Author's Note: Camp Harding is back! Everyone's favorite DILF Richard Harding continues with the rest of Day 2, closing out Lucas's 18th birthday. We pick back up when Matt encounters Richard after Enrique's massage. There was so much to fit in this day that the chapter had to be split into two!
As always, comments welcome at [email protected]. And follow the official Twitter/X at @mharding1985 for the accompanying illustrations.
Chapter 3: Just Like Me
RICHARD
-- Day 2, evening --
So there I was, cross-legged in a musky-ass tent. Hiding my rock-hard cock in my swimsuit, while my son Matt closed the flap door behind him and crawled toward me.
How'd I get roped into this?
My sons' stepdad Enrique just had a nasty fall while hiking during this family camping trip. Since I used to coach football, Matt had needled me to give Enrique a little sports massage. Just like I treated our players sometimes...
And now -- seems like Matt wanted a piece of the action too.
Matt began to undress. Fully.
First his T-shirt. After the collar pulled over his head, loose waves of copper hair fell across his forehead. His tight pink nipples were straight at attention.
Then his shorts and his socks, one foot then the other.
Then his underwear, with no hesitation... Royal blue briefs with red trim. Tossed to the side.
I peered outside the tent nervously. Enrique was playing cards on the picnic table with my older son Justin.
I turned and asked Matt with my eyes: Naked? Here??
"Nothing you haven't seen before anyway," he muttered with a shrug, then a wink.
Before further protest, Matt lay down casually, his chin on his hands, trusting me in a way that felt more loaded than it should have. He shimmied to get comfortable, his perfectly sculpted ass jiggling just for me.
I took a deep breath and rubbed my hands together, warming them before touching him -- professional and measured, the way I’d done a thousand times before, right?
I began to work carefully, keeping my focus narrow, my hands steady. My palms slowly glided over his shoulder blades, down the small of his back, and over the mounds of his butt.
Massaging Enrique in his briefs was one thing, but now -- all of a sudden, my boy Matty was stripped fully naked, offering himself to me as if on a platter.
My heart pounded in my ears, and my hands rubbed down his back again, feeling the sinewy muscle underneath his soft skin. My fingers traced over the curve of his smooth, creamy ass, feeling his globes give way under my strong fingers. Then I rubbed down his legs, my fingertips combing through the fine hair there. Repeat.
I thought of how Matt's body felt different than Enrique's. Enrique was more solid and masculine, fuller in the torso and his ass. Matt, though, was sculpted tight. Years of going to his elite gyms paid off, I thought, as my fingers traced the contours of his muscles.
Matt turned his face in my direction, eyes closed, looking serene. He shimmied again, his asscheeks capturing my attention.
"Do me the way you did Enrique," he whispered. "I wanna feel what he felt."
Silently, I pressed my palms against my son's ass and rubbed my thumbs underneath the clefts of his glutes. My fingers pressed deep into his buttocks.
"It was like this."
"Mmm," he moaned.
I continued the massage, while a dark thought crossed my mind: What does Matt's hole look like up close?
I stared at the deep valley between my son's globes. I remembered how my son-in-law's pretty-boy dick impaled him up there. And now here it was, under my touch. My cock jumped in my briefs.
My movements were soft and subtle, as I gradually spread one asscheek to the side by millimeters, then spread the other, then back again.
I squeezed his left asscheek tight in my grip, then his right, as I caught glimpses of the sweaty hair in Matt's crack.
Then, right in the center, there was flesh that was darker pink. I clenched harder and kept the same rhythm. Squeeze left. Squeeze right.
Finally, a puckered furrow blossomed when I pulled his asscheeks apart at the same time.
"Mmmm," Matt whimpered, and... Was I imagining it? His ass lifted ever so slowly, an inch or two, as he pressed down on his knees.
Then it fell again, and he pressed his crotch into the ground, flexing his glutes. Another lift, then another fall.
Matt was humping the sleeping bag.
My cock was fully hard now, there was no denying it. Edged to fullness since I laid my hands on Enrique.
Matt lifted his ass once more and held it aloft now. His stillness itself was a signal to me.
I ran my hands further down and massaged the tendons deep in his groin with my thumbs, feeling the hair in his taint brush against my knuckles.
Matt squeezed his asscheeks together, trapping my fingers in his crack.
"Hey!" I whispered sharply.
Matt smiled impishly, eyes still closed, then relaxed his ass once more.
What is he playing at? I asked myself.
My thumbs were now on either side of the base of his scrotum. His skin was so warm, right there in his center, that the heat radiated through my hands. His ballsack was shaved clean. And in this stifling heat, his ballsack hung lower than usual and stuck to my thumbs like flypaper.
Matt bucked his hips up two more times. His asscrack opened up for me. My thumbs moved upward to rest right under his hole where his taint bulged out, throbbing, just above his scrotum.
Memories of bubble butts flashed across my mind -- hairy jock asses at the gym, tight smooth butts from porn.
Justin's fuzzy dumper, Patrick's massive globes, Enrique's booty, Lucas's -- no, no, not Lucas's... Matt's. Matt's muscle ass.
Oh fuck yeah. Fuck, I'm an ass man. No denying it.
Warm, tight holes...
I realized I'd been holding my breath this whole time.
And then, with a sharp inhale, before I could come to my senses... I slipped the tip of my thumb inside my son's hole. Slick and easy with his sweat.
Matt gasped and jerked his head upward. Then he slammed his face into his hands again, stifling a moan. No resistance.
"Still tight," I muttered.
"Dad..."
"You like that, don't you, buddy?" I whispered.
"Mmfff--" he responded wordlessly.
"I always wondered how you figured that out," I growled darkly. "How you found out you liked a finger up your chute."
Matt's asshole felt on fire, and I pulled my thumb out with a wet pop. It sounded like a kiss.
I sucked my thumb, only once, only to get it wet.
I continued massaging Matt's ass and then, when he least expected it, I slid my thumb back inside, this time past the first knuckle, and circled it around. Out again.
Then back in, up to the second knuckle, pulsating with a slow, shallow rhythm. At least five times.
Matt panted. His hole pulsated around my thumb. His fingers clenched my thigh behind him.
"You wanted Dad to take care of you, right?" I murmured. "To take care of his boy?"
Matt whimpered again. I leaned forward over him.
"That's Daddy's thumb up your ass," I purred into his ear, my breath hot against his neck.
I gave up on the massage bullshit.
My other hand began rubbing my crotch, which pounded to break free of my shorts.
I closed my eyes, tilted my head up toward the roof of the tent, and let the sensations wash over me: My left hand grabbing my massive cock. My fingers on Matt's smooth, firm ass. My thumb in his warm hole. My son's ass. My boy's tight ass--
I heard Enrique's and Justin's voices get louder outside as they got up from the table and crossed the campsite. I spun my head around.
Oh fuck, can't they just play their fucking card game?
Then I heard Patrick and Lucas call out, arriving back at camp from their fishing.
Goddamn it, the whole motley crew is here.
I pulled my thumb out once more and leaned over Matt's ear.
"Get dressed. Shower. Now," I murmured ravenously, clutching the hair on the back of his head.
I felt crazed. Crazed and dazed.
* * * * *
Matt hurried to put on his T-shirt and shorts, leaving his briefs behind. I readjusted my cock to conceal my bulge.
We emerged from the tent, blinking in the late afternoon sun. We did our best to avoid the other guys, who had just sat in a loose circle of camp chairs.
Most of their backs were turned. Only Patrick was facing us.
"Goin' for a walk," I feigned, while Matt followed silently behind me. Patrick looked at Matt, then back to me, then nodded faintly while he took a swig of his beer.
Matt and I walked briskly up the path that led to the shower house. It was a bit of a hike. Along the way, I slapped his ass playfully then put my arm around his shoulder and ruffled his hair. I felt drunk.
Matt continued silently, crunching his feet along the dirt path. Too silent. I looked down at my feet. I thought of the man he was now -- and the guy he used to be.
Is this right? What am I doing?
Before I could waver further, Matt placed his soft hand in mine, grabbed it fiercely and yanked me off-trail into the dense woods.
"What--" I said.
"Shh." He pulled me further through the shrubbery, the trail now concealed by the trees. The canopy above cast shadows over us.
"Can't wait anymore," he said, close enough that I could feel the steam from his breath. "Fuck the showers."
The hunger in his eyes, the desire in his voice... He looked wild.
I felt wild.
I grabbed my son by his waistband and shoved him against a sturdy, wide tree. He wrapped his arms around its trunk, arching his back to stick his ass up in the air.
I nestled close behind him, my neck on his shoulder, his soft copper hair tickling my nose.
He muttered into the tree trunk, "Lucky you, getting your hands on Enrique."
"Shh--" I said sharply.
I popped open the snap buttons on his shorts. I'm an ass man, I thought.
Then, as I knelt down, in one fluid motion, I yanked Matt's shorts straight to the ground.
My face was inches from his perfectly sculpted globes, as smooth and milky as ever. I rubbed my right cheek against his right glute, feeling my stubble scratch him ever so slightly, while I grabbed his other glute, indenting my fingernails into his flesh.
Matt yelped.
"Shush," I said. I ran my right hand up his leg and lodged it in that special valley between his ballsack and his thigh.
Meanwhile, my cheek still on his ass, I took my left hand and ran it slowly down his crack like a credit card. Up close, I could smell the musk emanating from his taint. Intoxicating.
The secret hairs inside brushed against my fingers. I paused when the tip of my index finger was right on his hole.
"Fuck yeah," he said. "You wanna finger me, Dad? Finger my ass."
He didn't even need to tell me.
I tickled the outside of his sphincter for the briefest of seconds before sticking my finger right up inside him. Just as smooth as before. No rush. I wanted to savor this. I felt Matt clutch onto the tree harder as he sat further down onto my knuckle.
I pumped my finger inside him a few more times before replacing it with my middle finger. Then, after hacking spit onto my fingertips, I used both at the same time. I knew he could take it. Even for a bottom, he was as tight as a virgin.
"Yeah, yeah, fuck," he whispered. "How does that feel, Dad?"
"You're doing good, sport. Bounce on your daddy's fingers -- yeah, that's it. Stretch your hole open."
"Fuck, bend them, Dad. Agh! You're hitting my-- my prostate."
"This it?" I said, following his command, feeling a stiff wall inside toward his belly, like a tennis ball.
"Gahh!" Matt cried out.
A thin trail of pre-cum dribbled out of his cock like a leaky faucet.
"Yeah, that's it," I said, looking up at his profile. "Fuck your cunt on your daddy's hand, boy."
Matt groaned.
He sighed into his shoulder as he let his weight fall further into me.
I thought about what it must be like to get fingered up the ass. That always seemed a stretch too far for me...
Although... Patrick did just rim me the other day in his hot tub. Catching me by surprise, his perverted tongue threatening to go inside me... Rimming... There's another idea...
I'm gonna take all that I can get, I thought.
Without warning, I yanked my fingers out of my son's rectum, spread his cheeks apart, and dove into his ass.
Matt yelped again, with my nose buried up in his crack, as if this was moving too fast even for him.
Fuck, that's what I'm talking about. My second son's musky ass. Smells good.
My tongue poked ever so slightly out, just to flicker around his hole. I tried to mimic Patrick's moves from earlier.
It's just enjoying a little ass. Can you blame me? I'm an ass guy! And Audrey's the one who wouldn't put out. Fuck that.
Matt's tight globes framed my face perfectly, hugging my nose tight.
His scrotum slammed back against my chin as he gyrated his hips over my face.
Slap, slap. Fuck those nuts were heavy. Just like his daddy.
"Shit, Dad, where'd you learn to do that?" Matt muttered.
"Your dad's got his own secrets," I said into his pucker, my words vibrating up through his body.
The hair in his taint was now sloppy and wet, plastered over my lips and my nose.
My knees dug into the soft soil, while only the sounds of my slurping and Matt's ragged breaths cut through the silence.
"You ever wonder what it would feel like to-- to suck your own cock?" Matt said breathlessly.
Sure -- I thought quietly -- every guy would self-suck if he could.
I kept licking his taint.
"You know..." Matt continued, "mine is just like yours... Even Uncle Patrick said so at the river. Eight inches of fat man meat..."
I paused and pulled myself away from Matt's ass, wiping my mouth. His offer was clear now. But unthinkable.
Stroking together was one thing. Just Dad giving a helping hand. Even I did that with Justin and Patrick.
And fingering and rimming -- that's just me having fun with a nice tight ass.
But sucking another cock? A blowjob? I can't come back from that. That's just gay shit.
Sensing my silence, or my weakness, Matt continued softly: "Please, Dad?"
I lay my head against Matt's ass, processing.
Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and dopamine flooded my brain, as my body knew what it was about to do before my mind did.
I placed my hands on Matt's hips and slowly turned him around. His feet shuffled on the grass below.
And there it was.
My son's girthy, fat man cock, hanging thick and low over his massive nuts. His light-brown bush was perfectly trimmed -- a dense, full triangle with sharply defined edges.
And it's true -- it did look like my cock, just without a foreskin. It grew even more for me now, stiffer and straighter, yet still heavy with its own weight.
That's my big boy.
I grew nervous as his cockhead bounced in front of my lips. But it was now or never.
What was it that Patrick always said when we jerked it together in college?
It's just guy shit?
Sure.
I opened my mouth and drew nearer...
"Uh, uh," I heard above me. I glanced up, and Matt looked at me darkly with a lustful glare that I'd never seen on him before.
"Not so fast," he said, gripping my hair from the back. "Take your shirt off."
I was startled. But senseless, I followed his command. I handed him my T-shirt. He pressed the sweaty short sleeves to his nose.
"That's it," he said, inhaling. "Fuck, I have a hot dad."
I couldn't believe my eyes.
"OK..." he said. "Tongue out..."
He looked down at me like a toy.
"I'm teaching you this time."
He grabbed his thick, veiny cock and drew it closer to my face.
A thick pearl of pre-cum collected at the tip, glistening and clear, threatening to drip down into my maw.
Smack.
Contact. He slapped it right on my tongue, hard. My son's swollen cockhead. It bounced off. My mouth watered.
Then a second time, and a third time. It felt thicker, heavier, than I expected, and it was warm and silky.
Alarm bells rang through my head. This is insane. This is crazy. This is... my son. My grown-up stud of a son.
I crossed my eyes, and saw that the glistening glob of pre-cum was now a silky strand that connected my boy's cock to my tongue.
Then Matt rested his cock on my open mouth and slid it across my tongue.
Very simply he said, "Suck it."
I wrapped my mouth tentatively around his cockhead, the first penis to ever touch my lips.
"That's good. Start with the head," he cooed. "Milk it."
I began sucking.
Underneath the rustle of the leaves overhead, I thought I heard Matt whisper: "Finally."
Matt guided me softly, his hand under my chin. The tip of my tongue swept against his piss slit, moistening his smooth cockhead, so my lips could glide smoothly.
I couldn't help but grimace a little at the thought now, at the shocking display we made. My fingers, nestled lightly atop Matt's hipbones, faltered slightly with hesitation.
"You're doin' good, Dad," Matt's voice said above me. His praise sent a jolt of confidence through me that I wasn't expecting. But the massive hog in front of me still intimidated.
I moved both my hands to wrap around my son's penis, sandwiching my fists between his full bush and my lips. It's the same move that I saw women do when they went down on me, nervous about having my cock rammed full-speed down their throat.
With just an inch or two to focus on now, I kept suckling. Drawing all the pleasure I could out of my second son's sweet cockhead.
Matt tossed my shirt aside, then pulled off his own shirt, slowly and deliberately.
I opened my eyes and, craning my head up, I saw his thin treasure trail, his tight abdomen, his firm pecs and--
Suddenly, a yank at the back of my neck! Matt had wrapped his shirt behind my neck like a sling, pulling me deeper against his crotch, my stacked fists barely providing enough of a buffer.
"Bit more..." he muttered. "There you go." Matt thrusted inches deeper down my mouth, his glans sliding slickly against my palate.
I placed my hands on Matt's torso for support, running my fingers through his hairy trail and the ridges of his tight abs.
"You know," Matt said, "Uncle Pat never did this for me."
I flashed back to my outrage against Patrick last week.
Does this make me worse than him? Or should I be proud? After all, I'm doing something that even my adventurous big brother hadn't.
My cock bounced at the thought.
Matt yanked harder on the shirt around my neck. Another jab thrusted deeper -- down my esophagus.
I gagged and coughed, and drool spurted out the corners of my mouth, onto my chest.
"Mfff--" I spewed out.
"Yeah. Deeper, Dad. Just like suckin' your own cock."
Matt yanked tighter around my neck and let his cockhead nestle right at the back of my throat. I was infinitely stuffed, striving for shallow breaths through my nostrils. Oxygen carried the faint scent of his musky bush.
My hands gripped his asscheeks. I felt his power as he clenched his glutes and thrusted again.
Drool dribbled down Matt's ballsack, making a sticky mess when it slapped against my chin.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I took as much as I could. They began to stream down my cheeks -- not from any emotion, I thought, but from pure physical exertion.
I looked up at Matt and caught his gaze through the tears. His hazel eyes, his wicked smile.
Fuck, this cock is a lot, I thought.
Oh fuck. I realized.
He's just like me.
I felt sympathy for the girls I'd dated who couldn't take my own size either.
Matt shoved the last inch in.
I almost retched, and Matt steadied his pace.
"Sorry, Dad," he muttered.
"S'okay," I garbled out around his cock, another stream of spit pouring out of my parted lips.
I pulled my dick out of my fly, retracting my foreskin and focusing my own pleasure onto the tip.
"Try sucking a little tighter," he said.
Matt pumped his cock into me more steadily, slowly, deliberately. Then he jumped up.
"Shit, careful with your teeth," he scolded.
I tried again and made a tight O with my lips, holding my teeth far from his dick.
"That's it, nice and tight," he added. "You're a quick learner."
I scoffed through my nose and kept sucking.
"Fuck, I'm about to bust. Oh yeah!" he said, pumping harder.
Then he twitched: "Ow! Dad! Teeth again."
Matt pulled out, dropping his shirt, throttling his cock.
He laughed gently. "It's OK," he said. "Sit back."
I sat back on my haunches, now able to breathe fully, and stroking hard, I brought myself closer to orgasm. The grassy aroma of the underbrush filled my lungs. Panting, I swept one hand down Matt's hairy calf, looking up at him, hypnotized.
Matt clutched the back of my head and jerked his cock with his other hand. His fist frothed up the throat-slime that I left behind. The squelching noises sounded obscene.
"Fuck, Dad, lean back," he huffed heavily.
He slammed his back against the tree and let out a guttural moan from deep in his belly.
Fire.
A thick jet of my son's hot, white, creamy cum shot out of his cock with unprecedented force, grazing my cheek.
Splat.
An equally thick wad splashed right against my chest, painting a solid line down my sternum.
Then a third.
And a fourth. And a fifth.
My son marked me with his semen.
Gooey ropes of my boy's cum splattered puddles across my chest. A sweet, astringent smell like chlorine flooded my nostrils.
Already dripping down my abdomen, my son's first loads plunged right into my untrimmed dadbush.
Past the point of no return, I slammed my fist down to the base of my own cock and I came.
Oh fuck, how I came. I came hard and fast onto Matt's feet.
One hand still on Matt's leg, I clenched my eyes tight, as I rode one of the strongest orgasms in my entire life.
"Arghhh! Agh! Ahh!" My yells and sighs rose in pitch. My vision blacked out. Crouching, I almost toppled over, until Matt's hand steadied my shoulder.
Panting desperately, I caught my breath and began to stand up, my knees creaking. But, Matt's hand still on my shoulder, he stopped me.
Matt knelt down slowly, his gaze holding me at eye-level. Sweat beaded his brow. Stubble dotted his face at this late hour.
He held my shoulders and leaned closer...
Down to my chest.
Placing his face between my hairy pecs, he ran his tongue broadly around, matting his own sticky cum into my chest fur, licking his mess as easily as cream.
I groaned as he passed his tongue over my nipple, then the other, flicking playfully on the soft, pink flesh.
He looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes, grinning widely.
"Tastes like both of us," he whispered, turning back into my sternum.
I rested my chin on the top of his head, looking up at the treetops anxiously and feeling my heart crash back to earth.
Matt lifted his head, pausing briefly over my lips. I held my breath.
Suddenly -- a sharp crack in the shrubbery alongside us, then muffled rustling as someone, or some animal, escaped away.
Matt and I swung our heads in the direction of the sound, clenching each other tightly, naked as jaybirds -- both alarmed out of our wits. But nothing. No one.
Clearing his throat, Matt stood up slowly and offered me his hand. Silently, we pulled up our pants, put on our T-shirts, and wandered cautiously back toward the trail.
* * * * *
The sun had fallen further behind the trees now, and rays of gold cut through from the horizon. When we returned to the trail, the pathway was deserted in both directions.
"Maybe we should... go for a walk," Matt suggested, nodding away from our campsite. "Before we head back?"
"Hm," I nodded curtly, unable to meet his eyes once the fog had lifted.
"Well... that was fun," Matt said casually, strolling alongside me.
"Mm."
"And you did a great job, Dad," he said, softer.
I stayed silent.
"You okay?"
I shrugged.
"Uncle Pat taught you to eat ass?"
What.
I halted.
I turned slowly to Matt, fear chilling my limbs. A flock of birds called out as they flew overhead.
"Yeah," Matt said. "I heard."
"You-- you, what?"
"Look, Uncle Patrick told me this morning. Before breakfast," he spewed out. "He was annoyed that, even after all of... whatever you two did last month, you were on your high horse about him fooling around with me and fooling around with Justin years ago -- oh, yeah, I know about Justin too -- Justin told me about him and Uncle Pat when he visited last month."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What kind of fucked-up web was this.
Matt continued, "Dad, it's just guy shit. We help each other out when others can't, that's it." He added with an edge: "You should know."
So Matt knows Patrick calls it guy shit too.
I meditated. My world had turned upside-down. I had pretended to ignore my own vices, but they've come back around.
Playing with Patrick used to just be college fun. And I thought jerking off with Justin at the gym might have been a stretch too far. But if Matt and Patrick and even Justin were all fooling around and if I... if I thought I wanted to... was there any reason not to? I wondered.
I felt on the edge of a cliff.
Matt opened his mouth as if he was about to say something more. But I cut him off with a sharp nod and raised my hand. Then I forced a tentative smile.
"Okay," I exhaled, closing my eyes. "Okay. I get it."
Matt beamed and nudged me lightly with his shoulder.
We turned back in the direction of the campsite, even in pace, with my arm draped over my boy.
* * * * *
By the time we approached the campsite, Lucas was just leaving to go take a shower.
He was shirtless, wearing nothing but flip-flops and his underwear. His smooth flat chest looked a bit tanner than I remembered. A simple towel was slung around his neck.
"Nice undies," Matt teased as Lucas drew nearer.
Lucas looked bashful and passed us on the trail.
Something nagged at me, and I frowned. I turned around and watched Lucas continue up the path, doing a double-take at his underwear.
Lime green. Black waistband. "Hanes" in a bold serif font. Square-cut, trunk style.
Very familiar.
Where did I see a pair just like that earlier today?
Wait a minute.
My heart jolted.
I looked back at how Lucas's underwear draped his plump buttocks.
"Welcome back..." Patrick chimed when we entered the clearing.
While Matt rejoined the other guys at the picnic table, I made an excuse about checking the food stash and slunk into Justin and Lucas's tent.
Justin's belongings were still half-strewn about his side of the tent.
Quickly, I unzipped both Justin's and Lucas's duffel bags and peered through them meticulously.
Among Justin's clothes were simple gray Champion boxer briefs and nondescript plaid boxers.
In Lucas's: a matching set of colorful, square-cut Hanes briefs with black waistbands.
Different brands, different textiles, different cuts between the two.
I glanced at the floor of the tent, where the electric-blue Hanes boxer briefs still lay from my stolen moment earlier that day. I recalled its every detail -- the sweat, the musk, the earthy scent, the sweet taste, the blond pube...
My head reeled.
Fuck, what did I do.
* * * * *
By dusk, the camp was quiet again. The final drops of sunlight filtered through the leaves, and the shadows turned everything purple.
We all gathered around the picnic table for a quick dinner of chili and cornbread.
Toward the end, Lucas was busy texting on his phone, barely concealing a smile.
Then Justin pulled out a simply decorated cookie cake from a cooler. Candles too.
Lucas looked embarrassed and pleased all at once.
“Ugh Dad. Where’d you get that?” he asked, putting his phone in his pocket.
Justin grinned. “Sometimes I plan ahead.”
"It's a big day, buddy," I said softly, my mind still distracted. "Had to celebrate..."
"Yeah, you should've seen my 18th..." Patrick said. "Or maybe not," he joked.
"No one needs to hear that," Matt retorted with a smirk.
"Dad, Enrique, either of you got a light?" Justin said.
I dug into my pocket and tossed Justin a lighter. He caught it and lit the candles.
Lucas stood there with a soft smile in the warm glow, cheeks flushed, his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.
His blond hair glistened brilliantly in the candlelight.
We sang.
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Lucas,
Happy birthday to you.
Lucas looked around at us all, eyes shining. Me, his dad, Uncle Matt, Great-Uncle Patrick, Enrique. For a moment, everything felt perfect.
He leaned in, lips puckered, while Justin said...
"All right, bud. Make a wish."
--To be continued--
Email: [email protected]
Twitter/X: @mharding1985
Bluesky: @mharding1985
--
Also by the author:
"Dad's Helping Hand"
© 2025 Matt Harding
PART I:
Chapter 1: What Happens In Rome...
Chapter 2: ... Cums Back Home
Chapter 3: The Videotape
Chapter 4: Steam
Chapter 5: Glory Days
Chapter 6: As We Used To Be
Dad's Helping Hand: The Christmas Special
PART II: CAMP HARDING
Chapter 7: Coming Clean
Chapter 8: His Special Touch
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
