Date: Sun, 10 Jan 2021 01:05:39 +0000 From: Simon Mohr Subject: Widowers Share Club - Chapter 1 - How It Began Widower Share Group Chapter 1 - How It Began Gay Erotic Adult Fiction by Simon Mohr All Rights Reserved This story is for adults only. If it is illegal where you live or if you are a minor please do not read it. This story is fiction and no resemblance or reference to persons living or otherwise is intended. Please donate to the Nifty Archive using the donor information on this site. Mark Feinberg started out unaware, like everyone else, of what course his life would take. He had married a high school friend named Rosa and the experience had been very positive. They had been in love, their baby Joseph was born, her family was a blast to be around, but something was missing. Mark thought back about the husband reveal thing. Five months later, Mark came home after work and found Rosa, holding a sign in front of her in the kitchen that said, "Hi dad, see ya in 9 months. All is well in here, though a little cramped. Any sun out there? I've been getting poked a lot by something. Doc says that's OK as long it's gentle. Maybe I'll turn out to be good at baseball or something." Mark's reaction had been smooth enough, but he was internally freaking out. This was another tie into an existence he wasn't so sure about. He valued Rosa and knew her well enough to finish her sentences. At the same time, his attention turned to his male colleagues at work and at the gym and on the street. He struggled a lot to understand why his thoughts were male-oriented. Mark didn't understand. He would not have believed that he was bicurious, or even gay, had someone come right out and told him, much less generated the idea on his own. His family history and all his friends were solidly heterosexual as far as he was aware, which is to say the subject never dawned on him. Smack on her due date, Rosa delivered their son Joseph, 6# 12oz, healthy, loud, eager to try what dad thought was his own 'property' for warmth, intimacy, safety, and food. Mark had mixed feelings about it the first time he saw Joseph latching on and sublimated all those feelings in about 3 minutes. When Joseph woke and cried during the night at times, calling for his needs to be met. Rosa and Mark developed a ritual. Mark would get up and pick Joseph up, sing to him, rock him in his arms, whisper to him about the good stuff coming, "You and I are the only guys in the world that are awake right now, huh?" Then Mark would change his diaper, and hand him to Rosa to nurse while Mark went back to sleep. Rosa would then put Joseph back to his crib. That system worked really well until Joseph went to formula and more solid foods after that. On the eve of Joseph's eighth birthday, Rosa and Mark were naked on the sheets smack dab in the middle of sex when a small voice sounded at the bedside. "Daddy, are you hurting mom?" There was a rapid rustle of sheets, and Joseph was whisked into bed with them. "No, Joseph," said his mom, "Your dad and I were playing like you play every day. You have your favorite toys. Moms and Dads have their favorite toys too. Your dad likes to kiss me and make noise and so do I. Dad and Mom like to play. It's OK." Joseph might have been sleepwalking for all the interest he took in that speech. He slept the rest of the night in their bed and after the initial shock, so did Mark and Rosa. The vacation the family took at a dude ranch in Oklahoma when Joseph was twelve brought the subject up again. Joseph spent time sitting on a fence watching the bulls and cows. After an afternoon of that, Joseph asked his dad if he had a minute. "I saw the bull playing with the cow, dad. He got up on her back like you and mom did in bed that night, but he didn't stay there very long. His toy was the size of a baseball bat, dad! Why do animals play?" "You ask a great question, son. When you are older, we can talk more about it. "I guess I'll know when I grow up, huh Dad? Rosa died of uterine cancer after some suffering, some of it physical, treated with morphine at the end. At lot of it was mental, leaving her boys behind. She left a key with Mark a week or so before she died. Rosa asked him to use it to open a private safe deposit box at their bank after she was gone. Mark was determined not to injure himself or Joseph grieving for Rosa. He was, in general, not happy with her for dying and leaving him and felt guilty for feeling that way. He missed her so much his stomach knotted in pain at night and sleep got to be a rare commodity. During one of those sleepless nights, he remembered the key and put a note on the fridge to go to the bank the next day. At the bank, he presented her death certificate, one of ten copies he had made and notarized for after death transfers and official representations that had to be made. The key fit a slim deposit box along with the bank key. Mark removed the contents and studied them. One document addressed to Mark was a letter in which Rosa told him just how much he meant to her. The other, a legal document, left a trust to Joseph to assume, at age twenty-two, the position of beneficiary of a very large company in Texas originally developed by Rosa's great-grandfather long passed, Joseph would be the owner and primary decision maker at that age. Before that, Mark was the trustee for Joseph until Joseph attained the age of twenty-two. A check for $100,000 made out to Mark was signed by Rosa's grandmother, the intermediate beneficiary, on Mark and Joseph's joint behalf. Mark told Joseph the next week about the trust and they cried together over Rosa's loss again. At age nineteen, on his birthday, once again, Joseph was tossing and turning in his room when he heard a curious sound. Down the hall, his dad was, nah, he couldn't be crying. Joseph got up, padded down the carpeted hall and pushed the primary bedroom's door open quietly. His dad was sobbing. Joseph quietly stripped off his under gear and lifted the covers, slipping in bed behind his dad to comfort him. Mark, still in his sleep, quieted and slept, his son's warmth keeping him asleep. Mark awoke early to feel his son in bed with him. More specifically, his son's cock nestled in his crack, humping him gently. It felt good to be close and warm with Joseph and for a moment wondered what was going on. Mark had to pee, got up, and on his return to the bed, found it empty. Wandering out to the kitchen without clothes, he found Joseph, also naked, making breakfast, pouring out cereal, tearing off two bananas, pouring orange juice, his long thick cock swinging back and forth as he walked. Joseph's eyes wandered down to his dad's package and the look on his face as he stood transfixed made Mark laugh. "You've seen it before, haven't you?" "I don't remember seeing it that big, dad." Joseph's eyes swung back to the breakfast table. "Dad, I hope you don't mind me crawling into bed with you last night. You were crying in your sleep, I think." "Thanks, Joseph." Mark thought about it for a second. "It was nice having your warm body to sleep with. I miss that." "I'm going to sleep with you every night for a while, dad, until you don't need me anymore." "I can't see a time when I won't need you, Joseph. Maybe not for that, but you are my right hand now, man." That night they slept comfortably, their dog Raza snoozing at the foot of the bed, guarding his family. The second night, they had read in bed for a short time and before Mark turned the bedside lamp off, he heard Joseph' voice. "Bull or cow, dad? Relax, you and mom played all the time. I can hold up my end and make the break a little less stressful for you and I'm happy to play. I don't have anyone else to love on. I just want to know who's going to be the bull and who is going to be the cow here." Mark started laughing about as hard as Joseph had ever heard. "You wanna play that game?" Joseph, startled, thought that yeah, he did but didn't say anything. He'd wanted to play with his mom and dad a long time ago, hadn't been invited to, and now he was an adult and if his dad said yes, then why not? "Dad, I need to get fucked or fuck someone. I'm still a virgin. I'm attracted to guys, not girls, and specifically, just you. I want you to fuck me or if you want, I'll put my cock in your hole." "Joseph, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I love that you'd do that for me. I need some time to think about that, though. You're the best son I've ever had." Joseph punched his dad's arm. "I'm the only son you ever had." In Portland, Maine one week at a CPA convention, a minor league baseball game was played. Mark and Joseph sat together on the metal bleachers in the sun. On the bleachers just in front of them sat a hunk of a college kid, wide shoulders, all muscle, blonde, rooting for the home team, easy grin, sitting with an older man he resembled a lot, equally handsome, less muscles. Mark and Joseph both thought they were father and son and after the game spoke to them, learned they were from Bangor, down for the game and for the conference. They were father and son, the dad down for a CPA convention, divorced, and free for supper before the next day's activities. Mark looked at Joseph, got the same look back with a wink, and invited the Taylors pere and frere to supper and a movie. Father and son Taylor looked at each other, a slightly troubled look, and the dad said, "Supper sounds great. We generally spend as much time as we can get together, though, in the evening . . ." Not missing anything, Mark looked at Rod Taylor and said that Joseph and he were the exact same way, they valued their evening time very highly. Mark looked at Rod and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Rod stared back for a second and began to grin. "Well, if Joseph and Christian get along at supper, maybe we can work something out." By this time all four of them were on the same page. Precisely. Supper, Italian, took an hour and a half, then the men all walked back to Mark and Joseph's hotel, only a block, it turned out from the Taylor's hotel. To make sure he hadn't misinterpreted anything, Mark took Rod's hand and whispered to him that he and his son were a couple. "If that offends you or if I misinterpreted something . . .?" "That's our situation too, Mark. I didn't want to come right out and say it. We've been committed partners since the divorce and have negative tests, both of us." The hotel room turned out to be too warm to wear clothes and it was a short time later that all four men were naked and touching. Joseph and Christian shared kisses and touches, stroking each other's impressive cocks, exploring smooth skin and and each other, getting more and more excited by the minute. Rod and Mark, only a trifle more sedate, had fingers in and around each other, tongues everywhere, cocks beginning to show real interest, eyes noting their son's mating . . . and the same idea hit both at about the same time. "We've got a couple of energetic, bright sons," Rod began. "We ought to get to know us as a group, perhaps join forces, move to Boston, buy a townhouse on Beacon Hill and share the place," said Mark. "I don't know if Maine holds you. Texas doesn't define me. Massachusetts is pretty open about life and being together. There are enough rich people around to support a Wealth Management Firm with two competent CPAs. The kids could choose from multiple great universities and colleges around and we could all fuck like bunnies at night." It was one of the longest speeches of his life. It was, in fact, the best idea he'd ever had. After Mark had taken Christian's ass much later, he decided that the idea might have been inspired or something. Resting later, watching Christian take Joseph's ass, that concept crystallized. After everyone had done everyone, everybody voted to proceed. To leave those assets on the table just wasn't good CPA practice. They hired a real estate management firm to buy the townhouse, got a deal from a little lady, recently passed, whose kids in Idaho were cash-starved and couldn't care less about anything in Boston. The Taylors moved down to Boston first and welcomed Mark and Joseph Weinberg to Boston lock, stock, and orgy. An office opened soon in a tall tower near Copley Place and business, though slow at first, ramped right up. At the rates they charged, they could pay the rent, insurance and make a darn good living with two clients. Their first client was Joseph's trust. That trust enabled both dads to retire, but they wanted to be useful, so they waited. The second client, the David Campbell Trust, provided more than enough to sustain the Wealth Management firm. That trust was followed by five more over the next year, all lured by better than average returns on investment and solid, personal management advice. Rod and Mark specialized in doing tasks for the clients that an ordinary bank couldn't do or wouldn't do or hadn't thought of doing. Both Christian and Joseph used a surrogate; Christian's daughter, born first, was followed a year later by Joseph's son, followed by two loving grandfather's retirements.