Chatting Surprise

Chapter 2

The next morning everything was normal. My wife made coffee, and we sat around the table with the whole family. There was no rush; it was Saturday. We talked about what everyone had been up to during the week: hobbies, school, and life in general. My daughter had started playing tennis as a hobby and asked me to watch her practice sometime. It sounded fun and exciting. She was quite tall for her age, with long legs and arms; good body for a tennis player.

My son got a B+ in algebra, which was just fine for him; I was pathetically miserable in math in school.  My wife said she hurt her back at work yesterday after lifting a patient. She had asked for some light work for a moment, but it was in vain. She thought her supervisor could have been more qualified and nicer.

 The coffee tasted good and the sandwiches were tasty, but everything around me felt secondary; my thoughts were elsewhere. I wondered what kind of moral backbone I would lack if I did something irreversible with a boy the same age as my own. I watched Jack laugh at something his sister said, I had two beautiful children and it was clear.  It seemed impossible to me that a man of my age would put his dick in the mouth of my son, the very mouth with which he was chewing on a sandwich. Or lie naked on top of such a young lad, pressing his hips against him, cumming into his ass.

For some reason, my moral alarm clock remained silent; I guess it was a different thing to think of something sexual about someone stranger than my kid. I tried to put the thought out of my mind and go back to chatting with my family.  After breakfast, I grabbed my phone and went to the bathroom. I texted the boy and asked if he was still interested in meeting me, and got a response almost immediately.

Not only was the answer positive, but he asked when and where. He said that since it was a weekend, he could easily move around. Is it really possible that I could have sex with such a young man? Ideas started moving in my brain, and I began to sketch out some viable possibilities. 

>> Want to meet somewhere outside? In a park? Bar maybe? - I didn't have to wait long for an answer. 

<< Anything works for me. I live near Maple Park and it would be nice if we could meet somewhere near there. I don't have a car, but I can come wherever we agree. What do you think about Maple Park?

That sounded like a nice coincidence. Our house is only half a mile from that park.

>> Maple Park is perfect. Would you like to meet me on a certain day?  I asked.

<< How about today? The sooner the better. I am really looking forward to meeting you.

>> Me too. But I'm a little scared. Promise me this isn't a trap. I don't want any problems. This is the first time I do something like this.

<< No trap, I promise. What if we end up wanting to do more than just talk?

He asked. He was surprisingly self-confident and determined. It felt good, 

>> There's no way we can go to my house. My wife and children are here.

<< Too bad :(  - the boy replied.

>> But I'm sure we'll come up with something if the situation calls for it.

I thought about booking a hotel room.  We agreed to meet at Maple Park at four in the afternoon. The boy said there was a gardener's shed behind the playground, a small shack with a bench next to it. The park wasn't too familiar to me, but I didn't mention it; I said I'd definitely find it.

We ended up chatting. I looked again at the picture the boy had sent. A nice young dick wanting the attention of a grown man. Incredibly arousing thought, I wanted to jerk off, but I restrained my lust.  

I went to a large market with my wife. It was the kind of hypermarket where you could find everything you needed in your life. My wife wanted to look at the clothes (surprise?), but I wasn't interested at all (surprise again?). So I went to the sports department for a while, even though I didn't think I'd find anything there.  

I cooked lunch with my wife; garlic potatoes and pork chops. My wife made the potatoes and I cooked the chops. At the same time, my daughter was in her own room, and I could hear a sound that could be considered music, an effective beat to which someone was shouting some vague shit in a defiant voice. Music used to have a melody; now it was just mindless speech with poorly functioning lyrics.

Jack wanted to cut the vegetables for the salad. He chopped tomatoes next to me. My thoughts began to turn to the upcoming meeting. I wondered what it would be like to fuck a boy the age of my son, and I got an erection. Again, I wanted to relieve the pressure by jerking off. But I wanted to save all that energy for a meeting in the afternoon.

At two o'clock we sat down again with the whole family. My daughter had earbuds in her ears and I asked her to take them out. She reluctantly did so; fortunately, I didn't have to get angry with her this time. Forks and knives squeaking on plates. I wondered how I could leave the house at four o'clock without raising questions until my wife broke the silence.

"What would you think if I went to Cindy's for the evening?" My wife asked. "We'd have a little wine and talk. We haven't seen each other in a while and it would be really nice. "

"Hmmm. That would be nice, no doubt. Of course, it's okay with me. When were you planning to leave? " I asked.

"As soon as we eat? If you are kind enough to offer me a ride, will I take a taxi or Uber home?"

I couldn't believe my ears. I wouldn't need any excuses to leave the house, but I wouldn't have time to take my wife to his friend's house an  be back at four o'clock. Women tend to get ready slowly; it's more challenging than men who just put on a jacket and say goodbye.

I had to contact the mystery boy and reschedule the meeting. So I ate quickly and locked myself in the bathroom again to text. We agreed to meet half an hour later.  My wife was just as painfully slow to get ready as I had feared. She stayed in the shower for at least 20 minutes. It had to be made clear to her what kind of pants she would wear or if she would wear a skirt. Of course, her hair had to be dried and her face lightly made up. You don't want to look bad in the eyes of your friends, especially when you haven't seen them for a long time.

Fortunately, the red wine in the cupboard was of good enough quality that there was no need to think about which one to take, which would have taken at least an hour. I looked at my phone and thought I might miss the park at half past four.  Finally, my wife was ready to leave. It was already four o'clock. It would take about 20 minutes to get to her friend's house and the same to get back home. There was no way I could get to the park at the appointed time, so I had to postpone the meeting again for another half hour.

Fortunately, this was not a problem for the boy. I told my kids I was going to leave the car home and have a few beers at a local bar so I wouldn't be home right away. It was a good excuse: going to a bar can sometimes take longer than planned.

I took my wife to her friend and came home. I parked my car in its spot and walked to the park. I looked at the time on my phone. I had fifteen minutes before the meeting. However, I decided to be there on time and went straight to the park. I walked past the playground. There were about half a dozen screaming and laughing toddlers and a couple of girls, maybe 8-9 years old. Mothers were watching their children and gossiping.

They looked at me closely as I walked by. I felt guilty; the women were vigilant that no pedophile would come to watch, or worse, do something terrible.  The shed was just behind the playground, and the bench was on the other side of the shed, so the line of sight to the children playing was cut off.

The sun was shining and the day was warm. The bench was fortunately shaded by a large birch tree. I looked at my phone. There were no new messages from the boy. It was almost the appointed time. I looked around, trying to pick him out of the crowd, but I couldn't. 

Ahead of me, a few teen girls had come from the playground to do calisthenics on the grass. Once again I felt something I hadn't noticed before. The girls wore tight shorts and tight shirts. Their hips were narrow and their butts were small and tight. They were hot, damn sexy girls. But I didn’t care of them.

Then I heard a rustling from behind the shed, from the bush, and I thought it was the mysterious guy I had come to meet. The lad had taken a shortcut. I didn't turn to look; I just heard the footsteps in the sand.  He came out from behind the bench and then I was shocked.

SHOCK! I was distraught, wondering how I had gotten into such a situation. The guy coming through the fence was Jack. My own son! We looked at each other for a moment in silence.

"He-hey, Jack. You're here."  I said, stammering.

"Hi, Dad. Yeah, yeah. Umm.. That's right, yeah." Jack looked confused and was as surprised as I was.

"Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at the bar?" He asked.

"Y-yes, yes. And I'm going there. Yes, I was just going there. I thought of stopping for a moment to sit down because it is pleasantly shady here. Where are you going?"

"Somewhere. I don't know. I'm just walking."

Jack said a little more confused.  The situation was getting dangerous. I had to make sure that the mystery boy didn't come as long as Jack was present. I had a cell phone in my hand, so I quickly texted the boy:

>> Don't come yet. There is a bit of a situation here. My son showed up. You will probably see us when you come. Come a short time after he leaves.

I pressed the send button and the message was left. At the same time, Jack's phone beeped. Jack picked up his phone and read the message he got. Then he looked at me with his mouth open and his eyes wide. I understood the situation just as my son did. He sat down next to me.

"Daddy." He sighed in a low voice full of wonder.

"Jack," I replied. "Big Boy?"  We were silent for a long time. We sat side by side, staring at our shoes. Then Jack asked:

"What happens next, Dad?"

"Good Lord! I have no idea. This is really embarrassing, isn't it? I didn't know you were… you... or I mean..."

"Neither did I, Dad. Why did this happen? Are you... ?"

"Gay? No… I don’t know. I've never done this before, but you were smart and willing and you turned me on. Don't be embarrassed; I don't blame you for anything; we're both equally guilty here. Aren’t we?"

"I guess so." My son sighed.  We sat again for a long time without saying a word.

"Would you have been...? I mean... like you wrote... ready for older...?" I asked.

"I probably would. I don't know. Maybe. And you?"

"I guess I was, too; I guess I can't deny it. It all feels completely crazy now."  

"If I was the person you were waiting for, what do you think would have  happened with him and you?" Jack asked.

"I don't know. If the situation had been natural and not weird like this, I probably would have wanted just what I wrote about." I replied.

"Me too."  Jack leaned forward and spun his right running shoe in the sand, drawing the eight on it over and over again. I looked at him and noticed that when the worst fear had passed, he looked disappointed and depressed. I put my hand on his back and stroked it to comfort him.

He was wearing a purple t-shirt and baggy Nike sweatpants and the hem of the shirt was on top of them, and when he bent over, it came up so high that his lower back was bare. I looked at him and wondered what I was missing when the situation got like this.

First I patted his shoulder. Then I stroked his back. It felt oppressive to be in such a situation. I meant, to comfort my kid because he didn't get what he wanted, even though I was ashamed. But I moved my hand down. I felt an irresistible urge to touch his skin. I pressed my hand against his bare lower back and made a slow rotating motion on it.

His skin felt soft and I could feel the joints in his spine against my fingers. I encouraged myself and lifted my hand higher up under his shirt. The hem of the shirt was against my elbow and I squeezed his shoulder. He leaned against me.  I moved my hand lower. Now that he was leaning against me, I reached out to touch more of his body. I moved my hand first to his side and from there slowly to his stomach.

I stroked his warm and soft belly and moved higher. I squeezed his chest. I looked around, but no one was paying attention to us; I kissed his short hair.  I was knew Jack had wished his father had taken more interest in him. Now I tried to show him that I really was.

Jack lowered his hand to my thigh and then moved it a little higher. My cock was rock hard against my pant leg when he touched it through the cloth. He squeezed it.

"Are you thinking the same thing I am?" I asked.

"Yes, Dad. Or I hope so."

"I was wondering, is your sister home?"

"She went to town with her friends."

"Mom isn't there either. Wanna go home?"

"Yes."

TO BE CONTINUED

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