Date: Sun, 22 Jan 2017 20:03:25 -0600
From: Michael Smith <incstwrtr007@gmail.com>
Subject: Jake and Dad - Chapter 1

This story, while a work of complete fiction, contains graphic sexual
scenes between consenting males both over and under the age of 18. If this
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As stated before, this story is a work of total and complete fiction. Any
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coincidental. Again, this story is a work of fiction.


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Jake and Dad - Chapter 1




	I feel the jet lurch a little bit as it comes to a stop at the
terminal, my light sleep interrupted by the sudden motion. I slowly open my
eyes and let them adjust to the light before leaning up and looking out of
the window, the Chicago skyline glistening in the distance. I sit back in
my seat and take a deep breath, my mind and heart starting to race as the
gravity of the situation sits in.

        `What if he doesn't like you?' The absurd question runs through my
mind. `Of course he will.' I think back, rolling my eyes at myself a little
bit as the plane dings lightly, the "Fasten Seatbelt" light dimming away. I
take another deep breath and stand up, barely ducking my head under the
overhead bins before reaching down and grabbing my small black duffle
bag. After throwing the strap over my shoulders, I shuffle into the line of
people in the isle of the plane, looking either way, letting a few people
in as the flight attendants open the door to the jetrail. The line of
people starts to move forward in a slow rush, causing me to follow suit,
holding my bag close so it doesn't bump into anybody or anything else as I
make my way to the front of the jet. I smile and thank the flight
attendants meriting a slightly confused look and small nod from them.

        `Damn, yankees.' I think to myself as I step onto the jetrail. The
crisp, cold air immediately hits me and fills my lungs, rustling my black
running shorts causing them to whip around just above my knees. The weather
was definitely something I was going to have to get used to up here. It
never got this cold back home in Texas. As I make my way up towards the
terminal, I can't help but to feel my heart pounding in my small chest. I
shiver a little bit, the slick gray material of my athletic shirt doing
little to keep me warm in this frigid air. My calves are a little warmer
than most of my body thanks to my navy blue crew socks that managed to stay
halfway up my calf like they're supposed to.


	`Is he going to be right outside the ramp?' I think, my mind
starting to race. No, of course not. You've got to have a plane ticket to
even make it past the TSA checkpoint. My black tennis shoes thud softly
against the worn out carpet of the terminal as I step out of the cold
jetrail. Another deep breath fills my lungs as I step towards the central
hallway of the terminal, my eyes scanning both directions before I find a
sign to the exits. I turn and walk down the terminal, the quiet slapping of
my shoes joining the noise of the terminal. People are everywhere, rushing
and dodging, standing and smiling, some even eating as they check their
phones. I look up at the signs, following their directions to baggage
claim, which should be outside of the terminal, right?


	`He's going to offer to carry my bags.' I knew he would, there
wasn't any denying it but it was too late to do anything about it now. Mom
had already bought be a plane ticket and shipped me all the way up
here. She thought it would be best for me to "transition into manhood," as
she put it, with him. I tried to fight it but it wasn't any use. She didn't
even care that I couldn't remember anything about him. It's been almost 10
years since their divorce. I'm 14 now but all I knew about him is that she
couldn't stand him so how was I supposed to feel? I hadn't the slightest
clue of what he was like, what his hobbies were, nothing. Here I am though,
rushing towards the baggage claim, headfirst, best foot forward. I stop at
the escalator down towards the entrance of the airport and baggage claim
and take a breath, uselessly trying to calm myself down.


	I step onto the moving stairs behind a few people and I scan the
crowd below, adjusting and nervously fiddling with the strap going across
my chest, supporting the dufflebag. As I scan the crowd, I realize that
everyone is moving. Nobody is standing still. How am I supposed to find him
in that mess?  This city life is already too much for me. The escalator
meets the ground and I step off, eyeing the crowd pointlessly. I can't even
remember what he looks like. Probably something like me but sandy blond
hair and emerald eyes aren't much to go on in the 3rd largest city in the
nation. I find the baggage claim sign and step off in that direction hoping
to find him there. I continue to scan the crowd and take a seat around a
few of the carousels, letting my head rest against my hand for moment of
rest. I pull out my phone and turn it on, the screen lighting up with the
Apple logo. It buzzes a few times and I check my messages, a few from some
friends wishing me a good time here and moved but one from my mom. I tap on
the thread and open the single message she sent me.


	"He'll know what you look like." Is all it read. Great, so not only
am I in a completely new city but I'm getting picked up by a man, of which,
I have no idea what he looks like. A loud buzzer sounds and a few lights
flash as one carousel spins into life. A few large suitcases hit the tray
first as the flight is announced. I stand up and slowly make my way over to
the carousel, my eyes scanning for my suitcase. A few more large bags hit
the spinning platform, none of them mine. Mom said that she she was going
to have all of my boxes at home shipped up here today so I just back the
essentials. A lighter thud hits my ears as a smaller sized, dark blue
suitcase hits the carousel. I smile to myself and start walking towards it,
keeping my eye on it as I do. I get a few feet away from my bag and begin
to reach for it but a large hand reaches out and effortlessly picks it
up. I stop dead in my tracks and open my mouth to protest as my eyes follow
the arm up to the person's face and my stomach drops as I meet his
eyes. That's him. That's my dad.