Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2023 18:58:04 +0200
From: Gareth Johnson <gareth@squirt.org>
Subject: I Want You To Meet My Son - Chapter 32

Brian woke with a hangover and a head full of regret. He felt nauseous
and the flashbacks of being forced to kiss Darren Tarling's young son
weren't helping. He was also carrying with him a sense of dread that his
late-night jack-off session had taken him down a dark rabbit-hole.

He stood in the shower - eyes closed, leaning against the wall - letting
the warm water cascade down over him, trying to erase his shame and
regret.

Throwing a white robe on, Brian wandered into the kitchen to get
breakfast started. Luckily, it was a Saturday morning - there was no
hurry to be anywhere.

"Oli - are you up?" shouted Brian. "Come and have some breakfast!"

"Morning, Daddy..." beamed Oliver, bouncing into the kitchen.

"What the fuck are you wearing!" exclaimed Brian, almost dropping the
hot frying pan he was holding. "Oli, where did you find those?"

"I found them in your office..." replied Oliver, looking down at the
silky red boxing shorts he had on. "Why can't I wear them? They fit me
perfectly!"

"Buddy, how many times have I told you not to go into my office!"
sighed Brian. "Those shorts aren't for you - they're from, um, a case
that I'm working on."

"Can I wear them just a bit longer?" asked Oliver. "They feel really
good. Maybe I could start going to boxing training?"

"They're probably a bit dirty..." mumbled Brian. "But I guess you can
keep them on for a bit. They do look good on you."

"Jacob goes to boxing training..." said Oliver, tucking into his
breakfast.

"Jacob?" asked Brian.

"The babysitter!" said Oliver.

"Oh, right..." nodded Brian. "I didn't realise he was into boxing."

"He's just started..." explained Oliver. "He said that the father of
one of the other boys that he babysits invited him along. He said that
it's a club just for dads and their sons, but he was allowed to go
because he was a guest or something. Doesn't that sound like fun? A
special club just for dads and sons. Maybe we could go sometime?"

Brian felt like he was about to throw up. He started stacking plates in
the dishwasher, trying to focus on anything other than what his son was
telling him.

"Hey, kiddo..." said Brian, trying to speak calmly and keep his
heart-rate under control. "When Jacob is looking after you, does he ever
make you do anything that you don't want to do?"

"No, not at all..." replied Oliver. "We always have lots of fun."

"What sort of fun do you have?" asked Brian.

"Um, just games and stuff..." shrugged Oliver. "Just games that he
plays with the other boys that he babysits."

"Kiddo, I'm going to need you to be a bit more specific than that..."
said Brian. "Can you tell me a bit more about these games?"

"Um, I'm not supposed to..." mumbled Oliver. "It's kind of a
secret."

"Well, secrets are important, but there's no secrets between you and
me, remember?" prompted Brian. "I promise I won't be angry or upset, I
just want to make sure that you're okay. I need you to tell me about the
games that Jacob plays with you."

After he'd heard everything he needed to hear from Oliver, Brian quickly
pulled on a pair of shorts and some trainers and stormed out of the house
to go for a run. He needed space, he needed to try and breathe. He needed
an outlet for his volcanic anger, and he couldn't look at his son - the
innocent young boy that he'd left in the hands of a perv teen, a teen
that had been molesting Oliver at every opportunity.

As he pounded along the road, mile after mile, Brian's anger slowly
subsided. His anger was replaced by what felt like an enormous weight on
his chest - crushing disappointment in himself. He couldn't escape the
feeling that this was all of his fault - it was his obsession with work
that had meant that he needed a sitter to look after his son, it was his
obsession with work that had taken him through the doors of the Centaur
Club on the trail of corrupt police officers, it was his obsession with
work that had forced him to do whatever it took to maintain his cover and
continue his investigation.

Somehow, this felt like karma, or perhaps the universe working in some
particularly twisted way to collide his work with his family. The Centaur
Club was like some kind of immoral black hole that was sucking him in and
taking everything he loved with him.

"What the fuck is happening to me!" shouted Brian, coming to a stop,
exhausted - his hands on his knees, his head hanging down, trying to
catch his breath.

Brian had come to a stop on the edge of a park. Seeing that there were
some public toilets a short way along the path, he decided to wash his
face and try to pull himself together.

As he was washing his face at one of the basins, Brian heard noises
coming from the cubicle. The door to the cubicle was closed but the
sounds of sex were clearly audible.

"I'm in a fucking beat!" Brian said to himself, almost laughing at the
absurdity of it all.

"Yeah, that's it - you little cunt-boy..." growled a man's voice from
inside the cubicle. "Fucking take Daddy's cock! You fucking love it
when Daddy deep-dicks you, don't you boy?"

"Uh huh..." responded a muffled voice from inside the cubicle.

Brian immediately registered that the response sounded like it had come
from someone younger. He assumed that it was some kind of
intergenerational role-play that he'd stumbled upon.

He knew that he should just walk away and let these guys get on with it,
but there was something about the exchange that he'd overheard that made
him linger. Brian's cock was hard - he was horny. He wondered if part of
the dilemmas he was having with the Centaur Club was because his own
sex-life wasn't satisfying enough. Maybe if he was getting off more
regularly then being forced to kiss young Nathan Tarling wouldn't have
been such a big deal, and maybe he wouldn't have found himself jacking
off to the video of little Davey Tomlinson being fucked.

Almost instinctively, Brian moved towards the cubicle. The sound of sex
continued unabated - it was clear that whoever it was that was in there
was getting pounded. Brian wondered if he'd get the opportunity to slam
his hard cock into a cum-sloppy cunt - he pushed his shorts down and
started jacking in readiness.

As he approached the cubicle, Brian realised that the door wasn't locked
- it was nearly closed, but still a little ajar. He pushed it gently,
opening the door a little so that he could see inside.

"You want some of this?" growled the man, looking back over his
shoulder at Brian.

"Fuck yeah..." nodded Brian, pre-cum flowing from his cock.

"Yeah, let's tag-team this whore..." growled the man. "I'll hold him
- you fuck him."

Almost effortlessly, the big man picked up the boy he was fucking and
lifted him into position. The man was now sitting on the toilet, holding
the boy in his lap, presenting him to Brian.

"Have at it..." winked the man, pulling the boy's knees back towards
his chest, exposing his ass. "I've loosened him up real good - you can
slam it straight into him."

"How old is this kid?" asked Brian, seeing the boy's face for the
first time.

"Are you going to fuck or are you going to ask questions?" growled the
man, taking hold of Brian's hard cock and pulling him in close to the
boy.

"Ungh..." grunted Brian, as he pushed his cock forward - entering the
boy's stretched fuck-hole. "Fuck. I'm going to fuck."

"Yeah, that's right..." grinned the man. "You wouldn't be at this
beat unless you were a certified fucking perv. Nothing hotter than
watching a perv breed my son. Fucking knock my boy up - fill him with
your filthy perv cum you nasty fucker!"


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