Date: Mon, 28 Apr 2008 13:51:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: adm2780 <adm2780@yahoo.com>
Subject: Second Time Around Chapter Seven

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 Seven: Second Time Around


"So, Dad, when are we movin'?"  I looked over at my younger son to see that
'gotcha' grin he so proudly wore once in a while.

We were on the plane headed to Philly when he decided to show off his
strange ability to second guess what people were thinking or possibly
planning.  At times it was a very irritating ability that I could just as
soon do without.  There were other times I tried to figure out how to get
him to direct it towards the stock market.

"Move?"  My older son's turn to react.  "Who said we're movin'?  Dad?"
Frank also knew how to employ that same uncanny ability to pushing his
brother's buttons.  When he pulled a stunt like this on the plane I felt
like pushing both of their buttons, particularly the button labeled
'disowned'.

"Michael, settle down, son.  Your brother's just being a wise guy."  I
really wanted to phrase it a little differently, but there was too many
people sitting within earshot.

"But, why would he say. . . ."  Michael didn't know when to take a hint and
leave it alone.

"What part of 'settle down' did you not understand?"  I tried to whisper in
response.  Michael pouted and Frank continued to grin.  "You know, I still
have the 'For Sale' signs I can hang around your necks."

The really irritating part about the incident was that Frank was right.  I
had been thinking about a change.  Kathy had been gone for over three years
now.  We lived in the same house and had the same friends and went to the
same restaurants and everything.  It wasn't unusual for someone to ask how
we were doing, particularly the boys, and then mention how proud Kathy
would be.  As for myself, I was getting tired of people asking when I was
going to date again and whether I'd thought about getting married again one
day.  The memories and the loss were becoming a weight that wouldn't let us
move on.

Nothing else was said during the flight.  To keep the boys occupied I got
earphones from the stewardess which the boys quickly put to use.  I could
see other people glancing at the boys occasionally and smiling.  Each had
tuned in to their kind of music and didn't show any restraint when it came
to bouncing to the beat.  When Michael decided he wanted to rap to the
music, though, I had to stop him.  Michael did not have a singing voice and
couldn't carry a tune if his life depended on it.

We had a two hour lay-over in Philly.  Rather than ask a stupid question, I
just walked the boys straight into the sports bar for something to eat.  No
matter what anyone says, if you want a real cheese steak sandwich, you have
to go to Philly.  I always enjoyed mine with an ice-cold draft.  While we
ate, I decided to talk with the boys.  Although the original intent was to
talk with them one at a time, Frank had pretty much messed that plan up.

"Fellas, how would you feel if I was to suggest that we move?  Possibly go
south?"

"You mean leave New York?"  Michael asked as though the idea was completely
incomprehensible.

"Mikey, if you go south, you're usually out of New York.  Duuhh."  I looked
at Frank and he knew not to push it; this was not the time nor the place.
"Sorry."

"Yes, Michael, I'm talking about possibly leaving New York and moving
south.  I don't mean right now, or tomorrow, or even next month.  It's not
anything I said we were going to do; it's just a thought.  Wouldn't you
like to live where it's warm and near the beach?"

"Just think, Mikey, you could sun bathe in the nude all the time."  Frank
just couldn't leave it alone.

"Shut up, dork face!  Why don't ya just get a bull horn and tell everybody?
Ass hole!"

"Cool it, both of you."  They looked at me and knew the limit had been
reached.  "Frank, one more smart remark out of you and you'll be grounded
through New Years."  At times like this I wanted to remember where I had
put those 'For Sale' signs.  "Now, both of you enjoy your sandwiches.  I
just want you to think about it and we can talk later."

The three of us sat at the table; an island of quiet tension in the sea of
chaos that one always finds in an airport.  After a few minutes, Frank
thought of a safe question.

"Dad, is that what you and Grandma were talking about before we left?"

"No, I haven't mentioned it to anyone else.  If the decision is made, it
needs to be a decision we make without other people pressing us.  Your
grandmother wants us to come back down for Christmas.  I told her I'd talk
with you about it and let her know."

"Would we be there for the whole time off?"  Michael had something on his
mind.

"Possibly, I really haven't thought about it that much, yet.  Did you have
something else you wanted to do?"

"Not somethin' else ta do, really.  It's like, ya know, me and Sean'd kinda
thought about hangin'."

"Oh, I see.  Just "hangin'", eh?"  I had hoped he gave me more credit.

I watched both boys.  Frank took it all in stride just as he did most
things; he went with the flow.  Michael got quiet; he withdrew into some
heavy thinking.  I knew what to expect, particularly since he hadn't
finished telling me whatever it was he needed to tell me from our last
session.  I had already figured most of it out but, he needed to be the one
to decide when it was time to talk.

                                       * * * *

Travel and vacations can sometimes be very taxing.  When we got home all
three of us were feeling the need to just plop down and do nothing.
Unpacking was easy; pull out the toiletries and dump the rest in the dirty
clothes hamper.  The boys checked their emails and the telephone messages.
I looked through the mail and, after tossing the junk and sale adds, there
was very little to deal with.  We collectively decided that the evening
would consist of soup and a sandwich followed by early to bed.

While the boys got their showers, I prepared the soup and sandwiches.  The
shower was running and Frank fussed with Mike about using too much hot
water.  Then, I heard the two of them laughing over something and Frank
called Mike a dumb ass.  How quickly things seemed to return to normal.  I
knew I was home when I turned around and found two quasi-wet, naked teenage
boys sitting at the breakfast bar.  They were also acting goofy; we were
home and things were definitely normal again.

If the boys used up all the hot water, I didn't worry about it.  My
bathroom was served by a separate hot water heater and I took full
advantage.  Sometimes there's nothing more relaxing than just standing
under hot, steamy water coming through a pulsating showerhead.  I stood
there, bent over with my hands against the wall, enjoying each beat as it
massaged my back.  I thought about the trip and smiled when I remembered
David and the shower he gave me.  Boy, I could do with one of those every
night.

With my eyes closed, I stood straight up and tossed my head back.  I could
almost not only see, but feel, David with his arms wrapped around me.  I
let the palms of my hands glide over my stomach and chest.  The sensation
caused me to shiver with the pleasure; it was nice.  My palms reached my
nipples, it almost felt like a shock wave coursing through me.  I used my
thumbs to gently stroke each nipple, slowly stroking across and then
around.  Thumb and forefinger combined to tweak and twist each nipple; I'd
forgotten how sensitive and erotic they could feel until David reminded me.

As I played with my nipples, I pictured him standing in front of me.  Those
puffy lips and sensuous eyes.  I wanted to kiss him so badly right then
that I could almost taste his sweetness.  I saw him smile at me and then
bend over to suckle each nipple.  My mind heard me moan with pleasure.  A
quick pinch and twist of each nipple and my hands traveled down.  Each
middle finger traced the crevice where torso and thigh met, slowly moving
down to tease the side of my scrotum.  Each middle finger then moved in a
circle, massaging the side of the magical orb it touched, while my thumbs
slid along the now very hard shaft of pleasure.

My mind's eye saw every move; my body relived every sensation and then
some.  I wanted him in front of me, caressing my maleness while he gently
suckled and tongued my nipples.  In my mind, I felt his fingers enter the
valley between my cheeks.  I didn't want the sensations to stop, but I felt
an urgency that I couldn't deny.  Wrapping my fist around the shaft,
teasing the sensitive head with my thumb, I engaged in the age old ritual
all males learn at an early age and found relief.

The normal routine for me, was to dry off my body, then my hair. Before
leaving the bathroom I brushed my hair out and tossed the wet towel over a
rack.  I had managed to do a real steam job on the bathroom, so I walked
into my bedroom while I was still towel drying my hair.  There sat two
naked teenagers wearing Cheshire Cat-type grins.

"What?" I asked.

"Ohh, nothin'," Frank answered, "we came in to say goodnight but figured
maybe we shouldn't disturb you."  His grin grew even bigger and he was
about to come apart at the seams trying to avoid laughing.

"Yeah," Mike added, "we figured from the sounds comin' outta there, that
musta been soooommme shower."  Both boys started laughing and rolling on my
bed.  I had a couple of wise-asses for sons.

"Do you know what happens to smart ass teenage boys?"  I asked as I gripped
opposite ends of the towel, flipped it over and prepared to pop them.  The
boys recognized the move and quickly jumped up to run out.

"OW!" Frank hollered as I caught him just below his left cheek.  Both boys
ran, laughing as only teenagers acting silly could.

                                       * * * *

Near the end of our first week back home, Thursday night, things came to a
head with Michael.  It was late and, after checking on the boys and locking
the house down, I headed for bed.  Shortly after finding a comfortable
position, a sixth sense told me to open my eyes.  I recognized the shadow
as Michael.  He didn't say anything and I didn't either.  Simply lifting
the sheets, he slid in next to me.  I pulled him into the spooning
position, held him and waited.

"Dad," he spoke barely above a whisper, "love you."

"Love you, too, son.  Are you alright?" I asked as I ran my fingers through
his hair.

"No."  I heard his voice shake.  "I'm scared."

I felt his body tremble.  He rolled over to face me.  He moved as close to
me as he could, almost climbing on top of me.  It was like he couldn't get
close enough, trying to climb inside me.  He lay his head on my shoulder
and I felt his breath flow across my chest.  He had one arm over my side,
pulling on me.

"Don't hate me.  Please?"  The pleading tone in his voice almost frightened
me.

"Michael, you are my son, my first born.  I will never do anything but love
you, but I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."  I kissed him
on top of his head, held him and waited.  I felt him tighten his hold
around me.

"Dad, I think. . . I think that maybe. . .I'm gay." He fought to not cry
and added, "and I'm scared shitless."  He tried to crawl inside me and
began to cry.  I felt his tears roll onto my chest.

I held him and rolled part way on my back so he lay about three quarters on
top of me.  I took a deep breath and only whispered in his ear, "love you."
My son didn't need to hear anything else from me that night; he needed me
and to know that I still loved him.  He cried till he fell asleep in my
arms.  I lay awake all night holding him and thinking.  The main thought
that kept repeating itself in my mind was something Kathy always said
whenever she held one of the boys to comfort him, "my beautiful baby boy."

He told me he was scared; I was glad I didn't have to tell him how I felt.
I was also scared shitless, for him.  I lay there wondering if I could do
enough to help guide him through this crisis.  He needed to know that it
was okay for him to be gay.

There was no school for Mike the next day.  I felt like he needed to stay
home and rest.  It took some guts for him to come in and tell me what he
did, and I wanted him to know that I would be there for him.  I had to go
to work the next morning, but told him I'd be home shortly after lunch and
we'd talk then.  The big advantage was that Frank would be in school.
Hopefully, that would help Mike relax and open up to me.  There was
something else I realized; I had absolutely no idea how to approach the
situation.  The morning at the office gave me time to think.

When I got home I found Mike lying on the sofa, wearing my lounging pants;
he let me know they were very comfortable.  After I changed into some
comfortable scrubs I reached for a cold beer.  It was a little earlier than
normal for me, but this wasn't going to be a normal afternoon.  Mike gave
me that hopeful, yet disappointed, look of his.  I didn't hesitate to grab
two frozen mugs from the freezer and we split the beer.

We talked for a little while.  I asked him why he thought he might be gay.
Michael, in his own inimitable way, explained the situation and how he came
to the conclusion.  Of course, it wasn't a simple answer.  He knew that I
needed to know all the minutia so I could truly understand how he had
reached his conclusions.  Minutia included the history from the time he and
Frank first discovered it was fun to play with themselves, through hearing
older boys talking about playing with themselves, and all the fun
experiments.  He told me they learned a lot about the experiments from the
stories they read on the internet.  My real concern was whether Mike was
truly gay, as in emotionally attracted to other guys or, if it was a
physical attraction fueled by the sexual experimenting he and his brother
had done with their friends.

We talked quite a bit that first afternoon and over the next several days.
I tried not to push the subject too hard, but let it happen when he felt
comfortable.  When the concentration seemed to be breaking down, or the
subject got a little old, we focused elsewhere and returned to our talk
when we felt like it.  We did spend a lot of time on the computer.  We
didn't go to the porn sites or story sites.  We sought out the support
groups.  I felt better when we found several support sites that focused on
teens who were trying to discover their true feelings.  I will have to
admit that I learned a lot myself; I had no idea there were so many support
groups out there for kids and their families.

There was something else I learned that weekend.  I had a very intelligent
and sensitive son that I knew was going to grow into a fine young man.  We
built a special bond between us that wasn't there before.  We talked about
anything we wanted to.  He was allowed to ask me anything and I promised to
answer truthfully; however, he had to reciprocate.  I was glad that Kathy
and I had encouraged this kind of openness.  I think it helped both of us
when he asked if I'd ever thought about having sex with a younger guy and I
admitted that I had thought about it.  He even asked if it was okay for him
to tell me he thought I was hot, for an older guy.  We laughed and we were
serious. We talked about personal things, intimate things that most fathers
and sons don't talk about.

We became very comfortable with one another.  We sat around nude.  We
discussed erotic areas and sensitive feelings.  While we talked he would
get an erection as he described things that turned him on; I let him know
it was okay.  When I got an erection, and he got embarrassed when I saw him
looking at me, I told him it was alright and I wasn't going to hide it.  I
was as human as he was and I could get aroused talking about things too.  I
think my son started looking at me as a person; a person other than 'dad
the authority figure', capable of having feelings too.

One day we were reading material on the internet and he was getting a
little on the horny side; actually, a lot on the horny side.  I could see
him playing with himself, slowly jacking himself as we read some of the
material and looked at some of the pictures.  I knew what he was doing and
laughed to myself.  I decided to have a little fun with him and tease him
more.  The problem with teasing is that we don't always know when to stop.

It didn't take long before I heard him whimpering as I lightly brushed my
palm over his nipples.  This kid was really sensitive!  He wasn't watching
me anymore, or looking at the internet.  His eyes were partially glazed and
I knew he was lost in lust.  His hand had a death grip on his rod and moved
so fast I wondered how he avoided hurting himself.  His body glistened with
a light coating of sweat. I tweaked one nipple, then the other and smiled
as he yelped.  I looked at him and wanted to hold him.  He was nothing
short of beautiful.  He grunted from deep down inside himself.  His body
exploded as the natural result coated us both.  He whined and whimpered as
I held him to keep him from falling over.  When it was finished, he panted
and gasped for air with his head on my shoulder.  When his breathing
slowed, he lifted his head, looked at me and suddenly, his face reflected a
feeling of shock.

"Dad?  Oh God!  I. . .I"

"Shhhhh, Michael, it's alright, son."  I held his face between my palms and
looked him straight in the eye and smiled.  "I'll never be able to describe
how special that was; how beautiful you were."

I didn't think he would understand what I was saying, at least not fully,
until he was older.  What I felt for him at that point could not be
described.  I could see the mix of uncertainty and confusion in his eyes.
Without even thinking about it, I held up two fingers.  He followed the
fingers as I scooped some of his milk from my stomach and then put it in my
mouth.  He just watched, mesmerized.  I scooped up a little more and fed it
to him.  Tears pooled in his eyes as he leaned into me.  I almost jumped
out of my skin when I felt him touch me.

My mind raced in circles.  The immediate thought was to stop him, but there
was something in the back of my mind that said let him do what he needs to
do.  He had wrapped his fist around my manhood and used the palm of his
other hand to massage the head.  I gasped from the feelings that shot
through me like electricity.  He kept his head on my shoulder.  I left my
hands on his shoulders and held on; I allowed my son to masturbate me.
Another jolt came as he teased and tweaked my nipples.  Quickly, I was
moaning and gasping for air.  Quickly, too quickly, my body erupted and we
were both coated once again.

He lifted his head and looked at me; the question was in his eyes, so was
that special twinkle.  The answer was a light kiss to his forehead.  Two
fingers scooped my cream from his torso; he licked his fingers.  Two
fingers scooped more cream from his torso; I let him put them in my mouth.
Without saying anything, I took him by the hand and led him into the
shower.

"Dad, that was the most fantastic thing I ever felt.  We didn't do
somethin' wrong, did we?"

"No, son, we didn't do anything wrong.  And I agree, that was fantastic!"
Strangely, I felt a little guilty for letting it happen, but I knew that
was from my fundamentalist background.  The part of me that always fought
to suppress those teachings, and stay open with my sons, told me I had just
shared something with my son that very few fathers are fortunate enough to
experience. I wouldn't trade this time for anything.

"Dad, did you know there are some countries where boys go to bed with their
dads and the dads teach 'em how to make love?"

Talk about being scared!  He hit the mark then.  I didn't say anything and
worked to make sure I didn't show any reaction to his comment.  I knew
where he was headed and what frightened me the most was the temptation.

"Don't worry.  Nobody'll ever know, 'cept you and me, what we did."  He
melted into me, placing his head against my chest and his arms around me.
"Dad, thanks."  I held him for a couple of minutes before he added, "We
don't have ta be father and son; we could be student and teacher."  I felt
him laughing to himself.  I popped him on the butt and soaped up his back.
What he didn't know was how much, during our mutual masturbation session, I
wanted to hold him and lay him on the floor and explore every square inch
of his body.  I wanted to learn with him.

                                       * * * *

Frank and Sean had gone to see some new horror movie.  I always thought it
was interesting that they found horror movies to be more of a comedy show.
They didn't care about the story; it was the special effects that
interested them.  Sean's mother provided the transportation and that was
what allowed Mike and me to have time together that afternoon.  When they
came bouncing in, Mike and I were sitting on the sofa watching a ball game.
At least, I was watching the ball game.  Football held almost no interest
for Mike.  He was stretched out on the sofa under a light blanket with his
head in my lap, napping.  He had actually stretched out like that earlier
so I could rub his back for him.

"Hey, Dad," Frank called out as he entered.  When he stepped in front of
me, he added, "see ya got the naked kid again."  I felt Mike tense up, so I
squeezed his arm for him to stay where he was.

"What makes you think your brother's naked?"

"'Cause he always is unless you make 'im wear clothes."  Frank and Sean
laughed.

Michael looked at his brother and about the time I was sure I heard 'ass
hole,' he tossed the blanket to show them he was wearing his shower sarong.

"Oh, excuuuuuse me!  He's not naked, Dad, he's wearing his loin cloth."

"Okay smart guy, how about if I let these two strip you and toss you out
front for a few minutes.  You can put on a show for the neighbors."

"No way," he answered.  "It's too cold out there right now.  Besides, the
neighborhood husbands might get jealous of the equipment."

Realizing this was going no where but down hill, I changed the subject.  We
ordered pizza for supper and I had the boys come sit with me for a talk.
My first point was to make sure they understood this was a serious, show
due respect type, talk.  I had decided to be more open and honest with the
boys and let them know I knew some of the things that had been happening.
Michael had been forewarned, so it was no big deal to him.  Poor Sean, I
think he lost most of the blood in his upper body when I told him I knew
he'd been playing sexual games with my sons.  I wondered if he was gay,
too.  We had to remind him to breathe.

The point was to make sure the boys understood I wasn't playing shock jock
with them.  I wanted to be honest with them and for them to understand that
I was there for them.  I knew what teenage boys did.  I neither condoned
nor condemned their actions.  Boys were boys and were going to experiment.
I didn't want them doing something stupid, like trying to stick their pride
and joy up one of 'em's butt.  Rules were set and we agreed they were more
than fair.  No one, absolutely no one, was to attempt anal penetration
without my consent.  All activity had to be one hundred percent consensual.
They were not to "play the field" and risk a communicable disease.  If they
had questions, they could come to me without fear of any repercussions.  If
they couldn't live with the rules, all they had to do was let me know and I
would be more than happy to provide them with chastity belts.

Frank and I had our one on one talk.  He let me know he didn't think he was
gay.  He liked the girls and admitted to feeling up more than one of them,
but hadn't gotten any further than sucking a boob.  Thank God!  The last
thing I needed was an irate father knocking on the door, looking for my son
because he got a girl pregnant.  Frank admitted he and Mike had been
playing around for several years and it was fun.  Frank claimed to be an
ordinary kid that was just as horny and needed to get his rocks off like
any other teenage boy.

There was one other important thing Frank admitted to me, he knew that Mike
was going to tell me he thought he was gay and ask me to teach them some
things.  When he saw my facial expression he quickly reminded me that all
teenage boys, whether straight or gay, shared a common fear.  If they were
about to engage in some activity, they didn't want to be laughed at because
they didn't know what they were doing.  Then he reminded me that ignorance
was part of what caused me to freak out with Kevin those so many years ago.

Sean and I had our little one on one, also.  He didn't have a father at
home, or anywhere else for that matter.  Sean had been spending weekends,
and many weekdays, at our home and I considered him to be a part of our
family.  I told him that if he liked, I'd act like a surrogate dad or
mentor for him and if he ever needed someone to talk to, he could come to
me.  He knew me well enough to know that what he said to me would be
private.  I also let him know that I knew he and Mike had been fooling
around for a while, but I didn't ask him if he thought he was gay; he
needed to make the choice as to when he would talk about his orientation.
He insisted it was just in fun and so they could get their nut.  He also
acknowledged that he knew I was serious about the rules and that I could
trust him.

When we finished talking, I let it go.  The boys acted goofy, like
teenagers sometimes do.  I watched them and thought it must be nice to be
that carefree.  A few days earlier the world was about to end for one. All
three had a secret life I wasn't supposed to know about.  I laughed to
myself, wondering why kids always thought their parents were never kids.
My boys, including my surrogate son, were normal boys.  They were going to
argue, they were going to laugh, and they were going to experiment with
their equipment.  I accepted that.  I wasn't sure how much I liked it, but
I accepted it as part of their growing up.  I heard a noise and looked up;
three naked boys ran by me, headed for the pool.

As for me; I needed a beer.


End Chapter Seven

To Be Continued

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