Date: Tue, 23 Sep 2008 16:07:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around Chapter Twenty-Three

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 Twenty-Three:  Second Time Around


"Since last night, I've played various scenarios through my mind about how
you would react when you saw me.  I thought that maybe you might tell me to
get lost.  Possibly, you would offer to shake my hand and sneer, or,
hopefully, smile.  I pictured you attacking me and ravishing my body.  I
even considered that you would offer me a cup of coffee and we would sit on
the patio, watching the ocean, and talk.  The one scenario I never
considered was you standing there like a mannequin, staring at me."

Great!  It wasn't bad enough that I had two sons that liked to be a
smart-ass, now the guy that had me tripping all over myself was being a
smart-ass.  He was right; I was just standing there staring at him.  There
were lots of questions running through my mind.  How did he know I was
here?  How did he get here?  How did he get to be with Mother and Bonnie!?
What did they know and what did he tell them?  How much of this conspiracy
included Frank, besides up to his eyeballs?

When he spoke to me, I came out of my stupor and approached him, slowly.
Close enough to touch him, I reached out and pulled him, roughly, into me.
He hit the front of me hard enough to bend over backwards, just right for
me to apply a solid lip-lock and suck every bit of the air out of his
mouth.  I pushed my tongue down his throat and heard him whimper.  God!  He
tasted so good, and his aroma.  He smelled fresh and youthful.  His scent
was intoxicating.

As I held on to him, he continued to whimper.  Both of us gasped for air,
pulling as much as possible through our noses; refusing to release the
other.  We were worse than two kids in heat.  His hands moved roughly up
and down my back.  I heard, more than felt, my belt loosened and the zipper
lowered just before my pants dropped to the floor.  He practically ripped
my shirt open.  He must have done the same to his because the next thing I
felt was the warmth of his body pressing itself, trying to forcing itself
into a meld, with mine.

At that moment, I didn't care how he got there or who knew what.  I broke
the kiss and stepped back a few inches.  We gazed into one another's eyes
as we finished stripping.  My rod punched into his abdomen, it almost hurt.
He stepped into me again and wrapped his arms around me as he bit into my
neck.  His lips locked onto my neck and I knew I was branded.  He released
my neck long enough to whisper in my ear,

"Can the old guy finish what he started?"

He had to be kidding!  I should have put him over my knee right then and
tanned his little butt.  His butt was too cute to tan like that; instead,
it would make a good meal.  I picked him up and carried him into my
bedroom.  Cradled in my arms, I was surprised how light he felt.  Placing
him on the bed, I lay part way on him and our body parts became entangled.
The bed never stopped rocking.

People will tell you that there is no such thing as love at first sight;
it's not love, it's lust.  Others say it can, and does, happen.  I'm not
sure that I could say at that moment that I truly loved David.  I do know
that he had a very special effect on me.  I didn't just want him, I needed
him.  I needed his youth, his vitality, his smile, the twinkle in his eye.
More than anything else, I needed the way he made me feel.  Alive!

We touched, caressed, licked and tasted every square inch of the other's
body.  There was no such thing as one of us lying back and letting the
other do as he pleased.  We were all over one another, non-stop.  Queuing
each other, we shadowed what the other did.  When David twisted around to
lick my penis, I didn't hesitate to grab his and pull it to me.  Without
thinking, I plunged my mouth down on his stiff rod.  When it hit my throat
I almost gagged.  Backing off, I pushed again and again until his scrotum
lay across the bridge of my nose.  When I backed off his penis completely
and sucked his testicles into my mouth, he groaned and went after my
testicles.  I don't know how long we rolled around that bed.  I do know
that both of us managed to lose a massive load, but none of it was wasted
with all the slurping going on.

When I finished with his testicles, he pushed his smooth and very hard rod
down my throat again.  I realized he was using it as a gag when he pushed
at least two fingers up my anus.  After the round of play with Frank and
Eric the night before, I had no trouble accepting his fingers.  I tried to
be cute and worked my anal muscles to pull more of his fingers into me.  He
backed off my penis long enough to look up at me and laugh while he told
me,

"You're a horny old man, aren't ya?"

Where did all this 'old man' crap come from?  This old man popped him hard
on his butt; I didn't care if it was sweet enough to eat.  He wanted horny?
I reached for the tube of KY and after squirting some on his opening, I
pushed two fingers in to the second knuckle; to hell with one finger at a
time.

"OOHH GAAHD!!  Yeah!  Now you're learning. . . .Do it! . . . .Yeah!"

And he called me horny?  I figured someone wanted to be taken for a ride,
and I knew one old man more than capable of obliging.  Leaving my fingers
in him, I pulled out of his mouth and twisted my body around.  Lifting his
right leg, I ducked under and rolled him about three-quarters onto his
stomach.  I twisted my fingers clockwise and then counter-clockwise, much
like the motion of a washing machine agitator.  From the way he whimpered,
my fingers definitely agitated something sensitive.  He squirmed and I
smiled.

As David squirmed, I removed my first finger and hooked my middle finger,
searching for his sensitive spot.  When I found it, he reacted and I
settled down straddling his left leg.  It was time for the student to play
with the teacher.

"Now, what was it you were saying about an old man?"

When he tried to say something, I tapped his prostate and all I heard was a
yelp, followed by a hissing sound as he drew a sharp breath.  Turning the
first finger of my left hand sideways, I dragged the fingernail down the
inside of his crack.

"OHHH GAAHD, RICK!"

"Sensitive are we?"  I did it again and he pushed up on his arms, arching
his back.

When he pushed himself up, I slipped my hand under his chest.  Lowering
myself to lay against his now sweaty back, I bit into the side of his neck
and sucked; we were both branded.  My middle finger stayed busy torturing
his prostate.  His panting and whimpering from the pleasures I was able to
give him were music to my ears.  I thought it was interesting how even his
sweat tasted fresh.

"Take me . . .nooow." he whispered through his panting.  Initially, I
ignored him until I detected a tone of need and urgency that matched the
need I felt inside.

Slipping back to the sitting position, I reached for the tube of KY and
spread some over my sweat-coated tool.  I had to be careful, being so
worked up, it wouldn't take much for me to lose control.  Gently pulling my
finger out, I aligned myself and pushed forward, steady, but not fast.
When I did, he tried to buck back, forcing himself on me.  My hands
pressing into the small of his back kept him under control.  I pushed
forward, forcefully but controlling myself enough not to hurt him.  Again
he pushed himself up on his arms and as he threw his head back, he groaned,

"Ohhhh fuck, yesssss."

I took a sharp breath from the sensation that shot through me.  He was
right, this felt right.  We melded into one being as I lay over his back.
His young flesh felt soft as silk, his sweat was intoxicating.  Moving only
my hips, I began a slow moving; in and out . .  .in . . .and out.  He
matched my movements as I slipped my arms under his shoulders and lay the
side of my head against his cheek.  I was in heaven and didn't want this to
ever end.

"Har . . .harder."  He managed to whisper between gasps.  His voice made
him sound in need.

Turning my head, I nibbled his ear and then pushed my tongue as deeply as I
could into his ear canal.  I thought the sound of him whimpering was
beautiful, innocent, honest.  After treating myself to another taste of his
flesh, I pushed myself up on my arms; my weight balanced on my arms and
knees.  Changing to a long stroke I varied the speed and power of the
thrust.  God, he was such a baby the way he whined and grunted.  He pushed
his butt back to meet my thrusts and became frustrated with the way I
varied the strokes.  I smiled to myself.

My problem was that each time I felt myself approaching a climax, I slowed
down to maintain control; each time became more difficult.  When he kept
pushing up and back harder and harder, I again lay over his back and rolled
both of us onto our left sides.  Lifting his right leg over my thigh
changed the direction and intensity of the strokes.

"Ohhh fuck!  Ohh shit!  Fuck me! . . .more . . .more . . .FUCK ME!!"  He
was definitely losing it; for which I was becoming very thankful.

Shifting my torso back for a better angle, I began plunging into him as
hard as I could; panting like I was running a marathon.  With my left arm
under him and over his chest, I pulled him back to me, arching his back.
His right hand reached back searching for something to grab on to.

"AAAAAHHH!! . . .OOOHHHH GGAAAHHD!! . .yeah! . . . yeah! . .YEAH!! . .
.AAAAAHHHHH!! . .AAAAAHHHH!! . .AAHH! . .AAHH!"

He climaxed, shooting his cum over our heads, landing who knows where.  I
felt his muscles contract around me and lost it.  I couldn't remember the
last time I climaxed so hard that it almost hurt.  We both collapsed on the
bed panting, covered in a mixture of sweat and cum.  With my arms wrapped
around his torso, I clutched him and didn't want to let him go.  We lay
there until our breathing and heart rates were back to normal, and then lay
there some more with him spooned into me.  He almost earned another swat on
the butt.

"You must've been practicing since last time," he laughed, "but you know
what?"

"Mmmmm"

"You never did offer me a cup of coffee."

"You've got to be joking!"  He looked at me and shook his head with that
devilish grin I had seen my sons wear when they knew they had surprised me.
He couldn't hold back the laugh.

"Would you believe we've been in this bed for almost an hour and a half?"

"Good," I answered, "Let's make it another hour and a half."  Then I
thought for a moment.  "By the way, how did you wind up being with my
mother and sister?"  Again he laughed.

"I wondered when you were going to get around to that little detail.  It's
kind of a long story.  How about we get cleaned up and have a bite to eat
first?"

David wasn't a boy any longer, he was a young man.  However, since some
habits seem to hold over longer than others, particularly when it came to
their stomachs I couldn't help but laugh a little.  Withdrawing from him,
he headed for the shower after I told him I'd be right back to join him.  I
ran to the laundry room, with sweat and boy juice running down my front,
and moved the linens from the washer to the dryer.  On the way back through
the kitchen I set the coffee to brew.

When I walked into the bathroom I could see David with his back to me.
There's something nothing short of fabulous about the sight of water
cascading down a young man's back.  He was tanned with virtually no tan
lines.  He ran his hands through his hair causing the muscles in his upper
back and shoulders to ripple.  My eyes followed the trail of water as it
flowed down his back and channeled its way into the crack between his
dimpled cheeks.  He stood with his feet about eighteen inches apart and I
could see between his legs as the water cascaded off his genitals.

I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him
back into me.  He lay his head on my shoulder.  There was nothing sexual;
neither of us said anything.  This was contentment.  I had been in this
position with my boys on many occasions, but this was different.  They were
my sons, their love for me, and mine for them, was a natural love between
parent and child.  David didn't have to be here.  I didn't dictate to him
where home was or when he could spend time with another person.  He was
here because he wanted to be, he chose to be.  That difference was huge.
After a couple of minutes I patted him on his lower cheek; he moved forward
and turned to face me.  We bathed and shampooed one another with hardly a
word.  I didn't know that life could ever feel this good again.

                                           * * * *

David sat at the breakfast bar, naked, sipping a cup of freshly brewed
coffee.  After our shower, he started to dress but I asked him not to.
When he gave me a questioning look I gave him the spiel about God's
beautiful creation and chose to leave out the part about how I just enjoyed
looking at him.  To me there was something a lot more than erotic about
watching him move around in the buff.  He had a natural fluidity to his
movements which, taken together with his looks and tan and physical
development, just made for a nice sight.  His smile was so distracting, I
guess magnetic in the way it kept drawing my line of vision to him, that I
was having trouble scrambling eggs and slicing tomatoes.  I was just
thankful that I didn't slice a finger off.

"Now." It was the only thing I knew to say, "Would you care to share this
'long story' with me about how you came to be with my mother?"  He grinned
like he thought he had something on me.

"Actually, your mother told me you would ask and I should refuse to tell
you anything.  She said it would drive you crazy."

"What else did my mother tell you?  And how much did you tell her?"

"She told me that if I refused to tell you anything you would most likely
threaten to turn me over your knee and spank me.  And, I didn't have to
tell her anything.  I'm doubly glad I didn't try to lie to her.  Your
mother is quite perceptive and I think you'll find she knows more than you
think."

"Not with the remark she made to me as they left.  She told me that if I
didn't get the message she was going to have a talk with me."  We shared a
laugh as I handed him a plate of eggs and tomatoes.

"I received a call, actually a message, just before Christmas.  I could
tell from the voice it was someone young and ignored it as a kid's dumb
joke or a wrong number.  When I got the second call, I listened more
closely.  The caller identified himself as Rick's son.  I'll admit that I
thought about you, but didn't think your sons had any idea about me. Sooo .

"The third call came two days after Christmas, from your mother." He paused
for my reaction; I was stunned.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a surprise to me, too.  Like I said, your mother can
be a very perceptive, but also persuasive, person.  She told me that she
understood that I was someone that apparently meant a great deal to you.
She thought that, if the feeling was reciprocal, I might be interested in
surprising you here.  We talked a little and I got the impression from the
way your mother spoke and the tone in her voice that she was definitely all
lady, possibly a little on the Victorian side about some things, but at the
same time contemporary and willing to accept others, respecting their right
to be different."

I smiled at his description of Mother.  He was right and she still
continued to surprise me.

"To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure you would appreciate me just dropping
in like this.  Your mother was persistent, but not pushy.  What convinced
me to come was not only to see you again, but to meet your mother.  She's
quite a lady.  I was really impressed with how she would talk about the
feelings or friendship that might exist between you and me, but she never
directly asked me a personal question.  It was like she already knew.  She
was quite intriguing."

I took his plate and set it in the sink for later.  Refilling our cups, I
suggested we take a stroll along the beach.  The weather had turned chilly
so I slipped on a bulk-knit turtle- neck sweater.  David did like-wise,
using one of my sweaters.  The sweater almost swallowed him.  We strolled
down the beach, each of us holding a hot cup of coffee.

"You said it was almost like Mother already knew.  Already knew what?"  He
stopped for a moment and just looked at me, then continued with the walk.

"Rick," he stopped again, looked me straight in the eye and then looked
down, "if I have to tell you 'what', then maybe it doesn't exist."  With a
finger under his chin, I lifted his face so I could look right at him.

"Sometimes it does exist.  Sometimes it's so real it almost hurts."  I
waited and studied the look in his eyes.  He knew exactly what I meant.
"Sometimes I want you so bad it frightens me."  I placed an arm around his
shoulders and pulled him into me.  We stood like that for a short while,
then turned and started our stroll back towards the house.

"Did I ever tell you that when I first heard your message on my machine,
that I wasn't going to talk to you?"

"You kind of mentioned it once, in St. Pete," I answered, and then pursued
the subject.  "Why did you agree to see me?"

"I don't know if I can put it into words.  Sometimes you hear someone and
you know it's right.  There's an inflection or something in the voice or
the way they talk that makes you curious.  Deep down, there's an instinct
that tells you it's alright."

I kept an arm around his shoulder and kept him close as we walked.  If
anyone saw us, let them think what they wanted; this was our time.

"I understand . . . . I do," I answered. "I felt the same way the first
time I saw your picture.  It was in your eyes and your expression.  Did I
ever tell you that I talked myself out of calling you at least a half-dozen
times?"

"That all?" was his smart-ass answer. "Glad you didn't listen."  I popped
him on the butt as we climbed the stairs to the backyard.

When you've been walking on the beach during cool weather, particularly
with a light breeze blowing, it only needs to be a few degrees warmer
inside than outside for the house to feel toasty.  Knowing it wouldn't take
long for us to adjust, I lit a small fire in the fireplace.  David walked
over to the foyer and picked up a small suitcase that I hadn't noticed
before.  He pulled out two packets of something and headed for the kitchen.

"This is one of my favorite things to do on a cool afternoon.  If there's a
stereo in the house, do you know a station that plays light jazz?"

I didn't, but I figured I could find one.  It took a little searching, but
when I moved down to the lower settings, I found a couple of nice stations.
Knowing David had walked up behind me, I set the station and stood up,
turning to face him.  He handed me a cup of hot chocolate and took my hand,
leading me towards the fireplace.  He set our cups on the hearth.

"Almost there.  Two more steps to getting comfortable," he said, smiling.

David ran both hands under my sweater.  His palms felt warm against my
skin.  Following his example, I did the same to him.  Within minutes we had
managed a teasing strip of one another.  He tossed a couple of the sofa
cushions on the floor and motioned for me to sit.  When I did, he sat
between my legs and leaned back into me.  A nice fire, hot chocolate, good
music, totally naked and a beautiful young man in my arms.  Nice way to
spend some time.

Neither of us said anything; it would have ruined the mood.  As I sat
there, holding him, I couldn't help but think that it was too bad it wasn't
snowing or, in this case, raining outside.  That would have made it really
cozy.  I could smell the shampoo we used earlier, blended with his natural
scent.  One of my pleasures was to just sit there and admire him.  Every
few minutes I ran a finger over the top of his shoulder; I even used my
fingernails to tickle his butt a couple of times.

My left arm was loosely draped around his chest.  He kept playing with the
hair on my arm, sometimes running his fingers through it and sometimes
pulling it lightly.  He shifted his head once in a while, but always kept
it laying against my chest or shoulder.  I don't know how long it was after
we finished the hot chocolate that he turned around, looked up at me and
placed a hand behind my head.  He pulled me down into a delicate kiss.

It wasn't a passionate, lustful kind of kiss.  It was delicate and gentle.
His tongue ran over my lips and I shivered; goose bumps popped up
everywhere.  He drew back and smiled.  I thought he would move in for
another kiss.  He did, but not to my lips.  His tongue teased my nipple
just before he sucked it into his mouth.  We spent the next couple of hours
feeling, touching, rubbing, kissing and tasting every square inch of one
another.  It wasn't lustful, it was gentle and caring.  We didn't push to
satisfy a carnal desire; we relaxed and expressed our feelings in a very
special way.  In the end, we shared a mutual oral satisfaction and then
just lay there, our head on the other's thigh.

My head lay on the inside of his left thigh.  I had the palm of my right
hand on his lower abdomen with his penis trapped between my first and
second fingers.  Alternately pressing my fingers into him, I entertained
myself watching his limp penis bounce back and forth.

When the phone rang, I knew who it was and that it was time for us to
rejoin the family.

                                           * * * *

David stayed with us for the next three days, flying back to St.Pete the
same day the boys and I flew back to New York.  The boys were fascinated by
him and kept asking how we met, how long had we known one another; it was
like a family assessment.  I was asked on more than one occasion if David
was my new boyfriend.  I didn't want to tell the boys that he was my lover,
at least I hoped he was; I think.

David definitely knew how to deal with Mother.  When we had dinner Sunday
evening, he pulled out her chair and was the perfect gentleman.  He knew
what wine went best with each dish and could even engage in a little
cooking talk.  Most impressive was that he knew how much to say, never
pushing it to the point of saying too much or appearing to be trying to
impress someone.

Mother engaged him in conversation that wasn't too personal, but revealed
some things about his current situation and future plans.  She seemed to be
intrigued by the fact that he wanted to work in a resort and hoped, some
day, to be able to have a boutique resort of his own.  That was the first
time I had heard about that plan and made a mental note to talk to him
about it later.  It wasn't really any of my business at the time, but I was
intrigued.

I didn't know if David was fully aware of what was going on, but he was on
the hot seat.  Mother knew what to ask, and how to ask it.  David was close
when he said Mother was a little like a Victorian lady; actually, she was
very much the Victorian lady.  There were standards you had to meet
regarding social skills and family responsibilities.  If she didn't
approve, she had her way of letting it be known and there was no
misinterpreting her meaning.  David passed.

I couldn't tell who was more enamored with David.  Both Frank and Mike
practically ignored me; Sean and Eric weren't far behind.  It didn't
matter; it was important to me that the boys liked him.  He went with us to
the school and had the grand tour, sitting through a class with Mike and
then one with Frank.

The boys asked him questions that, at first, shocked me.  They point blank
asked if he and I were lovers.  They assumed that he was gay and told him
they thought he had a lot more experience at some things than they did.
They didn't seem to have any qualms about asking him questions and I let
him know it was best to be open and honest with them, to a point.  David
and I would lay in the bed at night and listen to the boys grunt, moan and
whimper.  It was very obvious what was going on in their room and we shared
a lot of laughs at the boys' expense.

We rode around the area with the boys competing to show or tell him things.
When the boys paused long enough to catch a breath, I took my turn.  We saw
the new house, or at least the one we had under contract and the boys
explained in detail where the pool was going and why we liked it so much.
That ride was on Monday afternoon after we finished at Bolles.

A favorite experience was when we got home after our Monday tour.  Almost
habitually, the boys always started stripping before the door was fully
closed, assuming they waited until they were in the house.  That night, I
could sense a little uncertainty about what they should do.  What they
didn't know was that I had already told David all about my exhibitionist
sons.

The weather had turned cool and rainy; definitely not conducive to going
outside.  We put a small fire in the fireplace and David started a slow
strip tease.  He knew the suggestive moves to tease and reveal just enough
to get the boys' undivided attention.  Watching the boys, there was no
doubt he was getting them excited and, I'll admit, he was having his effect
on me.  The boys, particularly Eric, were practically drooling.  The funny
part was when he turned around to look at me with a totally innocent look
and said,

"I'm sorry, I just assumed it was alright for us to get comfortable.  I've
always found being nude to be the most comfortable."

The boys stumbled all over one another trying to assure David that it was
perfectly alright.  They practically ripped their clothes off.  David and
the boys compared their lack of tan lines.  Michael flexed so hard that he
had himself pumped up to the point I thought he might explode.  David had
them eating out of the palm of his hand without them realizing it.  When
Mike finished his posing, David acted like it was perfectly normal and
showed him some moves that would accentuate the muscles and entice the
viewer.

That evening the house was filled with four horny teens in hormonal
overdrive, one very beautiful young stud, and an old man who couldn't keep
his hands, and other parts, to himself.  After he showed Mike some new
moves, he started teaching the boys how to do the sensuous, undulating
moves of a harem dance.  Somewhere along the way we wound up dancing in
pairs, spooned to one another.  Without a word being spoken, the dance
lessons soon turned into what could only be called a full-fledged,
no-holds-barred, orgy.  I thought I was beyond such activities, but
. . . . .  The boys had a new hero, and so did I.

The boys did try to give David and me some space.  We were able to have
some private time and talk.  We admitted to one another that something had
happened between us that we hadn't anticipated.  We also knew that we each
had our own lives and very different responsibilities at the time.  Things
had been moving fast, very fast.  In one of our heart to heart discussions
he let me know he was retired from his former life.  I told him that was
good because I didn't think I could accept sharing him.  We knew that deep
down, we were falling in love.  I expressed my concern over the difference
in our ages.  He thought that, as time went by, the difference would become
less significant.  I hoped so.

Without being a smart-ass, he said he had always been drawn to older men.
He wasn't into the party scene or one night stands.  When he was working,
there were many one night stands, but they were business; this was
different, completely different.  We laughed at each other and with each
other when we realized that both of us lay there talking, looking at one
another, with tears running down our cheeks.  There were so many obstacles,
so many concerns.

There were many things we did have going for us, too.  David was a very
mature young man for his age.  My entire family liked him and there were no
illusions on their part about the relationship.  Support meant a lot;
almost everything when you still have kids at home.  Neither of us cared
about a short-term relationship.  We both were looking for a long-term
commitment.  We agreed not to push it, take one day at a time and enjoy the
time we could have together.  It would take a little time to work all this
out, but we knew we could do it.  Time would tell.

End Chapter Twenty-Three
To Be Continued

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