Max’s Freudian Slip



Author’s Notes:

This is the fictional account of a relationship that develops between a man and a teenage boy.  It might involve some sex at some point (wink), so if that sort of thing offends you, then maybe you should go read something else.

If you desire a super quick sex story to wank to, this is probably not your cup of tea.   (Check out my Trey and Uncle Bill story which is more suitable for that – in addition to being a good story).

If you like my writing, my other stories on nifty can be found here:


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Chapter 1 - Intro

New Year’s Eve found us at our usual place for the occasion - across the street at our favorite neighbor’s house.   We met these neighbors thirteen years ago.   Adam and Lisa Reed moved into their new house just a few days before we moved into ours.  (Our houses were completed at the roughly the same time.) We hit it off immediately and have been close friends ever since.  

When the Reed’s moved in, their two small boys, Jackson and Noah were 2 ½ and a couple months old.  Our daughters (who were a few years older) took an immediately liking to the boys.  As our families grew closer over the years, our daughters considered Jackson and Noah to be ‘little brothers from another mother’ and similarly, the boys looked up to our girls as big sisters.   Our girls were both tomboys and excelled at basketball and soccer.   We had a full size soccer goal in our back yard and a large flat driveway with a nice basketball goal.   When the boys were a little older, our girls spent a ton of time schooling the boys on the basics of both sports, and they too subsequently became stud athletes themselves.   (And they still are.)  There bonds only grew stronger when our daughters watched their boys during summer breaks.

But our daughter’s weren’t the only one to take a liking to Jackson and Noah….. as a happily-married - but very closeted - bisexual man and boy lover, having two cute athletic boys around was certainly something I appreciated about our new surroundings.   It’s been a pleasure to watch them grow up and to get closer to them.   Before you go ‘there’ – you should know that I’ve never done a single thing sexually with either one of them, nor would I.  In fact, (sadly) I’ve never even seen either one nude.  There are more facets to loving boys than interacting sexually and with Jackson and Noah, it is all those other facets that have provided me tremendous happiness over the years. 

We’ve gone on vacations up into the mountains together and I’ve taught both boys to ski.   (They quickly surpassed their parents and jumped right to hard blues and black diamond runs with my daughters, wife, and me.)   We’ve baby sat them some and we’ve even taken them along to Florida a couple times without their parents.   We also take them to various events around town – sporting events, comedy shows, etc.  Their parents have had some rough job luck over the years and we’ve been there to pick up the slack some when their entertainment budget was temporarily eliminated.  There have been a couple times when they were worried that they might even have to downsize in order to avoid losing their house to foreclosure.

Thankfully, that never materialized, and Jackson and Noah, now 15 and 13, look up to me as they would to a favored uncle.   And that honestly, is worth more to me than any sexual encounter.   Does this mean that they haven’t been the subject of a few fantasies or a bit of curiosity over the years?  No!  A boy lover can’t be around boys and not at least think about them a little bit sexually.   I often wondered about what their good parts might look like?  Are they circumcised?   When Noah was little and would jump up and give me hugs, the feel of his little boy dick pushing into my stomach was unmistakable.   Was he actually more endowed than his brother?  These are the things that occupy the mind of a boy lover.


The Reed’s New Year’s Eve party is a very low key event.   Usually just a few other adults and some friends of the boys come and hang out until we sip some champagne at midnight and go home.  Sometimes the boys have a friend or two spend the night.   Last year was especially entertaining for me as Jackson was old enough that his parents allowed him and his three friends to play Cards Against Humanity.    My daughter, who was home from college, and I couldn’t resist playing with them.  It was a riot watching freshman boys try to decipher some of the bizarre sexual references made on some of the cards.    Watching them giggle when they would look stuff up on urban dictionary was entertaining.

As you might know, watching boys in the throes of puberty discuss sexual things is definitely a bit of a thrill for anyone attracted to boys.  Anything including boys and sexuality, even if it’s talk, is a turn on.  When they realized I would actually answer their questions simply, honestly and without judgment, they began asking me question after question as the night wore on.   (A couple of the boys were pretty naïve, but maybe none more than Jackson.)  It was a bit awkward with my daughter there, but we’d always had frank and open talks about everything, so it wasn’t that uncomfortable.  It was more embarrassing for the boys probably – especially when one of the boys wanted to know why he hadn’t had a wet dream yet.   “They got us all freaked about it way back in 5th grade and made us think it was gonna happen right away.  And what, I’m 15 and still haven’t had one,” one of the more naïve boys, Gabe, asked.    It was obvious at a glance that he was well into puberty and producing sperm and perfectly capable of having wet dreams, if he’d ever let the warehouse get full enough to require one.                 “Well,” I told him just loud enough a couple of the other boys could hear, “maybe it you took a long enough break from masturbating, you’d find out.”   Gabe turned a little red and the other boys laughed.  It actually made me feel a little bad for maybe embarrassing him, so I put my arm on his shoulder and reminded him that everyone did it before focusing everyone’s attention back to the game by reading the next card.   But that was last year.

This year’s party was the most chill yet.   My wife, daughter, and I came over but besides us, it was just one other family plus another friend of Noah’s that was there.   The other family had two boys that are in the same grade as Jackson and Noah.   They met when Caleb was in Jackson’s kindergarten class and had been friends ever since.  In fact, Noah and their younger son, Aidan, also ended up in a few classrooms together at elementary school.   Caleb and Aidan both play baseball and are big time into scouting.   But they don’t come off as the nerdy boy scout types at all.   Caleb is pushing 6’ and is looking more manly than boyish, with scruff on parts of his face.   Aidan is your typical 13 year old – light brown hair, braces, short haircut, somewhat hyper.

At this point, given the titles of this story, you’re probably starting to wonder…”Who the hell is Max?”  Well Max is Noah’s best friend.    He was at the party alone and spending the night.   Lisa and Max’s mom were sorority sisters at college.   They both moved to our city after college and have remained friends.   Max, an only child, was born a few months ahead of Noah and the boys have played together ever since they were infants.

Max has been at the Reed’s house many times, so I’d gotten to know him a little over the years.   He was a funny, outgoing kid and full of energy.    The really cool thing about Max is that he is an absolutely amazing gymnast.   The first time that I met him he was probably 8 years old.  He was playing outside with Noah when he out of nowhere, flipped into a handstand and walked on his hands all the way up their driveway.   Being upside down, his t-shirt of course fell down, revealing an amazing 6 pack.   My boy loving sirens erupted.  Max was amazing in every way, even if he was younger than the ages of boys that really got me started.   He was adorable, funny, and was absolutely ripped.

I had not seen Max for several months, since summer at least.    When I went to the basement to get a beer from the bar tap, I did a double take when I saw him.  The puberty monster had gotten to him.   He hadn’t shot up much heightwise – in fact he was still quite short for his age (which is a great thing for aspiring gymnasts), but his face was completely devoid of the gentle softness of boyhood.  His face, though still smooth, now looked stern and rugged.   His hair was longer than I had seen it, spiked on top in a flowing blonde wave.   And his muscles, which had always been apparent, were now bulging against his shirt at every point - from his neck, to his upper arms and across his chest.  Max was clearly not a little boy any more.

“Holy shit Max.  You’ve grown a bit I think,” I said to him.  He was on the couch, watching the other boys play video games.

“Oh hey Craig!  How’s it going?” He shot me a smile and a wave.   We’d always had a good rapport and I could tell he was genuinely glad to see me.  

As I popped open my beer, I asked him about gymnastics and school.  I avoided asking about his home life for reasons I’ll explain in a later chapter.   After a brief chat, I rejoined the adults upstairs (though I would probably have enjoyed hanging out with the teens more.)


The adults were all sitting around the table talking and listening to the boys roughhouse in the basement.   We weren’t sure what they were doing, but you could hear balls bouncing off walls and lots of yelling (the good kind) and laughter.   Suddenly, we heard one of the boys yell “Oh shit,” and then the sound of someone charging up the stairs.

“Quick,” Noah said as he pushed open the door from the basement in a hurry.   I think everyone’s first thought was that someone was hurt and we all started to stand.  We were all relieved when Noah blurted out “Get a towel! Spill!”  Their basement just had new carpet installed and I am sure he was worried about getting in trouble for spilling a drink.   A stray ball had probably knocked it over.

I was standing near the kitchen island at that point and saw a roll of paper towels and two kitchen towels on the counter.  “I got this,” I announced as I grabbed the towels.   I knew if I helped clean it up, it would keep the boys from getting into hot water.   Little things like that are what get you help endear you.

I followed Noah back downstairs and he showed me where a large cup of Coke had been knocked off a stool.    I helped him begin to soak it up with the towels.   The other boys must have decided it would be a good idea to do something less rambunctious.  Caleb and Jackson were each splayed on a couch, thumbing through their phones.   Aidan was crawling around on the couch looking bored.    Max, always the high energy one, was standing by the TV tossing a small basketball (presumably the one that caused the spill).

As Noah and I were finishing up with the spill, Aidan shot a question to Max.  “Hey Max, you got a girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?  Hell no!” Max answered and then paused.   “I don’t want one.”  Another short pause.  “I’d rather have a boyfriend,” he continued tossing the ball up and down.

What did he just say? Wow!  I looked up at him and grinned.  Just as he caught my eye he blurted out.  “Just kidding!”

I was making my way up the stairs with the dirty towels when Max came running up, pushing past me.   He was breathing heavily.   I grabbed his shoulder as he passed.  “You ok Max?”

“Yeah,” he said panting, “I uh… just need to get a drink.”

“Me too,” I added.   I dumped the towels onto the counter and followed Max out into the garage where there were coolers full of water, pop and beer.    Max was a few seconds ahead of me and had already popped open a water bottle and guzzled half of it down.   He clearly was content to chill in the garage for a few moments as he was making no movement back towards the door.

“Are you sure you’re okay,” I asked.   I was pretty sure I knew what was wrong.  He had just blurted out a potentially unlikable truth about himself to four teenage boys that he didn’t intend to reveal.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“Max,” I said looking at him.  “Do you know what a Freudian slip is?”

“A what?” he asked quizzically.

“Well, it’s when you say something you don’t intend that reveals something about yourself.”

“Okay???” he said, still not getting where I was going.

“So like, when you said you’d rather have a boyfriend.  THAT might be a Freudian slip.”

He took no time to refute my accusation.  “But I really was just joking around!”  His eyes gave him away though.  He was nervous and I could see it.  I’ve always been able to read people, and especially boys, very well.

I had no intention of calling him out though.  “Ok, that’s cool.   I mean you can like whomever you want to like.  But Max?” I said looking at him.


I wanted to make it clear to him that I wouldn’t treat him any differently based on his attractions.   “I think you’re a cool kid.  I’ve ALWAYS thought you were a cool kid.  And if you did want to have a boyfriend, I’d still think you’re a pretty damn cool kid.   OK?”  I put my arm on his shoulder and gave him a shake.

“Ok, well, um… I better get back downstairs,” he answered.  It was clear he didn’t know what to say.  

“Sure,” I said, stepping aside.   As he turned the corner, I couldn’t help but smile.   Max likes boys!  I was sure of it.  My mind raced.   Could it be that he and Noah have experimented?   Does Noah know?   Did any of the other boys really hear what he said in the basement?  Could his secret be in jeopardy?


About an hour later, the desserts had been busted out.   Lisa, our host, is an excellent baker and had a variety of cheesecake and pies.    We were already full from the potluck dinner earlier, but everyone stuffed themselves further with dessert.   As we ate again, I shot a few glances towards Max.  He seemed to be acting like nothing had happened, but after several glances he caught me smiling at him and returned a grin of his own.

After taking my plate to the sink, I decided to make a quick run home get some of the things we had brought for dinner stored away into the fridge.    I was expecting a larger crowd and had spent all morning making a large batch of Swedish Meatballs (my grandma’s recipe).   Hardly a dent had been made in them and I didn’t want them drying out or going bad.   I had my hands full with the crock pot and the plate of cheese and crackers that my wife had made and was heading towards the door.   “Can someone get the door for me?” I asked to nobody in particular.

Max quickly jumped up from his seat.   “I’ll help you Mr. Peters!”   I just expected him to get the door for me, but when we got to the front door he quickly put his shoes on.   I didn’t really need help beyond the door, but I was perfectly fine with more of Max’s company.   I thought perhaps he wanted to say something more about our earlier conversation.

I gave Max the plate and we walked across the street mostly in silence, talking mostly about how the wind was really cold, as neither of us had bothered to put on a coat of any kind.    When we got to the garage door, I stepped to the side.  My hands were still full with the heavy crock pot.  “Punch in the code for me Max.   It’s 3744.”

“You trust me knowing your code,” he asked as he flipped the cover up and punched in the number.

“Of course Max.   Noah’s known our code forever.   He feeds our cat when we are away.  Any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

He followed me into the kitchen where I finally was able to put the heavy crock pot down.  “What do you want me to do with this?” he asked, holding up the cheese tray.

“You can just put it in the fridge,” I told him as I started looking for a container to put the meatballs in.   

I was slowly spooning the meatballs into containers when I realized Max was just watching me, quietly.   I turned and gave him a quick smile.  “I’ll be done in a second and we can head back, ok.”

“Sure Mr. Peters,” he said.

“You can call me Craig you know,” I said.

He was silent again.   “Ok.  Um… Mr. Peter, er… I mean Craig?”

“Yeah Max,” I answered, still attending to my meatballs.

Max began talking with a nervous stammer.  “You …um…. know…… I …um….wasn’t…. joking.   Earlier…about the …um…. boyfriend….thing, don’t you?”  His voice trailed off.

“Well,” I said, “I kind of had a hunch that was the case.”   My back was still turned to him as I finally emptied the crock pot and placed in the sink and turned on the faucet.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” he practically yelled, pleading.  “Please!”

His sudden urgency startled me and I turned to face him.  He was standing next to our kitchen island and his hands on the counter top.  His hands were shaking.   

“Oh Max,” I said softly.  “No, buddy, no,” I said as I walked to him.   “I would never do that.  Promise.”   I grasped both of his hands in mine.  “Relax Max.  You’re secret is safe with me.   That’s your deal to decide who to tell and when.”

I could hear him breathe a sigh of relief.    “Do many people know?” I asked him.  I assumed he had told at least a few people if he was telling me, a relative stranger.

He had calmed and he was no longer stammering as he spoke.  “No.  Nobody.  Well except you, now.  Well, and the therapist I’m seeing, but she doesn’t really count.   She said the same thing you did, that it’s up to me to decide who to tell and when.  I was, um, just afraid I blew it tonight when I said that about wanting a boyfriend.”

I let go of his hands and cupped his head in my hand.  “I think you’re fine Max.   Jackson and Caleb had their nose in their phones and Noah was trying to get the soda out of the carpet.  None of them probably even heard you.  I think Aidan and I were the only ones who actually heard what you said.   And Aidan seemed to buy you were just joking.  I glanced at him and he didn’t seem fazed.  Besides, Aidan’s a boy scout.  He’s probably played with more dick at boy scout camp than you can imagine.”

My last comment made him laugh.   “Yeah, right,” he replied sarcastically.  “I doubt that!”

“Yeah, OK.  Probably not.  Not these days anyway.  But my friends who were scouts when I was growing up told me a few zingers about camp.   But things have probably changed a lot in 35 years.”

“Really?” he asked.  It was true! My friends had told me about circle jerks and all kinds of other play at camp.   It was the only time I ever wished I had been a scout.

“Honest!” I answered.  I would have loved to talk to Max more and pump him with questions.  Had Noah and he messed around?  Had he messed around with anyone?  Did he actually have a boyfriend in mind?  But I knew we’d be missed if we took much longer.  A boy lover always has to be cognoscente of things that will blow his cover and make anyone suspicious.    “Well, we better be getting back or they’ll wonder what we’re up to over here.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.   We half ran across the street to avoid the cold.   As I was reaching for the door knob to let us back in to the Reed’s house, he grabbed my arm.   “Craig,” he said looking up at me appreciatively, “thanks.”

I put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him gently to me.  “Gladly Max.   You’re a cool little dude.”


Once inside, Max quickly disappeared back into the basement.    I didn’t see any sign of him or any of the other boys until just before midnight when they all came running upstairs for the ceremonial toast.   We already had the champagne opened and poured into glasses.   Even the boys were allowed a small glass to try.  

As the shouts of Happy New Year erupted, everyone gave hugs to their family members.   Lisa made sure to give a nice hug to Max, which I thought was nice given he there was without family.    When he released from her hug, he followed me to the kitchen.  I had guzzled down my first glass of champagne and wanted more.    I don’t normally care for champagne, but this was actually very good stuff.  

“Happy new year Mr. Pet… Craig,” he said smiling at me.  

I put my arm around him.  “You too Max.  2019 is going to be an awesome year for you.  I can just feel it.”  2018 had NOT been a good year for Max.   There had been a lot of serious turmoil in his life and he really needed 2019 to be good to him.  (I’ll explain Max’s 2018 in a later chapter).

I normally drag myself home as soon as the toast is done, but the interaction with Max and the excellent champagne had me feeling lively.   We hung out a bit longer, and drank way too much champagne.  Someone had the idea to make mimosas and by 1:00 am, we were all drunk.  Well, at least I was.   I stumbled home and climbed into bed, drunk from champagne and still flying high from the wonderful interaction with Max.

My sleep was restless.  The combination of the champagne and thoughts of Max kept me from sleeping well.   Finally, about 4:30 am, I woke with a splitting headache and a dry mouth.   I got up to get a drink and take some advil, hoping to prevent a hangover.   When I got back into bed, I pulled my phone off the night stand and took a peek at my notifications.  Holy shit!  In between a few email and facebook notifications, I had about a dozen Instagram alerts.  I don’t do much on Instagram, so this was a surprise!   I pulled up the app to see what was going on.

Max had started following me and had liked a bunch of my posts.  It was cute and I couldn’t help but smile to myself.   My head was feeling better already! 

I immediately followed him back of course.  Well his profile was private, so it had to be requested.   I was surprised when he accepted it just a few seconds later – I assumed they had crashed but apparently he was still up.   When I brought up his profile, I realized it was even emptier than mine – just a few clips of him doing amazing gymnastics things.  As I was looking at his posts, a DM (direct message) alert popped up.   It was a message from Max.

Max1122: hey! ur up?

Me: Yeah, my head was killing me.  And I was thirsty.  You guys are still up?  Geez!

Max1122:  They are still playing ps4 in the basement.  I came up to Noah’s bed.  I needed to get away from them.

Me: oh. why?

Max1122:  They were being assholes

Me: really?  sorry man, boys can be like that

Max1122:  Yeah they were trashing on gays

Me: oh no! sorry!

Max1122: its ok

Me: no, it’s not.   that sucks.  were they doing it on purpose, to you know, get you mad?

Max1122:  nah, nothing like that just general dumb ass slams

Me: Well at least you know they probably didn’t hear you earlier.   I cant see Jackson and Noah being hurtful amd mean to u.

Max1122:  Nah, its mostly Caleb and Aidan and a bit from Jackson.  Noah was quiet.

Me: Good.  I don’t see noah as being like that.  At least I hope.  

Max1122:  idk for sure

Me: well its good you got away

Max1122:   Yeah.  well tks again for being so cool about it.   at least the first person I told was nice

Me: smile

Me: Hopefully it will be like that more often than not.  But not everyone will be so accepting unfortunately.  Like you saw tonight, huh?

Max1122:   Yeah smile

I was really tired at this point and needed to close my eyes.  Plus I couldn’t really think of what more to say to Max via direct message.

Me: You’ll be fine Max.  It’s a new year remember!   Get some sleep buddy.   Everything will be better with rest.

Max1122:  I know. laughing gn Craig.

Me: gn Max


When I finally drug myself out of bed late the next morning, Max was naturally still on my mind.   As were Jackson and Noah.   I was going to be very disappointed in my “nephews” if they were growing up to homophobic little jerks.   I tried to think of ways to feel them out on the topic but nothing came to mind.

I checked my Instagram throughout the day, but heard nothing more from Max.  Part of me wanted desperately to continue our conversation, but I convinced myself it would be better to just give him some space.  

The day passed without a word.  Then another.  And a third.   Finally, I found myself over at the Reeds on the 4th night – probing if anything out of the ordinary had happened on New Years.   I asked Noah if he had a good time with his friends and he said yes, but offered no details.  Long story short, I got nothing interesting from any of them.  It seemed as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, at least in their minds.

Two weeks had passed and I had almost put Max out of my mind, when I got another DM on Instagram.   But it wasn’t from Max, it was from his therapist!



Thanks for reading the beginning of this story!  Did you like it?  Do you think I should continue?  I would love your feedback at