Date: Thu, 1 Aug 2013 06:10:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: BH
Subject: Dad and Me at the Lake House - 5

Dad was going to be back soon. I know this was what I wanted, but I wasn't
sure what to do. Did he know it was me or not? Is that why he was heading
back to the house? And if so, was he mad? Or was he following the advice of
his new friend, and was coming back to make a move on his son?

Either way, I didn't want to be naked and lying in the big bed when we came
in. I wanted to be the one holding all the cards, the one of us in
control. But I feared that moment had passed.

I struggled to get my pants on over my hard dick. And then slipped a shirt
on. I had a thick slime coating my left hand from prolonged stroking. I
smelled my palm. The smell would give me away if nothing else did. I ran to
the kitchen to wash my hands. Looking out the window, I saw my dad walking
up the path to the porch. I headed to greet him, a beer in each hand, when
I noticed a spot forming on my pant leg where I'd shoved my still-dripping
dick.

"Enjoy your walk?" I called to him. I don't know why I was afraid, but I
was. I wanted to know what he was thinking, wanted a sign of what was
running through his head. But he simply looked up at me, an intense look in
his eyes. Almost like in the photograph I'd found of him. Except without
the grin, the playful mischievous flirtation. Approaching the house, he
looked like a man on a mission. And I would have given anything to know
what that mission was. If for no other reason than to prepare myself.

"You've been gone a while," I said. "Missing all the fun." I wanted to draw
a smile out of my dad, a laugh, anything.

"Yeah?" He asked. "What did I miss?" He stepped up the porch steps and took
the sweaty beer out of my hand and thanked me as he opened it. He looked at
the other in my hand skeptically. "You haven't been drinking, have you? Not
without me around, bud." And then he reached over to open mine for me
too. He twisted the cap in the crook of his arm. I never knew he could open
a bottle like that.

"I found a photo of you in Aunt Genny's room," I told him. "With grandma
and grandpa and her. I don't remember it. It's nice." I don't tell him that
I jacked off to it, staring at the expression on his face.

"Oh, I like that one," he said. "Uncle Steve took it the first summer they
owned this place."

Uncle Steve? I assumed Mom had taken it. The idea of Dad gazing at Uncle
Steve that way confused me.

"So what did you get up to while I was gone?" Dad sat next to me on the
couch, taking big swigs from the beer. He hadn't made eye contact, but it's
not like he seemed to be avoiding it either.

"Ah, not much," I said. And then I think of what Dad said about me earlier,
about me being secretive about my sexuality. I didn't want to hide anything
from Dad anymore.

"I pretty much jerked off the whole time," I said, laughing, and was happy
when Dad laughed too.

"I assumed that's all you do any time you're alone these days." And then we
clinked our beers together, like it was a toast.

"Pretty much," I said. "And hell, sometimes when I'm not." I was referring
to Trevin, who I still hadn't told Dad about--not entirely. But he didn't
ask.

"Well, I'm sad to have missed that," he said, glancing at my lap. The spot
where my dick leaked was still wet. And my dick was still a little
plump. Not noticeably, though.

"Just barely," I admitted. He laughed again. I wanted to tell him, No you
didn't. But I still wasn't sure if he knew it was me on the phone.

"There's something that's been bothering me," Dad said, suddenly
serious. "Maybe you can help me get to the bottom of it."

"What's going on?" I asked him. I wished I could take it all back. The
personal ad and our back and forth replies. It felt innocent at the time,
but now it felt terrible having lied to him and tricked him into sharing
personal details with me. If he had tricked me, I would have felt
betrayed. Why did I not think he'd be upset if he found out?

"That room," he said, pointing to my cousins' room. "Why is it locked?" I
felt so relieved. I didn't know what he was going to say, but I wanted to
hug Dad right then.

"I don't know. I'm curious too. The note from Uncle Steve said it was messy
so he locked it. But that's weird, right? Their room is always messy."

"Exactly," Dad said. He put his hand on my leg, right on top of the wet
spot, while he chugged the rest of his beer. "Let's get in there."


We spent an hour searching the fucking house for a key to the door. And
then we spent another hour trying pick the lock. Finally, I asked Dad if it
wouldn't be easier to break in through the window. I still hadn't finished
my first beer. Dad was on his fourth. He looked at me like he was
embarrassed he hadn't thought of it. He set the tools he was fiddling with
on the ground and we walked around the house to the window.

The house sits on a hill, the property sloping down to the lake's edge. My
cousins' room is situated on the side of the house that's elevated
somewhat. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach the ledge, and I couldn't
pull myself up, giving up after a few tries.

"Want to get on my shoulders?" Dad asked, and he squatted down, looking not
quite balanced and a little tipsy. "I got you, don't worry."

I put my leg over his shoulder and he held my shin. He then reached his big
hand up for me to take as I put the other leg around. It took him a second
to slowly stand, balancing his teenage son on his shoulders.

"I'm not a kid anymore," I told him, feeling his shoulders and neck flexing
below me.

"I can feel that," he says. "You're fucking heavy. Plus, you're sitting
funny."

Dad reaches up to grab my waist, and then adjusts how I'm sitting, pushing
my crotch all the way into my neck.

"We shouldn't both be balancing. Let me worry about that. While you look
through the window."

I could feel it in my dick and balls now, every time Dad flexed. He stepped
so that I was right outside the window. I put my hands up to shade my eyes,
peeping in.

"I don't see anything out of the ordinary," I reported. "A bunch of boxes
on the beds. Something on the floor, but I can't make it out."

"Try opening the window," Dad said, but I remembered how hard it was to
open this window even when it was unlocked.

The screen was loose and I was able to pull it out without damaging
it. Then, with both of my hands flat on the glass pane, I tried pushing
up. Nothing. I gripped the wood edges and pulled up. Still, it wouldn't
budge. Finally, Dad reached up and banged on the edge of the window with
the fleshy part of his fist. It was loud, but worked. I was able to slide
the window open.

"Now can you climb up there?"

"Yeah," I told him. He reached up and grabbed my waist again, helping to
lift me. I was surprised how strong he was. I always knew he was fit, but I
didn't expect he would able to lift me up toward the window while I pulled
myself in with my arms.

"We did it!" He yells, when I'm in the room. "I'll come around. Unlock the
door for me."

I tried, but the door wouldn't unlock from the inside. Only with the key. I
heard Dad's footsteps, and then saw the handle jiggle.

"Hey, let me in," Dad said.

"I can't. It doesn't unlock from this side."

"You're kidding," he said. "Well, shit."

I looked around the room. The boxes on the beds were labeled: books, den,
bathroom, kitchen. There was a garment bag hung up, and three duffel bags
on the beds with the boxes.

"Are they moving?" I asked my dad. "There's a lot of stuff packed up."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Clothes and house stuff. But a lot of it." I looked around more. There was
a plastic bin with a lid on the floor of the bedroom. And on it, an old
tin. Next to it, balled up, was something I thought looked like camping
equipment. Like a hammock or something, but with thick straps.

"Should I look in the boxes?" I asked Dad, and he said he wasn't sure.

I picked up the old tin, and twisted it open. It had a pipe in it, and a
big bag of pot. Some rolling papers and a lighter.

"Pot!" I yelled to Dad. "Uncle Steve smokes?"

"Yeah," Dad said, sounding nervous for what else I might find. "Maybe we
should leave him his privacy."

I put the tin down, and unlatched the plastic bin. There was all sorts of
stuff in there--letters, a ring, an old mix tape. And that's when I found
the envelope. It had a stack of polaroids in it, wrapped with a rubber
band. I put the band around my wrist and started to flip through them.

"Anything else?" Dad asked. I didn't tell him what I'd found, not
yet. There in the photos was my uncle, naked from the waist down, hard. In
another, he was bending over, exposing his asshole. I couldn't believe what
I was seeing. And then, I saw the next picture: my dad, naked too but
flaccid, laying on a bed, smoking a cigarette. It was the summer he had a
beard. I don't remember how old I was when he grew it out. Early middle
school, maybe. In another picture, my uncle's dick is in his mouth. And in
another, Dad has cum all over his beard.

I got hard, flipping through the rest of the pictures. All seem to be from
the same summer trip. My dad's hair chest. Flexing his back. My uncle
sucking on my dad's nipple.

"Kyle, maybe you should get out of there," Dad said. I'm feeling brazen and
horny. My dad is the one with the secrets, not me.

"There are some pictures you should see, Dad." I said it and instantly
regretted it.

"I'll come back around," he told me, and before I knew it he was back at
the window. I handed him the polaroids, wrapped in the rubber band, and
watched his face as he flipped through them.

"Fuck," he said to himself. "I certainly didn't expect you to find these. I
didn't think Steve still had them."

"How long were you cheating on Mom?" I asked. "Is that why she left?"

"No, no. She left because she wanted a richer husband," Dad said, trying to
protect me. "Your uncle and I fooled around drunk a few times. All during
that one summer. Your mom never knew about it. Though it was her idea for
me to explore."

"Explore?" I ask him. I couldn't believe it. Was Dad gay? Bi? And Mom
knew?!

"Why don't you put these back, just as you found them. Climb down, and
we'll talk."

"Okay," I said, and put everything back as I found it.

"But bring the pot," Dad said, and so I did.


Dad rolled himself a joint, while he told me the story. He said I was too
young to smoke, but that I could watch. He sprinkled some of the weed into
a crease in the paper, and I watched as he explained how Uncle Steve and
Aunt Genny had a special relationship before my cousins were born. That
they were "swingers" who sometimes play with other couples. And one summer
Uncle Steve talked Dad into visiting the lake house without my mom, and the
two of them messed around. Aunt Genny knew. My mom knew. Everyone knew but
me.

"And you liked it?" I asked my dad, imagining him sucking my uncle's dick,
letting him cum on his face and beard.

"Yeah, of course," Dad said, lighting up. "It was sex. Sex is fun."

"But gay sex? You're not gay though."

"No, I'm not gay. But, I could still like it." Dad sighed. I could tell the
weed was starting to effect him. "Son, are you okay talking about this with
me? I don't want another freak out from you."

"What? I didn't freak out!" I didn't know what he meant.

"When I jerked off in front of you," Dad said. He put his hand on my
shoulder, and I looked into his doped up eyes. "Fuck, when I jerked off
onto you. Maybe I shouldn't have done that. I don't know, I just wanted to
get you to talk to me about what's going on with you." And then he
shrugged, like he was finished worrying about it.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm not weird about that. In fact..." I didn't want to
finish what I was going to say.

"What?" Dad gripped my shoulder now. "It's okay, son."

"This has already been a crazy trip for me, Dad," I told him. "And I don't
want to mess it up."

"What do you mean? How could you mess it up?"

Maybe it was that I was so close to cumming earlier, and never did. Maybe
it was the one beer, or the look on Dad's face while he worked, trying to
pick the lock. Maybe it was his big hand, reaching up for mine outside, or
the feeling of my crotch against the back of his neck. Or maybe it was
seeing those pictures. Hearing the story. I was so horny that I was no
longer scared of what would happen if I leaned over and put my hand high on
my father's leg. I didn't get a lump in my throat, worrying about his
reaction. I knew that if I took the lead, my dad would follow. And that we
would both like it.

"I want to explore too," I admitted.

"Then you should," Dad said, seeming pleased to have made his point.

I looked him in the eyes. I gave his knee a tickle with my thumb. His leg
was hairier than mine. His knee bigger, warmer.

"I mean, with you," I clarified. "I want to explore now."