Date: Fri, 24 Sep 2010 09:51:16 -0400 From: Z McGuire Subject: Discovering Nick - Part 3 of 6 Discovering Nick - Part 3 By Zane McGuire zanemcguire@hotmail.com UPDATE: Do you want to read the archive of ALL of my hot stories and get a sneak peek at new chapters before they post on Nifty? Want to find out what new stories are in the works and make suggestions for upcoming plots? Join the Erotic Fiction of Zane McGuire group at Google by joining here: http://groups.google.com/group/zanemcguire Now, back to the hot action... Feeling confident that he was alone, Nick raised his hips up off the chair and slowly began to slide his trunks off. I had a choice. Close my eyes and wait for it to be over... or watch... Guess which one I chose? I bit my lip and watched as he lifted his thick legs toward the sky. The trunks slipped from beneath him, exposing the underside of his fuzzy buttcheeks and his smooth balls. He pulled the trunks off one leg at a time and dropped them next to him, finally allowing his legs to descend before coming to rest on either side of the lounge chair. "Dear god," I whispered in awe. I had a completely unobstructed view of my boy's thickly muscled body; his strong, thick legs, covered in a dewy fur, leading up to an impressive lump of flaccid penis. I watched as he gently began rubbing his member, coating it with silky white lotion, coaxing blood into it. His beautiful hairy chest glistened with sweat and pool water, gently heaving as he concentrated on the task at hand. His mouth had formed a small "o" and his sunglass-covered eyes appeared fixated on his own dick. I knew I shouldn't be watching; I knew it was not only a perversion of our relationship, it was an invasion of my son's rightful privacy. I knew all of that... but I kept watching. My heart began to beat and I continued to bite my lip to keep myself from breathing too hard. Nick's hand massaged his dick slowly, but forcefully as it began to thicken. I could see small tufts of blond-brown fur surrounding his impressive package. Fascinated, I stood stock still as he worked it into a slight erection, then an even stiffer tower and then, finally, an impressively engorged full size hard on. My son was HUNG. I couldn't help but smile in pride as I gazed at his throbbing dick. Based on the way it filled his hand, it looked to easily be about eight inches, possibly nine. He had me beat, that's for sure. Speaking of which, the sight of my son working himself into a bone had the not unexpected result of sending my own dick into a growth cycle. I casually reached down and grasped it through my gray track pants, the shaft forming a thick, diagonal missile in my hand. As Nick began stroking in earnest, I paused to reflect on my feelings. Although I was immensely aroused and my heart was certainly racing, I found myself feeling less and less disgusted. Maybe it was my mind's way of justifying the situation; after all, I wasn't so much WATCHING my son masturbate as trying NOT to disturb and embarrass him. And, I had to admit, there was a sense of wonder and astonishment at seeing something I had made experience one of the most primal and intensely male experiences. It transcended a sexual urge; it was almost instinctive. Okay, at least that's what I was telling myself... Nick's lotion-covered fist was now flying in a rage up and down over his massive dick. He would stop every few minutes and slap his thick meat against his hand, which sent echoes of sound wafting across the property. I think he enjoyed that, as he smiled each time he did it. I continued to grasp my own throbbing dick in my pants, trying not to squeeze too hard, lest I have a repeat of the incident I experienced years ago when watching Marshall and Phil. "Fuck..." The sound of my son's exclamation caught me off guard and I nearly gasped. He released his prick, which slapped obscenely back against his flat stomach and laid there for a few moments in stock stillness. I allowed myself a slight grin as I recognized this action; I'd done the same ever since I had first discovered masturbation. Taking yourself just to the edge, then releasing before ejaculation. It made the ultimate orgasm all the more powerful. After a brief refractory period, Nick casually rolled over on to his stomach and brought his knees up to his chest. His beautiful, sun-kissed rear end was now airborne and I could make out the slightest hint of a hole between his tight ass cheeks. I felt my face flush as I realized I was now seeing a part of him that only his most intimate partners had seen. I felt slightly guilty, but also very honored. Nick reached back and pushed his hard penis between his legs and resumed stroking it. I watched as his heavy balls bounced up and down along with his rhythm. Just then, I noticed his left hand gently inching toward his fuzzy ass crack. Casually, almost hypnotically, he gently pressed first one, then two fingers into his tight asshole. I couldn't help but exhale slightly, impressed that my son had learned such amazingly wonderful ways of experiencing pleasure. I had never considered whether Nick was a "pitcher" or "catcher" in his relationships; I mean, really, what parent does? But it was clear by the ease in which he was thrusting into his butt that he enjoyed having things put in there. For a split second, I imagined Nick, back in his dorm room, in a similar position, with a man sliding his erect penis into his ass. I wondered if Nick had done that? I wondered what the man looked like. Nick had said he liked older, balding guys with nice legs and a hairy chest. I wonder if... Suddenly, in my mind's eye, the man who was thrusting into my son's upturned ass took shape. And, much to my shock and surprise, the man was me... I gasped in surprised, stumbling slightly as the image overwhelmed me. The hedge rustled and I quickly regained my footing, biting hard on my lip. Returning my gaze to my son, he seemed undeterred. If he HAD heard the noise, he must have dismissed it as the wind or something. There he was, stroking his huge dick, fingering his ass... I watched as a shiny coating of precum began to form on the head of Nick's engorged member. He must be a leaker like his old man, I thought. That would explain all those years of sticky undershorts and sheets I'd find in the laundry basket during his teen years. This went on for a few more moments before he finally turned back over and laid on his back again, grabbing hold of his dick with two hands, forming a tight double fist. He began to thrust roughly upward into his grasp, and he was covered in sweat. No wonder he had such great abs if this was part of his daily workout routine, I observed. My dick was now pulsing along with my son's, but I dared not touch it. I had allowed myself to continue watching by justifying it as somehow merely observational and situational, but if I allowed myself to have a sexual response, I knew the feelings of sickness and shame would return. I struggled to remain still as Nick began building up to his climax. He began to breathe heavily and I started to hear words and groans forming on his lips. "Ugh.... oh yeah.... oh fuck yeah, that's so good.... yeah, that's it, take my cock... take my big hard fuckstick..." God, that foul mouth, I thought, slightly put off. Where on earth had he learned to speak like that? But there was something somehow masculine and powerful about it, and I found myself licking my lips as he spoke. "YEAH! You like it, don't you? You like my big hard cock, don't you? I want to hear you say it, tell me you like my cock..." I almost felt as if he was talking to me; it was hard not to think that, as he was virtually staring straight at me, albeit behind sunglasses and me behind the hedge. But there was something incredibly shocking and erotic about imagining my son shouting at me about his big hard... well... you know. I wanted to call back, "yes, Nick... yes I like it, buddy. I'm so proud of you. Show off that penis!" But even I knew that sounded horribly lame. He certainly had a talent for verbiage, I will give him that. "Oh shit," he called out. "Oh, I'm gonna cum soon... Yeah, you wanna see me cum? You want to watch me shoot my hot, thick load? You wanna see these balls explode?" My goodness! I think I do! You know, just out of curiosity... "Well get ready, because it's gonna blow soon..." I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I wanted to see my son's orgasm; I wanted to memorize every moment and file it away, just as I had memorized his first steps, his first words and his first heartbreak. I was thinking these thoughts, justifying my voyeurism as nothing more than the actions of a loving father when Nick shouted something that changed everything... "Yeah! Yeah! I'm gonna cum... you want my cum, Dad? You want to see your boy's cum shoot all over your face, Dad? Suck the cum out of me!" "JESUS CHRIST!" I shouted, completely taken off guard by Nick's exclamation. He could SEE me? He knew I was here the whole time? Oh my god! I immediately stumbled forward, losing my balance and stumbling into the hedge. "Who... Who's there?" I heard Nick call out. "Oh my god, is someone there? WHO'S THERE?" I tried to regain my footing, but just slipped further and further into the shrub. I glanced through the branches and saw Nick quickly slipping back into his shorts and racing toward the pool gate. As I tried to find a strong branch with which to pull myself up, Nick came racing around the hedge, covering his still swollen bulge with his hands. "Who's there?" he said, lifting his sunglasses. "Who's... Oh my god... DAD!" Our eyes made contact, both of us clearly horrified. I was filled with confusion. He DIDN'T know I was there? He was just saying those things, calling out for me to... do the things he was saying... because he thought he was alone? But how could he... "No! NO!" he cried out, his skin turning a deep shade of red. "I...I thought I was alone... I didn't know you were... oh my god, Dad, tell me you didn't hear... tell me you didn't see..." I swallowed hard, still shuffling amongst the broken hedge. "Nick, I..." "OH MY GOD!" He turned and ran toward the house, his eyes welling up with tears. "Nick, wait! I can explain!" I watched as he ran into the house and slammed the door shut. Finally, I managed to pull myself out of the hedge. Covered with pine needles, I saw that my erection had (naturally) faded, and I raced toward the house, filled with panic. What had just happened? I was so confused. If Nick DIDN'T know I was there... then why would he say such things about me? And... if he thought I had heard him... oh my god, he must be feeling so ashamed. But he had no reason to be ashamed! HE wasn't doing anything wrong, I was! He wasn't the one hiding in the bushes watching his grown son pleasure himself, was he? But a little voice in my head responded: "No... he was just the grown son pleasuring himself while thinking of shooting his semen all over his father..." This had just gotten a lot more complicated. ********** I had been standing outside Nick's bedroom door for thirty minutes. He refused to respond to my repeated knocks and pleas to let me in. Inside, I heard him gently sobbing. "Son... please, please let me in so we can talk," I begged. "I promise, we can make this right, I just need to understand what you... well, what you meant..." "Stop!" he finally shouted back. "Please, just stop! I'm totally humilated and ashamed! I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it! I just want you to leave me alone and let me be!" "I..." I felt my eyes begin to moisten. "Oh, Nick... you don't have to be ashamed. I don't want you to EVER feel shame, son, not for anything. And... and you don't even know, you didn't even do anything to be..." "DAD!" he yelled forcefully. "PLEASE!" I stood there for a few more seconds in silence as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Okay, son," I finally whispered, walking away. I tried to wrap my head around what had happened. Maybe I'd misheard. Maybe he hadn't called out "Dad." Maybe it was "Dan" or something like that, maybe the name of the new guy he was dating. But, no, he had specifically said "your boy..." My mind was reeling. What did this all mean? Was it possible... did I even want to CONSIDER... that while I was watching my son masturbate, he was actually thinking of ME while he was doing it? I mean... what are the odds? And what did that mean? Did I somehow... corrupt him with my own twisted thoughts? Had he somehow realized I had been having these perverted sexual feelings toward him and they'd somehow... infected him? No. No, that was ridiculous. I was a logical thinker, not one prone to paranoia or crazy conspiracy theories. There was no way that my own feelings of guilt and arousal had in any way been demonstrated to Nick. Hadn't that been the very reason I'd stayed away from him today? No, whatever he was experiencing was 100% his own situation. But one thing was clear; we needed to talk. I had become very aware of how disturbing and hurtful it could be to wrestle with the shame and confusion of these conflicted feelings, but Nick had the added drama of having those feelings exposed in a deeply personal and embarrassing way. I had to help him through that. Nick remained in his room the rest of the afternoon, even after the twins returned from the city. They inquired about his whereabouts and I told them he'd been feeling sick all day and had just gone for a nap. They seemed to accept that explanation and went out to wash their car, as I'd planned. It was coming up on six when I finally heard Nick's bedroom door open. I was standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee. As he entered the kitchen, I noticed he was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes cast downward. "Nick..." I began. "I'm heading to the train station. I'll have the boys drive me." "We need to talk." "I can't," he said, and his voice cracked. My heart breaking, I started toward him, but he held up his hand. "Don't. Please, Dad, just don't. I still feel so embarrassed and I can't imagine what you must think of me." "No, you can't, so let me tell you, son..." "No, I just... I need to go." He turned and rushed for the door, grabbing his travel bag. "I'll... I'll send you an email later." "Nick..." "Bye, Dad." The door slammed behind him and I felt the coffee cup trembling in my hand. There's nothing to describe the kind of pain that comes from not being able to reach your children emotionally. Coupled with the stark realization that my son was struggling with shame over an issue that not only did he NOT need to feel shame for, but that I desperately wanted to tell him he was not alone in struggling with... I just didn't know what to do. He needed space, so I had to give it to him. He was a grown man, after all. But I was horrified to think that this misunderstanding might change our relationship, that it might make him build a wall between us that could never be crossed. I gazed out the window and watched as he jumped in the back of Grant's freshly washed Ford and they drove off down the country road toward the train station. ********** Later that night, after the twins returned from the train station and headed to their rooms to finish up their weekend homework, I made a call. "Hello?" came a voice I hadn't heard in far too long. "Marshall Akins!" "Yes, who is... well no, that can't be Mack Lawson, can it?" The booming voice of my dear friend made me smile for the first time all afternoon. "That's me!" "Well, now, this is a mighty fine surprise, Mack! Mighty fine! Heck, I was just about to sit down and write you an email, as a matter of fact!" "Saved you the bandwidth!" He laughed heartily. "Yes indeed you did! It's good to hear from you, pal!" "You too, Marshall, you too." We spent the next ten minutes with small talk as Marshall inquired about my work and how things were going back home. I asked after the promotion he'd told me about in his last message and whether or not the painters had ever come to finish his office. When he got around to asking about the boys, I took a deep breath. "Listen, I know we normally stay in touch via email, but I've got a... situation of sorts that I can really use your advice on, buddy." "Uh-oh," he said. "I take it this has something to do with that wily pack of boys you've got back there, huh?" "Yeah, afraid so. Well, just one. Nick." "Nick." He repeated. "I figured as much since you were calling ME." He chuckled. "What's the matter, did he tell you he wants to be a drag queen or something?" I laughed. If only it were something as simple as that. "No, no, not quite. It's actually kind of... complicated. And a little embarrassing. No, make that a LOT embarrassing." "Now, Mack, you've known me for almost 20 years and we've been through a lot of ups and downs together. You've seen me at my worst, when I was hitting the booze pretty hard after Phil died, and I can recall many an embarrassing moment where you never made me feel foolish. So you just tell me what's going on, and let me help, my friend." I felt warmed by Marshall's kindness. He was the closest thing to a brother I'd ever had, and even though time and space had come between us, he was never far from my thoughts. "Thank you, Marshall, I appreciate that." I gathered my nerves and began to explain what had transpired today. I didn't feel it necessary to tell him about my OWN tormented feelings, as my priority right now was reaching out to my son and helping HIM deal with his own. "Wow," Marshall said after I finished. "And you're sure, absolutely sure, he said 'dad'?" "Yes." "That's something." I sighed. "Yeah, and then he took off before I could do anything to help and..." "You gotta let him breathe for a bit, Mack," Marshall advised. "You think?" "Yeah, buddy. Look, nobody wants to be caught in a situation like that by a parent. And I mean, yeah, he was taking a hell of a risk sitting out there in the middle of the day, but y'all live in the back of beyond, so I guess he felt safe. But I'm still confused about something..." "What's that?" "How did you get there so fast if you had told him you were still in the city? Or was he just getting his freak on that whole time?" Shit, I hadn't thought of that. "Well... okay, here's the truth. I had already come home and saw him out there when he texted me, and I didn't want to embarrass him, so I just figured I'd stay hidden in the bushes until he finished and then..." "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Marshall said. "You're telling me you were already there?" I felt my face go flush. "Yeah. It's just he..." Marshall broke out into a huge belly laugh. "You sneaky shit! You were watchin' him, weren't you?" "What? No! Of course not, he was..." "Come on, Mack, this is me! I know you. And, let's be honest, you've always been a bit of a watcher." I felt overcome by waves of embarrassment. "WHAT? What do you mean?" "Two words, buddy. Snow. Storm." "I... I..." "Mack, just breathe, relax, it's okay. I'm sorry I never told you that we knew about that, but... well... I guess it never really seemed relevant until now." "But I... how..." "I saw you, buddy! I looked right at you. And then, when I came to the window, I saw your truck drive away and we found your footsteps outside the window." "Oh my god..." "Listen, it's no big deal, seriously. We were REALLY embarrassed about it, but hey, we figured if you were watching, you must have been enjoying yourself and..." "It wasn't like that, Marshall, let me explain." "That's what I'm saying, Mack, you don't HAVE to. It's fine. All I'm saying is, if you were watching Nick, I can totally understand why this is tearing you up inside. You were watching HIM and he feels embarrassed because he was thinking about YOU." "Jesus," I said weakly. "How the heck do you DO that? You put that together in no time fast." "I KNOW you, Mack Lawson." I smiled. "Yeah, I guess you do." "Listen... he's a man. A young man, but a man nonetheless. His hormones are raging, he's ALWAYS horny, and he's gay. Who knows, maybe he's got a thing for daddies or something, maybe that's what he meant, not necessarily YOU, just... a dad." "I'll never understand how all that works..." "You don't have to, buddy. That's why you got me. The important thing is, don't freak out, don't smother him and don't overthink it." "But what if..." "What?" "What if... what if it WAS me he was fantasizing about?" "Heh," Marshall chuckled. "What if it was?" "Well that would be... wrong." "Why?" I couldn't believe my ears. "What do you mean, why? Because that's... unnatural and unhealthy and... sick and..." "Why?" "Because... he's my son, Marshall!" "I know that, Mack. Relax. All I'm saying is, if he's fantasizing, it's just that... a fantasy. You mean to tell me, in all these years you've never once fantasized about something that some people would consider wrong?" "That's... I can't say I..." "It's human nature, buddy." "I guess..." Marshall sighed. "Listen, Mack... I can tell you're real torn up about this, so I'm just gonna be straight with you. I actually knew about this situation before you called. In fact, that was what I was about to email you about." I was stunned. "Nick? He called you?" "We were chatting earlier online. He's a good kid, and I like to check in with him every now and then and see how he's doing. He told me all about what happened. But listen, I'm betraying his trust by telling you this, and I don't like doing that. But I can tell how much this is bugging you. So you can relax." "So... he told you... what exactly?" "Just what you said. He was out by the pool, playing solitaire, when he said some pretty bold things, only to find out you were actually in earshot." "So... he doesn't know..." "Nope, he has no idea that you were there the whole time. Poor kid never put two and two together because he's so humiliated by being caught red-handed, so to speak." "But Marshall... are you saying then, that he told you he WAS talking about me?" Marshall fell silent for a second or two. "Mack... listen, does it really matter in the scheme of things?" "It does to me!" I exclaimed. "Buddy... look, maybe you need to sit down, because I have some old home truths to tell you." I took his advice and sat down at my desk. "Go on." "Look... I don't know how to tell you this except to just spill it. Your boy's got it BAD for you. He has for as long as he's known how to jerk off. He's said some things to me over the years that made me wonder, but it wasn't until about a month ago that he told me he fantasizes about you constantly." "God..." My mouth fell dry. "I... had no idea..." "How could you? I've tried to tell him to get out there and meet new people, get his mind off of something that could never happen, but he's stubborn, like his dad." "And now..." "Now the cat's out of the bag and he's reeling. So you gotta just let him lie low for a bit, Mack. Send him an email, just to let him know you love him and that you're there for him, but if you push too hard, he's never gonna be able to get over this infatuation he has with you. Assuming, of course, you WANT him to..." "That's... that's good advice, Marshall, thank you," I said, sidestepping his question. "And thank you for being there for Nick." "Of course, buddy." We made some awkward small talk, but he knew I was trying to absorb everything he'd said to me. I wished him well and promised to keep him in the loop as I hung up the phone. I sat there for a few minutes, thinking about his suggestions. Nick... my beautiful son, whom I'd been secretly lusting over for the last 24 hours, was INFATUATED with me. I couldn't comprehend it. It was too much. What I did know was that it didn't fill me with dread. Instead, there was a strange happiness surrounding me. Of course I wasn't happy that my boy was wrestling with these crazy feelings, but I knew that, much like everything else in our lives, we could find our way through it together. Marshall had recommended giving Nick space and letting him get over his feelings for me. That was good advice, but I also had something else in mind. I had to confront him about what I'd learned and I'd make sure my son knew he had NOTHING to be ashamed about. And if the best way of showing him how much I loved him meant giving him EXACTLY what he wanted... so be it. TO BE CONTINUED... Enjoying the story so far? Drop me a line at zanemcguire@gmail.com and let me know! Still to come... A grin began to cross his face. "And... what, Dad?" "I... I just kept thinking about... you... and the cockring... and those little nylon shorts you had on and... the lotion and..." "And that made you... what?" "It made me..." I gulped. "Hard son. It made me hard."