. I kept to myself, and counted down the days until I could escape the small town and find freedom at college. Eventually, my parents accepted me, although they never asked about details. My father and I began a relationship that was devoid of anything personal. We talked about movies and books, and just anything other than emotional issues. The oncoming traffic, casting wide flashes of light on me, brought me back from my past. I saw a sign proclaiming that my hometown was a mere thirty miles away. It had been nearly two years since I had been back. My parents had come to visit me for the major holidays, since I was their only child, and we didn't have much in the way of extended family. College life had been everything I had ever hoped it would be. I was finally on my own; well, at first I was in a dorm with five hundred other residents, but you get the idea. I started to meet guys at parties and clubs, and managed a decent social life. My mother didn't call me very often, but when she did, it usually had strings attached, and her latest was no different.My father's fiftieth birthday was coming up, and it just so happened that it coincided with my university's spring break. Now normally I would have had plans, but I had just broken up with someone, and found myself with nothing to do. Mom was planning a surprise birthday party at the local country club, where my father spent his weekends playing golf. I hesitantly offered to help out, although I knew coming home would not be fun. My mother seemed very excited to have me on board, and excitedly talked about everything she had planned for the big day. The drive didn't take as long as I had expected, and I soon found myself sitting in the driveway, looking up at the house in which I'd grown up. in. It seemed so much larger than I remembered, and I had this sense of dread that formed in the pit of my stomach. I jumped, as a loud banging on the passenger side window startled me. I turned and saw my father peering into the car. "Jacob?" he asked, his voice muffled by the glass. I sighed, and opened my door. I looked over at my father and forced a smile. Mike Wesley was a large giant of a man; at least he looked like one to me. He was six foot two and barrel chested. He was the football coach at the local high school and, while not muscled like the jocks he coached, he was still very impressive for his age. He had a hard, weathered face, and a well-trimmed beard that was an auburn color, with flecks of gray, same as his short hair, which had receded back slightly in the years I'd been away. He was handsome, in a traditional way, and the pictures I'd seen of him in his youth were quiet attractive. "Hi, Dad," I said. "What are you doing home, son?" my father asked. "Mom didn't tell you? I'm on spring break and thought I'd spend some time catching up," I said, covering for the surprise birthday party. "Oh, well then, welcome back," Dad said. He rounded the front of my car and gave me a hug. He still felt so strong, and being in contact with him brought back a rush of memories that I had long since put behind me. "Thanks, Dad," I said. I wanted to pull back from him, but he wasn't letting me go. He held me close for several minutes, until another sound made us break apart. "Mike? Who's out there?" my mother yelled out, in her high pitched voice. "Uh, just me, Mom," I called back to her. I looked up into the open garage, and saw my mother struggle to focus in the darkness. "Jacob!"she exclaimed. She rushed down the three steps that led up into the house from the garage, and hurried out to give me a hug. She clutched onto me as my father took a few steps back. "Hi, Mom," I said. She pulled back, but kept her hands on my arms. "You look too thin," she observed, giving me a once over. "I'm fine," I said, rolling my eyes. Sometimes she could be such the clichéd parent. "Leave him alone, Emily," Dad said. "Alright, alright. Come inside. Mike, help him with his things," Mom said. She started to walk back into the house. I turned and grabbed a suitcase from my father, who had unloaded it from the back of the car. "Is that all?" he asked. "Yeah, I've got it, Dad." It was nearly nine by the time I had settled in, and although my mother offered to fix me something to eat, I told her that I'd be fine. I sat in my old room and looked around for a bit, as the house grew silent around me. Sometimes, I felt like I'd always been sixteen whenever I came in here. After about a half hour or so, I quietly went downstairs and fixed myself a glass of sweet tea. I relaxed against the kitchen counters, and noticed that the lights on the back of the house were on. I peered out the window, and saw my father sitting on the deck overlooking the backyard. I stepped out the back door, and my father quickly tried to hide something. He relaxed when he saw it was me, and sighed. "Oh, it's just you," he said. He brought his hand back up from beside him, and I saw that he had been hiding a cigar. "Are you still hiding those from Mom?" I asked, with a laugh. I walked over and sat down on one of the chairs surrounding a glass table, bought years ago for outdoor dinners. "She'd have my head if she caught me. You know how she hates the smell," Dad replied. He puffed on the end of the cigar, and then blew out smoke rings into the night sky. "Of course, it doesn't help that you told her you quit, like ten years ago," I said, giving him a bemused look. "Well, what she doesn't know won't kill her," he said with a smirk. "Besides, a man's got to keep at least one vice." "I guess so," I said, relaxing back in the chair and taking another drink of the tea. "So how is this semester treating you?" Dad asked. "Good, so far. I have a tough class that I'm doing okay in. If I get a good grade in that one, then I'm sure to get into the teaching program," I explained. "Have you decided what you want to teach?" "Probably something in science," I replied. "You could always coach a team while you're at it," Dad suggested. "I think that ship sailed when I couldn't even catch a football," I said with a frown. Dad was never going to give up on his dream of having a football hero, just like Mom was never going to give up hope that I'd eventually find a nice girl and settle down and leave this whole gay life behind. Dad laughed and took another puff off the cigar. "I think you got hit more times than anyone I've ever seen," he laughed. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in old man," I said. "I'm glad you came home, Jacob," Dad said after a few moments. "Well, you are turning fifty this week," I said, trying to lighten the conversation. "No, I really mean it; it's good to have you here. It gets lonely sometimes," Dad said. "Are youokay, Dad? Are things alright with you and Mom?" I asked, feeling concerned. My father very rarely talked like this. He was old school; you didn't talk about your feelings like that. "Oh, no, everything is fine, but it's always tough when your kid leaves," Dad said. "I'm sorry," I said softly. "No, no; nothing to be sorry about. I know the last couple of years here weren't the best, and that's partially my fault." "It's okay, Dad." "It was just hard for us, your mother especially." "Well, it wasn't easy for me either," I said, feeling a twinge of anger. I had long since moved beyond my annoyance towards my parents for how cold they had been to me, but there were also times it couldn't be helped. "I know that, and I am sorry for my part," Dad said, very seriously. "You don't have to apologize. I let you guysdown; I know that." "Surprised us maybe, but you didn't let us down." "So are you seeing anyone?" Dad asked, after a few minutes. I could have fallen over from the shock; he nor Mom never asked me about that before. I gave them the details about school and life on campus, but that was where it ended. "Um, no, not anymore," I replied. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine." "Were you together long?" he asked. I could tell it was hard for him to ask. "Just a few months; it wasn't really serious," I said. "I see," Dad said. He stubbed his cigar out on the bottom of his shoe, and sighed. "I should go get some rest," he said. He lifted up out of the chair, and walked past me, brushing his hand over my shoulder as he did. "Goodnight, son." "Goodnight, Dad." That night, I had the strangest dream. I was in my bedroom, sitting on the side of the bed, and watching something on the television. Every detail seemed so vivid in my mind's eye. I could smell the familiar scene of the house, and clearly see what was going on in the show I was watching.. I turned and looked at the door, and saw my father standing there; only he was much younger than he was is today. I looked down and saw that I didn't have pants on, and that I was playing with myself. I felt like I was younger, as well. I didn't even have pubic hair, and my dick was much smaller than it is now. I looked back up to see an amused look on my father's face. He crossed towards the bed and stood in front of me. He said something, although no sound was coming from his mouth. I could see his lips moving, and he looked almost angry. He pushed my hands away from my dick, and poked me in the chest with his finger. I sat back a little and looked up at him; his expression changed from anger to that of something else. I laid back on my elbows, my dick still hard and pointing upwards. My father again said something that I could not hear, and then gently reached down and brushed his hand over my cock. I shuddered as he touched me, and looked back up at him to see a look of animalistic lust on his face. The next thing I knew, my own father was jerking my dick up and down with his fingers. I felt hot and sweaty, and so good, and just as I was bout to cum, I woke up. I opened my eyes, just as I felt myself cum. I came all inside my underwear, and then just laid there. I hadn't had a wet dream since I was a teenager, especially since I regularly masturbated and had sex. I couldn't get the images of my father touching me out of my head. It had all seemed too real; not like any other dream; more like a memory. It hit me like lightning as I laid there; was this a memory? Had that really happened? How could I not recall something like that? .... Thanks for checking out the new story. I hope it's grabbed your attention and you'll stick around for the other parts. As in the past, e-mail and comments are always appreciated, hardy.sean@rocketmail.com See you soon!