This story is a fantasy. It did not happen and it does not suggest that anyone do the things described in this story. Once again, it is a fantasy. Please don't copy this story or post it elsewhere without my permission. This story will describe sexual acts between males, some of whom will be of different generations. If you might be offended by this or if it's illegal for you to read this, then please don't read it. If you would like to write to me about my story, my address is ghbfna11 @gmail.com. Also, like a lot of other writers on the Internet, I have a weblog that I would like you to read at Gay Humanist Bytes Fascist; News At 11. I hope you like it and I hope you enjoy the story!
The sun reflecting off the mirrored windows of a building in the left of his window awoke Matt just before seven. He moved his head slightly and the glint disappeared. He considered going back to sleep. Because of Tim's arrival, he had taken a half-day Thursday and a full day Friday from work. Their appointment with the headmaster at the University School was not until eleven, so he could afford to sleep in.
He looked down at the sleeping form of the boy in his arms. All night, Tim had lain on him, his arm thrown across his chest, his legs straddling Matt's thigh. Matt had slept with quite a few men over the years since his divorce, even before then. However, never had it felt so good, so right. Even when he had lived with Jason, he had never felt the love, the need, the joy he felt that morning waking up to find his son in his arms. Perhaps this was what had been missing from his life, what he had been searching for all those nights cruising the bars, the love of his son.
He gazed down at the boy's beautiful face, at the thick, reddish-blond hair that fell over his eyes and across Matt's chest, at the sprinkling of freckles across the long, thin nose and the high cheekbones, at the delicate lips. He saw the lips quiver slightly and heard a soft sound. Tim's hips churned slightly and he felt the boy's cock begin to grow against his hip. He wondered what the boy was dreaming.
Twenty-four hours before, he had been terrified that Tim wouldn't like him or that he couldn't be a good father. Now, as he felt the soft, warm breath of the boy against his skin, he knew that he needn't have worried. He loved Tim more than he ever realized he was capable of and, because of that, everything would work out. The challenges of fatherhood, so quickly thrust upon him, would be easily overcome as long as he had the love of the boy in his arms.
Tim let out another "mmmph" as his thrust his hips forward against Matt again. Matt smiled and slowly, gently rolled the boy onto his back. Tim started to awaken, but as Matt rolled over with him, slipping his left arm under his head and around his shoulder, Tim seemed satisfied and drifted off again. Matt waited a moment and then allowed his right hand to slip down the boy's body to his briefs. As he kissed Tim's forehead, he laid his hand over the tight fabric and felt the pulse of the boy's erection.
Slowly, he rubbed his hand up and down the firm shaft of Tim's boyhood, feeling it press upward against the cloth of his underwear. Steadily, relentlessly, he rubbed as Tim spread his legs wider in his sleep. His breathing had quickened and Matt could see his son's eyes darting back and forth under the closed lids. He could only imagine the exciting dream the boy must be having.
Tim whimpered softly and pushed his hips upward against Matt's hand. Suddenly, he felt the boyish erection pumping against his hand as Tim's hips churned slightly. Then, he relaxed, his orgasm spent. Tim rolled back over onto Matt and the man smiled. He squeezed the boy and closed his eyes with joy.
An hour and a half later, Tim awoke to the smell of bacon frying. He felt a chill and realized he was alone in bed. He looked around the room and couldn't see his father. A momentary panic dissipated as he realized his dad must be in the kitchen.
The bacon smelled good and slowly, he roused himself. Crawling from under the covers, his boner pushing his briefs outward, he stumbled across the room to the bathroom and peed. When he was finished, he staggered down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Matt was at the refrigerator pulling out a carton of eggs when he saw Tim standing sleepily in the doorway. He grinned and placed the eggs on the counter as he held his arms out.
"Come here, little guy," he said.
Tim smiled and came to him. But, when Matt put his hands on the boy's back, Tim yelped and jumped.
"Your hands are cold!" he declared.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" Matt cried before leaning down and kissing the boy's forehead. "I didn't think. I'm making breakfast. Why don't you go get dressed?"
Tim examined the khaki slacks and gray pullover sweater Matt was wearing and asked, "Should I dress up?"
"Just regular school clothes. This afternoon, after we're finished at school, we'll go to the mall and get you some more clothes. Any style you want!"
"I've got enough clothes," Tim said soothingly.
"No, you don't. Two suitcases aren't enough. You need lots of fun stuff. Now, go get some clothes on that cute body."
Tim posed in the doorway.
"Don't you like me this way?"
"Yes, but Dr. Littleton might not. Now go, brat."
Tim gave an obnoxious look and just before running down the hall, he taunted Matt with another, "Old man!"
Matt raised a spatula as if he was going to swat the boy's butt and Tim ran giggling down the hall.
"So, which one's our apartment?"
Tim and Matt stood in the middle of Farragut Park gazing up the building across the street. The late afternoon sun was shielded behind the tower and a cool breeze tossed their hair across their faces. Tim zipped up his windbreaker as he looked to Matt for his reply.
"Well, the parking garage is five stories and the apartments begin on six. So count up to twenty-one and ours is the first one on the left."
"How many floors are there?" Tim asked as he counted upward.
"Twenty-eight. The Winstons have the whole north side of the top floor. That's where we're going tonight."
"They must be rich."
"How do you know them?"
Matt paused and took a breath, debating how much he should say.
"Come on, now," Tim chided. "No secrets."
"OK. I used to date their son."
Tim opened his eyes wide.
"They didn't care?"
Matt shook his head.
"They're pretty liberal about things. They donate a lot of money to gay causes and AIDS prevention and things like that. Kevin died a couple of years ago, so I'm kind of a surrogate son for them."
Tim paused a moment as they started walking through the park. There were some older teenagers to their right playing hackysack and some kids tossing Frisbees in front of them. Their laughter and chatter competed with the sounds of rush hour around the park. Finally, Tim asked, "Did he die of AIDS?"
Matt nodded solemnly.
"Do you have AIDS?" Tim asked, afraid to look up. Matt took him gently by the shoulders and smiled down into his worried face.
"No, Little Dude. I don't have AIDS and I'm not HIV-positive. God only knows why," he added, "but I always, always make my partners wear a condom."
"Why don't you wear one?"
Matt blushed, trying to figure out how he was going to finesse this one. Finally, he decided that honesty was the only way, though he could be discreet about it.
"Well, I normally am not the one who's doing what you need the condom for."
"Oh," Tim replied matter-of-factly. "You're the bottom."
Well, Matt thought. So much for discretion. Yes, you're old man gets fucked.
"Um, yeah. So how do you know so much about gay things?"
Now it was Tim's turn to blush and look downward. Matt grinned and gently punched him in the shoulder.
"No secrets. Remember?" he chided.
Tim smirked and nodded.
"Randy and his brother used to steal this magazine from their neighbor's trash. It had stories in it and we would read them when we were rubbing off. 'Sides. Eric was really smart about gay stuff."
"Hmm," Matt responded, not at all certain he liked Eric, though in 1973, Matt himself had been shoplifting Penthouse Forum from the neighborhood convenience store.
They came to the statue of Admiral Farragut, for whom the park was named, and Tim sat down on a bench. Matt saw a serious look on the boy's face and realized it was time for another serious conversation. He knew he would have to get through several of these in the early days of their relationship, as father and son grew to know each other. He sat down beside the boy.
"Dad, did you and Mom get divorced because you're gay?"
Matt said nothing for a moment and then quietly replied, "That was one of the reasons."
"Well, how come you got married if you knew you were gay?"
"Well, it's complicated."
"I figured it was."
"Yeah. Well, your Mom and I were friends in high school. Actually, she was friends with me and my boyfriend, Mike. Mike and I were in love and she was one of those girls whose like to hang with gay friends because they aren't always trying to hit on them. Well, when we were juniors, Mike's parents caught us in an embarrassing situation and they lost it and it got really ugly."
He paused a moment and then said, "Mike killed himself."
Tim looked up and saw Matt gazing off into space. He put his hand on the man's leg and waited for him to continue.
"Anyway, I decided I couldn't be gay anymore and so Jenny I started dating and in the spring of our senior year, she got pregnant with you. Well, her parents wanted her to get an abortion..."
He stopped, instantly regretting that he hadn't considered how Tim might react to that news. He looked over and the boy was looking downward.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking again."
"It's OK," Tim replied quietly. "I knew Grandma and Grandpa didn't like me."
Matt shook his head angrily.
"They're just the kind of judgmental assholes who would punish the son for the father's actions."
He waited a moment and then put his arm around Tim before continuing.
"Well, I told her I'd marry her and support her in college if she kept you. So she did. We got married. We went to FU since it was right there in town and you were born in October. I was so thrilled and I loved you so much. And, I worked full-time and went to school full-time. It was hard, but I did it. Then, that summer, I met Jason. We were both waiters at the same restaurant and one day, I brought him home while your mother was at the doctor's with you. Well, your grandparents caught us in bed and, well, the rest is history. You mom decided that I would be a bad influence on you and her parents really did a number on her. We got a really hard-ass women's-lib judge who hated men and I was so racked with guilt and shame that I agreed to everything."
"That's why you agreed to never see me again?" Tim asked quietly.
Matt looked away, fighting back tears. He nodded.
"I bought all the shit she and her parents were saying about how I would be a bad influence on you and how I didn't deserve to be a father. A year later, I tried to commit suicide. Jason saved me and we moved in together. I finished school and moved here and, that's pretty much it."
Tim had leaned against his father and Matt hugged him tightly, adding, "Except to say that I never stopped thinking about you. Ever."
Tears had formed in Tim's eyes as he snuggled tightly against Matt. The two sat silent, hugging and watching the Frisbee players beyond.
"Timothy Cameron, you are the best dressed ten year-old in the city!"
Jason and Steve were standing in front of the restaurant as Tim and Matt walked up. Tim had dressed for dinner and the party in black slacks, a white turtleneck, and a paisley vest. His light orange-blond hair fell neatly down over his forehead and swept back over his ear, touching his collar in the back and shining in the lanterns by the door of the English-style pub. Tim smiled proudly and beamed at his father.
"We went to Nieman-Marcus today!" he gushed. "Dad spent a thousand dollars! Can you believe it?"
The two men smiled at Matt, who replied, "Well, what are credit cards for?"
Steve shook his head in wonder.
"He's spectacular. We have to shoot him in that outfit tomorrow. I spoke to Cartman today and they want pictures Monday."
Tim looked at his father with excitement. Matt frowned.
"I kind of had plans for us tomorrow."
"We can do it in the morning and then you can have the afternoon free. How's that."
"Come on, Dad! Please! I want to be a model!" Tim begged.
Matt chuckled. "Sure. Of course."
The boy beamed and as the hostess led them to a booth, Tim watched as a dozen pairs of eyes, most of them male, followed him across the dark restaurant. Tim felt as if he was on display and he loved the feeling. But, when they reached the booth and Matt gave him the choice of sitting on the inside or the outside, he slipped into the booth and let Matt sit on the outside. It gave him a warm feeling, a sense of protection and security.
Sitting inside the large, dark wood booth, Tim looked around at the three men with him and smiled broadly. Jason gave him a grin and a wink as the men ordered beer.
"I'll have one, too!" he declared.
"No, I think you'll have a Coke," Matt said. Tim pretended to pout until Jason gave him a light kick under the table.
"So, Thing, I hear you're going to the brain school."
Tim grinned and nodded.
"Yes. We enrolled this morning. Dr. Littleton, he's the Headmaster, he's really cool. Everyone in the school is smart so I won't be the teacher's pet anymore and I won't get beat-up all the time anymore."
Matt bit his lip and put an arm around the boy.
"Yeah. Life's going to be a lot nicer for you now. I promise."
Tim snuggled close to his father as Jason and Steve smiled. Jason watched Matt's face for a moment and then said, "You know, I haven't seen that glow in your eyes for a long time."
Matt nodded and looked down at his son.
"I know. Who'd have thought that I could be a daddy?"
"You're a great one," Tim declared.
The waiter, a college-age guy with longish dark hair, returned with their drinks and seemed particularly friendly, especially to Tim, to whom he gave a flirtatious wink. Tim blushed and grinned as Jason watched with amusement, the only one of the men to notice. They ordered sandwiches and as the waiter departed, Jason grinned at Tim.
"You know, you're dangerous. You're going to give your dad a heart attack before you've even hit puberty."
"What?" Tim declared. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I saw the way you were flirting with that waiter. Don't you play innocent with me, Miss Thing!"
Matt raised his eyebrow and pinched Tim's nose.
"We may need to have a little talk about your new found freedom."
Tim crossed his arms petulantly and said, "I can't help it if I'm cute."
"Oh, man," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "I think I'm going to puke. If he's like this now, what going to happen when the hormones kick in? By the way," he added looking to the side, "Isn't that the guy from the other night over there?"
Matt looked to his right and, seated three tables away, was Scott, the blond hunk with whom he had ventured to the back room at the bar on his birthday. He was sitting with a couple of other handsome men in their thirties and a boy of maybe twelve or thirteen, with white blond hair cute in a moppet style and combed downward. When his eyes met Scott's, Matt nodded and smiled and then looked away discreetly. Tim watched the whole thing.
"So, is that guy someone you dated?" he asked.
Steve grinned as Matt squirmed uncomfortably.
"Yes, Daddy. Do tell."
Matt shot him a murderous look and replied, "I think I may have met him once."
He shot Jason and Steve evil looks and both reconsidered the sarcastic replies they had been considering. Tim simply snuggled, content that he was now the center of his father's attention and anticipating the excitement of the party to come and night afterward.