Date: Sat, 14 Jul 2007 04:18:47 -0400
From: niftyreadersclub@aol.com
Subject: My Son's Request 4

This story is completely fictional, so please read at your own discretion.
It involves moments between a father and son that are not regarded as
acceptable in lawful society, yet has a meaning all its own.  As I see it,
the world is a very scary place going into the unknown when on the other
hand, turning to familiarity, trust and safety I hold in high regard toward
experience, knowledge and understanding.  I hope you read between the lines
and see a message of this.  Comments may be emailed to
niftyreadersclub@aol.com.  Please enjoy...

Four of Seven

Neither of us really went into any kind of sleep, but it was that
relaxation that made it feel so.  I don't know how long we lay there,
adrift in our own worldly thoughts.  What I just experienced with my son
wasn't anything that I thought about this particular preference of
sexuality.  I wanted to talk with Nate about that.  He was nestled into my
side, his eyes open and blank.  For him, wherever he was, I wanted to know.
"Nate?"  I whispered.

A moment later, he uttered, "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Well..."

I went silent to let him think, to respond at his own pace.  "I'm excited
about it," he replied more quickly then I thought he would.  He moved far
enough away from me so that we could both lie on our sides facing each
other, our legs tangling together comfortably.  "I know it's what I want."

Our eyes studied one another thoughtfully.  There had been questions in my
mind about all of this since Nate's birthday, and now it felt like a good
time to ask some of them.  The first question at the top of this list was
the most important.  "Nate, have you been that alone in all of this?  I
mean, you have a lot of guy friends, people your age.  Haven't you come
across one other person your age that you suspect might be going through
what you're going through?"

"I wish, dad," He stuttered, chewing his lip.  "This pretty much started
when I was thirteen.  Back then, I looked around a lot, listened closely to
what my friends said.  I didn't want to come to you, it's just that..."
pausing, he furrowed his brows, thinking hard, "everything I heard
was...harsh, mean, even from my friends.  I had to laugh a lot, you know?
It just kept building up."

I reached over and touched his cheek, making sure he knew I was paying
attention.  I think he started to get somewhat emotional, but my caress
calmed him.  "I have a few friends that I was, well, attracted to, but
couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything out loud.  It was frustrating.
I became the jack off king when all my friends were getting the girls and
showing off, talking all their sex talk and stuff."  He smiled, so I
smiled.  I wanted him to believe he could tell me anything.

"Then one day, at home last year some time," his eyes danced cautiously, "I
came out of my room just as you were coming out of the bathroom.  You just
got out of the shower, and you hustled past me in a towel and went into
your room.  And I don't know, I just, I thought...I just started thinking,
dad.  I had just jacked off in my room, but when I saw you, I got hard all
over again.  It was like my cock wouldn't leave me alone.  After that, I
just started wondering if I could get some sort of...relief by coming to
you."  He chuckled.  "It took me almost a year."

I was so absorbed in his words that I actually remembered the moment of
that day he was talking about.  I was running late needing to do something
for my wife.  I nodded absently with the memory.

"Dad, what do you really think about gay people?"

His question jarred me from my thought.  "What?"  I asked.

"What do you think about people being gay?"

That was quite a question, and I didn't have an easy answer, so I pulled up
all the knowledge I had in the reservoirs of my mind from the past and fell
into an explanation that even surprised me.  "When I was your age, son, I
was one of those friends you talked about.  I was more mean back then, and
probably said a lot of the things you heard myself.  I guess...well...the
only way I can describe it that...when I was growing up, society put
homosexuality in my mind as being a...a...a monster.  Everything I heard
created a fog to my own sexuality, and I guess, out of that fog, a monster
appeared in my head.

"It had ogling eyes, sharp fangs, arms that reached as far as it could and
legs that ran so fast I couldn't escape, so I turned around and beat it up.
I felt that it wouldn't take no for an answer, that it stepped on the me
that I was supposed to be, I guess."  I shook my head to try to clear the
depth of what I was actually saying because I believed what I was saying.
"Nate, we straight men, there's so much we don't have to understand," I
explained.  "We get caught up in all of this controversy about it when it's
not necessary.  It doesn't have to become a monster to us if we're left to
be who we are."

I suddenly shut my mouth.  My son was staring at me in an odd way.  "Do I
look like that monster, dad?" He asked, holding his breath.

I pulled him to me and crushed him with a hug I meant with all my heart.
"No!  You don't.  I'm just telling you what society does to us, gay society
and straight alike."  I held him.  "I'm sure you're seeing monsters of your
own about this."

"Nate, you did right by letting your friends be who they are and not
putting any pressure on them.  They're still your friends, right?"  I felt
his head nod against my shoulder and the smile that formed on his lips over
my flesh.  "Don't forget that, son.  Not every man is meant for this."

"Okay."

"Okay," I echoed, slowly releasing him.  When we were looking at each other
once again, I told him, "I'm glad now."  Saying that was a relief.  "I'm
glad I could do this with you."  I looked down the length of our bodies and
burst out in a chuckle.  Winking at Nate, wanting to let go of what
suddenly became intense, I said, "We're sticky.  Let's go for a swim."  He
seemed grateful at my suggestion.

While we splashed around, he with his never ending erection being his age,
I thought to myself, this was cool.  This was worth it.  I didn't even
remember at that time what other questions I was going ask him, yet thought
they'd come up again one by one as time passed.  Nate was more boyish to me
now then he had been in the past few years, because he was released of some
burden that he learned he didn't have to carry.

At some point during our swim, Nate had asked me if we could stay naked the
entire weekend.  I humorously told him this was a fishing trip, not a
sexual retreat.  Though he nodded in compliance and we killed the day with
more fishing, my son managed to find a state of myself that I could do
nothing about, moving forward with his inquisitiveness.  He found my
morning erection.

I woke up Saturday morning with one of the greatest pleasures any man could
feel.  My cock was aroused and being played with.  Funny thing was, I found
my own arms crossed over my chest when I became lucid enough to open my
eyes, so it wasn't me doing the pleasing.  I looked down and saw Nate
slowly stroking my cock.  He jumped when I said, "That's my, ah, morning
hard on."

Calming down when he saw that I wasn't upset, he said, "I always wake up
like this."  He continued to stroke me as I watched.  Then I sensed
something.  There was something more here.  Looking at the side of his
face, I saw his mouth was open.  My cock surged with the thought that was
in my mind.  There was more exploring for him to do.  It knocked my senses
that I was thinking that my son was looking at my cock as if he wanted to
put it in his mouth.  It was weird to me that my mind went back to the last
time I felt that.  It had been years.  If I had slept moments longer, would
I have woken up to that sensation?

A storm engulfed me.  I was literally waiting for him to ask permission and
not knowing what my answer would be.  I'm sure he felt my cock pulse
rapidly in his hand.  Nate flashed a quick glance at me, our eyes met
briefly, and I saw the question on his face without needing the words to
understand.  He wanted to.  The height of my own horniness had always been
in the morning.  I struggled with this and yet needed it at the same time.
"Do what you want, Nate," I said before I could shut my mouth.

I heard his throat convulse in a gulp and I felt the heat of his tongue
slide down the bottom of my shaft, then his teeth contacting my flesh as he
closed his mouth over my cock.  Keeping my eyes closed, feeling the rush of
ecstasy that is a blow job, I went limp from head to toe as Nate found his
own need in this.  I didn't want to look, I wanted to be blind.  I felt him
struggle to push the sleeping bag further away and move between my legs,
kneeling there, suckling, finding his own rhythm to this.

It didn't take long for me to get to the heat of excitement.  "Nate!"  I
said his name in a deep voice.  `Ummph,' was what heard and felt against my
shaft, enticing me more.  "Nate, I'm gonna cum!"

I bolted to a sitting position as he tore himself off me, using his right
hand and beating my cock, I shot a geyser between us that hit our chins
when we came face to face.  I abated to the shuddering of my own body as I
watched my son grab his own cock, stroke himself quickly, and watched his
sperm spray out on my chest.

Nate came forward onto me and I fell back myself, our bodies molding
together in the wetness of our ejaculation, our breathing heavy, ebbing.  I
had no idea what time of morning that was, but we fell asleep again.

That happened again Sunday morning, and even then, it was still a surprise
to wake up to.

Our weekend passed pretty quickly.  The two of us had a lot of conversation
between us and perhaps a lot of conversation to go.  On the drive home, I
had many things to think about.  It was a rush of a weekend and many things
happened I was shocked that I succumbed to.  When we were almost home, I
looked side ways at my son.  He looked like he found what he was hoping to
find...acceptance in himself.  I couldn't help but feel good about that...

TO YOU READERS, THE BEST IS YET TO COME.  YOU'LL SEE WHY...STAY TUNED.