Date: Sat, 22 Mar 2008 09:21:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around  Chapter Two

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 Two: Second Time Around


It was one of those days at the office where you get home and feel like all
of your insides are twisted around something and you're ready to just burst
wide open.  When you do burst, you don't know if it's going to be anger,
tension or something else that pours out.  Whenever I felt those emotions I
always tried to figure out why.  It didn't take too long for me to realize
that part of it was dissatisfaction with my current life, and part was
concern for my boys.  If I decided to try for a change, how would they be
affected?

I walked into the house and it was quiet.  Immediately, I wondered what my
two little angels were up to; and, where were they?  My answer came as soon
as I looked in my study.  Michael was sitting at my desk, using the
computer.  My next surprise was that he was fully dressed, except he was
wearing socks without shoes.  I was pleased, cautiously pleased, to see a
degree of civility.  I didn't often find Mike like this.

"Hey, Kid.  What're you up to?"  He turned and looked at me, surprised; he
hadn't heard me come in.

"Oh, hey, Dad; didn't see ya.  Wha'sup?"

"Wha'sup?  Where did that one come from?  Some new slang term you picked up
from Sean?"  My son gave me a look that hinted at exasperation.

"Dad, you need to get with it more.  You hear that on television all the
time.  Loosen up some."

"Well, excuuuuse me!  I just thought I'd come in here and greet my number
one son and see what he was up to.  By the way, what are you doing?  What's
wrong with your computer?"

"Frank's usin' ours.  It's okay for me to use this one, idn't it?  I'm
doin' research for a paper I gotta write; so's Frank."

"What kind of paper?"

"Sociology; it's one of my advanced courses.  I gotta do a paper, five
pages, typed, one and a half spaced, twelve point max!  Can you believe
it?"  Michael said it like it had to be the most unreasonable assignment in
the world; how dare a teacher ask them to do research and use their minds.
"Mine's gonna be on relating street gangs to slavery; that sorta thing."
This was one of the challenges with teenagers, you never knew what you'd
face when you got home.

"Okay, I'll bite.  How do you relate street gangs to slavery?"  My son
looked at me like either he was shocked or I was an idiot.

"That's easy.  I mean eeeaasssyy.  It's so easy I can't believe my teacher
let me do it."  I stood there giving him my 'I'm still waiting' look.
"Dad, think about it.  As a slave, you're trapped, no way out.  You do what
someone else tells you, no thinkin' for yourself, or you get punished.  And
you should read about the punishments they did.  I found pictures where a
bull whip was used on a guy and you wouldn't believe what it did to his
back.  Sometimes, if it was really bad, the slave got crucified or executed
some other painful way.  Did you know that if the slave misbehaved too
much, they'd cut his nuts off, thinkin' it'd make him calm down?  All the
other slaves would hafta stand there and watch.  Seein' it happen was
supposed to discourage the others from makin' the same kinda mistake."

"Mike, I think I appreciate the details, and I know you find that stuff
kind of interesting, but how does it relate to street gangs?"

"That's the easy part, Dad."  Again the exasperated tone.  "If a kid joins
a street gang, he gives up the right to think for himself, he does what the
group wants.  When they do something to break the law, he's trapped.  If he
confesses, he goes to jail or worse.  If he tries to run away, the other
gang members figure he's turnin' on 'em and might squeal about stuff they
did.  He's punished by either beatin' him or killin' 'im.  Understand?  He
can't get out.  He becomes a slave to the gang."

"Mike, knowin' you, I'm sure it will be a good paper.  I might like to read
it myself when it's finished."  I turned to leave the room.  "I'm going to
fix dinner.  I'll let you know when it's time to eat."

"Okay, Dad; thanks.  Oh, and we pulled out the chops you said to and put
some other stuff out, too."  He hollered out as I walked away.

On the way to my room I stuck my head in the boys' room and there was Frank
on the computer, just like Mike said.  He had a history paper to do, but it
was only three pages.  Both of my boys were home, fully dressed, being
responsible.  If I hadn't recognized the boys as being mine, I would have
thought I was in the wrong house.  I wasn't going to fight it.  In fact, I
took the time to smile and enjoy it.

Dinner was supposed to be pork chops and whatever I found to go with them.
It was interesting that there were five chops out of a package of six.
Now, if each boy had two chops, their normal portion, that left me with
one.  Next to the chops I found sweet potatoes and broccoli.  Were my boys
trying to tell me I needed to eat healthy?  And less?

The boys found the swimming pool after dinner and I found a nice long, hot
shower.  After a tense day, nothing feels better than the sting of a strong
water spray hitting your back and neck.  When Kathy was alive and I had one
of those days, I'd take a long, hot shower and then lay on the floor.
She'd step up on my back and with her feet, give me one of the greatest
massages anyone could hope for.  Now, it was just a long hot shower.  After
the shower I slipped into a silk lounging outfit Kathy bought me for our
last Christmas together.  I hadn't worn it since she died.  The boys came
in while I read the paper.

"Fellas, it's time to get your showers and get ready to settle in for the
evening."

"Settle in?"  Mike sounded surprised. "Dad, it's way too early for bed."

"Mike, I didn't say it was time for bed; I said you needed to get your
showers and settle in.  Does it sound better if I say settle down or slow
down?"  Two sets of eyes rolled upward, but they got the message.

Of the two boys, Michael was always the more sensitive and demanding.  As a
baby he liked to be held and cuddled; and both his mother and I indulged
him.  When both boys were small we would give the boys their bath and then,
wrapping them in warm towels, take them into the family room.  Sitting on
the sofa or in a chair, we each laid one of them out in our lap and
sprinkled them with talcum powder.  Both boys would squirm and laugh saying
how much it tickled, but felt good, too.  We'd tickle them by giving them
raspberries on their belly.  It wasn't unusual for them to fall asleep in
our laps.  As Frank got older he seemed to move away from such cuddling and
pampering, he was too big to be treated like a baby, but not Michael.  No
matter how old he was or how much his brother teased him, he had no qualms
about walking in naked with a bottle of talc in his hand and those pleading
blue eyes.  It was those same pleading blue eyes that I saw over the edge
of my paper.

Standing before me was my fifteen year old son, naked and half dried off,
as usual, with a towel in one hand and talc in the other.  His eyes said it
all and there was no way I could deny him.

The boys had been unbelievable since losing their mother.  They missed her,
just like I did.  The love a child looks for from a mother is different,
and there was no way I could replace that for them; they had to accept me
as the only substitute available.  I put the paper down and brought my
right leg up and tucked it under my left leg, forming the figure four they
were accustomed to since they were babies.

Placing a pillow on the arm of the sofa, Mike lay across my lap.  His chest
was in my lap and he reached up with both arms to pull the pillow in and
lay his head down.  Neither of us said anything; we didn't need to.  I
reached over and turned the lamp down to its lowest setting and ran my hand
through his hair and over his strong, youthful back.  He was just a baby, a
little boy, yesterday; when did he grow this big?

It felt good to know my son was comfortable enough with me to want this.
Following a simple routine, I sprinkled a little powder on his back and
began a gentle rubbing motion.  I could feel him relaxing; occasional,
gentle mews told me how much he enjoyed the attention.  I remembered that I
used to tickle him a little during this process and ran the edge of my
finger down his side; he squirmed and giggled.  As I spread the powder over
his body I remembered how I played with his little butt and he would bounce
it and giggle.  When I tickled him I had to smile when I saw the goose
bumps form on his cheeks and how he wiggled his butt back and forth.  He
enjoyed it as much as I did.

We stayed on the sofa, him in my lap, me rubbing his back, and both of us
relaxed.  Memories flooded my mind of a happy kid who looked at the whole
world as his personal bowl of cherries, just waiting to be picked.

"Dad?"

"Hhhmmm"

"What'cha thinking?  I can hear ya laughin' to yourself."

"They're happy laughs, son.  I'm just remembering my first born when he was
little and how much he enjoyed having someone hold him and rub his back;
just like now.  There's only one problem though, my little boy is getting
to be a big boy; but, I think he still likes to be cuddled once in a
while."  I felt him shift so that he moved closer to my body.

"I do sometimes, but sometimes . . .well. . . you don't think I'm bein'
sissy do ya?"

"Michael, you've always been the one that wanted to both be loved and give
love.  There's nothing sissy about that, son.  You've always been very open
with your feelings and your mother and I enjoyed that.  One day you will be
grown and on your own; when that happens I'll miss times like now."

"I can always come back.  I don't mind gettin' naked and layin' in your
lap."  I could hear the laughter in his voice; it was part of his charm.

I didn't say any more to him.  I rubbed his back and let the tip of my
finger trace the crease where the mound of his teen bubble butt met the
upper thigh; goose bumps appeared.  He snickered and wiggled and I did it
again.  When my finger reached the abyss between his legs, I moved my
finger to the other side and traced up and around his cheek; he felt as
soft and silky as when he was a babe.  I ended by tracing two fingers down
the upper edge of the crevice between his cheeks.  He inhaled, sharply.

"Daaa-aaad, stop.  You don't know what you're doin' to me."  Actually I did
and laughed.

"What am I doing to you?  I thought you liked getting your back rubbed?"

"You're playin' with my butt.  Look what you did!"

With that he rolled over to face me and showed me he was standing at full
mast!  I rolled him back on his stomach and popped him hard on the butt.

"Oww!"

"Did that take care of the tickle and the problem?"

"Nooooo!" he answered, indignantly and with a scrunched up expression.

I sprinkled a little powder on the red mark I made on his cheek and rubbed
it.  I hadn't meant to pop him that hard.  He took advantage and wiggled
his butt.  After a few more minutes I let him know it was time to get ready
for bed, but first, I wanted him to get his brother so the three of us
could have a little talk.  Typical of Michael, he wanted to know if they
had done something wrong and I assured him they hadn't, at least as far as
I knew, unless there was something he wanted to tell me.

                                       * * * *

When the boys returned, Frank sat on the ottoman in front of me and Michael
settled on the sofa next to me.  The first thing I noticed was that neither
of them had bothered to put anything on; they were both still in their
birthday suits.

"Guys, I thought you were getting ready for bed?" I asked as I motioned at
their obvious lack of clothing.

"Dad," Frank piped in immediately. "When was the last time you bought us
jammies?  We've been sleepin' naked since before Mom died."

"Yeah," Mike added, "and no one's thought 'bout buyin' us loungin' outfits
like you have."

"Okay. Okay, settle down, message received.  I didn't even think about
that.  Right now, though, I want to have a short talk with both of you; and
I mean a mature talk.  Understand?"  The solemn tone of voice calmed them
down some.

"We've had these little father-son talks before, but some things have come
to my attention that I need to get peace of mind over.  Now, I understand
that boys your age have certain needs and desires and I am more than aware
of some of the things you do to satisfy those desires."

"Like, what kind of desires?" Frank piped in and I could read that
mischievous mood in his eyes; it flashed like a neon sign.

"Now is not a good time for you to try cutesy with me, kiddo."  He got the
message.

"I try to give the two of you your space and privacy.  However, don't
misinterpret that as being naïve or stupid.  I can walk down that hall,
pass your door and hear certain sounds that let me know, shall we say, you
are enjoying certain gifts or pleasures that nature has provided to young
men?"  Michael just gave me a puzzled look.

"Dad means that he can walk down the hall and hear you breathing heavy when
you're jackin' off," Frank popped out, smiling at his brother.

"Daa-aad!!" My not so innocent oldest hollered.  I didn't know if it was
intended for me or his brother.

"Just to set the record straight, I'm not talking about just Michael."
Michael's turn to point at his brother and snicker.  "Now, I understand,
that at your ages, you are curious and may experiment some, and that's
perfectly normal.  It wouldn't surprise me a bit to learn that the two of
you had at some point even jacked off together (which I knew for a fact)
and been snooping around on the computer looking at porn."  Now I had two
boys getting very nervous, which told me that they wee at least somewhat
normal.

"The other day I came home and I recognized those sounds coming from your
room.  I also know I heard more than one voice.  What surprised me a little
was when the two of you came running out and headed to the pool, followed
by Sean.  That means that Sean was in there with you.  That gave me some
concern."  At this point Mike curled up and lay on the sofa with his head
in my lap.  This was a typical move for him if he was thinking about
something or trying to decide whether to tell us something.  I ran my
fingers through his hair to let him know I wasn't upset with him.

"Are you askin' us if we had sex with Sean?" Frank asked seriously.

"No, I'm not.  I think that would be an unfair invasion of your privacy at
this point.  What I am trying to tell you is that I am your parent and I do
worry about you.  If you are experimenting, I want you to be careful.
Understand that when I say 'experimenting,' I am fully aware of the dirty
jokes, the pictures you want to see, and sitting around talking to the
point you may get worked up and have a little circle jerk.  Either of you
care to deny doing that?"  Absolute quiet from two boys trying to suppress
a smile.  "A lot of people would not understand and it could cause you a
great deal of heartache if anyone were to find out.  Right now I'm
comfortable knowing that my boys feel they can come talk to me about
anything, and I'll be here for you and do my best to not be judgmental.
Understand?"

"Dad," Michael spoke softly in that little innocent voice he knew how to
pull up sometimes when he wasn't too sure how I might react to his
question.  "Suppose one of us thought about having sex with a guy?  Have
you ever done it?"  That one floored me!  I had to sit there and think a
moment.  I always said I would be honest and open with them; I should have
qualified that with 'try to be'.

"Boys, understand that there is such a thing as having sex for the pure
physical pleasure.  There's also having sex as an expression of love.  It's
from the latter that you two are here.  You are both my sons and I'll
always love you and always be here for you, no matter what choices you
make."

Michael had rolled over and now had his head in my lap.  He was both
looking up at me and beyond.  I knew those wheels were turning and he
hadn't decided on what he wanted to tell me.  He would, in time.  I slipped
the pillow under his head and sprinkled a little talc on his chest.

"Dad, you didn't finish answering my question.  Nice try at side-stepping
though."  The look in his eyes said he was proud of himself for that one.

"When I was about the same age as you two I had a close buddy.  His name
was Kevin.  We lived about a block from each other and were the only two
boys in the neighborhood our age.  As I said, we were friends and went to
school together and fooled around.  We even stayed in contact after high
school.  Something you boys didn't know was that after my freshman year in
college I had to leave school to help the family; your grandfather had a
massive stroke.  During the next couple of years I worked to help the
family and saved some money.  I bought a small apartment building and lived
in one of the units.

"Kevin called me one day and wanted to head to the beach on Saturday; so we
went.  We actually went to a new state park that few people visited.  He
surprised me when he spread a towel on the sand, stripped and lay down.
All I could think about was getting arrested for indecent exposure."  I
laughed a little with the boys.  "The other part I though about was how I'd
explain to the family being naked on the beach with another guy if we got
caught."

"The following week he called me during the middle of the week and said he
was on that side of town and just wanted to visit.  I invited him over and
when he got there I was doing something in a back room.  I called out to
him to make himself comfortable and help himself to a coke in the fridge.
When I came out he was sitting on the floor leaning against the sofa; he
was stark naked.  I was dumb-founded.

"When it was time for bed I told him I had to work the next day.  He
followed me into the bedroom and lay down next to me.  He rolled over on
top of me and started humping.  I rolled him off but he held on and ran his
foot up and down the back of my leg.  He also had a good grip on my butt.
I stopped fighting him and gave in to my feelings.  We both climaxed.  When
I realized what I'd done, I freaked.  I mean, I freaked so bad he couldn't
get out of the house fast enough.  I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"Why'd ya freak so bad?"

"Because it felt good, but it went against everything I had ever been
taught about morals."

"Didn't you talk to Grandpa?"

"I couldn't.  I asked your grandfather about sex one time in my life and he
laughed at me.  He also embarrassed me by making fun of me in front of his
friends.  I promised myself I'd never give him the chance to do that to me
again; and I didn't.  That's part of the reason I try to be so open with
you boys.  I don't want you growing up feeling you need to hide anything or
fear anything from me.  The goal is for the two of you to feel you can talk
to me about anything and I'll show you the respect you deserve.  So far I'd
say we've done pretty good."

"Dad, you can stop rubbing my nipple now; look what you did again."

I looked at my number one son, surprised.  I didn't even realize I had been
rubbing his nipple.  I looked down and saw that he was beginning to rise to
the occasion.

"Don't worry about him, Dad," Frank volunteered. "He's like that most of
the time anyway.  He told me he'd like it better if he never had to wear
clothes again; easier to play with his toy."  Frank laughed and started
teasing his brother to lighten the atmosphere.  Michael suddenly jumped up
and stood in front of me.

"No, look, look here Dad.  You seen those shows where the girls in the bar
take a tassle hanging from their titties and how they swing 'em around?
Watch this."

Nothing should need to be said about what part of his anatomy he tried to
swing around.  I gave two boys an exasperated look and pointed to their
room.  Two teenagers ran off giggling with Frank telling his brother how
lucky he was I didn't bust his butt.  I forgot to ask them how they knew
about girls in clubs with tassels hanging from their nipples; it really
didn't matter.

That talk seemed to be a bit of a waste, but not necessarily.  I knew my
older son well enough to know there was something on his mind he wanted to
talk about; he just wasn't quite ready.  The best thing for me to do was be
patient and hope that he would come to me.

I hadn't thought about Kevin in a long, long time.  After the boys headed
off to bed I sat there and remembered more than I had told them; I didn't
tell them that not long after that incident I had hoped Kevin would come
back.  My background said I was wrong and I filed those feelings in the
back of my mind, deep.  Now, I was telling my boys to be honest with
themselves; I didn't practice what I preached.  The big question was
whether I ever could.  What was it that I really wanted?

Minutes after they ran off I heard whimpering.  It wasn't just one of them,
it was both of them.  Someone's problem was being handled and the other was
going for the solution before the problem appeared.  The thought almost
sounded appealing; in fact, it did sound appealing.  God, I was beginning
to think like one of my horny teen sons.

I needed a beer.

End Ch Two. 
   
To Be Continued

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