Date: Thu, 12 Oct 2023 22:49:13 -0400
From: Jude St. Jude <judestjude2357@gmail.com>
Subject: Sean and His Dad - Chapter 3 - The Conversation

Sean and His Dad

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Chapter 3 -- The Conversation

"Dad, can I talk to you about something?"

I must have started this conversation in my head about a thousand times. I
just didn't know how to say those words to my dad.

Spring turned into summer, but one thing really hadn't changed. My penis
was still abnormally small for a guy my age.

Another thing that hadn't changed was that I was still sleeping next to Dad
every night in his bed. In winter, we both slept in pajamas. But as the
weather got hotter, sometimes during the night one or both of us would take
off our pajama top as we slept. By June, we were pretty much going to bed
wearing only pajama bottoms.

And then, as the temperature kept increasing, eventually both of us gave in
and began wearing just our underwear. Dad wore boxers, of course, like most
men his age. I still wore white briefs and felt kind of embarrassed about
it. But I still didn't feel comfortable switching over to boxers, because
none of the other kids in my school were wearing them yet.

And besides, I thought, you had to be a man to wear boxers. And I was still
lacking the equipment.

Finally, I knew I had to somehow talk about it with Dad. I was positive
that he wouldn't get mad at me because he never got angry with me about
anything. That's how it was with us. He went to work and I went to
school. I came home from school, did as much of my homework as I could,
waited for him to come home from work, and then we made dinner together
with the TV on or else some music playing in the background. We ate dinner
together, told each other about our days, and then if I'd gotten stuck with
something on my homework, he would help me. Later, we'd wash the dishes and
clean up together. And then we'd get into bed together and watch something
on TV until we'd both get sleepy, and then we'd fall asleep.

It seems weird thinking about it now. I had friends in school, but I didn't
hang out with them much outside of school, except possibly on weekends. But
Dad and I spent all this time together, and it was always good. We never
fought. We never gave each other any reason to get annoyed with each
other. It was 100% no drama.

I guess, though, that this was exactly what kept me from opening up this
conversation with him: I was afraid to kill the goose that laid the golden
eggs. While I knew that Dad wouldn't be angry with me for talking about
this stuff, he might think differently about me. And I couldn't risk that.

But then, no risk, no reward.

I don't remember what decided it for me, but one Saturday morning I woke up
and somehow the decision had been made, even if I hadn't made it. I made a
soul pact with myself that by the end of the weekend, I would somehow talk
to my dad about my worries about what was happening -- or rather, not
happening -- in the front of my briefs.

All that day, I could feel my heart in my throat as I kept looking for a
way to start the conversation. A few times, I asked Dad about what things
were like when he was a boy, hoping that something he said would lead us in
the right direction.

He told me about all sorts of stuff I hadn't known, like skiing with his
own dad and brother in Colorado, or surfing in Southern California and
Mexico. He even showed me pictures of himself from that time, and I was
surprised how young he looked -- barely older than me.

In one photo, he was even wearing a pretty tight bathing suit. And sure
enough, I was pretty sure could make out the outline of his dick in a fold
of cloth. Even then, it seemed, he had nothing to be embarrassed about, as
I did. And I lay in bed for hours that night thinking about what I wanted
to say, and wondering what Dad would say in response.

I woke up Sunday morning, feeling like a prisoner on death row must feel on
his last day, knowing there was no escape. I remember that it didn't look
much like a beach day, but we both wanted to get out of the house, so we
ended up going to this park we'd always meant to check out and hiking
around there for a few hours.

Then it ended up raining, and by the time we got back to the car, we were
both soaked. We got home and Dad told me to take a shower and get changed,
while he ordered a pizza. I remember as I showered, I kept thinking about
what I was going to ask him, how I was going to say it.

Our pizza arrived and we ate it. I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely
remember anything else about that night. I guess we watched something on TV
in his room. I wasn't sleepy, and maybe Dad could sense that there was
something on my mind, because he turned off the TV early, then switched off
all the lights except a small lamp on his nightstand.

"Everything OK?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said, the way any guy my age would say that when you ask him if
everything's OK.

Then he leaned towards me and kissed me on top of the head, and I just
broke down crying. I didn't even know what was wrong, but suddenly it all
came out of me. "I'm OK, I swear, I'm OK," I kept saying. I really didn't
want him thinking it was any big deal. I especially didn't want him
thinking it was about Mom, because we talked about her a lot, and kind of
kept her memory alive in a way that made sense to both of us.

As I cried myself out, Dad just held me close. "What's going on?" he asked
me.

"It's so stupid," I told him, "It's nothing, it's..."

"Are you in any kind of trouble?" he asked, "Just tell me, and we'll fix
it."

"No, not really," I stuttered, "It's..." I just didn't know how to
continue. And then I just blurted out, "It's got something to do with
puberty."

Puberty sounded like such a childish word, but I didn't know what else to
call it.

"Sean, you know anything you tell me is OK, right?" When I think back on it
now, I'm guessing that Dad was already prepared for the coming out talk
that we'd have later on, which turned out to be barely a blip on the
screen. But at this point, I was hardly thinking about guys in that way
yet. Or rather, I was thinking about them, but I wasn't up for talking
about that just yet.

As we lay there together, Dad with his arm around me, my eyes started to
adjust to the near darkness, and the familiar objects around the room came
gradually into focus. Dad didn't rush me. He never rushed me with anything,
not even when I was trying to figure out the answer to a homework
problem. With Dad, there was always time for me. Never someplace more
important to be or something more important to do. I knew I was lucky -- I
just didn't know how lucky. Whenever a kid in school started talked about
their parents and rolling their eyes, all the other kids would nod in
agreement and consolation. But I just sat there like the bunch of them were
speaking a foreign language. It seemed that everyone's parents were
controlling, impatient, volatile, aloof, or just plain clueless --
everyone's except mine, at least the one I had left.

"I'm worried..." I started to say.

Dad waited a while, then asked, "About what?" He rubbed my shoulder a
little to comfort me, drew me closer to him, and waited some more.

Finally, I just blurted out, "My penis..."

"Hey, is something wrong down there," he asked. "Does it hurt? Do you need
to see the doctor?"

"No.... I mean, it's not like a doctor thing," I said. "It's just -- it's
just not very big."

Dad seemed to brighten up and said, "Is that all you're worried about?"

"Well, yeah," I said.

"Let me put it this way," he said confidently, "I don't think you're going
to have much to worry about in that department."

"Really?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "First of all, penis size sure isn't the most important
thing in the world, bud -- trust me. What really matters is that you love a
person with all your heart. That's far more important than anything else
when it comes to sex, OK? Besides..."

"Besides what?" I asked.

He thought for a moment and then said, "Well, let's just say that yours is
probably going to end up bigger than average."

"How do you know?" I asked, "Is it because yours is big, and I'm your son,
so mine will probably be big, too?"

"Something like that," he said.

Just talking about this with my dad was already making me feel less
worried. But there was something else. What we were talking about was
making my heart race in my chest. And that feeling made me say, "I just
wish I could be sure. Maybe I'd feel better if we could..."

"If we could what, bud?"

I steeled myself up and said, "...if we could compare them so..." I didn't
know how to finish that sentence.

Fortunately, Dad finished it for me, "...so you could kinda see how you
measure up?" he asked.

Gratefully, I said, "Yeah," and then, heart still racing furiously, found
the courage to ask, "Could we?"

The question seemed to hang unanswered in the air for an hour, until
finally Dad said, "I suppose that would be OK."

I almost passed out from the rush of excitement I felt as he said those
words. Instinctively, I kicked the covers down to the bottom of the bed,
exposing both of us in our pajamas. I even pulled my pajama shirt up over
my chest so Dad could see me better. But I didn't know what to do next, so
I waited. Next to me, Dad also pulled up his pajama shirt, revealing his
hairy chest and belly. Next to my thin, pale body, I felt a twinge of
inadequacy. I was really nervous, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.

"On three?" Dad suggested sensibly, readying his thumbs under the elastic
waistline. "One.... Two....Three." We both pulled our pajama bottoms down
below our knees.


To be continued...


Thanks for reading! If any of this story speaks to you and you've thought
about writing to me about it, please do: judestjude2357@gmail.com. I
promise to do my best to answer, especially if you're feeling alone with no
one to talk to about this stuff.

You may already know the narrator of this story, Sean, as a 22-year-old
friend of Jared and Tom, the main characters of another story, Inadequate
Men, in the Nifty "Beginnings" section Inadequate Men:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/inadequate-men/ This is Sean's
backstory, and you'll see how it connects up as you continue reading both
series.

Also, if you're interested, please check out my story, Corey's Struggle, in
the Nifty "College" section:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/coreys-struggle/

Thanks again,
TJ