Date: Thu, 3 Apr 2008 16:40:59 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around Chapter Four

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 Four: Second Time Around Edited 3/6


The lost weekend with my boys turned into a typical socio-business weekend.
More time was spent schmoozing clients and potential clients than actually
enjoying personal time.  That was what my life had turned into.  Work
during normal business hours plus work during normal family and social
hours.  Having reached the point of being dissatisfied, I quickly moved to
the point of resentment and knew I needed to do something.  If nothing
else, I needed a break and time to refresh.

The holidays were fast approaching.  Since Kathy's death, we usually had
Thanksgiving dinner at the club.  The rest of the weekend the boys would be
out with friends doing whatever it was that teenage boys did.  Friends
would invite us over to join their family, but it wasn't the same.  Another
problem was which invitation do you accept without hurting someone else's
feelings?  In my line of work, that was an important consideration.  The
club was the answer, but not this year.  One evening, I decided to broach
the subject with my sons during dinner.

"Guys, the holidays are coming up real fast."  That little revelation got
me their 'so what' looks.  "I was thinking that, just maybe, we've allowed
ourselves to get into a rut.  What would you two think about a change of
pace?"

"Yeah!  Let's do it!"  So much for Michael needing to think it over.

"Dad, what d'ya mean by change of pace?  What're you thinking?"  Frank, my
level headed, logical younger son wanted details.

"Let me put it this way, how about no club dinner this year?"

"You cookin'?" Michael asked, sounding astonished, like it was an
impossible thought or maybe even punishment.

"No, Michael, I wouldn't subject you to that on a holiday.  I guess it's
bad enough you have to eat my cooking every night."

"Nooo, Dad, that's not what I meant.  It's just that. . . . well, ya know
. . ."

"Mikey, can it before you dig the hole deeper," Frank advised.

"Make him stop picking on me.  He's bein' a. . ."  Michael used his little
boy pouty look and voice on me.

"Okay, you two, it's time to cool it." I interrupted before he said
something to really upset the moment.  "Both of you are about to make me
regret bringing the subject up."

"We're cool, we're cool," Michael responded without a thought.  Frank just
looked at his brother and I could see the mischief and laughter in his
eyes.  I was so blessed.  Then both boys looked back to me.

"I was considering using the long weekend as an opportunity to get out of
town?  Look at it like a mini-vacation."

"Dad, for the past few years, all we've had is mini-vacations; they're
nothing new to us."  My younger son just conveyed a message, and not very
delicately.

"Well, consider this another in a long line of mini-vacations.  What I
wanted to ask the two of you is where do you think you'd like to go?"

"That's easy," Michael seemed ready with quick answers that night. "Let's
go to New York.  I've always wanted to go to Gold's Gym.  They've produced
more Mr. America and Mr. Universe winners than any other gym in the
country."

"Great," Frank answered, "just what I want to do; go to New York and smell
a sweaty gym.  Dude, take a shower after gym class and you can smell all
the sweat and dirty shorts you want without leaving town." Frank just could
not stop himself from needling his brother.  The more upset he could make
Mike, the bigger his smile.

"Dad, what about Florida?  Don't we have family there?  We haven't seen
Grandma since Mom died.  And, there's other family there, too."

"Yeah, that's great!"  Mike seemed to be supportive of the idea.  "I can
lay out on the beach and get a tan.  It'll make my muscles look more
defined.  Can we go someplace where I can get an all-over tan?"  Frank
started to say something, until he caught my look.  He was smart enough to
know he had reached the line he didn't want to cross.

My sister lived in Tampa, so did Mother's sister and her family.  My only
problem with my aunt was that she had lived with my grandmother and was
part of the family fundamentalist group; they would have a heart attack if
they knew what I let my boys do.  The whole holiday would be one long,
uninterrupted prayer session!

The question then became: who gathered at what house and when?  I already
knew that Mother and her younger sister usually traveled to Tampa for
Thanksgiving and the family in Tampa traveled to Mother's for the Christmas
holiday.  A simple phone call to my sister, Bonnie, answered the questions
and we planned on a surprise for Mother.  I had another surprise for the
boys.

                                       * * * *

The weekend before Thanksgiving, Sean came home after school with the boys.
I can't say I was surprised.  I would have been willing to bet that Sean
spent more time under our roof than he did his own.  When I came in I found
Sean and Frank sitting in the family room.  Both boys' hair was wet which
told me they had taken a shower fairly recently.  Sean was wearing some
jogging shorts and a muscle shirt; Frank just wore jogging shorts.  I knew
the shorts on both boys were Frank's because he had cut them up the side,
opening them to the waist band.  The extra exposure told me neither boy was
wearing any underwear; interesting.

"Hi, guys," my usual greeting to who-ever was in the house.

"Hey Mr. G, wha'sup?"  Sean's usual greeting.

"Hey, Dad.  How was your day?"  Frank's usual greeting.

"Where's your brother?"

"What brother?" Frank surprised me and had me curious. "I disowned him;
gave him to Sean, permanently.  We won't ever have to worry about him
again.  Nice, huh?"  The tone was pure mischief.

"What's nice?  Me?" Mike asked as he walked into the room.  I wasn't
surprised that he was stark naked, dripping water on the floor and had a
towel draped over his head.  Little Mikey wasn't quite as flaccid as he
should have been; that didn't surprise me either.

"Hey, Dad.  How goes it?"  A new greeting from Mike.  "Watch this."  Mike
immediately went into one of his muscle posing routines.  Just what I
needed, a naked muscle prince.

"Michael," I called to him and he recognized the 'pay attention now' tone,
"How about when you finish flexing your muscles, you find some clothes.
Before you head off, did you pull out the chicken breasts for dinner like I
asked?"  The look on his face said he didn't.  I couldn't wait to hear the
explanation.

"Well, you see, Dad, it was like this . . .uummm . . . well . . .you see,
we kinda like got distracted a little."  He put on his innocent little boy
look, hoping to bail out.  "I kinda messed up, huh?"

"See, Dad?" Frank piped in, "Let Sean take him home and we won't have ta
worry 'bout any more screw ups from Mikey."  I just looked at Frank and he
shut-up.

"Okay!  Guess we're eating out tonight.  That means all three of you need
to dress."

"Where we goin'?"  Like the three walking food disposals really cared?

"I guess that all depends on how hungry I am.  First decision, we are not
going to the club.  I think I'm in the mood for a nice, thick steak with a
salad, maybe steak fries, and an ice cold beer.  Maybe we'll add a bloomin'
onion to that.  What do you guys think?"

"Dad?!" Michael sounded as though he had just received a death sentence.
"Do you know how many calories and how much fat is in a dinner like that?
You know, at your age you need to watch how much fat and calories you take
in.  Those love handles grow fast."

"Really!  Michael, are you trying to tell me that I'm fat?"

"Noooo . . . course not!  It's just that. . . you know. . ., well. . .,
it's kinda like . ."

"That's it, Mikey.  Tell it with confidence."  Frank couldn't keep himself
from picking on his brother.

"Okay, smart guy."  I turned to look at Frank.  "You want to tell me what
the three of you have been up to?"

"Us?"  Loved the shocked, innocent tone. "Dad, what makes you think we've
been up to anything?"  Frank's smile, alone, screamed 'bull!!'

"Should I be surprised if I check my computer and find the box feels warm,
or maybe the screen?"  As I set them up I turned and looked at each boy.
Frank deliberately looked away from me and fought to keep from smiling.
"I'm willing to bet that if I check the history, I'll find it blank."  Poor
Sean looked like he wanted to sink below the floor.  He would have been
happy just to escape.  I turned to Michael and just stared him straight in
the eyes.  He was always the easiest to break. "Of course, after finding
the history deleted, I can then open cookies and see where you've been.
I'm willing to bet the URL is one of those sites that has a content
warning, right?"

"Why are you looking at me?"  Michael's conscience always gave him away.
"You know we look sometimes, and you never cared before."  I just kept
looking at Michael and he continued to squirm more and more.  It was always
funny when Mike squirmed.  He could never look you straight in the eyes and
lie.  It was always interesting to see how much of his guts he'd spill,
too.

"Mikey, tell him the truth.  We looked at some porn and Mike got so horned
up he stripped and started jacking while he was looking.  Before it was
over we were all naked and jacking.  It ended with a circle jerk and we
shot all over each other.  So, we had to get a shower and get cleaned up
before you got home and caught us.  What else could we do?"  Frank ended
with his well practiced shit-eatin' 'gotcha!' grin.

"Fra -- ank!!"  Michael and Sean pretty much echoed one another in
reaction to Frank's bold statement.  Poor Sean looked as though all the
blood had drained from his body and he wanted a hole to crawl into.

"Oh, I don't know.  Maybe you could have scraped it off and fed it to one
another, or rubbed it in like a body lotion?"  I returned Frank's
shit-eatin' 'gotcha!' grin; then I turned to Sean who was about to pass
out.

"Sean, don't worry, Frank has this habit that when he thinks I'm about to
find out something he would prefer I not know, he comes out with the truth
in a way designed to shock people."  I watched Sean for a moment.  "Sean,
you need to inhale, son."

"Now, since Michael neglected to pull out the meat for supper, I think it's
only fair he contributes to paying for dinner."

"Da-ad, no!  I don't have any money."

"And, since my younger son likes to be a wise ass and try for shock
treatment, try this one on.  You get to pay for the other half of dinner."

"That's okay, 'cause I don't have any money, either."  He was still wearing
that dumb grin.

"I don't know why you two persist in thinking the old man is so naïve and
can't figure out some of the things you do.  I'm not surprised neither of
you has saved any money.  Therefore, I am going to make you a loan in the
amount of whatever tonight's dinner costs.  You can pay me back by giving
me half of your allowance each week until the loan is paid in full, with
interest."  That was my idea of shock treatment.  "Now, suppose you three
get dressed, please."

                                       * * * *

"Mr. G, ya know it's only right that I pay for part of dinner, too; I was
in on the doin's this afternoon and. . . . well. . . . it's just. . . ."

"Sean, they didn't get to treat us to dinner because of this afternoon.
They earned the privilege of treating us because one of them didn't do what
he was supposed to; he didn't pull the meat out for dinner.  The other one
because he decided to be a smart guy and try his shock treatment.  I just
thought I'd shock him back."  I still wasn't sure Sean understood.

"Then, that means, Mr. G, that you're not mad at us 'cause we looked in the
computer and . . ., you know, we. . . ."

"Did the same thing any normal, hot blooded teenage boy would do?"  I
completed the question for him and enjoyed watching him blush while my sons
laughed.  It was always easy to make Sean blush and I always enjoyed doing
it to him.

"Sean, I've always wondered why teenagers thought adults were either
completely stupid or so naïve that they couldn't survive without their
children's guidance.  Do you really think that I haven't known that my sons
like to play with themselves, have probably humped the pillows more often
than I care to think about, have measured themselves and probably have a
record of it somewhere, and have been looking at x-rated sites in our home
computer since long before their mother passed away.  Both of them have
spent more time running around the house sans clothes than with clothes.
And, I imagine. . . "

"Dad! Please!"  My older son seemed shocked.  "Do you have ta tell the
whole world?  People can hear."

"If they don't know about it now, maybe they need ta learn; 'specially if
they have sons at home."  My younger son added his opinion.  The three boys
looked at one another and broke into laughing fits.  Such was a teenager's
sense of humor.

The boys seemed to accept their fate and Sean thanked them for everything
he enjoyed for dinner.  He didn't wait till the dinner was over, but
thanked them after each bite.  He made a joke out of it and I think Frank
was ready to gag him about half way through the meal.  The important part
was that they accepted their fate and enjoyed themselves.

When we got home I wasn't surprised to hear them talking as though Sean was
spending the night; he did at least two out of three weekends.  Nor was I
surprised to learn they had thought about the pool before the weekend
arrived and had turned on the heater Thursday morning before leaving for
school.  Three teenagers ran through the front door to the boys' room.
Within minutes, three naked boys came running out giggling and acting like
little kids.  I was satisfied to know they would burn off energy and sleep
when the time came.

I always tried to give the boys their privacy, and that extended not only
into their bedroom, but, also, into their conversations.  There were times
when I did hear a word or phrase here and there, but I ignored them unless
I thought it might be significant.  When they were in the pool,
particularly with friends, I made it a point to ignore what was going on.
I knew what boys could, and did, do when a head suddenly disappeared under
water and there was a sharp yelp.  This night was no different until I
heard something about a long weekend coming up and doing nothing in school
the coming week.  I had to let them know what was going on before they
committed themselves too deeply.  I headed out to the pool to spoil their
fun.

"Guys, before you make any heavy plans, there's something I should tell
you.  You won't be here for Thanksgiving, remember?"

"Shippin' 'em out, Mr. G?"  Sean offered, teasing.

"I gave it some thought.  Your mother wanted to know if I could ship you
with them."  My boys thought that one was funny; Sean didn't, but he did
know I was teasing him, so he joined in the laughter.

"Actually, I told the boys we'd take another mini-vacation for the holiday
weekend.  This time, however, it will be an extended mini-vacation.  We are
leaving Sunday and flying down to Florida.  My sister lives just outside of
Tampa and the family will gather at her house for Thanksgiving dinner.  We
haven't seen the family in a little over three years."

"So, you weren't kiddin' 'bout leavin' town for the holidays!  You never
said anything else so, we figured it wasn't happenin'.  When'd you make the
reservations?  Where are we stayin'?"  Michael asked.

"I made the reservations right after we talked.  I thought I would save it
as a surprise, but I heard you guys in the pool talking about the long
weekend, sooo. . . ."

"Are we stayin' with Aunt Bonnie the whole week?"

"Nope.  We are staying at a small resort just south of Tampa.  Monday we'll
go to Sarasota, Tuesday might be deep sea fishing, Wednesday we'll have to
figure out.  We won't go to Bonnie's until Thursday morning.  I'd like to
surprise your Grandmother."

"Hey, dad, you think maybe one night Eric could stay with us.  We had'n
seen him since, well, you know.  He's kind of a cool dude."

"Frank, you always think everybody's kind of a cool dude," Michael
complained.

"No I don't!" Frank shot back indignantly, "I don't think your cool."
Frank stared at his brother a moment and then grinned like a Cheshire cat
while Michael turned beet red, signaling his blood pressure was rising.
Sean and I couldn't help laughing at Mike's expense.

                                       * * * *

All three boys sequestered themselves in the boys' room.  I decided I
probably wouldn't see them the rest of the evening, even if I could hear
them.  I made it a point to not listen to them, but try to give them some
privacy.  I did hear the occasional 'bite me' or 'kiss it, dude', but as
long as I didn't hear any tones that suggested a major argument, I left
them alone.  After all, they were boys and boys thought it was big stuff to
use that kind of language once in a while.  I tried not to think about what
they might be doing to create that kind of language.

Left alone for the evening, I decided to treat myself to a leisurely soak.
I gave Kathy a hard time about insisting on having a Jacuzzi tub in our
bathroom, but after trying it that first time I asked her why she didn't
have it installed earlier.  With the lights out, some light jazz, jets
going full blast, a couple of candles lit and a glass of wine, I was ready
to pamper myself; and I did.

Twenty minutes with the jets running was longer than the manufacturer
recommended at the risk of injuring oneself.  I decided to be mellow and
follow my instincts; to hell with the manufacturers recommendations.  My
body said twenty minutes was perfect.  Afterwards, I slipped on a full
length robe and made my way to the family room.  When I walked past the
boys' room the sounds I heard through the door said someone thought he was
being picked on.  I wasn't surprised that it was Michael.  He was never
going to learn how to handle his brother and Frank was never going to stop
pushing Michael's buttons.  I also heard something about a boner?

With a half-glass of wine, I situated myself on the sofa.  It was a
high-back pub style unit Kathy found in a used furniture store and had
reupholstered in leather.  It was plush and comfortable.  The push of a
button gave me a small fire and I reached for a book I had purchased two
years ago, but never read.  I always wanted to read Steinbeck's East of
Eden; I found page one..

I tried to dismiss what I had heard walking past the boys' door, but it was
difficult to just erase 'a boner'.  I opened my book and thought back to
the days Kevin and I used to play with his train set.  The set was laid out
in the attic of their garage, and it was hot up there.  Even as little kids
we didn't like having to wear clothes soaked in sweat.  Our cure was to
peel off one item at a time, beginning with our shirts and ending with
nothing.  We thought it was naughty and fun to play naked.  Part of the fun
to me was thinking about what my grandmother and some other members of my
family would say if they found out; I was getting away with something they
would have a fit over and that made it even better.

Sometimes we would walk by one another and our skin rubbed; it was
electric.  It was while we played with his train set that I saw my first
boner on another boy.  Kevin was taller than me and it didn't take much to
see that his boyhood was bigger than mine.  While I looked at him I got a
stiffie, too, and tried to hide it.  He stepped up next to me and I felt
his hand on my privates.  I remembered how good it felt and wondered why,
years later, I freaked out so badly when he lay on me and brought me to an
orgasm.  I realized later that he had done just what I had wanted him to do
since the days we played naked with his trains.  He lay on me, sweaty skin
to sweaty skin; it felt wonderful and I was scared to death.  My heartbeat
picked up and I heard the thumping in my head.  I tried to shake the
memories away and concentrate on my book.

Just as I was really getting into the book, I heard a door open.  Dropping
the book to see who was coming, I was a little surprised to see my number
one son.  The surprise wasn't really that it was him; the surprise was that
he wasn't naked.  He wasn't wearing much, just a terry cloth wrap he
sometimes used when he got out of the shower, but he wasn't naked.  The
look on his face said he wasn't a happy boy.

"What's going on, Michael?"

"Ohhhh, nothin'.  It's just that Frank and Sean are bein' real dick-heads."
I didn't ask for an explanation.  "Can I sit with you for a little?"

"Sure, as long as you promise not to act like a real dick-head, whatever
that is."  His response was a fake smirk and silent 'ha,ha'.

Michael's idea of sitting with me wasn't exactly that.  He grabbed one of
the overstuffed accent pillows, laid it partially on my leg and partially
on the arm of the sofa, and stretched out in my lap.  I had to smile.  Many
times I had seen him do this same thing to his mother from the time he was
a little boy.  Problem now was that he wasn't a little boy.  This was one
of his ways of letting me know he felt like he needed some attention or
pampering.  When he did this with Kathy I fussed because I thought she was
pampering the boys too much.  Now, I understood why she could never say no.
I wondered if he was going to finish telling me what he had started a month
ago.

He lay across my lap and it was easy to tell he was completely relaxed.
Instinctively, I ran my fingers through his hair and lightly rubbed his
back.  As my fingers traveled over his youthful, silky skin, I noticed the
muscles in his back and shoulders.  Muscles he had spent many hours of
pushing weights to develop; muscles he was very proud of.

"Dad, Mom always kept a small thingy of powder in that table drawer." He
pointed to the lamp table next to us and I smiled at his not so subtle
hint.

Deliberately, I ran my fingertips over his back.  Goose bumps appeared and
he squirmed, but he stayed.  I decided not to tease him, but give him a
nice rub down and let him enjoy himself.  A number of the people at my
office complained because their teenagers treated them like poison.  There
were no more hugs, no more kisses, no more special moments.  I didn't want
to pass on the opportunity.

It didn't take much to get him to whimper and take deep breaths.  He was
enjoying himself; so was I.  I ran a thumb up one side of his spine and
down the other side.  The butt of my hand pressed into his muscles, moved
in circles and he moaned his approval.

"Dad, do you think I'm normal?"  Okay, that one came out of left field.

"What do you mean by 'normal'?  I think you're normal for you."

"No, I mean. . .well . . .guys at school, when we take showers after gym,
they say me and Frank's hung.  I mean, I know we're bigger than some guys,
but we're not freaky, are we?  I mean, sometimes, I get those days where I
get this problem and it won't go away.  Sean says when that happens I look
like I got a third leg tucked in my pants."

"Michael, there's an old saying about no matter what the constitution says
about all men being created equal, they're not.  Some guys are bigger than
others and some smaller.  Quite honestly, I couldn't even guess at what
would be considered average."

"No, Dad, you missed the point.  We know we're bigger than most guys, and
that's good.  What gets me sometimes is things seem kind of normal and all
of a sudden I got a pole standing straight out.  There's times at school I
have ta go to the head between every class and take care of a problem.  But
the problem keeps coming back.  It's not that I don't like it, 'cause I do,
the problem is it usually happens at the worst times."

"Mike, that happens to every teenage boy.  I was under the impression you
and I had already had this talk.  Was I wrong?"

"No.  I was just hopin' that maybe you'd figure out some way ta help so we
didn't get so embarrassed."

"Wear a jock strap."

He didn't say anything else and I didn't push.  My sons were always told
they could come to us and ask us anything they wanted or talk about
anything.  Now, I wondered if that was a good idea, but I knew it was.  I
was pleased that they, or at least Mike, felt comfortable enough to talk
about personal matters that embarrassed most boys.

I returned to concentrating on rubbing his back.  He loved for his mother
to do this for him.  Kathy always had a smile of happiness and, I think,
contentment, when she gave the boys this kind of special attention.  As I
rubbed his back, I visualized Kathy sitting here, doing the same thing.  A
naked boy across her lap that let out with the softest giggle every time
she teased or pinched his little bubble butt.  As I watched her in my
mind's eye, I remembered something else she did that made the boys giggle.
I followed the picture with my hands.

My left hand moved slowly and lightly over the small of his back.  Michael
inhaled deeply and tensed from the sensation.  The thumb and first two
fingers of my right hand massaged the muscle on either side of his spine.
The left hand moved down and lightly touched the skin on the back of his
thigh.  Another deep breath accompanied by a whimper.  I didn't even think
about crossing the line with my son.  He was my son and I was going to make
him feel good.

My left hand made small circles on the back of his thigh and behind the
knee.  Mike tried to bury his head between his arms, but made no move to
get up.  When my left hand caressed his inner thigh, he spread his legs to
give me better access, and whimpered.  I looked at him and smiled as I ran
the edge of my fingernail along the crease where cheek meets thigh.  I
didn't back up.  The palm of my hand made gentle circles over the down
covered cheeks.  When he whimpered, I remembered the same sound from him as
a small boy when I would pet him this same way.  Now, as then, he was
quickly becoming my whimpering puppy.  I watched as the muscles in his
shoulders and back rippled in reaction to my touch.  I continued to tease
him.

When my hand left his cheeks, he whimpered.  I unsnapped the wrap he wore
and moved it out of the way.  He wiggled his butt.  My son lay across my
lap, naked, and I unashamedly massaged and caressed him.  I enjoyed seeing
him squirm and whimper to my touch.  I enjoyed letting him feel himself.
He was a boy discovering himself.  My palm continued to make circles over
his cheeks.  My fingernail continued to follow the crease at the base of
his beautiful bubble butt; and that's what it was, beautiful.  I was
watching one of God's most beautiful creations enjoy being what he was, a
boy, my boy.

He almost shot off my lap when the third finger touched and then followed
the crevice between his globes.  When I reached the nether region, he
whimpered non-stop.  He was excited; I could feel the hard evidence
pressing into my leg.  I continued to tease him.

"Dad?. . . .Dad?. . . .ohhhhh. . . .Dad?. . . .I'm . . .I'm goin'
ta. . . .ohhhhh gaahhhdd . .  .aaahhhh . . .uuunnngghh. . . . ohhh
gaahhdd," he whined.

"Easy, Mike, it's okay son.  Just let it happen and relax." I told him, my
voice barely above a whisper.  I knew that I had teased him to the point he
was losing control.  I was the one that did this, not him.  He was not
going to feel badly about it.  I whispered for him to lift up a little and
slid the wrap under him.  My hand traveled the crevice.  I wondered if he
had ever played with himself there.  Had he ever allowed anyone else to
touch him there?  And, if so, who?

My finger lightly ran up and down his crevice, pushing him closer to the
edge.  He spread his legs and I massaged the perineum.  His breathing
became ragged and I knew he was close when he started humping my leg.
Suddenly, he bit into his arm and squeezed my arm as he tried to suppress a
squeal and his body tensed.  He was over the edge enjoying that special
feeling all boys enjoy.  His body convulsed as he gasped for air.  I
lightly rubbed his back and whispered for him to enjoy.

When his body stopped convulsing from his orgasm, I rolled him on his side
and looked him in the eye, smiling.  He looked up at me and I could see the
questions in his eyes.  The questioning look was quickly replaced by
happiness.  I lifted him and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and
buried his face in my neck.  I held him for a few minutes.  I didn't wait
for the question.

"Mike, are you alright, son?"  He squeezed me tighter.  "Thank you," I
whispered in his ear and that puzzled him; he pulled back to look at me.

"Mike, almost every father in this world would like to do for their son
what I just did for you; but very, very few ever get the privilege.  It's a
very special moment when you know your son is enjoying being a boy.  It's
very special to see your son enjoy being what he is.  It's a very special
time we have together that I will always cherish."

I pulled him back to me and hugged him.  I enjoyed feeling my naked son
leaning into me.  Our skin touched and it was a special kind of warmth.
Tilting my head, I gave him a little kiss on the cheek.  After a few
minutes I suggested he go to my bathroom to make sure he was clean and then
go to bed.


End Ch Four

To Be Continued

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