Date: Sun, 12 Feb 2023 18:07:17 +0000 (UTC)
From: Jeremy Reynolds <jeremyreynolds1234@myyahoo.com>
Subject: Chapter 5 of Caught under the sink

Hello! The usual Nifty disclaimers apply! Please email responses to:
jeremyreynolds1234@myyahoo.com

This story features themes of gay incest, between a father and his minor
son.

Chapter 5: Robb (Dad)

Thoughts of Sammy buzzed around through my head as we worked on the lawn
together. I found myself feeling compelled almost to look at him, again and
again, from across the yard. He returned my look at times and I'd see him
blush and something in me would melt a little, as if I had a huge ice block
inside of my chest and it was starting to thaw out. The images from this
morning flitted across my mind now and again, that's for sure, but I was
also feeling very interested in the present, in whatever was happening
between us now.

I knew that I shouldn't be feeling what I started to feel when our eyes
met, but a part of me didn't care. Besides, I would never, could never, act
on anything I might feel about him, as far as any remotely sexual feelings
were concerned. Maybe we were just growing closer and that's what these
weird feelings were all about? Could it be that what had happened this
morning would open up new ways to connect or to be intimate with each other
in ways that were not sexual? I didn't know, but I decided then that I
would try to be open to it, as best I could.

The rest of the yard work passed relatively uneventfully and soon we were
back inside in the kitchen drinking ice cold water. I told him I'd be
upstairs taking a shower and he said he'd do the same in the bathroom
closer to his room. There was a moment of awkwardness, that passed between
us then, but we both seemed to move on pretty quickly and soon we had
parted ways.

Of course when I actually got into the shower, I couldn't help but remember
that morning. I found myself checking the cabinet beneath the sink once
before I got into the shower, I guess just to be sure. The towels were
still arranged as they had been before. During my shower, I kept looking
down at myself, trying to imagine what it might have been like for Sammy to
see me like this. Before I knew it, my penis was growing long and getting
harder by the moment. I purposely diverted my thoughts to work in order to
put a damper on my inappropriate arousal. It wasn't just arousal, either,
that I felt the need to distract myself from; I also felt ashamed of myself
for thinking about him like that, my own son, still only a boy!

After my shower I dried off--and yes, I did check under the sink a second
time--and relieved myself, then wrapped the towel around my waist. I
stepped out into my bedroom and went around the queen sized bed to my
drawers where I picked out some black performance briefs. I pulled out a
T-shirt and some dark basketball shorts, put them on, and then left my
room. Down the hall I could hear Sammy's shower on. Again an image of him,
naked, this time under the shower, entered my mind before I could then push
it away.

I went downstairs to the kitchen and bent down to look into the fridge for
a beer. I didn't see any. Not to be denied a relaxing beverage, I went over
to my liquor cabinet and pulled out a red wine. Nothing too impressive but
it would do the trick. I poured it out into my glass and went and sat down
on a counter chair, and began drinking. I always loved the warmth I'd feel
in my stomach when I'd drink, which wasn't too often by the way. I began
feeling my anxiety winding down as I got closer to finishing the glass.

"Hey Dad," Sammy said behind me, coming into the kitchen. He was dressed as
I was, though his shirt was tighter against his chest (maybe something he
had not worn in a while?) and his shorts were shorter, far up above the
knee. He looked so thin, or petite.

"Hey bud," I replied, smiling. "How was your shower?"

"It was good," he answered, smiling shyly. "Yours?"

"About as good as always," I said. "Feels good to be clean again."

He chuckled a little and said, "Yeah, well, you were pretty stinky, no
offense."

"Was I?" I asked sarcastically. "I didn't smell like tulips?"

He shook his head, no.

"Dang, when my own son thinks I don't smell like goddamn tulips anymore
... " I joked, chuckling a little myself.

We discussed which pizza we would order, a Hawaiian, one of our shared
favorites. After placing the order, we sifted through our board and card
games and settled on Uno. We played sitting across from each other at our
little dining table. As we played, we talked about random things going on
in our lives, nothing in particular, him about his week at school and me
about work stuff (which was also boring stuff admittedly, though he seemed
utterly fascinated by everything I said). I also drank--pretty much a whole
other glass of the wine. I felt my mind beginning to swim.

"Is that good?" Sammy asked, nodding at the almost empty glass.

"Oh this?" I took it up and inspected it as if I had never seen it
before. "This is ok." I set the glass down and smiled at him. "Don't think
you can convince me to give you any, son." I winked at him, and he blushed.

Just then the pizza arrived and soon we were back at the table eating it
and continuing to joke with each other. It felt different somehow, this
joking between us. It felt more playful, perhaps even flirty. I found
myself smiling or laughing at so many things he said, and he me. There was
this bizarreness about it, perhaps augmented by the alcohol streaming
through my veins.

We finished our slices and our game, and made our way to the TV room
upstairs. I went over to the TV stand and put in the Blue Ray movie I had
got us: Mary Poppins, the new one. We had decided to watch it together
tonight, although both of us had seen it before in theater. I turned on a
lamp and turned off the overhead lights. The room filled with a blue glow.

I felt suddenly very nervous, or maybe that's not the right way of saying
things. I think I was more afraid. Of what? Probably of doing something
wrong, either wrong in the sense of wrong by Sammy, or wrong as in morally
wrong. I felt myself drawn to do whatever it was that was wrong, in one of
the two senses of the word, though I didn't know which.

Sammy sat near the middle of our couch, where he usually sat. He looked up
at me, looking nervous himself, or embarrassed perhaps? I found myself
sitting on the far end of the couch a good couple feet from him. This was
not my usual, that's for sure. But I felt like any closer right now would
be ... inappropriate.

The movie started and we both watched in silence, more or less, which was
also not usual for us most movie nights. I turned to look at him several
times during the first part of the movie, and about half that time he
either returned my look or had already been gazing at me, first. I still
felt nervous, more so in fact as the night drew on and the movie reached
its middle.

It hit me though, at about that moment, that I might be hurting my son. He
was only a boy, still, despite his intelligence and wherewithal, and I knew
that he was sensitive and emotional, as was his mother and as I could be as
well. What kind of message was I sending him now by keeping my distance? Or
by pretending like what had happened this morning had never happened, while
also treating him so differently right now? I felt pained inside for him.

"Do you want to cuddle?" I asked, and swallowed anxiously as I waited for
him to reply.

He met my eyes with his and slowly nodded, and said softly, "Yes."

I got up from the couch, and carefully stepped over toward him and sat so
that our waists and legs were practically touching. I also put my arm
around his shoulders and pulled him into my chest. Cuddling was something
we had always done together, like this. It felt suddenly so natural again,
all of this, our closeness, our bond, our shared intimacy in these
moments. It made me almost forget the morning's events entirely. Almost ...

I felt his hand go to my thigh, below the hem of my shorts by the knee. He
lay it there gently, not looking at me. This is something that he had done
before, though only a couple other times. I felt a kind of electricity go
through me for a few seconds, radiating from that part of my thigh. I also
felt something else: my penis, a couple inches away from his hand, was
growing harder bit by bit as the time passed. Finally, I was fully erect,
no doubt tenting my shorts. I glanced down quickly at Sammy's groin area
and thought I noticed a similar thing, happening to his shorts.

I tried to refocus on the movie, to pull my attention away from his hand on
my leg, but to no avail. After several moments of doing my best to divert
my thoughts, I began to feel like maybe I would lose the battle, at least
this time.

"Dad, does that feel good?" Sammy asked, pulling me away from the swirl of
my contradictory thoughts.

I turned to him and our eyes met. He looked nervous, kind of biting his lip
a little. He looked down at his hand above my knee, and I did too, and he
gently caressed me with his fingers.

I sighed and leaned forward to pick up the remote from the ottoman and
paused the movie. I turned again toward him, as he moved his hand away from
my thigh. He and I looked into each others eyes in the dim light cast by
the TV, both of us seeming unsure about how to proceed.

I swallowed and said, "Sammy, I think we should talk ... about what
happened this morning."

He glanced away at the TV, and took a deep breath, then returned to look at
me again. Whereas before he had looked nervous, now he looked
scared. Scared of what I would ask, or maybe of what he would say.

I tried to weigh my question carefully: "Why did you ... hide under the
bathroom sink, while I showered?"

He gulped big, and looked away again, this time as if he were trying to
come up with some excuse. Or at least a good response. He looked back at me
and said, very softly, "Dad, I like you ... I mean, that I have a crush on
you." He didn't turn away, just returned my stare as he awaited what I
would say.

"I ..." I started, at a loss for a moment. "A crush, like, you are really
... into me?"

He nodded, and again swallowed nervously. "Yeah. I've had it for a little
while now. Or maybe I've had it for a long time, since I was little. I
don't know ..."

Whew, that was a lot to hear. I felt such a mix of strange feelings inside,
a mix that would be so hard to describe. There was something of shock,
something else of curiosity, something else of guilt, and also ... a kind
of thrilling feeling, or maybe even excitement.

"But ... we're father and son ..." I said, practically stammering. "It's
... you're my son, Sammy. And you're young ..."

"I know that, Dad," he replied, no doubt doing his best to maintain eye
contact with me, as I was with him. It felt kind of electric between us
then, like a current ran from my eyes to his or vice versa. "I'm confused
too, about why I feel as I do. But I do feel what I feel. I think I might
... I might have even fallen in love with you."

Again I felt that mix of feelings, but it almost felt like the excitement
was beginning to win out, over the shock and even the guilt. I also felt
something in my semi hard penis, or perhaps in my balls. A little shame
crept into the mix then. In any case it was so much to take in all at once.

"Do you know what falling in love means?" I asked.

"I don't know, Dad," Sammy said, sighing and looking away toward the TV for
a second. "But maybe it's butterflies in my stomach, and my heart going
faster when I see you or think about you ... Or when I dream about you. I
know I also love you because you're my dad, and you're a great dad, but I
think there's something more ..."

I felt a little of that myself, then, that despite knowing it was "wrong,"
and despite the guilt and shame mixed in with it, I did feel "something
more" for him also, at least I think I did. I looked at him, at his face,
his big blue eyes, the sincerity in them and the innocence and maybe the
purity. I then looked down at his lips, small and red, so similar to his
mother's in the dim light cast by the TV.

"Something more" possessed me then, and I hardly knew what I was doing when
I closed my eyes and leaned over to him, so slowly, and pressed my lips
against his. I let mine linger there for a moment, feeling the velvety
softness there, before we parted and I heard a gentle, muffled smack. It
was a kiss, a short one admittedly, but a real kiss. As I pulled back, our
eyes met again and again there was the strange electricity between us,
maybe a kind of psychic connection on some deeper level.

I took a deep breath, and he did too. I held my arm around his shoulders a
bit more tightly, rubbing a little. He brought his hand down onto my thigh
again, and I took my free hand and put it on top of his. I caressed his
skin there with my thumb. This all felt, again, so "natural," though it
also felt so different in many respects from what we had ever done before
as far as physical closeness.

"I think maybe ... " I began, feeling a little out of breath, more so than
I had realized a moment before. "I think that maybe I feel the same way,
Sammy, about you."

His face erupted in a smile, and his eyes suddenly took on a kind of
"intoxicated" glow, almost seeming literally to glow then in the dim
light. I wondered if mine were doing the same.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Dad," he said, and took his free hand and
reached back to hold the hand that I had put over his shoulder. "I love
you."

"I ... love you too," I said. I had said this many times before, of course,
but this time it felt different, as it surely was different now. Again he
smiled, and I think I did too, then. He looked at my lips again and almost
seemed like he wanted to come in for another kiss, but I interrupted,
saying, "Sammy, let's take it a little easy ... I think I do want to
... explore this with you ... but I think that we need to take things
slow. We ... or I, at least ... feel like I'll need time to feel more
comfortable doing this, or doing anything else. I'm not saying 'no,' I'm
just asking that we don't do too much at once. Is that ok?"

He looked a little disappointed, but nodded and said, "Yeah, that's ok,
Dad."

"Thank you, Sammy," I said, with a small smile. "I may be open to
... kissing again soon, and maybe doing other things, if you are open to
that. I do think we should be careful, since sometimes if you're too caught
up in the feelings you might rush things too much and one of us could get
hurt, or both of us could ... Besides that, you are a minor, and it's
... Well, we could get in trouble for doing what we're doing."

"I know," he said. "I know that what we have between us is something we can
never tell anyone else about. I promise I won't. And also ... I'm ok with
taking things slow, I really am. I ... don't know anything about
... sex. This is all new to me."

"Yes, that's true, too," I acknowledged. "This is actually new to me,
too. I mean that I am ... Well, I was straight. I haven't ever thought
about anything ... gay ... before now. So this will take some getting used
to. I also want us to make sure that we're both comfortable with whatever
we do, whenever we decide to do it. So please tell me if you're not
comfortable."

We both took another set of deep breaths, holding each other's hands,
staring into each other's eyes. He looked down, then, at my crotch area,
and saw that I was at full tent (and was definitely leaking pre-cum,
something you probably couldn't tell in the dark). I looked down at him,
and saw that he was also hard, though of course he made a smaller tent than
I.

"How about we keep on watching the movie?" I suggested. "But ... what if we
spoon? Is that ok?"

He smiled and nodded.