Father, Boyfriend, Lover, Me

 -For my eighteenth birthday my parents got a divorce: No point in staying married for the sake of the “kid” when the “kid” was now legally of age. None of this was unexpected or unwanted by any of us. The ongoing tension in the house had risen for years reducing  each of us to our own planetoid circulating about the kitchen, the only room we had in common. Not that Mom cooked much, but whoever had been nearest the market had kept the place stocked with things that could be made into an approximation of breakfast, lunch or dinner and eaten whenever you felt like it. Some guys might have milked the situation and run wild but I was too affected by the failure of my family to do much more than go to school, work as a stocker at the supermarket and play varsity football. The latter with no great ability but, as with many guys who are both strong and agile, it was the sport to play. It also provided about the only social contact I had with other people for, as time whirred on, talk at the home didn't so much diminish as stop. Here's a typical conversation with Dad.

“Can you pick me up after practice? Around 5?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks”

If you do a word count, that's ten for me and one for him; he made taciturnity seem downright chatty. Mom was a bit better; she was the “inquiring” parent which meant that she asked when I'd be home, if I had laundry in my room or if I could bring home whatever was on the grocery list when I came from work; Compared to Dad, she was flat out loquacious. The only thing the two of them had in common was that they were both great looking. It's what had doubtless drawn them to each other and also why they had married. The product of this attraction, me, was born a few months after the non-religious ceremony at a judge's office that made them man and wife; He was nineteen, she was seventeen.

Handsome, even stunning, couple, everybody said so, and continued to say it even after it was clearly apparent that their good looks was absolutely all they had in common. Oh, and me. I was the only vestige of community property and even that wasn't argued about when they split. Mom had already found somebody else who, apparently, didn't want a pre-made family so by default I went with Dad. Which suited me. However limited our relationship had been, he'd always been there-in a silent sort of way-and was reliable, “steady” (as was said) and made a far better than decent living. Had I been consulted, he'd have been my choice.

Moving day consisted largely of our being absent, letting Mom take her “things”, then we could have what was left over which wasn't much and wasn't destined to follow us anyway. Just as Mom had “made other arrangements” so had Dad. Lacking luggage, I put my clothes and a few mementos in large trash bags and a box or two, put them in the back seat and trunk of my car and stood there waiting for Dad. He, too, had bags and boxes which he put in the bed of his truck and, as a final parting gesture, unzipped his pants and peed on the front door. He waved me to join him and, reluctantly, I did after which I followed him to our new home, one I'd never seen or even knew existed.

The tour to our new place was puzzling in that Dad didn't seem to be certain where we were going. I chalked that up to the fact that all apartment complexes look alike and he might have seen this one once, twice tops. As we got further into suburbia, I thought that this wasn't “Dad” country. His everyday job was as the supervising manager of the repair facilities of a number of commercial truck dealerships and, when he wasn't doing that, he was gone, apparently at a number of “side jobs”. He seemed to always be in some sort of uniform and, with rare exception, I'd never seen him in what might be called “casual clothes”. Even on those unusual days when he stayed home, he still wore bits and pieces of various old, used up work uniforms. He probably didn't wear work boots in the shower but that was the only place he was without them. Excluding his boots-he had three pair-you could have fit his whole wardrobe, such as it was, in a clothes dryer. His good looks dominated whatever he wore but his seeming lack of personality defeated even those.

We finally found “home” and it wasn't what I could have expected in that it was a nicer house than the one we'd left, had a pool, three bedrooms, three baths and was already furnished-to a degree. I assumed it was a rental but it was not, Dad had bought it, had it partially furnished and decorated-in a somewhat unusual style-and was now moving us in. There were no plates and flat ware, there was no food so our first meal in our new home was spent at Denny's.

My room had closets for clothes I didn't own, a bathroom with both a tub and a separate shower-no towels, soap, wash cloths-and a king size bed-which actually had sheets, pillows and a blanket (I assumed based on the lack of everything else, they were thrown in by the store that sold the bed.) as well as a television and a computer. Another closet contained all manner of sporting equipment; I realized that Dad had no idea what I did, apart from football, and so had simply covered as many diversions as he could think of; Some sporting goods store must have had a field day when he walked in and bought one of everything; Fortunately the tags were still on so they could be returned.

We went to the store together to stock the kitchen which also marked our first father/son outing. (I don’t think you can count pissing on a door or eating at Denny’s as a real father/son event.)  At least I knew where things were as, I guessed, he'd never been in the market for more that a few moments to 'pick something up' and, even then, he'd been guided to that by an employee  as his familiarity with super markets was non-existent. On the drive home I tried to make conversation, thanked him for the things in my room, told him it was a really nice house, I was glad I went with him, Mom was a bitch...Silence. At home we unloaded what proved to be a major marketing as there was nothing we didn't need, paper goods, food, cleaning stuff, laundry soap....the list was endless, almost the whole bed of his truck filled with bags and boxes. Putting it away was another adventure as neither of us knew what might be behind any door, in any cabinet, unless it was accidentally open, we had to look-they were all empty but, force of time and habit, you open a door and expect there to be something there . Certain oversights, plates and silver ware, things to cook in or with, occasioned a spontaneous comment from him; “Well, shit”; Back to Denny's for another meal.

Another father/son excursion. We, the two of us, went through the whole house and a few things that are customary for living; There was one whole bed, mine, but no washer, no dryer, no freezer, apparently he thought all that came with a home, you bought it, walked in then started living. He had obviously loaded up my room with things but, as I was to discover, his bedroom was occupied by only a mattress, box springs on a metal frame.

These discoveries led us to his next commentary;

“I tried, son, sorry, I fucked up, I'll get it all put right, make a list of what we need and I'll get it.” Then added the stunner.

“Son,. I'm sorry, I wanted this to be real nice for you.” Got up, went outside, got in his truck and drove away.

Why? Don't know. Ran out, got in my car and chased him down, literally, did the cop thing of running my car diagonally in front of his truck so he had to stop and, stupidly, I was crying.

“Dad, please, Dad...please...you did fine, you didn't fuck up, I, I want you to come home, we'll make it, sleep on the couch, I've got a sleeping bag, please Dad, come home with me…. I love you...you got us this great home just, please, please, come home.”

Those sad deep blue eyes, he couldn't really look at me, I guess I'd said too much, he didn't know how to answer me or something....But what he did next…

He got out of the truck, looked at me, God he was handsome, if you have to have a quiet father, having a good looking one fixes a lot of silence. Then he took me in his arms and bawled. My Dad, the king of silence, crying on my shoulder. Finally choked out....

“Buddy, I always loved ya but I was afraid...your Mom, well, she tricked me into marrying her and she knew all about me, how she got me to fuck her....Son, I'm gay.”

I held him tight. “So's the track coach at school...tells everyone he is , great guy...so you stayed away from me because...you thought...” I couldn't go any further as I was out of gas, out of ideas, no questions, just kept on holding him hoping to hell something came to one of us...

It was past twilight, standing on a street where neither of us knew where we were, I only hoped I could remember how I got here.

“Dad, lets go home. At least we can sit on the furniture, you got some beer, you've never had a beer with your son and I've never had a beer with my Dad, I'd kinda like to do that.  Whaddya say? Please, Dad...:”

He was slow releasing me. “Sure, son, that's a good idea, have a beer with my kid.” And he actually smiled-this was almost more impressive than being told he was gay, I'd never seen him smile, never. “I got a Dad sorta question, are you old enough to drink?”

It wasn't funny but we both started to laugh and couldn't stop, just the two of us, standing in the near dark by a pick up, laughing.

“C'mon son, lets go home...wherever the fuck that is.”

In the end he had to call one of his buddies, a cop, to lead us back. The startling thing about this was...I never knew he had buddies, just men at work, or I assumed there were men at work, given his lack of discussion of anything, I wasn’t entirely sure where work was-there were no numbers to call him if any thing happened he should know about; Even school pestered me for a contact, couldn’t believe I didn’t know where my own father worked…..

Andy, the cop, was laughing so hard he almost led our caravan into hedge row. All he could say was, “Fuck, Mitch lost in his own truck”. Eventually we got back, Andy came in, looked around and whistled. “You own this?”

Dad did something extraordinary; He put his arms around me and said, “Yeah, for me and my son.”

I’m not entirely sure Andy knew he even had a son, why would he? Dad must have been as quiet with others as he was at home, save for items that were strictly business.

“He got a name? Mitch Junior for example?”

“Jon, no ‘H’, just Jon, his mother named him.” He looked at me. “Son, this is Andy….and he and I….well, he and I….”

I thought I knew the rest of the sentence but, somehow, he had to say it. No need, Andy cut through adding the hanging words...almost.

“Uh, Jon, what your Dad is trying to choke out is that...well...it’s like this...Mitch and I...”]

I guessed it was my turn. “For fucks sake, you and him are boyfriends, that about cover it?”

They deflated with relief. Andy hugged me, even kissed me, “Yeah, that about covers it. You pissed off?”

“At what? He’s gay? You’re gay? He’s got a cop for a boy friend? Hell, if I looked like Dad, I’d need a gay cop just to protect my face….you probably noticed he looks real good.”

First time I ever saw him blush. Andy smiled, threw an arm around me while we stood and watched him run through the red part of the color spectrum. “Ya know, Jon, you’re right, he is one good looking mutherfucker….”

I looked right at Andy, reached over, slipped out his service revolve and pointed it at him. “He needs to be happy, it’d be a first so…..it’s up to you, do it, make him happy or I’ll shoot your nuts off.”

He carefully removed the gun. “Mitch, I think your kid loves you...and you were afraid...sheesh…..smart kid, lestways that’s what you always told me…..guess you just never got around to telling him.”

In a strange turn of events, Andy reached down and punched Dad in his nuts. “That’s for not telling him you were proud of him.” Did it again, a lot harder, which knocked Dad to the floor. “...and that’s for not telling him how much you love him, shit, you told me how much you did often enough.”

It was surreal. A cop was holding me in one arm, his gun in his hand while my father rolled around on the floor both hands firmly grasping his crotch. Had to protect my Dad so I gave Andy a knee in the ‘nads which took him down. “And stay there to make up...or out or both.”

No book on child raising covered this situation which, well, probably was singular in occurrence. Stepping over them I headed for where I thought my bedroom was intending to give them some privacy.

Peeled down, easier to do this almost naked-least its always been that for me. Thought about sorting through the mess of sporting goods laying out those I’d never use, some I thought maybe one or both of us might use and the very few, mainly clothing, that were all purpose. Dad and I were about the same size-I had him in biceps and calves-but the T shirts, the jocks, the jogging shorts (I reserved a pair slit up to the waist band for him to wear when he and Andy went…..wherever they went.)

Finally, sitting on the edge of my bed wearing my swimmer’s jock and some white socks-Dad apparently was partial to Hanes as much of the soft goods had their logo on it-when I startled myself by breaking into tears. No reason, only, maybe, I had a real father; Who cared if he fucked men, hell, if he wanted, he could fuck me, who talked and seemed to want me. After 18 years to get all that in one day, just sort of overwhelmed me. I didn’t notice someone sit down beside me to put my head on his shoulder.

“Lean on me, son, lean on me. He was crying, too and I didn’t just lean on him, I grabbed him and threw him on the the bed, got on top and just held him. “Dad, shit, I love you so much ….and Andy, too. Guess he’s gonna be my other Day ‘cuz I’m not the least ashamed, I’m proud of you.” I looked right at him. “Jesus, how hard has it been for you...Dad, I wish, I really do, you’d told me. Hell, I wouldn’t a cared if you snuck into my room and stuck me...I’d a let you, been proud to know my Dad cared enough to show me how much he loved me and, tell you what, with a little effort and some training, we coulda had us a thing….course, I didn’t know about Andy….”

“He was all those part time jobs I went to...I’m ashamed now. See, I met him a long time ago….”

I put my finger over his mouth. “….and you fell in, maybe, like….. then love….hey, where is that cocksucker, he needs to be with us, he’s gonna be my sorta Dad....” Those intense blue eyes. No one could say no to them and certainly I didn’t. “Go get him, only one bed to sleep in and this is it…..I assume you’d like him to have a sleep over….at least until we get everything set up and then he can move in….I bet both of you would like that….”

He ducked his head to cover his crying. “Son, that’s too much to ask of you...know what people would say?”

“Well, how about you bought a house too big for you and your kid so you rented a room to a buddy who’s a cop-cheaper than installing a security system. That’s what I’m gonna say about how come Andy lives here. That back yard and pool looks pretty private…..think about it….Dad, please, Dad, this is all real quick but I do love you….” There was a pause while I thought about something. Thought real hard then decided, what the hell. “Just go get him.”

By the time the two of them returned I was naked and lolling on the bed. Dad had never seen me with out my clothes and, of course, the same was true of Andy. But it was Andy who went into a sort of shock.

“Mitch, Mitch, my god, look at him, that’s almost you. Look at those eyes, look at that dimple, look at that cock….if he’s not your kid….” And Dad did look. Stunned. In all those years I’d just been another body around him, maybe he identified me  by my voice or because I lived in the same house but he’d never really looked at me until now. He finally noticed that I had low hangers, containing prune sized nuts, and a decent cock that, when hard, had a slight up turn, the best shape for fucking. “He’s you!!!”.

It was quiet while, sadly, Dad remembered all the years when he’d never noticed me, never cared that he had a son because, in his mind, I was the result of a trick, a mean one, played on him. I could see the tears start to form and fall. “It’s like looking in a mirror…..Jon...you’re my son.”

“Yeah, I know.” I smiled at him, not as gloriously as he could, but I smiled and it sank into him. Again he grabbed me. “I’m so fucking sorry, kid, I’m so fucking sorry….” I couldn’t let this go on, helped no one and just let him hurt himself.

“Guys, strip, it’s bedtime and we’re all on the only bed. Dad, Andy, peel, take it all off, you’ve seen each other, now you’ve seen me….It’s getting late and, I guess we’d all say, this has been a helluva day.”

It was as if they were hypnotized, they stood up, pulled off their T’s, sat down, pulled off their boots, undid their pants, let them drop on the floor leaving both of them with only jocks.

“Those too, I know what goes under them if not specifically yours so….show me.”

Andy got his thumbs caught in the waist which probably hurt when it snapped back. Dad slid his off then sat on the edge of the bed joined by Andy. Just where I wanted them, three men casually getting ready to go to bed. Together. Okay, for the first time.

“Dad, remember I told you about the track coach? How he told people he was gay and everyone thought he was a great guy? Remember? Well, with me he not only told but had show and tell time, took my cherry so gracefully, he really is a great guy. We should have him over, play volley ball in the pool….two on a side. Dad, Bob, that’s the coach, has been my man since I was fourteen...I love him...not like I love you but….

Sleep had suddenly become a non-starting issue. Dad’s blue eyes got, if possible, bluer while Andy just let his mouth drop. I gave it a few seconds, just to see if they’d come up with something to say, but that didn’t happen. “ I guess you’re wondering if I’m gay...and, you know, I well may be. Coach woulda killed me if I’d made it with another man but, when he meets the two of you, I think he’ll be okay, surprised, kinda been a day for that, but, yep, he’s gonna be mighty pleased. He once told me he saw you pick me up after practice and popped a boner that almost ripped open his jock….the cream did run down his leg. ‘Course he hasn’t see Andy yet but...no doubt he’ll approve.”

They were still silent. Dad came out of the fog of shock first. “Son, you never told….”

“No?...I didn’t but telling you woulda been like telling a handsome totem pole. For all I knew, you might have knocked me stupid, thrown me out, ask Andy, he’s a cop, he’s heard the stories about guys who came out to their folks and...it didn’t end up happily. I’m lucky, I’m going to get my happily ever after plus, looking at both of you, I’m gonna get it twice. Andy, your turn, tell him about guys who end up on the street because they ‘told’ hoping for love or understanding and….”

Andy took over, slowly. In a flat voice that was suppressing more memories and facts than he would say he told my Dad about boys, sometimes twelve, thirteen, who ‘told’ and, if they were lucky, only had the shit beat out of them, others, like I said, ended up on the street, hungry, broke and then someone found them, maybe, and this wouldn’t sound like luck, but fed them, sold them to whomever wanted them...these were the lucky ones, they only ended up in jail not like some others...they’ve never found the bodies. He looked at Dad. “Mitch, you never said a word to him, how could he guess the reaction….you’d more or less  walked out on the family, him, so one day he ups and says, ‘Hey, Dad, guess what, I’m balling the track coach’ and prays you’ll let him stay on, just beat him up now and then….”

“I never, ever would have….”

Andy slapped him, hard, “But cocksucker, he didn’t know that. He doesn’t even know if you know he exists, you forgot him, your mirror image, you forgot him. Of course he wouldn’t tell you….when were you around to be told anything?”

Dad looked desolated; Everything Andy had said was, unfortunately, true, I had been overlooked, not even seen. I guess I was just used to it, that’s how it had always been, no reason to believe it would ever change. Truth was...the coach wanted me to come live with him and I was considering it. The divorce didn’t exactly change my mind but, for whatever reason, I felt compelled to stick around, move with Dad, give him, I guess, more time to not notice me. Eventually I thought about asking the coach over for a beer or whatever, tell Dad, why bother with the truth, that the Coach needed an assistant, I’d accepted and was going to live with him, just more convenient. He would never have known  but then...neither would I. Maybe we both would have lost each other.

“Look, lets back down a little. Andy, thanks for the defense but I think you’ve made your point. Dad, we’ve established that we are father and son, no question so….for now, if that’s possible, could we all crawl into bed, I know what being in bed with  a man is like so no surprises, only that none of us ever thought we’d be in the same bed with each other.

“What about the coach?”

“To come here? Probably a little late at night to call him and….Andy would have to tell him how to give him directions; He’s got some shocks coming but, for now, lets leave him in his own bed.”

For then, and it wasn’t easy, but we all settled down, got comfortable with each other and….lay there. Sleep wasn’t quite on the agenda. I  had an idea, maybe not a good one, but ahead of where we were.

“Why don’t you guys make me part of your partnership and fuck me. Bareback. Here. One can watch while the other plows my ass then switch; After that, we’ll all be tired but, if we’re not, we can switch and I’ll fuck the two of you, plan to do it at some point anyway….”

The expression ‘shocked silence’ seems appropriate right about here. Not sure which of my suggestions got to them, maybe a combination, but it had given them something to think about. I thought I knew how to move it along.

“Did we buy something that can be used as lube? Maybe some cooking oil but...I’ve been opened enough, precum should be enough, coach is bull hung, fuck, his nuts take two jocks, one for each ball.”

There was a lot of silence, A LOT.

“Dad, guess that would make you up first, you’re my Dad and, well, we’ll pretend your going to pick my cherry, good thing is, no pain, just slide ‘er in and breed me, gotta get some Dad juice in me.” I rolled over and stuck a pillow under my abdomen, just got my ass up in the air ready for, well, for whomever took first dibs. Didn’t look like anyone would.

I tried, I really did, to not say what was on my mind but…  “Dad, fuck me now, I mean it, you idiot, you fake father, you...I’m offering you something you can’t get anywhere else; Look at me, it’s damn near like fucking yourself...so stiffen it up and stuff it in. Andy, lick his nuts, get him started….I want to be fucked, I like to be fucked…OR.I can haul ass right out of this bed and, if I don’t get lost, find a man whom I know will be glad to fuck me then let me fuck him. So. what’s your choice? Take your son or let your son go and get it where he knows his tail will be appreciated, wanted, used and I might not come back...you only get so many chances….Fuck that I’m your son, fuck it. Fuck me...”

Andy was smiling. “Ya know, Mitch, I think the young man wants to be drilled by you. And, frankly, when you’re through, I do believe I was offered seconds. Hey, while you punch him, why don’t I suck Jon? Give me something to do while I wait.

That turned it. Dad looked at me, got mad, got hard, got up, got in me and we were fucking at last, father and son. Andy, true to his word, attached himself to my cock and everyone went to work.

Dad was a good fucker, he and Andy, or maybe he and others, had lots of practice but he might have been surprised to find I was ready for him. Coach had trained me well not just because he like to fuck me but because he liked to be fucked which meant he had to instruct me both ways. That’s how I could grab Dad’s stalk with my muscles and jerk him off inside me. I could tell when he forgot he was screwing his son but fucking a man who wanted it, easy enough, he reached around, played with my nipples, put his teeth in my neck, started making growling noises, pulled back then ran ‘er in. Found my prostate ready and waiting which caused my prick to puff up filling Andy’s mouth. Also shot in him. The first time, this was a trick coach had taught me, how to give a little hold back and then shoot the moon.

I could tell Dad was really into me, his fuck had love and care, he wanted me to enjoy it, wanted me to want him again, wanted to take me again….It was just dark enough that you would think it was almost identical twins having at it, one little difference but that didn’t matter, something I could and would correct.

“Son?” “Dad??” “Thanks...” “You’re not done, I figure you got another load for me, just slow down, easy does it, enjoy your kid cuz he’s sure as hell enjoying you….” Andy turned loose, a mouth full of me, put his head to mine and fed me what I’d shot in him. But not all of it, he pulled Dad’s head to one side then finished making deliveries.

“Andy? Climb on, Dad has one fine ass as you know and it’s not in use, might as well be, he’s strong, so am I or, what I’d really like….a double fuck. Think the two of you could slip in together?” I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I had been doubled, coach taught me, I could also be one of the double fuckers but on short notice and without knowing your partner, it wouldn’t work. However, I could feel Andy crawling up on Dad and, from the sudden pressure, knew he’d stuck him. I relaxed, feeling Dad, hoping like hell he was enjoying this, I sure was….I wondered how soon I could involve coach, fuck, just because I had these two did not mean I would give up something that I knew so well and who liked me, liked to play with me and, I suspected, would go a lot further with me than Dad would. Now Andy…..?

Kinda like I thought, Andy was into it a lot more than Dad, maybe his cop instincts that dulled any sense of wrong doing or just liking to fuck me, hoped that was it. The look on Dad’s face as he saw his partner drill his son was something to be saved, framed, admired. It was tinged with exhaustion from what he’d just done, fascinated with what he saw and wondering if I’d meant it, that after they finished me, I’d take on them. But the main thing wasn’t his face, it was his cock growing bigger as he watched the two men in front of him. This wasn’t porn, that would have been boring, this was his bunk buddy of God knows how many years plowing his son’s ass and both enjoying it. Somewhere in his mind, he knew  he’d enjoyed it, would enjoy it again. And soon. That’s the thing about a good fuck, it just leaves you wanting more, certainly made me want more and….I knew where to get it, just not right away.

Andy finished, I begged off taking them citing a long and unusual day-no denying that. It was late and we were tired so….forgetting there were no towels, we all hit the shower and then had to play wet dog and shake ourselves dry. I could see Dad working up to his annoyance at another thing he didn’t do however before he could get there, I simply held him, whispered in his ear that I loved him, loved him fucking me and somehow, that was more important than towels. Andy didn’t get forgotten; I knew in the times to come he was my key to Dad, he was the one who could swat him down when he got antsy about whatever he got antsy about. He was the sort of guy you liked just because you know he was trustworthy, even if you didn’t know he was a cop, just a nice guy and, contrary to contemporary commentary and criticism, most cops are nice guys.  

More or less dry-I remembered we had paper towels- piled into bed finding sleep was waiting for us. To smooth things along, I let the two guys sleep together and I took the other side of Dad; I was sure they had habits as to who slept how with whom and this was not the moment to start making changes. Besides,  I was happy, I had my Dad, my Dad had me and Andy and, as I drifted away in a room that smelled of sex, I wondered if we owned either a coffee maker or coffee or things from which to drink. Oh, well, Denny’s was open 24/7.

“Jesus, what have you done to yourself?”

“Got a haircut.”

“I’ll say you did but...”

“It’s just like my father’s, he hasn’t seen me yet but he’ll be, if possible, more surprised than you.” Coach forgot I was in the house and was still holding the door open.

“You going out?”

“Oh, no.”

“I don’t mind holding you plus kissing you with the door open but it wouldn’t be good for your reputation; What you’ve told about yourself may not extend to making out on the front porch.”

He smiled. After Dad and Andy, the coach was an interesting change-this was a man who wanted to be big, muscular, he’d trained his body well and had succeeded admirably. One of my favorite things was to sit or lie by him, one arm around me, my head back on his shoulder while we languidly jerked each other off. As I’d indicated to Dad and Andy, Coach was HUNG. Eventually they’d see it for themselves but, for now, he was my personal play tool, all three pieces-and those were just what I could get my hans on, there was a different set that could be gotten into and around. Also, knowing this was helpful on a slow day-his nipples, well worked into dark pyramids of hard flesh-were so hot wired to his dick that he had to be careful and make sure his coaching shirts were a size too large. On a couple of occasions I’d showered with one of his teams and him and had to turn away when a bar of hard soap coasted over his tits...fortunately, in a mens’ gym getting hard has been known to happen and after all, as coach, he was supposed to be an inspiration...of more than just fair play and good sportsmanship.

“On the phone, I cannot believe you did it. Both of them? What a day….”

“Yeah its had it’s moments, can’t deny that. Problem is...it leaves me with at least one problem and that’s you. I told Dad I’d planned to move in with you, whether he was out of shock enough to grasp that, I don’t know, but at least he and Andy heard it.” I turned slightly and looked into his face. “I still may move here….depends.”

“Jon, as much as I love you, and you know I do, he’s your father, he’s just been through a divorce, discovered his son...you can’t leave him.”

“Add ‘yet’ to that and you have the full sentence. Wait ‘til you see that house, some Realtor must be dancing in their sleep to have unloaded it...nothing in it, nothing. We had to sleep in the only bed that had two sheets and one blanket...frankly, I almost got out of bed and crawled into my sleeping bag….it was that or slip out and come here. Apart from body heat, that place got cold. He hasn’t turned on the gas so no hot water; There may be someone with a fetish for cold showers but I’m not that person.”

He smiled slightly salaciously, “Wanta go get wet now?”

“No, I want to stay right where I am, snuggled up, warm-got any coffee? He bought a coffee maker but...no coffee. Denny’s is going to ask us if we’d like to open an account.”

“He means well, Jon, you gotta give him time….be fair.”

Suddenly mad, I sat up on one elbow, “I’ve been fair for eighteen, almost nineteen, fucking years, overlooked, ignored...Whatever he says, I don’t know that he loves me, he can say the words but, face it, they were squeezed from him by a situation and his boyfriend...who, as I said, I like. You’ll like him as well-did I mention I gave him your address? While he’s out on his shift, he’s going to drop by, maybe around four.” The short speech about fairness calmed me. A little.

“Here? Today?”

“Um.”

“Jon, are you tracking on this? You gave you father’s boyfriend your lover’s address and told him to drop by? Are you serious?”

“Why not, I keep saying this, you’ll really like him and, again, he’s the key to Dad, he’s got the influence, I don’t, doubt if I ever will. Can I get him to do things? Yes, but only because, at least for now, he feels guilt on a shingle for all those years he didn’t even notice me….”

“With that haircut, he can’t miss you.”

“That, my man, was my point in doing it. You are going to be stunned when you see us up close, the resemblance is beyond startling, it’s almost unbelievable. Even Andy, lying  right next to us, says you have to know that I’m younger, that’s the main difference.” Coach was not pleased, I could tell, with any of this.

“Oh, you wanted coffee...” His big bare feet made an interesting sound as they transitioned from the carpet to the linoleum in the kitchen. Facing the counter, his ass was a marvel. Some would like  something smaller, the much discussed bubble butt, but they’d never had the pleasure of sticking a hand, a face a cock between those muscular pillows. Never had them seize your engorged dick like a vice and drag it in to be worked over. His habit of not wearing much around the house was also a plus. Why wonder what that bulge might be like? Just look.

We had four years of history; Count backwards and that makes me fourteen when we met. He remembers it even more than do I; He was sitting in his office when I walked in, introduced myself, we shook hands, and then I made my speech. I explained to him that I, too, was gay, had admired him, wanted him not just to be my first but also to be my last. There may have been more surprised people I just didn’t know them. Adding that I would understand if he was insulted, pointed out my age, said this was inappropriate then told me to leave. He could have done all that but what he did was get up, come around his desk, gave me a hug then said that he admired my courage but there were some issues. Couldn’t argue that. It took a year until we found ourselves in bed, he praying he hadn’t hurt me, it could only happen once but that he loved me….From then on I knew we weren’t likely to be separated.

The situation at home actually made my sexual wanderings with an older man easier; No one noticed as my life seemed as placid, more so, than the others of my age. That was because they saw only what was there to see. I was an excellent student, mediocre ball player and held a part time job as a stocker at the market.

Remember back? Asking Dad if he’d pick me up from practice? The rest of that sentence goes…. “and drop me at work”. From work to coach’s home was two  blocks. Did my homework there, slept there, learned about sex there and fell in love there. No one at home knew a thing. I wasn’t being sneaky just let the situation cover the reality. When my parents saw me they assumed I’d just come downstairs instead of just in the back window. Occasionally for longer absences, weekends for example, were explained as ‘sleepovers’ at some other guys’ or the team-just which one wasn’t specified-was going on an away game. Remember even the school didn’t have a contact for my parents; I never offered them a number to reach me mainly because they never asked for one-what number would I have given them? The coach?-They had absolutely no reason to worry about me and while I quietly hated the dissolution of life at home I had the arms, heart and love of someone who made it better.

Give you an example of the quiet love we had. He had a very long couch in his living room, one on which we spent hours. He also had a television monitor, the biggest I’d ever seen, 90 inches I believe, when it was turned off it looked like he had weird wallpaper, not that either of us cared much about watching it. What made it spectacular were the eight and ten hour programs that it ran, my favorite being of snow falling in a forest. At night, with the lights out, on the couch nothing could have been more calming or conducive to affection, love, sex than the soft snow in half light. Over time we’d found that if we were laying there, he would be against the back and I’d be nestled against him. His cock, gently, slid into me, an arm went over me while my head was on the pillow of his muscles, just by his head. When we felt like it, he’d get a bit stiffer, play ‘catch’ with my prostate while a hand took my firm stake, rub it then eventually, it might take an hour, he’d have a handful of me and I’d have an ass full of him. What to do after that? Nothing, just snuggle up, and let him make love to me while I insinuated myself closer to him. No need to fondle his equipment, it was parked in my garage, his hand was on my shift stick...solid comfort...as the silent snow fell.

If there was anything unusual about our relationship, apart from the age difference, it was that in most things I was….I’m hesitate to use this word….dominant. Or, lets say, he was happy for me to line out what we’d do, sex, everyday life….I just took over. Probably because at home there was no authority, I just took it on myself to see that whatever needed doing got done. Same with coach. To be fair, he was a teacher, a track and field coach, when he got home, or when he was with me, he didn’t have to make a lesson plan or tell a kid he sucked at discus throwing, there was just me, quiet, organized, building in subtle ways, our lives around each other. Some things were parallel; As I did the marketing for one place, I did it for the other. Why not? Coach was almost as innocent as Dad when it came to what markets sold and where to find what you needed. Oh, and might as well say it, he got one handsome stud, me, can’t be all bad. As I grew he made me what he wanted me to be, physically strong like him, genuinely affectionate as he was, finally, in love with him.

We both suffered in that our time together was limited by a number of factors, primarily his job. When he went away for meets, I stayed home, sometimes at his place-If I wasn’t watching snow, there was one of a lighthouse in France in a storm as well a very calming one which was only the last portion of the day, past sundown, somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. Late practices, extra practices, school functions (His comments on having to chaperon dances were a riot; In an era of sexual freedom, as he said, he never knew whether to stop a pair-sex or sexes on request-from doing whatever they were doing or having them pause while he showed them how to do it better.) Now that I was out of school we could, marginally, have more time together but we were boxed in that going out, together, could cause unfortunate comment-the  age thing plus I’d been a former student at the school where he taught. If he had a group coming over, say some element of the track team, I stayed home. He was never less than great in acknowledging that I was the one who had to make the most sacrifices but, and I said this to him, going in I knew what would have to be but the good thing was that I aged, wasn’t in school, my being around  him would be less noticed-at least we could go to a drive in and get a burger…

The doorbell rang. “I bet that’s Andy”, glanced out the window, “Yep, one squad car and one cop at your door, I’ll get it.”

Ever the diplomat I introduced them, they did the shake hands and then...life stopped, at least for them.

“Just made a fresh pot?” He waived me away on that one.

I pointed at them, pointed at the couch, “Both of you, sit.” They did.

“Andy, Bob his isn’t the easiest social engagement but, men, it’s up to us to help my Dad...”

“Holy fuck, when did you get your hair cut? Looks just like Mitch.”

I stepped over that. “Here’s the thing, as rough as this is, I need both of you to help me. I cannot and will not go on being the man who doesn’t really exist until yesterday and, you know, damn well, unless we keep him centered on having a son, he’ll drift away. Look, I  think, just now, he loves the idea of having a son and there’s some affection for me. Don’t doubt that. But Andy, you’ve known him a long time, he really loves you and to try and introduce a new man in his very structured life, even his son, won’t be easy.”

Andy looked trapped. He knew what I said was right. He knew I had a right to try and make some sort of life for myself with or without a father who, as I said, loved me now.

“He’s a great guy, isn’t he.” Coach trying to be helpful.

“Yeah, and that’s part of the problem, I wish he were some little shit whom we all hated, sorry Bob, and would be delighted to have come live with you...but that’s not the case.”

Silence is not always golden, sometimes it’s oppressive, threatening…

“Andy? Does he actually want me to live there? Do you have any idea why in hell he bought that house? I think he bought it out of guilt, move me in, gives me everything he thinks I want...but that didn’t fly ‘cause what I want he can’t buy and move in.”

Andy looked up. “Why can’t he move in? ‘Member how you were going to explain my being there? What if….what if Bob...Coach...Bob got a great offer on his house, have to move somewhere.”

“Yeah, but the house isn’t for sale and I’m not going to move. Jon and I have our lives here  and, Sir, how do you think it would work out? His father, his boyfriend, his son and his lover….in theory if no one ever asks any questions, such as whose sleeping in whose bed, it probably works. Probably but I doubt it.”

We all sat there. Instinctively I leaned against coach and, what the hell, pulled Andy into our pack. I hit the button and it was snowing on the wall. As I’d hoped, Andy was immediately transfixed, I could feel his interest also his relaxation and I wondered…..if Andy could see the genuineness in our happiness then could that be translated to Dad? What if Andy brought him here? Right on the moment it wasn’t an idea I decided to mention.

I said it slowly but with certain meaning. “Guys, here’s something we need to face, we’re dealing with a man who is so unintentionally vain that he simply gave up everything because of a mirror-after a bum marriage, a bitch of a wife and a kid too young to do more than wet diapers, his looks were all he had. If I was told how good looking I was, and I was a kid, think what was said to him. That sort of running commentary can make you believe something that may not be true but, in his case, it was. He was beyond good looking and, I give it to you Andy, I can only imagine the other, uh, offers he must have got; Hanging on to him was it’s own special hell….”

“I was the main one, the man who told him over and over and over how great he looked, had to, it was the only defense I had against….every other guy. You have no idea.”

“Well, in a way I did. After all, I was the virtual clone of my father and from, say, sixteen, I got the same sort of invitations, comments that he probably had, only difference my cop was a coach...who held on to me, never let me listen to others, must have been hard for him, never thought about it ‘cuz...I just always loved him.”

Andy looked at Bob. “Do you know how lucky we are? If these men were any different, we’d be cruising the streets, checking motels, suspicious if the guy at the ice cream parlor offered them another dip. How often did you hold your breath when somebody, didn’t matter who, even just wanted some information, spoke to them, did you brace yourself, try  and not change expression? Pray that this wouldn’t be the one….”

Bob looked at Andy. “Every fucking moment, worse when I wasn’t with him. You wonder when his his Dad or Jon might say to you, ‘Uh, buddy, something I need to tell you….’ how often? Did you plan what you’d do, how you’d let go...I did. Jeez, I’d already picked out a cement support on a bridge, stupid one car accident, officer didn’t survive…:”

My man, my men, looked over me, over the sills of the window out to a dead place because my Dad and his son went away, got a better offer, fell more deeply in love with….some one else. I could see them think that. Only thing I worried about just then was how to grab both of them, pull them to me, make them understand that their fears, and I knew this would be true of Dad, were things they’d made up.

In the sort of silence that makes whispers sound like a crash… “I’d kill myself before I’d leave the coach...” I turned to Andy… “He’ll never say it but that’s exactly what Dad would do...I know, I’m his son….you and Bob, you’re our men, that simple; No one is looking for a trade in, no one is looking for anything, we have it all.”

“I want to believe that….but….he’s so quiet, never says anything, some times, when we’ve been at Denny’s, I wonder if he can find the words to order. Jesus, I never knew anyone who said less-you’re lucky, this one (he gave me a hug) talks.”

“….unless you stick something in his mouth he wants...” Andy looked up, almost laughed, “Like son like….”. Put his hand out, shook Bob’s and moved to stand up.

“Guys, this isn’t a finished conversation but in my ear I’m being told, fuck, I don’t know. ‘Assistance Needed’ which means a cat is up a tree or….”

I filled in… “...Dad got lost going home…”

“Yeah, your Dad just got plain lost.”

He was at the door. “Gentleman, thanks.” and was gone.

Bob closed the door after watching the black and white pull away. “You’re right, he’s a nice guy...remember the stupid saying about nice guys finish last? Jesus, I’ll see that cement upright in my mind….” He came to me, almost picked me up. “I need assurance after that talk…”

“How about if I cleaned your knob then fucked you stupid?”

“Yeah, that might work.”

And here in ‘our’ house it would but it solved no problems. As I maneuvered my tongue in and around his piss slit, getting my lips set just so for the coming attraction, feeling a finger or two march steadily across my butt and into my man cunt, while it all felt good, hell, it was my coach, the man with very strong fingers, it felt great.

His soft voice whispering in my ear… “He scared me, big time, I, I, thinking you’d come to me, tell me there was...”

“I wish I could stick my cock in your frightened mouth, clamp down with your teeth, anchor me, I’m going no where without you.” He relaxed, a little, while I felt five fingers begin to curl…..

For several weeks I attempted to turn the house Dad bought into a home that seemed to be occupied by a family, all men, but a family. Finally found out where the “decorator” was that had sold him the crap and made them take it back. (Okay I took a police officer, name upon request, with me to point up that I was serious.) While they were hardly gracious, I could see why when they handed over a check for the cost of what spirit of Naugahyde, Polyester everything, particle board tables, chairs that could easily disassemble themselves if sat upon...they made the expression ‘price gouging’ a reality. Even Andy was shocked at how cheap these products were not to mention the jacked up prices. Okay, having thrown out the trash, I started in to make it look like something livable and one of the first things I did was also throw out the property owner and his cop buddy. Told them to go find a hotel with lots of amenities and I’d let them know when they could come home. Remember what I said about being a dominant?

Because I wanted it to be not only important, but meaningful, I had Dad’s room filled with the largest bed/play pen I could find. Installed a television monitor such as Bob had even to supplying it with many long tapes of very conducive sexing background, Except for one. On those night when rough, raw and ready seemed a good idea, there was a thunderstorm-filmed in the Outback of Australia-that if played full blast not only suggested rip roaring sex but that the neighbors should wonder if they needed to shelter in place.

In one way Dad made all this possible. Not cheap, but he never spent money on anything except his work boots-Andy told me that for Christmas he’d get warm socks and warm underwear….all of which meant Dad had quite a lot of money which I set out to spend to give him, well, us, a decent home. (As I’ve mentioned, there was almost nothing we didn’t need; The first night we’d had take home food, I tried to scrape the left overs into the garbage disposal only to have them fall through the drain and onto the floor in the cabinet under the sink. Not only no disposal, but no drain-the builder, to save money, never installed those things, just the stubs for the eventual home owner to ‘finish out’. I asked for, and got a credit card tied to his bank account, the amount in it-I was staggered-and set off to buy not only the necessities of living but the things that might make it comfortable. I assumed things such as recliners were a good idea so bought several of them spread from a room with, another, gigantic television to one in each bedroom. When I let the guys back in, Andy almost cried when he saw how I’d made the place clearly part of him. Dad….noticed nothing.

Dad never even  noticed the house, just accepted that, now, everything that should be there was-including me and Andy who did what I suggested, moved in; My story about the too big house, the room to rent and the cop who rented it found traction so with no comment from anyone he took the middle bedroom, the one that shared a large bathroom with the next room, Dad’s room. I had my own bed and bath, the third bathroom was in the pool house which, when I finished overhauling it, made an attractive, nice one room apartment, all the amenities, just in a small space but, out the door, a heated pool surrounded by heated cement, available 24/7/12.

That he didn’t notice was the best compliment I could have got, said that I’d created ‘home’, nothing to notice exceptional although Andy told me the first time he fired up the snow storm in the forest on the monitor, it entertained Dad in a way he’d never seen before.

If things seemed some version of normal, I got a shock that, up front, had trouble written all over it. My part time job as a stocker at the market was sometimes my form of socializing; The other guys who did what I did were about my age, had gone to my school or ones close to it, so we became an informal clique. All of us now out of school, working late, we were our own sort of club. Sometimes after work, hit the pool hall, the bowling aley, also knew a bar where, if we acted like men and not kids, would sell us  beer-nothing stronger. At the market in addition to opening boxes and putting canned goods or bags of whatever on shelves, occasionally we all relieved the cashiers while they went on break. At the hours we worked, the store wasn’t overwhelmed, no lines leading back to produce, we could handle it.

I was checking some guy out when he said, almost too loudly, “You’re him, you’re the guy the coach fucks, you’re his boyfriend.”

My shock at hearing this covered my instant panic. Remembering something, I did nothing, just stared at him.

“Sorry, Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What time do you get off?”

“Ten.”

Didn’t even finish checking out, just left all the groceries on the moving surface and walked out. AntWon, the night manager wandered over having seen if not heard what went on.

“Tell me.”

“Guy thinks I, uh, some weird shit, something about me, a coach….”

Twon, as we called him, just shook his head. “Fuck, I can always tell, it’s that time of night when the crazies come in. Jesus, I wish we weren’t open 24/7”

“Want me to take all his stuff and put it back?”

“Nah, don’t waste your time, I’ll get a bag kid to scoop it up, put it on the reduced sale rack.” He looked out the door, maybe hoping to see the departing customer, probably with an eye to keeping a look out for him if he ever came back. “You okay?...”

“Like you said, it’s that hour….”

Maybe I have instincts that, occasionally, let me get just a nose ahead of the game. I waited an hour, found Twon, said my Dad had called, needed me, mind if I…?

In my car I had two calls to make and, please, I needed both guys to answer, there wasn’t much time and...well, they had to answer.

Just after ten Coach heard his doorbell ring, answered it and was confronted by a man he’d never seen.

“I just saw your boyfriend at the market, I bet he fucks as good as he looks...mind if I come in? Some things we need to talk about.

Behind him, he didn’t notice, a black and white squad car pulled up. Nor did he notice the cop get out carrying his work bag and step up on the porch behind him.

“Who’s this?
“Dunno….some jerk who says he met my boyfriend at the market and wants in to talk about it.”

“That so ? Met your boyfriend at the market…..He look a lot like me?”

Andy had figured out the obvious, the guy was there to hustle some money from Bob and, of course, that was not going to happen. Well trained officer that he was, he got one arm behind the ‘visitor’ which immobilized him just long enough for him to grab a set of cuffs, get the jerks arms behind him, cuff him, push him down then frog march him across the floor until his nose was touching a wall. What he could hear but was unable to see was a quicky minute or two of a gay soap opera.

“What’ll we do with him?”

“Fuck him, I guess, what else, probably what he wants.”

“Hey, I get first dibs, came home hoping to get a mouthful of cock and ball soup...”

“Don’t know, he looks sorta chicken shit, how about some chicken balls soup…?”

“First or after?”

They paused, I’m told, to grab the guy, stripped him, then put him back on his knees, against the wall. Oh, Yeah, someone hit the kitchen and brought back the can of Crisco, put it beside him...Andy, responding to cop instincts, found the guys billfold looking for ID which he easily found.

“Hey, Bob, look at this…..anything familiar about this turkey?”

Somewhere within him riptide of memory started.

“Ronald….Ronny….well, shit, I’d forgot him….maybe three, four years ago he tried out for, hell, I don’t remember, one of the teams. I caught him in the shower trying to corner one of the young kids, he was stiff and ready to plow….that was it for him, the team and, if I’m right, and I think I am, they kicked him out of school.”

He looked at the naked man with his nose on the wall. “Sound about right to you?”

Didn’t even have the sense to beg, his teeth were chattering so. And what else? According to both of them, when they could stop laughing, it was explained to him that, of course, they were going to fuck him, might even take turns, he looked too small to double fuck so they’d just do him each twice. Wasn’t even a very good lay, or maybe his nervousness interfered, who knew? It was late, Bob had to be at school, Andy was on the schedule for something early so he elected to spend the night at Bob’s, not with Bob. Their visitor? Well, just to give him something to remember the evening, they shaved his head, took a set of handcuffs Bob kept around for, uh, other purposes, found his car, drove him, with a police escort, far, far away, still naked then handcuffed him to his steering wheel carefully putting the car keys as well as the keys to the cuffs in the trunk.

It’s funny now.

Whatever it was, it marked the opening of an era that would extend, probably, through the rest of my life; With only slight variations, I looked exactl y like my father. Handsome as hell. Almost twenty, I looked more adult, better built-I worked out-and the same startlingly blue eyes. One day, after work at the market, when I’d been hit on a couple of times, Twon asked if I’d like to change, work the really, really late shift, start at midnight, get off at eight, full time. He’d doubtless seen something and was trying to do something...but what he could do, no. I leaned against a shelf in our foreign foods section, leveled with him, told him….I couldn’t wear shades and a Halloween mask and...also I didn’t want to fuck up the store with guys coming in, I knew it would happen, it already was, just to get a look at me and, possibly, see how much else was available. He said he knew, what I didn’t know, remember there was a tag on my apron, was that men were coming in, asking questions at customer service about when I got off, where in the store I might be...and some went way beyond that in what they asked such as, flat out, was I gay, did I turn tricks? He’d tossed two of them out but that was just the tide coming in.

We stood there.

“I guess...I wish I could give you more than great references, some pittance, you’re not full time. Good worker.”  I thanked him, he’d let it go as far as he could and, he reckoned as far as I wanted to put up with it. We shook, he said at Christmas, I could wear a beard and a red hat...Took off the apron and walked out of the store. In my car I had to think...that was my income, that was one of my excuses for not being where I wasn’t….I heard steps…

“Hey, handsome, out for a butt break? I’ll give you a light.”

I couldn’t floorboard it in the parking lot. If nothing else he made me know the decision I made was the only one possible. Oh, well, the bridge wasn’t completely burned.

Christmas in a beard and cap.

End of Part One