A Parent's Choices

Part 1

The wind-scattered leaves rustled their way down the sidewalk and across the path of the young father walking with his son. Joseph Anderson felt the tightening grip of the tiny hand as he made small steps to allow his boy William to keep even with him. Joseph looked up into the tall red oaks that lined Cherub Lane and noted that while the trees had grown strong, the houses on the street had begun to show their age and lack of upkeep.

At twenty-two, Joe had taken his son down the street from his rented house to the park his son loved so much. He found the stroll a chance to reassess his life. A reassessment was in order; his life as many people realize was not going as he had planned it. He worked diligently and reliably at Mason Construction in his job as a welder. A recent promotion made him the leader of Team A, and the accompanying increase in pay helped the savings account he hoped would help him purchase a house one day.

Yet something nagged at him. ‘Am I happy?’ he asked himself, and then he looked down at the smiling face of his son. Guilt filled his soul; he realized that wasn’t the question he should be asking. His son’s happiness should be paramount. Was his son happy? Was he making the best decisions to give his son the tools for a successful life?

“Can I swing?” asked William. The boy squeezed his father’s hand. “Will you watch me?”

Joseph looked up. They had walked to the park. “I’ll sit on this bench,” he nodded. “I’ll watch you from here. You go have fun.”

William ran to the nearest swing, crawled into the seat, and began pumping his legs to get himself going. A gentle breeze caressed them. William never asked to be pushed. The boy, forty-five inches from head to foot, a little taller than average for his age, had always wanted to swing without assistance.

“I hope that independence helps him when he gets older,” said Joseph aloud as he sat on the bench. Joseph glanced to the north of the park. Trees still hid the little parking lot. He remembered parking there with Rhonda. He started thinking back to a time before William, before William’s mother Rhonda, before he tried to convince everyone. When was everything carefree, or was it ever carefree?

He remembered the summer after fourth grade. He’d been sad to leave fourth grade; he loved Mrs. Hanson and wondered for the first time whether he would ever see her again. His first week of vacation was spent reading the book she had given him, ‘Call It Courage.’ He wondered whether she was telling him to be brave as he faced going to the intermediate school for the next year.

As with every summer, he went to his grandparents’ place with his siblings. His grandmother had projects for the family. He learned a lot of things from her, from using power tools to knitting. She kept everyone busy.

After two weeks there, his parents took the entire family to Port Aransas. They slept in tents and took showers at the beach, and just when he got used to things and decided that he wanted to live there, it was over. Home again until the last two weeks of July. He was dropped off at his aunt and uncle’s farm in Oklahoma. No brothers, no sisters, just a cousin who was used to living alone. That’s when things changed. Would they have changed anyway? he wondered.

Joseph thought back to that day, a day crisp in his memory. He was still eating his pancakes when his cousin Robert bolted into the kitchen, grabbed a dry pancake, and ran out of the house. For Joseph, the breakfast was too good not to finish, and he knew they’d be out playing hard until lunch. Once he finished, he struggled some with his tennis shoes, and by the time he stepped out into the hot summer air, his cousin was nowhere in sight.

Convinced his cousin was hiding and would jump out to scare him, Joseph scanned the buildings. A massive barn painted white, several gray buildings with no true purpose, and two for storage that he had helped paint red last summer were scattered before him. Investigating around each corner, he took his time moving from building to building. As he skulked around the building where pig feed was stored, he spotted Robert. His cousin was leaning against an open doorway that faced away from the house and toward an unused pasture. Joseph was about to call his cousin before changing his mind. He decided to sneak up behind him.

As he approached, Joseph noticed that Robert’s shirt was pulled up, and his right arm was moving in a short up and down motion. He walked up to him and noticed that he was holding his privates; his peter was hard, and his eyes were closed. His fingers were wrapped around his cock, and they moved back and forth. His cousin’s breathing was heavy.

Robert opened his eyes but didn’t stop. He locked eyes with his younger cousin. He continued to grip his cock and move his hand.

Joseph looked down at the stiff penis. Robert was moving his hand faster, and then he grunted. White, creamy liquid squirted from the end of his dick. “Wow,” said Robert. “That felt good. Having you watch me was kind of fun.”

“What were you doing?” asked Joseph.

“Jerking off,” replied his twelve-year-old cousin. “It’s awesome, Joe. Want me to show you?”

“Well, maybe. Yeah, OK. Is it really that good?”

Robert smiled. “You’ll want to do it all the time.” Robert moved closer to Joseph. “Undo your pants, and pull your dick out.” Joseph pushed his pants down, and Robert wrapped his fingers around the flaccid penis. Joseph stared out into the hayfield; he tried not to watch his cousin. Joseph felt his cousin’s breath on the side of his head, and it made him feel funny inside. As Robert moved his fingers, Joseph noticed that his dick got hard, and he felt good. How could his dick feel that good? Robert continued the motion for about two minutes before Joseph felt a tightening, a shudder, but his cock didn’t spurt anything.

“Is something wrong? Is my weiner broken?” asked Joseph.

“No,” his cousin told him. “My dick didn’t start spurting until a few months ago. Also, don’t do it more than five times a day, because you’ll get really sore.”

Joseph followed Robert’s advice. He masturbated whenever he could, but he made sure not to do more than five times daily. It always felt good to do it, but sometimes, afterward, he wished he weren’t alone. It had been more fun when someone else was there with him.