My Son

Growing Up

Throughout this process, of course Jeff was growing up, with all those interesting issues that I had never really contemplated being so closely involved with.  And here I had thought that living through an affair with his father had been complicated.

Jeff was almost too attractive for his own good, as well as at least too talented, too athletic, and too smart.  

He seemed naturally in great shape, although he continued to work out with a vengeance, with a belief that if he were in good enough shape he could play whatever he wanted to, almost at any moment.  His cockiness made him more rather than less attractive to the girls, the guys, and everyone he came into contact with.  And as he seemed to be almost wanting to "go gay," as he would say, nobody around him seemed to dare to question him.

He went for wrestling, but almost seemed to find it too easy, so he ventured into diving and gymnastics, with enough track so he could throw the javelin, almost just for the hell of it, "because that's what the old gay Greeks did, no?"  In each one he seemed to be a natural, so those around him couldn't really do much except just hope he would be on their team, or at least hope that they wouldn't have to compete against him.  When he got the chance, he would compete, in his own words, "like a starving lion," and then he'd laugh.  So of course I was glad he had decided he loved me, at the same time I tried to brace for his next move.  And the rumours still seemed to float around that his hope was that I would be a top to him, almost fueled endlessly by Michael.

In working out, he became less and less shy in terms of building out his body, even asking me what I thought of nipple plugs, "so guys could see them when [he] wore tight t-shirts."  The dude increasingly had no limits and no filter, as he'd even ask me to help shave off what little body hair he didn't want, and of course not holding back in the least even by asking me to shave his balls, as his big hard dick just stood at attention, leaking precum, with occasional help from him, "to make sure his balls would stay tight so I could shave [him] better."

On top of that, his grades were great, his friend crowd increasingly dropped the females around him and moved towards jockish guys, and he increasingly brought them around to hang out with him, increasingly kissing me right in front of them as they headed off to do whatever it was they did, although almost never engaging in anything a father would worry about, other than a little bit of drinking and a little bit of gambling.  His friends were almost too friendly towards me, but it was hard not to be flattered by that as well.  And to boot, it actually seemed like he wasn't even messing around with anybody sexually, which I was finding increasingly hard to believe, especially when I happened to stumble across a glass in his room which I couldn't really believe was cum, as I was dumb enough to fall for what may well have been another ploy.  He laughed, with a wicked smile:  "Of course it is, and you're welcome to taste it if you'll trade me some of yours for it, dad.  You can't really think I play with that dildo Michael gave me without lubing it up a bit, right?"

And then came the first day I ever remember him being a bit more quiet than usual, with him saying he just had a lot on his mind with some big chemistry test he was having.  His kiss that morning was was less playful than usual, for the first time I can remember, as I held his hand and said I would love to help him however I might be able to, with one more quiet kiss as he got out of the car that morning.

When I returned home to get about the day, I did my bit about tidying his room, which at that point included putting his saved cup of cum in his drawer.  Terrible of me, perhaps, but I did bother putting my finger in and tasting it.  Even sweeter than his dad's.

But as I opened the drawer to put it away Jeff's journal was open.  

Of course I was worried because he really wasn't like himself that morning, so of course I looked, at least at the open page, even if I hadn't really ever talked with Jeff about it at all.  I just knew he had one.  And there it was:

"I really hope this doesn't go on forever.  I really didn't sleep well last night, and although it felt like I should be worried about my test, all I could really think about was Dad and whether he would ever be willing to love me like I really want him to.  I've even talked to Michael about it a couple of times, plus Uncle Brett, and they just tell me to be patient, but I must have jerked off four or five times last night thinking about how much I'd even just like to lie with him at night.  My guy friends meet him and immediately want him almost as badly as I do, but I know I can do this, and I really am increasingly losing interest in anyone but Dad.  I just don't want to get so emotional I cry about it in front of him."

Fuck.  I had to stop reading.  My heart felt hard, although my dick was soft.  And there I was with tears in my eyes.

I closed it, moved on with my day, and tried to get my head around this.  Was it bad my son seemed to be in love with me?  Was I really the slowest one in the room to catch on?  Was I actually causing him stress by being so playful?  Was Michael really aware of all of this, plus ok with it?  Did his mom know?

My head was spinning all day, but I tried to be as normal as I could when I picked him up.  Of course his test went well:  second highest in the class.  And everything seemed back to normal.  So maybe he was mistaken, and the stress was actually the test.

But I broke down as the evening wore on, especially when Jeff said he was exhausted and headed up to sleep.  He gave me a mixed kiss, somewhere between the one that morning and his regular playful one, and my heart went out to him, so of course I went to check on him just to make sure he was sleeping ok, and especially since his playfulness had not extended to show up before or after my shower, which it occurred to me I had started doing more and more often when I knew he was home, no matter how much I kept telling myself not to encourage things.

I stripped, threw on my robe, and told myself I really should make sure he was ok.  In the midst of that, I received a text from Michael that he'd be working late, but wanted to make sure I did my best by Jeff, since he seemed to be having a bit of a hard day.

Jeff had a little night light on, but kind of seemed to be sleeping as I entered his open room and reached down to give him a kiss and tell him how much I loved him.  Then the words from his journal that morning flooded my mind, as he seemed to quietly mutter something.  I kissed him again, as he put out his tongue, more naturally than I ever would have imagined.  I lost all perspective as to whether he was pushing it in my mouth, or I was sucking it in.  

And then I climbed into bed.