Date: Mon, 14 Jul 2008 15:31:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around  Chapter Sixteen

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any
means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author.
As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a
realistic level.  If you are looking for sex on every page, then this is
not the story for you.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the author, Dwight Wilson, at adm2780@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between
males, adult and minor.  As such it is homoerotic, designed for the
entertainment of mature adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such
material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral
dilemmas, please exit now.

NOTE: Special thanks to Matthew for his time and efforts proof reading and
editing the chapters.  Want to read a couple of good stories?  Try "Never
Take Love For Granted" or "One Gift To Give".  They are both excellent.


Chapter Sixteen: Second Time Around


I had barely managed to get comfortable enough on the hide-a-bed in Dad's
old study when I felt something rocking the bed and my younger son trying
to burst one or both of my eardrums.

"HEY, DAD!  YOU AWAKE YET?"

"Nooooo, and if you want to be around to open presents I suggest you go
back to bed."  I could hear three distinct voices giggling.  They giggled
worse than girls.

"No way!  Grandma's already got coffee brewin' for ya and breakfast is
almost ready.  She said we had ta wait for you ta get up before we can open
presents."  I felt the bed being bounced around again, and then, something
about the size and weight of a teenager plopped down next tome.  He wasn't
any too gentle about it, either.

"You guys get littler every year.  You know that?"

"Yeah, and you love it as much as we do.  C'mon, Dad."  Michael had joined
the disturbance.

I had a pillow over my face and peaked out from under the edge to see where
my boys were.  When I spotted the closest one to me, not lying down, I
threw the pillow at him.  He just ducked and threw it back.  All three
boys, Eric was following only a half-step behind my two boys, thought that
was the signal to pile on top of me.  Three teens putting pressure on your
bladder that early can be very painful.

"Is your Aunt Bonnie up yet?"

"She should be; we yelled loud enough when we came in here."

"Okay, guys, I know it's Christmas morning and everyone's anxious to see
what Santa brought.  Right?"

"Right!  Let's go.  We've already looked.  The boards are nice.  When can
we use 'em?"

Boards?  What boards?  I didn't get them any kind of boards; although, a
paddling board might be appropriate from time to time.  Either Bonnie or
Mother did something and didn't tell me.

"Dad?  How come you looked so funny when we mentioned the boards?"  Michael
was serious; there really were boards under the tree.

"I looked funny because I have no idea what you three are talking about."

"Yeah, right," Frank answered.  I really didn't.

"Okay, slow down.  Let me get dressed and I'll be right out."

"Dad!  Dress afterwards."

I looked up to see Eric coming at me with a cup of hot coffee; starter
fluid.  I didn't even see him leave, but when I looked at the door again,
there was Mother.  Okay, so Eric didn't leave.  Mother wore a smile that
said she was enjoying all this.  She was also holding my bathrobe.  She
gave the robe to Frank and I was glad she had the consideration to exit the
doorway while I climbed out of bed in all my natural glory.  The boys saw
my morning problem that all males have and laughed like crazy; then they
turned around to see if Mother was still there.

                                           * * * *

The sight of the tree with all the presents surrounding it brought back a
lot of memories.  It was the same type of tree that I remembered, with many
of the same decorations.  Some of the decorations had belonged to my
great-grandmother.  The presents were spread and arranged like a real show
piece.  They didn't look like that when I went to bed the night before.  I
knew that Mother had been up early in the morning doing what she always
enjoyed doing at Christmas.  Half the presents didn't come out until after
we went to bed Christmas Eve.  Santa did his thing.

The boards the boys had mentioned earlier were under the tree.  Three
boards, same shape, different colors.  It was a good thing the manufacturer
wanted his name and the product name prominently displayed; it relieved my
ignorance.  It was going to be interesting to watch the boys learning to
ride skim boards at the beach.

Bonnie and Bob came out right behind us.  I gave Bonnie a questioning look,
wanting to know if she had gotten the boards.  Bonnie just shrugged and
threw the questioning look back to me.  That left only one person.  It
seems Grandma had somehow become hip to what teenagers wanted at the beach.
Imagine that!

"Should we have breakfast and then open the presents?" Mother asked,
feigning innocence.

"Grandma!  No!  We need ta open presents now!  We can eat later."  That was
a three part answer from three boys.  I wished I had it recorded,
particularly the 'we can eat later' part.  Since when?

Kids never understand, at least not until they are grown and kids of their
own, that the best part of Christmas morning to an adult is to sit back and
watch their children open the gifts.  The looks of absolute innocence,
combined with awe, are priceless.  Those times make the rest of the year,
putting up with the kid's shenanigans, tolerable.

Three adults, each with a hot cup of coffee to provide stimulus, and three
giddy boys sat down to open gifts.  The skim boards were not marked as to
what board was for which boy, they got to choose their colors.  Eric jumped
up and placed his board on the floor and we got a dry-run demonstration of
how cool he looked on a board.  Mother pulled out a gift for each boy that
turned out to be their sports watches.  Those expressions reminded me to
grab the camcorder.

Almost as endearing was the expression on Mother's face when the boys gave
her a gift -- the watch.  I decided that 'make a big to-do over presents'
was a special gift that all grandmothers possessed and kids and grandkids
relished.  The big topper for Mother was when she opened the bracelet that
had all three boys' birthstones in it.  When Mother unwrapped the large
photo we had made of me and the boys, together with the smaller individual
photos, I thought she was going to cry.  Mother prided herself on her self-
control, so watching her struggle to maintain her composure was a testament
to what the gift meant to her.

The gift that almost pushed me over the edge, emotionally, came from the
boys.  I knew Mother had a great deal to do with it as soon as I opened it.
While I unwrapped the gift, the look of anticipation and excitement on
Frank and Mike's faces was, again, priceless.  It was a photo album and as
soon as I opened it and saw Dad's picture on the left and Mother's on the
right, I almost broke down.  The pictures were the ones they had made just
after they were married.  Both were young, good looking, and happiness just
radiated from their expressions.  The rest of the pictures were of me,
Bonnie and other family members, including my grandparents, as we were
growing up.  Those pictures brought back a lot of good memories.  My
holiday was complete.

The funny part was when the boys opened some presents and found the
expected clothes.  One item they didn't expect was silk boxers.  All of us
almost rolled in the floor when Mike held his up and asked, "What're these
for?"  Only my genius IQ son could ask such a question so innocently.

The process of opening, examining and showing off presents took half the
morning.  The boys wanted to call Sean and wish him a Merry Christmas and
let him know there was a package coming up for him.  I reminded them that
Sean was most likely having a Christmas morning just like theirs, and they
shouldn't disturb his family gathering quite so early.  They could call
after we had our dinner.  Pulling out a new video game quickly had their
minds moving in a different direction.

                                           * * * *

"Richard, have you called Artice?"  Mother asked.

"Not yet.  It's not quite noon.  Do you think she's up?"

Aunt Artice was Mother's youngest sister; she was also a night owl.  Aunt
Artice thought people should go to bed just before daybreak and not get up
until sundown.  It was actually a habit she developed more years back than
I could remember.  All I could remember about an explanation was that her
skin was extra-sensitive to the sun and she worried about skin cancer.  It
seems a relative somewhere along the way had skin cancer pretty badly and
Aunt Artice attributed the illness to being out in the sun too much and not
eating the right foods.  I also learned many years back to let what she
said about how eating the wrong foods caused most illnesses, go in one ear
and out the other.  I wondered what she would think if she knew my boys
didn't have tan lines.  No way did I want her to learn that little tid-bit.
The lecture would be unmerciful!

The question from Mother was really a reminder to me to call Aunt Artice
and let her know what time I would be over to pick her up.  She had a
driver's license and a car.  The car was one her husband had purchased for
her as a wedding gift and had not been out of the garage for at least
twenty years.  She kept after me to get it running again so she could drive
herself around.  One day, when I was driving her to an appointment, she
asked me if we had always driven on the right side of the road.  The
decision was made then that Aunt Artice would never be allowed behind the
wheel again.

"Hey, Dad," Frank called out to me, "when you go to pick up Aunt Artice,
can we go too?  We wanta see that car she has locked up."

"That old Hudson she has?  Frank, you'd be lucky if she let you see it
through the window.  She protects that thing like it's the most valuable
object on this earth."

"How come?"

"Frank," Mother stepped into the conversation, "your dad was the last
person to drive that car on a regular basis.  I don't remember exactly why
or what happened to your dad's car, but he wound up without transportation.
Artice offered to let him drive the Hudson if your dad would put a battery
in it and tag it; which your dad did.  I think he drove it for about a
month and then returned it to her.  A couple of weeks later she drove it to
the grocery.  While she was shopping, someone stole the windshield wipers.
At that point in time, they no longer manufactured the cars and parts were
hard to find.  Anyway, your Aunt Artice took the car home, parked it in the
garage, and it hasn't been out of her driveway since then; nor has she
allowed anyone other than your Dad near the car.  All of that happened
before your mother and father married."

"I'll tell you what," I turned to the boys, "why don't we wait and, while
she's here, we can bring up the subject of the car and see if she'll invite
you over to see it.  If she doesn't, then you'll know she wants to keep it
locked up and behind closed doors.  Good enough?"

"I guess.  Seems kinda strange to me, though," Frank responded with the
other two nodding in agreement.

What I didn't want to tell the boys was that strange was normal for Aunt
Artice.  The boys were quickly distracted by their new sports watches,
which they probably thought as much of as Aunt Artice did of her old
Hudson, and they headed outside to do whatever teens do outside.  Bonnie
squeezed my arm and motioned for me to follow her to the study.  What now?

"I wanted to ask you something.  Are you still going to the guest house at
Patty's?"

"We planned to.  I thought we'd stay here and go Sunday morning.  Why?"

"I just wanted to be sure you were going and taking Eric.  You know that
discussion we had before Thanksgiving about Eric and his dad?  Well, let's
just say I think Bob knows, but he hasn't said too much.  He's been giving
Eric a hard time though and I want Eric to get a break.  It doesn't matter
what Eric does, it's not good enough.  Bob's also making crazy comments
about what real men do; that sort of thing."

"Has Bob gotten physical with him?"

"Not that I know of and Eric says he hasn't.  I think Bob knows that if he
touches him, I'd probably have him picked up; I'd put a frying pan to the
side of his head first.  Bob's a big man and Eric's still just a kid,
whether he thinks of himself that way or not."

"When do you plan on leaving?"

"We had planned on leaving Sunday morning, but I may stay here.  I told Bob
that Mother would need some help putting all this stuff away and that you'd
be gone with the boys.  That would also give me some time with Mother.  The
truth of the matter is that he and I are pretty close to going our separate
ways.  I didn't want to throw a damper on the holidays or, most likely,
we'd be split now.  Mother knows; at least part of it.  We've been
talking."

"If you split, will he give you a hard time?"

"I don't know.  I don't think so.  It wouldn't do him any good.  I'm not
afraid of him and I know that he is afraid of you.  He wouldn't do anything
that might risk a confrontation with you, so we'll be fine for the
holidays.  Actually, while you and the boys are gone, Mother and I can talk
and I'll be making some decisions.  Do me a favor?  Keep your cell phone
handy.  Okay?"

"You know I will.  You do me a favor; call me if you need me -- don't wait
till he hurts you or Eric.  Okay?"

I would not encourage my sister to leave her husband.  I didn't believe in
encouraging anyone to break up a family.  The real downside would be if I
encouraged her to leave him and then she changed her mind later.  Then, I'd
be guilty of causing the breakup.  However, if she left him of her own
volition, I'd be there to support her.

                                           * * * *

Aunt Artice hadn't changed much over the years.  When something new or
unexpected popped up, she forgot about everything else going on around her.
She was also known to be slow.  When I say slow I'm talking about physical
movement, primarily.  When we got to Mother's, it took her longer to get
out of the car than it did to shut the car down and unload the packages to
be taken inside.  This lady was so slow she made cold molasses look like a
white water rapids.

When we got to the front door, Aunt Artice, leading the way, opened the
door and stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted the boys.  The normal
exclamations of how long it had been since she had seen them and how much
they had grown, followed.  Aunt Artice still didn't move.  Bonnie tried to
coax her.

"Aunt Artice, you comin' in?  Who's that behind you?"

'It's just Richard, and . .  ."  She laughed so hard at having held the
door open and stopped in the middle of the walking path that she couldn't
finish the statement.

"There's someone there besides Dad," Frank commented.  Then I saw teen
heads bending around to see what was going on.

"SEAN?!" Mike yelled.  "Man, how'd you get here?"

Mother had Aunt Artice by the arm trying to lead her inside.  Frank and
Mike were all over poor Sean who was still balancing packages.  I was left
outside while my sister was in tears, laughing so hard at this whole
fiasco.  Poor Eric just sat there and stared, trying to figure out what was
happening.  When they finally let me come in and set the packages down that
I carried, some semblance of order was restored.  The first intellectual
question came from my older son.

"Dad.  Did you know Sean was comin'?"  Michael really worried me sometimes.

"Mike, your Dad picked me up at the airport.  He had to know I was coming.
Since the envelope I received said it was from you and Frank, I figured you
did too."

"What envelope?"  So much for winging it for Michael.

"The envelope with the plane tickets."

"Oooohhhh, yeah!  That envelope."  Michael looked as though he was proud of
himself for faking his way through that one.  I just shook my head and
laughed with the rest of them.  Mother was really getting a good laugh out
of this one.

"Mother, believe it or not, I go through this type of thing with them on a
daily basis."

"Michael," Mother's tone turned serious, "are you going to introduce your
friend to everyone?"

"Oh, yeah.  Sorry, Grandma."  Mike even blushed for us before he did the
introductions.  We all got another laugh when he got to his grandmother.

"Sean, this is my grandma.  Grandma, this is Sean."

Mother picked up immediately that Sean wasn't too sure what he should call
Mother, who quickly remedied the situation.

"Sean, everyone here has been calling me Mom, Mother or Grandma.  There's
no reason for you to be any different.  You call me by whatever you feel
the most comfortable with."  Sean paused for a moment.

"Well, I call their dad 'Mr. G'.  Would 'Mrs. G' be okay since your Mr. G's
mom?"

"If that's what you're comfortable with, then I'm now 'Mrs. G'."  Mother
looked at Sean and smiled.  "You know, that doesn't sound nearly as old as
'Grandma', maybe I should have all my grandsons call me that."  I could
tell by the look on Aunt Artice's face that she wasn't sure she approved,
but we really didn't want to ask.

"Since we haven't had our dinner, and everyone is now here," Mother
continued, "suppose we eat dinner, then we can open presents again, and
then have some dessert?"  Posed as a question or suggestion, it was really
a directive.

                                           * * * *

There are two really good things about a big turkey and dressing dinner; in
addition to all the good food.  First, it comes only once a year so you
have fifty-one and a half weeks to work off the weight you put on.  Second,
it is highly conducive to a nice nap stretched out on the sofa.  I could
remember when I was able to stretch out on the sofa and nap and a bomb
going off wouldn't wake me.  My problem wasn't a bomb; it was four wired
teens acting like a quartet of six year olds.  There was no doubt that the
coming week at the beach was going to require four boys go jogging around
dusk.

The boys were real good about helping to clear the table following dinner.
Bonnie helped Mother put away food and load the dish washer.  I was putting
away condiments and whatever I could find to stay out of the way, including
taking the napkins to the laundry room.  Bob, well, Bob was being Bob and
doing nothing; which was very helpful if you knew Bob.

Bonnie announced it was time to open presents.  Four boys rushed in like
little kids racing for the sofa.  The sofa slid back about six inches when
they plopped down on it and when I looked at the boys their expressions
clearly said either 'oops!' or 'oh, shit'.  Both applied.  I changed my
expression a little and they removed themselves from the sofa and found a
spot on the floor so Mother, Bonnie and Aunt Artice could sit on the sofa.
Handing out presents from Aunt Artice and to Aunt Artice, I regretted
missing my nap.  Christmas would be here again by the time she finished
opening her gifts.

The surprise came when Mother asked me to pull out something that was
stashed behind the china cabinet.  I pulled out another skim board.

"Hey, Sean, that's what Santa brought us.  We get ta use 'em next week,"
Mike volunteered.

"Michael, where did you put your skin board?" Mike pointed towards the
bedroom, and I continued.  "I don't think this is a board Santa brought you
boys this morning.  It has another name on it.  The tag says "To: Sean,
From: Santa".  The handwriting said 'Mother'.

Mother watched Sean very intently and was really pleased with his surprised
expression.  She was extremely pleased when Sean surprised her with a gift
of a very nice silk scarf and matching leather gloves.  It seemed that
Sean's mother had picked up the gift in advance and packed it in his
suitcase. Whether Sean knew it or not, he had just scored some major
points.

I had the boys wait till it was close to bedtime to give Sean his other
gift.  It was to be something special between them.  I decided not to give
my boys their bracelets yet.  I had seen the look on Eric's face when Frank
and Mike got gold chain necklaces.  He didn't really look hurt because he
didn't get one, but there definitely was a look of envy and I didn't want
Eric feeling like the odd man out for this vacation.  All three boys were
proud of the bracelet and Eric thought it was cool.

While the boys celebrated and had fun, I declared my self worn out and
ready for bed.  The four boys had my room and I left it up to them to
figure out who slept where.  I had my bed in the study and, never did a
hide-a-bed feel so good.  After a quick shower, I slipped between the
sheets and laid a pillow over my head to block out the teenagers silliness.
I knew they would probably be up most of the night.  Good, that meant they
would sleep late the next morning.  That bubble burst when I felt something
jolt my bed.

There was a warm body lying next to me trying to push his butt into my
stomach.  It didn't take much of a feel to realize it was Michael.  What
was he doing in my bed?

'Why aren't you with the boys?"

"Frank's bein' a dick.  We pulled sticks ta see who had ta sleep on the
floor and he rigged it."

"I take it you got the short straw?"

"It's not that, Dad.  I took the floor like I was supposed to and he kept
throwin' little paper balls at me.  I didn't think you'd be happy if I just
punched 'im out at Grandma's, so I got up and left.  Besides, you feel
good'n soft."

"I'll assume that was meant to be a compliment?"  I teased him as he lay on
his side and moved back to spoon himself into me.  Michael used my left arm
as a pillow and entwined his fingers with mine.  With my right hand, I ran
my fingers through his still damp hair.  You could almost hear him purr.
He rolled slightly onto his stomach.

"Dad, you can rub my back some if ya want to."

Michael would never be accused of being subtle or not making his wants
known.  I did rub his back for him and enjoyed watching him gradually shift
so that I had full access to his back; heaven forbid that some portion
didn't receive its fair share of attention.  When I let my hand rub down
near the small of his back, I realized that he had dropped his sleeping
bottoms before getting into bed.  Like I said before, Michael wasn't too
subtle; he wanted attention.

I retrieved the bottle of powder from my suitcase and sprinkled it over his
back.  He lay fully on his stomach, shifting his forearms under his head to
use as a pillow.  I rubbed and teased his back for him and he would let out
with a little whimper or squirm and I had to smile.  The palm of my hand
passed lightly over the silky skin covering his buttocks.  After a few
minutes, I used the fingernail on my first finger to lightly trace a line
down the crack of his butt.  Mike drew his breath through clenched teeth
and whimpered while he wiggled his butt.  I had to laugh when I retuned to
rubbing his back and he flexed his glutes to make his cheeks bounce and
spread his legs.  Definitely not too subtle.

My middle finger moved down through his crack, pausing momentarily to
tickle his anal ring.  When he whimpered and goose bumps appeared on his
cheeks, I moved my finger down to massage his perineum.  Mike spread his
legs to give me access and rolled his body back towards me.  When he was
spooned into me again, he lifted his right leg and lay it over my thigh; I
had full access to his body.  It was amazing to lay there with him and
watch him enjoy the sensations coursing through his body.  While I
continued to massage the perineum with two fingers, my thumb moved up and
down his raging shaft.

Shifting my body, he took the signal to turn over and face me.  He kept a
leg, now his left leg, draped over my legs and wrapped his arms around me.
With his face buried in the side of my neck I could feel his hard breaths
and hear his soft whimpers of pleasure.  My right hand reached over his hip
and stimulated his sensitive areas.  When I moved my hand to reach between
us and cup his sac, he shifted to separate us a little.  Supporting him
with a hand between his shoulder blades, I reached down and tongued his
over- sensitive nipple.  He whimpered and whined as he tried to push more
of his nipple into my mouth.

Michael moved his left hand between us; I felt my own raging shaft encased
in firm warmth.  He was reduced to a whimpering puppy who couldn't get
enough, but needed to give more.  His fist opened and closed on both of our
shafts with the beat of his heart.  When he started humping, he also began
pumping both of us; I continued to tease the sensitive area around his anal
ring and raked my nails over the softness of his butt and thighs.

Both of us perspiring, both of us breathing hard and whimpering, we spewed
our seed over each other in an intense orgasm.  When I began to cum, he
removed his hand and we humped into one another.  Each thrust producing
another shot of our juices, causing us to hold one another tighter.  I held
him until I felt his body relax and then let him lay back; I also rolled to
my back to regain control of my breathing.

I felt his finger on my lips and opened my mouth; he fed me our mixed
juices.  I did the same to him and we continued till we had raked it off
our bodies.  Raising myself up to prop on an elbow, I used my fingers to
push the hair off his forehead and gave him a light kiss.  Whether he
realized it or not, Michael had just experienced love-making 101.

"Merry Christmas, kiddo."


End Ch Sixteen
To Be Continued

Comments welcome: contact Dwight Wilson at adm2780@yahoo.com