My Son's Sexuality
(© 2004 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
I'm a bisexual man, who's married, and has four children. If you're expecting this to be a story about incest between a father and son, read no further. That's not what it's about. Although in some of my other writings I tell stories about sex between men and boys, I've never felt that it would be right for a parent to have sex with his or her children, as a child needs parents in his or her life who they can trust implicitly. They need parents they can go to with any questions or problems they have, without the fear that they might be abused in any way. They need parents in their lives who they know will protect them against any kind of threat. They need parents in their lives who they know love them for who they are, and NOT for their bodies! They need to be comfortable being seen naked by their parents, and they need to feel safe when they're with them. They need unconditional love! That's the kind of father I've always been.
This story is about my oldest son, who is currently 17, just having finished his junior year of high school. He's the apple of my eye, as I think you'll figure out if you read the rest of this. I love him more than I love anyone else on the planet. Yes, I love my other children just as much really, but there's just something special about my oldest boy. We seem to have a special bond that goes above and beyond the bonds I have with my younger children.
Although his sexuality is limited compared to many other boys his age, and really isn't anything out of the ordinary, I thought that maybe it would make for an interesting read. The story will trace a boy's thoughts about sex, from his earliest innocent discovery of his own body, through masturbation, learning about sex, his brief experimentation with a couple friends, discussions with his father, researching on his own, some of which interestingly he discussed with his father, culminating in a young man's oft confusing thoughts about himself as a sexual being. I hope you enjoy the story.
Michael, my oldest child was born in 1987.
I'd always wanted to be a father, in particular to a boy, and was overjoyed when
my wife became pregnant soon after we were married. I was probably one of the
most doting expectant fathers of all time, attending every doctor's appointment
with my wife, going through Lamaze lessons, buying clothes, toys, and books
before he was born, attending the birth, cutting the cord, and bonding instantly
with my boy the moment when the nurses first placed him in my arms. When he
looked up at me, stopped smiling, and gave me a slight smile, I stopped crying.
I sobbed a good 2-3 minutes I think. It was probably the most beautiful,
emotional moment in my life! I can't think of another time when I was so
overcome with awe, wonder, and joy! It was definitely the closest I ever came to
believing there is a God!
OK, OK, so any of you who are fathers are thinking "Hey! Who does this guy think he is? I felt the same way when my kid was born!" Yeah, I imagine that's true, and most all father's have felt the same way I did. Wasn't it just the greatest moment of your life though??? ~grins~
* * *
OK, so on with my story.
We named our son Michael. From the moment he was born, he was the main focus of my life. I'd race home from work everyday, so that I could spend a little time with him, before he went to bed. I usually fed him, then bathed him, and if time permitted, and he'd napped well earlier, I'd play with him a little, before putting him to bed.
One of my favorite things to do with Michael was snuggle with him after his bath. He always liked his baths, and splashed a lot, so I always took off my shirt when I bathed him, to keep it from getting wet. After I'd dry him off, while he was still naked, I'd hold him up against me, covering him up with a dry towel, and just enjoy the feeling of his naked little body wriggling around against my naked chest and belly. Before you ask - yes he did pull on my chest hairs, and yes, he usually did try to suck on my nipples. It didn't hurt, until his teeth grew in! Poor little guy was sure surprised when nothing came out though! And yes, there were a couple times he peed on me! ~grins~ When it's your kid, you don't really seem to care as much. I just sopped it up and re-bathed him, and washed myself off. It was worth it, for the all the times he didn't pee on me!
* * *
You may be wondering where my wife was during all this. Well, I was privileged, because my wife worked evenings at the time, and I'd get to spend the whole evening home alone with Michael. I was a true hands-on father! I highly recommend to any new fathers, even if your wife doesn't work, set it up so that you take care of your baby by yourself a few evenings a week. It'll really help you to bond with your child! I know this for a fact, as I didn't take care of my other children alone, because by the time they were born, my wife had stopped working, and was doing most of their care on her own. The three of them all bonded more with her, than me. Michael however bonded more with me, than with her!
* * *
Michael always had the ability to get an
erection, and has always gotten them often. He also always seemed to be innately
aware that it's fun to play with his penis. In fact, when he was still inside my
wife, during one of the ultrasounds, his hand was in his crotch, moving about,
and when it finally moved away, he clearly had a hardon. A big one at that.
Not to boast, but my boy has always been rather well endowed below the belt. As I'll explain later on in the story, I've recently seen my son with a hardon. Currently, it gets to be about 8-1/2" to 9" in length, average girth, and is nestled in a thick bush of dark curly pubic hair. He's cut too, just like his daddy. He's got quite a nice dick!
* * *
As a baby, whenever his diaper was off,
Michael's hands would reach down and he would grasp his penis. Initially, he
usually just held it a little, but as he got older, he played with it more,
holding and squeezing it, and got hardons most of the time. As he got older
still, he would hold it and pull on it more. Of course, as a baby, it was easy
enough to control. All we had to do was keep a diaper on him. When his diaper
was off, if he played with himself, we just ignored it. He was too young to
When he got a bit older and was about 2 or 3, he'd developed a more classic masturbatory technique. He held it between his thumb and a couple fingers and pulled back and forth on it. One day after his bath, he stood beside me, masturbating that way. I'd been watching him out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly, he gasped slightly, and his nostrils flared a little. A tiny smile appeared on his face and his eyes had that unmistakable look in them of a person having an orgasm. His hand started moving slightly faster, and his hips even rocked slightly back and forth. He gasped again, and his eyes closed. I saw him spasm another couple times, and then it was over. I couldn't believe it. I'd just watched my son, who was only about three years old, masturbate himself to a dry orgasm! You have no idea how thrilled I was for him, and how hard I was!
When he was finished, I asked him if what he'd just done felt good. He grinned and nodded and said "Yes Daddy". I smiled and told him that was good, then I tried to explain that he should only do it when he was in the bathroom, or his bedroom though, and always when he was alone. He was a little young to understand everything I told him, and I confused him unfortunately. Over the next year of so, my wife and I worked at it and finally he understood that he couldn't masturbate in front of people. His solution to this was that whenever he wanted to masturbate, he'd shove his hand down his pants and play with himself instead. This took us a little longer to overcome. After a while, he realized he wasn't supposed to do it in front of anyone. Unfortunately, we seemed to always be catching him with his hand down his pants when he thought he was alone! Most of the time, we just caught him playing with himself, and he'd rip his hands out of his pants, but several times over the years, I witnessed him in the throes of a dry orgasm again. His hand would be down his pants, and he'd be pulling away on his dick. He'd either be standing or lying down and his eyes were closed and he'd be gasping. His nostrils would flare, as his hand swiftly beat up and down his little rod in his crotch. The boy knew how to enjoy his penis for sure! I was so proud of him, and so happy for him that he could give himself so much pleasure!
Eventually, I think it was probably around when he was going into second grade, I'd had enough conversations with him about masturbation and he understood that he shouldn't do it it public at all. We still caught him every so often in his room, or in the bathroom. I also caught him with his pants down in the cellar once. He was a little embarrassed that time. Otherwise, the problem seemed to go away, as he became more cognizant that he had to take care of himself in complete privacy. He began shutting his bedroom door a couple times during the afternoon and evening then. I listened outside his door once, to see if we were right about why he was shutting it. We were. After a couple minutes I heard a couple familiar gasps. Smiling, I tip-toed away.
* * *
Like all other children, Michael discovered his butt as well. I think he must've been about 3-1/2 at the time. My wife had screwed a floor length mirror to the outside of the bathroom door, so she could check her clothes before leaving the house. One evening, Michael was still naked after his bath and he was looking at himself in the mirror. He turned around at one point and looked over his shoulder at his back. I noticed his eyes were looking down at his butt, then all of a sudden, he bent forward and squatted, bending to look back through his legs at the reflection in the mirror of his butt with his ass cheeks spread. I laughed as I watched him gazing at his little pink rosebud. I actually had a camera handy and snapped a picture of him bent over looking at his hole. They actually developed it without comment. It came out great. We put it in his baby album. Now of course, he hates the picture. I've teased him, often telling him I'm going to give it to his wife on their wedding day someday, assuming he ever gets married. He gets peeved then!
* * *
There were times after Michael and I
played, when he was filthy, and when I needed to get cleaned up too, especially
after times where we played hard in the sand box out back and got filthy and
muddy. As some fathers tend to do, I did as well. I got naked and climbed right
in the tub with Michael. He loved it when I did that. After we were clean, we'd
play. He liked it most when I'd lift him out of the water, then I'd lean back
and set him on my chest and holding him, plunge him down my wet body, into the
water. He loved it when I'd be his water slide!
Michael liked it when I'd get naked when he was too. Once he was old enough, 3 to 4 I think, if I was standing naked in the bathroom, he'd walk over and peer closely at my genitals. Then, invariably every time, without asking, he'd reach up and grasp my penis and squeeze it and pull it. He'd lift it up and look at my balls. I always let him explore me, unless he got too rough, or, until I felt my dick beginning to stiffen. One time, after he'd explored his own butt in the mirror, he got behind me and asked me to bend over. I felt a little embarrassed, but it was easier to just do it, than to explain why I didn't want to, so I did. He put one hand on each of my cheeks and spread them apart and peered at my asshole. When he poked my hole with his finger, I pushed him away, and stood up again. Gently, I told him that it wasn't polite to touch someone there. I don't know if he understood at the time, but he never asked me to bend over for him again.
* * *
About a year later, when Michael was about
4 or 5, he said he wanted to start taking showers instead of baths sometimes. He
wanted me to show him what to do, so for a few days, he hopped in the shower
with me whenever I showered. This did put a damper on any plans I had to jack
off, but it was fun showing him how to shower.
Michael never missed a beat with anything though. After a few days, he noticed that as I washed, I developed a semi.
"How come your dink is getting big Daddy?" he asked.
"Because it feels good when I rub soap on it and wash it!" I replied, turning a shade or two redder than usual I expect.
Michael quickly grabbed the soap, I'd just put down, and began washing his penis. Within seconds he looked up at me grinning, as his hands slid up and down his little hardon.
"You're right! This feels great!" he said.
"Well, make sure you wash yourself all over. Not just your penis!" I said, chuckling, as he continued happily stroking himself.
"Why don't you do it too, Daddy?" Michael chirped.
Oh how I wanted to. Fact is, just watching him, I was getting stiffer all the time.
"That's alright, I'm just here to get clean," I said.
"Well, I'll do it for you," he said, and I felt his hands grasping my penis.
"Wh-? NO Michael!" I said, as his hands slid up and down my penis once, causing me instantly to become fully erect.
"Why not Daddy?" Michael said, looking a little hurt, but still holding my throbbing member.
"Because that's something a person is only supposed to do to themselves," I said, gently removing his hands from me. "Nobody's ever supposed to touch your private parts, except your parents or a doctor or nurse."
"Oh," he said, looking up at me.
He looked down then, and I saw his eyes get big.
"Wow! You get really big!" he said, in awe.
Blushing, and chuckling, I said, "so will you when you get older."
"Really? Will I be as big as you?" he asked, as his hands found his own genitals again, and he resumed masturbating himself.
"Probably," I said. "Maybe even bigger. I'm getting out to dry off. You finish up, OK?"
"OK Daddy," he said.
I got out and closed the shower curtain. I could hear my son masturbating in the shower. My dick was throbbing at the thought of it, and the memory of how awesome his little hands felt on my dick. I was rigid, and leaking pre-cum, and knew I had to get off. Without thinking, I grabbed my rod in my hand and furiously began beating off, as my son was doing the same thing on the other side of the shower curtain. Within seconds, I felt my orgasm building. Another few strokes, and I suddenly exploded, ejaculating a huge load of jism into the sink. I kept on pumping my meat, and squirted several more loads, before my orgasm finally ended. When I was through, I wiped the tip of my dick off with my index finger and licked my finger clean. Then, I wrapped a towel around myself and quickly washed my semen down the drain. Just as I shut the water off, I heard Michael gasp. Surreptitiously I peered around the edge of the shower curtain, and saw him still sliding his thumb and fingers up and down his soapy little hardon. His head was tilted back a little and his eyes were closed. I watched him as gasping, his nostrils flared slightly, and he spasmed again. I stepped back away from the shower then, smiling to myself.
"Like father, like son," I thought to myself.
* * *
As Michael got older, I'd say he was about 8 I think, he heard about sex for the first time from some older boys at school. I had a discussion with him about how babies are conceived and born, and in simple terminology told him about sex, and its role in conceiving babies. He had a lot of questions. He wondered how a man put his penis inside the woman. I explained that he had to get hard first. We had a discussion about hardons then. Suddenly, it dawned on him that it must feel something like it does when he masturbated. We ended up having quite the discussion then about masturbation. He was very interested in everything I told him. It was also about the first time I think he clearly understood WHY he shouldn't masturbate in public.
* * *
It wasn't too long after we had that
conversation, that I found Michael and his best friend standing in the shed out
back, facing each other, with the door closed, and their pants down about their
ankles. Each had the other's hardon in his hand, and was gently pulling on it.
Both boys were mortified at being caught. Both scrambled to pull their jeans up
and when I sat them down on the picnic table outside, they each had tears in
"We just wanted to know what each other looked like!" Michael said, softly, when I told them that they shouldn't be doing that in the shed.
Although I was aware they were masturbating each other as well as just looking, I told them that I realized that, and that while some adults might think what they were doing was wrong, I understood that they were just being curious. I told them that if they really had to check each other out, they should do it in the bathroom, or Michael's bedroom. I did explain though that neither of them should ever force or coerce anyone into getting naked or doing anything to each other's private body parts. I told them that generally boys didn't play with each other's genitals or even display them for each other, but that some boys who are close friends, like they were, sometimes wanted to check each other out. I told them that this was alright, but that it should be done privately. I also stressed that it generally just included looking at each other, and possibly a little touching. Both boys seemed to feel better afterward, especially when I told them that the three of us could keep what had happened a secret. I believe the two got together later on in Michael's bedroom and finished checking each other out. Whether or not they ever did anything else together again like that, I don't know.
* * *
Michael turned 12 the summer before he
entered seventh grade. Shortly after his birthday, Michael had his first mature
orgasm, where he ejaculated semen. When we had talked about sex before, I'd told
him this would occur sometime around when he was 11 or 12, maybe as late as 13.
He was prepared for it, and was actually waiting with bated breath for months
for it to finally happen. He was elated when it did, and ran to find me to tell
me. It was evening. I was in my room watching something on TV. My wife was
putting our daughter to bed. Michael rushed in, beaming. He had a kleenex in his
"Dad! Dad! It happened. I squirted sperm!" he cried.
"You did?" I asked, chuckling.
"Yeah! I was... well you know, and when it got to the end, when it feels so great, well, I squirted! Look!" he said, excitedly, holding out the wad of kleenex he had in his hand. I noticed there was a small glob of cum on it.
OK - I ask you. How many of you have sons who'd show you their cum? ~grins~
I wanted so much to burst out laughing when he showed me his kleenex with his cum on it, but I was good. I was appropriately excited, and examined his jism carefully, complimenting him on it. He was ecstatic.
"I thought it was supposed to happen when I was dreaming though?" he asked.
"Well, sometimes it does. It depends on how much you masturbate. If you masturbate a lot, you usually don't have wet dreams, because you're ejaculating during your orgasm when you masturbate." I told him.
"Oh!" he said.
We talked a couple minutes longer, then Michael heard his mother coming.
"Don't tell Mom, OK?" he asked, anxiously. "It's a guy thing, right?"
Chuckling, I told him I'd keep his secret. He grinned at me and ran past his mother, as she was walking in the door, still clutching his kleenex with his cum on it.
"What was that all about?" my wife asked. "And what was he carrying?"
"What, if it was in the right place at the right time, would help create our grandchildren," I replied, quietly.
Her eyes got big and grinning she said "he showed it to you?"
"Yup," I said, chuckling.
I quietly told her how Michael had had his first orgasm, and had showed me his semen. I told her NOT to let on that I'd told her though, that he didn't want me to. She never did.
* * *
The next evening, Michael grinned at me, as
he came out of his bedroom when I was going by.
"It happened again!" he whispered loudly, beaming.
I grinned and told him it would from then on. He was all smiles.
A couple days later we went on vacation. We stayed in a motel, with two adjoining rooms. Because of the close quarters and our schedule, Michael apparently didn't have the opportunity to masturbate. The third night, in the middle of the night, I woke up to him shaking me.
"I just had a wet dream Dad!" he whispered, excitedly.
"OK, that's good! Are you OK? Is there a problem because of it?" I whispered.
"No. I just had to tell you!" he said, smiling.
He went back to bed then, and my wife, who hadn't been asleep, rolled over and giggled in my ear.
* * *
One morning sometime after school started,
when I got into the shower to get ready for work, I saw a glob of cum on the
shower curtain. I smiled to myself, recalling how I'd noticed that Michael's
morning showers seemed to be taking longer than they used to. Imagining him
masturbating with a soapy hand, and shooting ropes of cum all over the shower
curtain, I quickly became rock hard. Taking matters, or rather my meat, in hand,
I soon was convulsing, adding my own load of cum to my son's.
That night, after supper, I wandered upstairs and found Michael in his room doing some homework. I poked my head in and asked if he had a minute to talk. He smiled and invited me in. I closed the door, so we'd have some privacy, which caused him to look confused.
"Am I in trouble?" he asked, worriedly.
"No," I smiled. "I just thought we should have a little privacy for this conversation."
I told him then how I'd found his cum on the shower curtain, and told him that he needed to be more careful about washing away any semen when he was finished. He got a little red in the face. I told him not to be embarrassed, that we realized he was masturbating, and that most boys did. I told him it was just that he needed to be neater about it.
I asked him then if he had any questions about anything. He hemmed and hawed a minute.
Finally, I looked at him and smiled and said, "Mike! You and me! We can talk about anything!"
He smiled shyly then and said, "how often is it normal to jerk off?"
Grinning I said, "well, how often do you do it?"
He got red in the face and hesitated, then said, "three or four times a day."
I smiled and said, "That sounds about right to me! I think that's about how often I did it when I was a teenager. I'd jack off each morning before school. Then as soon as I got home from school. Then usually before I went to sleep at night. Sometimes, I'd sneak in a whack after supper too!"
"You used to jerk off that much too?" he asked.
It was my turn to blush, but I said, "well, yeah. But, I expect you not to tell anyone, OK?"
"And you can't tell about me either, right?" he asked.
"Deal!" I said.
Michael grinned then.
We talked a little longer then. He had been afraid he was going to hurt himself. I told him he'd be OK, although he might wear the skin off his dick. I suggested he use hand lotion when he wasn't jacking off in the shower. He hadn't thought of that, but said it sounded good.
I also asked him about his technique. He showed me using his left index finger, how he grasped his penis while he masturbated. Basically he was using just his thumb and forefinger and middle finger. I told him he should try using his whole hand, and I demonstrated by wrapping my hand around my finger and massaging it up and down.
We talked a few minutes longer, but I noticed he seemed to be getting a little anxious. Then he shifted position and I saw the lump in his jeans. He saw that I'd noticed and went beet red.
"It's OK," I said, grinning. "I'll get out of here so you can try some of these 'new' techniques!"
Still blushing, he smiled and said "Thanks!"
I left then, and Michael followed me out into the hall. I left him looking through the supply closet for a bottle of hand lotion.
That night before I went to bed, I was having a snack in the kitchen. Michael wandered in. When he saw me he grinned.
"Well?" I asked.
"AWESOME! Thanks Dad!" he said, smiling and blushing. "Um, got anymore hints?"
"You ever finger your asshole yet?" I asked in a low voice.
"No," he said, looking uncertainly at me.
"Next time take a dab of lotion on the middle finger of your left hand, and while you're laying on your bed sliding your right hand up and down your rod, pull your legs up and reach for your hole and finger it with the finger you put the lotion on. Just remember to wash your hands later!" I said.
Michael looked at me a little uncertainly.
"Won't know till you give it a try!" I said, waggling my eyebrows at him.
"Do you push your finger through the hole?" he asked.
"You can if you want, or you can just rub it," I said.
"OK," he said, smiling a little.
The next evening, Michael came down into the basement, where I was.
"I can't believe how good that was!" he exclaimed, grinning at me.
"huh?" I asked.
"Playing with my butt hole!" he said, smiling.
"Ah! So you tried it?" I said.
"Yup. Even shoved my finger up inside a couple times. That was kinda cool too!" Michael said.
I grinned and said, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself!"
We talked a while longer, and I couldn't believe how completely open Michael was suddenly. I guess by giving him a few ideas, and admitting my own practices to him, he felt safer in talking to me about. By the time we were finished he had a couple more ideas he intended to try out!
* * *
That fall Michael and his best friend who lived nearby, set up a tent in our backyard, behind the garage. One early October weekend, it was warm and dry. The two boys asked to be allowed to sleep overnight in the tent.
Joey's parents said it was alright, so we did too. That Saturday night, Michael
and Joey took their sleeping bags out to the tent, along with a couple lanterns
and a bag of snacks and sodas.
My wife was supposed to go to the movies with her girlfriends. She volunteered not to go, but I told her I'd be fine with watching the kids, so she went.
After I'd put the twins and my daughter to bed, and they were asleep, I decided to watch a movie on TV. I was hungry, so I made several batches of popcorn, intending to take some out to the boys in the tent as well.
When I walked back out to the back of the garage, it was already dark. I could see a glow coming from the tent. As I approached it, I heard the boys' voices.
"Come on, it'll be great! We gotta try it!" I heard Joey say.
Wondering what Joey was trying to talk my son into, I stopped and listened.
"I never did it before though!" Michael said.
"Well, when I did it with Steve, it was great!" Joey said. "At least after he stopped using his teeth it was!"
"But, it's so... gross!" Michael said.
"I'm clean! I showered before I came over!" Joey said.
"And you'll do me too?" Michael said.
"I promise. In fact, I'll do you for a minute, then you do me, then I'll do you again, and you can do me again." Joey said.
"Well, I guess we can try. As long as you start," Michael said.
"Well, let's get naked then," Joey said.
There was some rustling, and I saw the boys' shadows stand up and they took their clothes off. The lantern must've been behind them, as I saw both of them had hardons.
"OK, lay down," Joey said.
Michael laid down, and then Joey got down too.
"Spread your legs," Joey said.
Then a second later, "Damn you got a nice dick!" he added.
Suddenly I heard my son cry out, "Oh fuck!"
I moved closer to the tent, and I could hear slurping noises. Then Michael began moaning slightly. This went on for about a half minute or so, then stopped.
"OK, you do me now," Joey said.
"Just remember. Don't cum in my mouth!" Michael said, nervously.
"I won't," Joey said.
There was some rustling, then slurping noises, and Joey began moaning.
"Oh yeah, Mike. You do it great!" Joey said.
A little time went by, and Michael said, "That's not so bad I guess. Do me some more!"
A couple seconds later, the slurping noises resumed, then Michael was moaning again. The slurping noises went on longer though, and Michael's moaning got louder, and became gasps.
Suddenly Michael cried softly. "Get off Joe! I'm gonna shoot!"
The slurping sounds continued.
Then urgently Michael exclaimed "NOW JOE!"
The slurping continued.
"OH FUCK!" Michael gasped then.
"Fuck! I'm cumming Joe!" he groaned a couple seconds later.
"MMMMmmmm!" my son moaned a third time, as the suckling sounds kept on.
It was obvious that Joey was continuing to suck my son off, swallowing his jism as he came.
Eventually, Michael said, "OK! I'm Done!"
The slurping stopped.
"Damn, your stuff's tasty!" Joey said, thickly.
"Why'd you let me cum in your mouth?" Michael asked.
"I wanted to taste your cum," Joey said.
"That's disgusting!" Michael said.
"Didn't it feel great though?" Joey asked.
"Well, yeah, but ..." Michael trailed off.
"Suck me some more," Joeys said.
Apparently Michael hesitated, because Joey added "Please!"
"I can't! I'll throw up if I do! Your dick's already leaking!" he said.
There was silence a minute, then Joey disappointedly said, "Fine! Then you have to jack me off at least!"
Silence a moment. Then Michael said, "Fine!" with an angry tone to his voice.
A minute later, Joey was moaning, and I heard the unmistakable sounds of a hand sliding up and down a well lotioned dick.
A few seconds later, Joey gasped and grunted. A couple seconds after that he groaned. Then he moaned again a few seconds later. Joey spasmed a few more times, as he exclaimed with each ejaculation. Eventually, his orgasm ended.
"Shit! You got your cum on me!" Michael said.
Seconds later, Michael said "EW! I can't believe you just ate your own cum! You're disgusting!"
"Haven't you ever tried your cum?" Joey asked.
"Well... once, but it was a while ago. I really didn't like it." Michael said.
"Well, you coulda sucked on me a little more," Joey complained. "It wasn't like I came right away! And I did let you cum in my mouth!"
"You were oozing pre-cum!" Michael said.
"Because I was excited by your orgasm!" Joey said.
"Well, we better get dressed before my Dad comes out here to check on us!" Michael said.
"Shit!" Joey said.
I saw the shadows of the two boys, as they quickly dressed again. I stood there for a minute or two, incredulous over what I'd just witnessed. Then I turned back to the house, and tip-toed away.
As I walked back in the kitchen, I thought to myself, "Jeeze - like father, like son!"
It was 10 of 9. I waited 5 minutes, then went back out with the bowl of popcorn. I called to the boys as I approached the tent. When I got there, I thought Michael looked a little mad, and Joey looked depressed.
"You guys OK?" I asked, looking at them carefully.
"Yes." "Fine." were the brief answers I got.
"OK, here's some popcorn. I'll be in the living room if you need me!" I said.
"Thanks," they chorused.
I went back into the house and sat down to watch the movie. I ate the popcorn, but don't have a clue what the movie was I watched. I couldn't get my mind off my son's and his friend's sexual encounter that I'd witnessed.
* * *
The next morning, both boys were up early,
and Joey left before breakfast. Michael seemed to be in a bad mood too.
"Did something happen between you and Joey last night?" my wife asked.
"What do you mean?" Michael asked, tinging pink.
"I mean, it's like you two had a fight," my wife continued.
"Just a disagreement," Michael said. "I don't want to talk about it."
* * *
Later I tried talking to Michael, not
letting on that I knew about their sexual activity. He wouldn't talk to me
either, which surprised me.
Joey stopped coming around then. And Michael stopped going to his house. When they saw each other on the street, they both avoided each other.
I tried talking about it with Michael again, but he just said Joey turned out to be a jerk, and he didn't want to hang out with him anymore.
I ran into Joey at an ice cream stand and tried to talk to him about it, but he told me that he and Michael had mutually agreed not to be friends anymore. I told him I was sorry about that, that we missed him, and asked if there was anything I could do to help fix things.
"No, but thanks," he said, looking up at me with watery eyes.
* * *
We got a computer, with internet access
about the same time Michael went into high school. I set up a log, to see what
sites were hit, but didn't put any other parental controls on it, as the
computer was in the living room, and my wife and I were around most of the time.
Michael loved the computer and has been on it an hour or more each day, since we got it. I did notice after only a few days, that there were a few porn sites that I hadn't brought up, showing up on the log. In particular, I noticed that www.jackinworld.com was hit on quite often. I smiled to myself about that. Then, I found a bunch of pic post sites. About half of them were gay pages! This gave me pause to wonder whether he'd gone there on purpose, or if they'd popped up by accident, when he clicked on a topic he thought was a straight site he might enjoy. I didn't mention anything to him, and just kept watching the log. The porn activity remained pretty constant, including both straight and gay sites.
* * *
We went on vacation to Florida during the
kids' spring break during Michael's freshman year in high school. When we went,
I still hadn't spoken to Michael about his internet usage, and he was still
hitting many of the same sites repeatedly - some straight - some gay!
When we were in Florida, Michael developed his first crush, on none other than a girl his age who was from Australia! We didn't see much of Michael, as he was always down at the pool with her! We could tell that he was smitten - in a BIG way! He was walking on air. The day before her family was to leave, he crashed big time. He literally sobbed in my arms at the thought that he was losing her!
He went down to the pool that evening, and was there until late in the evening. Eventually, when the pool was supposed to be closing, I went down to the pool to see what they were up to. Sara's father arrived about when I did, and told her it was time to go back to their room, and pack for their flight home, which left early the next morning. I noticed immediately, that while my son was valiantly fighting back the urge to burst into tears, Sara still seemed bubbly and happy, not depressed at all.
While her father and I talked a couple minutes, the two exchanged addresses, and e-mail addresses. Then, out of the corner of our eyes, we saw Michael lean in quickly and kiss Sara gently on the lips. Neither of us said anything, but continued watching out the corner of our eyes.
Tears were welling in Michael's eyes, when I heard him quietly say, "I think I'm in love with you Sara!"
Sara didn't look surprised, but said, "OHhhhh! Please don't do that Michael! We live too far apart for it to ever work out!"
"But you feel it too? Don't you?" he asked, plaintively.
"Well... yes, of course I do Michael. A little at least," Sara said, looking a bit upset now.
I was surprised when Michael leaned in and kissed her again. This time longer. Sara responded this time. I grew a little uncomfortable, as I realized Sara's father was beginning to look mildly annoyed. I didn't have time to think about some way of interrupting, as Sara's father cleared his throat loudly, and purposefully.
"We need to be going now, Sara," he said.
Sara broke away from Michael, and smiled sweetly at him.
"Write me Michael! I've had heaps of fun with you!" she said.
Michael looked so miserable, and my heart was breaking for him. It was obvious to me that he was head over heels for her, but that she merely was looking at him as a friend she'd made on vacation. A good looking, male friend she didn't mind kissing.
"Good-bye!" she said.
She turned then and walked away with her father, and didn't look back.
Michael just stared miserably after her. I walked over to him and put my arm around his shoulders.
"I'm sorry Mike!" I said, softly.
He began shaking then, and right there in the open, with some people milling around in the area yet, he turned into me and buried his face against my chest and wept bitterly. All I could do was wrap my arms around him and hold him, till he finally cried himself out.
When he finally looked up at me, his face wet with tears, and whined "I love her so much! It's so unfair!", a couple tears rolled down my cheeks.
"I know," I said, pulling him back to me, and hugging him and kissing him on the top of his head.
He cried again for a minute or so. Eventually he wiped his face dry, and we went back to our rooms.
When we got home a few days later, the first thing Michael did was look for e-mail from her. There was none. He quickly wrote to her. The next night, he got a short, somewhat generic, reply from her. He was elated that they could still stay in touch. They did write back and forth, and IMed quite a bit. Occasionally, I found a call to Canberra on my phone bill too. I made him reimburse me for those. That slowed the calls down a bit.
Michael began to live in a fantasy world for a while then. In his mind, she was in love with him, just as much as he was with her. I tried to explain to him that she didn't love him the way he loved her. This of course made me unpopular with him. Then my wife became unpopular too! He printed off an e-mail from her one night and showed it to us, and I was ticked off. She'd written enough to him to support his theories, and cause him to begin calling her his girlfriend! He sent her little gifts. Small Teddy bears, a book of poetry, flowers! She never sent him anything. Nor did she ever initiate a call, letter or e-mail of thanks.
She only acknowledged the gifts if he contacted her!
Michael's wall was adorned with printouts of the few pictures of herself that she'd sent him. His favorite sat framed on his nightstand next to his bed. Humorously, we noticed that the length of his showers decreased dramatically, while the amount of time he spent in his room with his door closed, increased quite a bit, and his sheets seemed to contain more cum stains than usual.
Sara slowed down her answers to Michael's e-mails and letters after about six weeks. Eventually she didn't reply at all. My phone bill had many more calls to Canberra on it suddenly. All short calls, a minute or so. He'd been calling her, since she didn't answer his mail anymore. I tried to tell him that she didn't love him, and that she was trying to end their relationship. He fought with me about it, shoving her last letter in my face, as proof that she did love him. The letter was signed "love, Sara", and did make reference to something he'd apparently written her, proclaiming his love to her. She said she thought it would be cool to live in America and be dating him. He'd also told her he intended to fly to Australia to visit her the following summer. She'd told him she'd love to see him again.
The weeks went by, and no further answers came from Sara. She was never home when he called either. By Thanksgiving, he was beginning to realize that his mother and I were correct, and that Sara didn't love him, and in fact had put him out of her life. The night before Thanksgiving, he called one last time. When he asked for her, he listened for a minute. Suddenly a stricken look crossed his face.
"Well, please tell her I won't be bothering her anymore!" he said, and hung up.
He ran up the stairs then, and his bedroom door slammed shut. My wife and I looked at each other.
"I think you'd better go check on him," she said to me.
"I will, but not for a few minutes yet," I replied.
When I went up to his room, and knocked on his door, he didn't answer.
"Mike, it's me!" I said.
"Go away!" he hollered. I could hear the pain in his voice.
"C'mon Mike. I just want to help," I said.
A few seconds passed, then he croaked, "come in."
When I went in, the first thing I noticed were that his walls were bare, and the framed picture of Sara was missing. I also saw that Michael had been crying.
He looked at me and said, "Well, you and Mom were right! I heard her in the background telling her mother that she didn't want to talk to me!"
"I'm sorry Mike!" I said.
"How could I have been such a fool?" he asked, piteously.
"You weren't being a fool. You were just in love. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you," I said.
"Thanks," he said. "I think I want to be alone a while now."
I smiled at him, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
"You know where I am if you want to talk," I said.
"I know," he said.
I left then, shutting the door behind me.
Almost immediately after Michael admitted to himself that Sara wasn't interested in him, our hot water bill increased. Michael's showers became longer, and his sheets had less stains on them.
The list of porn sites on the internet log increased as well. Still half straight, half gay!
* * *
Last fall, I noticed a website coming up
that, when I looked it up, I was surprised to find was a downloadable book on
prolonging the male orgasm, and other techniques for a man to use to have
multiple orgasms, while not ejaculating! I also found that Michael had
apparently downloaded the book, as a mirror copy of it was stored in a temporary
Michael was spending a lot of time alone in his room, behind closed doors too.
One evening the two of us were home alone, as my wife had taken our daughter and the twins out shopping with her. As we sat eating a pizza together, I decided to see if Michael would talk with me about what he was up to with his 'research' on prolonging orgasms, and having multiples.
"By any chance did you download a book about prolonging men's orgasms on the computer?" I asked.
Michael almost choked on a piece of pizza. He also went red in the face.
"Guess it was you then," I said, chuckling.
He just stared at me, uncertain of what to say.
"Hey! It's me! We've always been able to talk before. Why not now?" I said. "C'mon! Complete amnesty if you've done something wrong! Spill your guts!"
Michael just looked at me with big eyes, as I waited expectantly.
"Um, h-how'd you know about the book?" he asked, cautiously.
I chuckled and said, "when you downloaded it, it created a mirror image of it in a temporary file. Look, it's OK. But... if you're gonna be looking at stuff like that, I wanta know what you're looking at, so that if I think you need to talk to someone, I can be available."
Michael looked a little perplexed. "You don't care that I downloaded a book like that?"
"I don't like you downloading ANYTHING! We might get a virus that way!" I said.
"But, you don't mind if I download that kind of book?" he asked again.
"Well, why don't you explain why you downloaded a book about prolonging orgasms?" I said.
Turning red, he said, "well, I'd like to last longer before I ... you know."
I chuckled and said, "How long do you usually go before you shoot?"
Michael turned redder and said, "Only about a minute or two. But, the book seems to be working. I can go longer now. About 5 minutes! I just kinda gotta learn to pull back at just the right moment and relax, then start up again afterward."
"Yeah, that's one way to do it," I said, smiling.
When he realized I was willing to talk with him about his orgasms, without making fun of him, he opened up and suddenly started asking me all kinds of questions about sex, how to make it last longer, how much cum a man should be shooting, and all kinds of questions. It was one of the best, most informative discussions, at least for him, that we'd ever had.
He told me about the program of special exercises a man could do to strengthen his muscles in the genital, anal, and perineal area, which if used properly, could prolong orgasms. He told me he'd been doing the exercises himself, and thought they were helpful.
We must've talked for almost an hour about the male body and male orgasms. It was certainly a conversation I doubt most boys would have with their fathers, which made me feel privileged to have the close relationship I have with my son.
Michael kept on working on his exercises, and a few weeks later, happily reported to me that he could prolong his orgasms now almost as long as he wanted to. I told him that was wonderful, but asked if he was able to have them as soon as he wanted to. He assured me there was no problem with that! He did say that his orgasms were never as strong as they were then. He said most of the time, he was hitting his headboard with his first shot of cum, and he also seemed to be putting more semen out! I told him that was great, but just to make sure he cleaned up after himself. He grinned in response.
The time Michael spent in his room evenings, with his door closed, definitely increased, so I can only assume he put his education to good use!
* * *
Not long after that, it was time for
supper, and we'd hollered up the stairs for Michael a few times. He didn't come
down, so I finally went upstairs and down the hallway. When he wanted privacy,
his door would be shut tightly. When I reached it this time, it was slightly
ajar, so I just pushed the door open. I got quite the eyeful. Michael was lying
on his bed, completely naked, with a headset on. I could hear the music playing.
There was a bottle of hand lotion lying next to him, and a porn magazine on the
other side. It was open to a picture of two guys both giving it to a girl at
once, one in the cunt, the other up the ass. Both the guys' balls and assholes
were prominent in the picture. Michael's well-lotioned right hand was flying up
and down his HUGE hardon. I gawked at the size of his dick, estimating it to be
at least 8-1/2" - 9" in length, and average girth. Michael was finger-fucking
his asshole with the middle finger of his left hand, which also appeared to be
Luckily for me, Michael's eyes were closed, as he was about to shoot his load. His body suddenly stiffened, his nostrils flared, and his face contorted. Softly, he gasped and grunted, and a huge rope of semen shot out of his dick and hit his headboard. Some of it streaked across his face and hair as well. His hands kept moving, and groaning, he shot a second gusher. This landed on his nose, and streaked over his mouth and chin, and down his throat, over his Adam's apple.
I was in complete awe of the powerful, and passionate orgasm my son was experiencing, and never gave it a thought to back out of his room. I stood there watching as a third glob of cum hit him in the neck and upper chest.
Finally, as his fourth volley landed on his belly, puddling in his navel, I realized his orgasm was slowing, and quickly I backed out the door, shutting it behind me.
I was stiffer than I'd been in a LONG time after witnessing my son's orgasmic pleasure. I quickly strode to the bathroom and locked myself in. I ripped my jeans and boxers down. I pumped a little lotion from a bottle on the vanity into my hand and began stroking off. As visions of my son's passion replayed through my mind, I quickly beat off. Moments later, I was ejaculating a copius amount of my own cum into the sink.
When I was finished, I cleaned up and went back out into the hallway. I pounded on Michael's door.
"JUST A MINUTE!" came his anxious voice.
"Supper. Hurry Up!" I called in.
"OK, I'll be there in a minute!" he replied.
I went downstairs then. Michael appeared, slightly pink faced, a couple minutes later. When he looked at me, I gave him a tiny smirk and winked at him. He tinged deep red, and suddenly began paying a lot of attention to his cheeseburger!
* * *
As time's gone by, I've continued watching
the internet logs. Over time, I've noticed a slight change in what sites my
son's been looking at. There seems to be more gay sites, than straight ones now.
Michael also hasn't seemed interested in getting himself a girlfriend either. He says that after what happened with Sara, he's going to be picky and take his time. My wife thinks that's a good idea. Personally, I'm beginning to think it's a cover for the fact that he really doesn't want to have a girlfriend. He's had plenty of opportunities to have different girls, most of whom are nice, and seemed interested in him. He never took the initiative though, and in a couple cases, shied away from them.
At the same time, he complains he hasn't got a girlfriend. I've tried to discuss it with him, but he seems not to be interested in talking about it.
* * *
Interestingly, Michael's friend Joey has
re-entered our lives. Not that they're having sleep-overs anymore, but Michael
and Joey appear to have patched up any differences they had, and are friends
again. Joey eats supper with us every so often again, and the boys do spend some
time alone in Michael's room, with the door closed too. Joey has a girlfriend
though, who he's gone out with all year. I know for a fact, because Michael told
me on the QT, that Joey's having sex with her regularly too.
I certainly hope he's more careful than his father was at his age. Joey's father Scott went to school with me, and he lived up around the corner from me. We were friends. He got a girl named Lily, who lived down the street from me, pregnant in our senior year. She had the baby, and kept it. It was a boy, who she named Jeremy.
There was a big controversy at the time over the baby's paternity. Scott would never admit the boy was his. He claimed Lily fooled around on him. Lily was, and still is rather meek, and has never gone after him for support or even a paternity test. To this day, Scott won't admit that Jeremy is his son, even though resemblance between him and Jeremy, who's a young man now, is astounding! And, when I look at Jeremy and compare him with Joey, the resemblance is amazing as well. If they were the same age, you'd think they were twins! There's no doubt in anyone's mind, who knows of the situation, that Scott is Jeremy's father.
Joey and his little sisters are unaware of the fact that they have an older half brother. Jeremy is aware that Scott is his father though.
Ironically, all three of us - Scott, Lily, and I, all still live in the same neighborhood. I bought a house next door to my parents, and Lily, who never married, lives with her parents yet. Scott and his family live on the next street, a block from Scott's parents.
It can be a pretty tense situation at times, when Scott and Lily see each other, or Jeremy sees Scott or his kids. Whenever he sees Scott, or Joey, or the girls he watches them very intently. He almost seems to be looking longingly at the kids, as if he wants to have a relationship with them. When he looks at Scott though, there's a look of extreme anger in his eyes. Interestingly, I've noticed Joey looking intently at Jeremy the last few times they've ended up in the same place at the same time. It's almost as if Joey realizes there's some connection between the two.
Scott practically had conniptions one day a few years ago when he stopped over at our house to pick up Joey, and Jeremy was there with Lily. Lily and my wife are friends too, and visit each other occasionally. When Scott walked in, Jeremy who was 19 at the time, and our boys who were 12 or so, were playing a board game together at the kitchen table. Scott looked ready to vomit. He knows I know the truth, and he looked at me helplessly. I told him they were just playing a game together. He quickly collected Joey and left, but not before Lily stepped into the kitchen. The two froze and stared at each other. Finally, Scott nodded slightly at Lily. She just smiled and smirked at him.
Someday this whole mess is going to blow up in Scott's face, and I don't think it'll be pretty! (~chuckles~ This would've made a pretty good story by itself I guess!)
Anyway, I find it interesting that Joey is suddenly back in my son's life. Especially, since I know that the cause for the rift between them was my son's reaction to their sexual encounter in our tent out back a few years earlier.
* * *
During this past winter, our whole family
ended up sick with the flu. The twins brought it home first. My daughter quickly
came down with it a day later, and then Michael got hit by it two days after
that, when the twins were already starting to get better. My wife and I both got
it a few days afterward, but not quite as badly as the kids did.
One of the symptoms of the illness was a very high fever, and along with it, there was extreme weakness, fatigue, joint pain, and a horribly raw and sore throat.
When the twins' fevers spiked, the doctor told us to put them in the bath tub in tepid water. They hated it and complained pitifully, but we had to get their fevers down. It worked! The same happened with my daughter.
When Michael got sick, he got hit the hardest. He'd been staying up late at night for a week or more, working on a project that was due at school. The day he handed it in, he came home and collapsed, sick with the flu. He barely managed to get upstairs and crawl into bed.
That night, his fever hit 106.5 degrees. My wife was freaking out, and Michael was just laying in his bed burning up. He was too weak to get up, and acted almost a little delirious. I told my wife to draw a tub of tepid water. When it was ready, I scooped him up out of his bed, which was no easy feat, considering he's already a couple inches taller than me. At least he's skinny. He only weighs about 125. He protested a little, as I carried him to the bathroom.
"No!" he cried, when I got nearer the tub.
I explained we needed to get his fever down.
"But, I don't want Mom to see me naked!" he whispered in my ear, as I held him shivering in my arms.
Smiling, I said, "We'll leave your boxers on then!"
He calmed down a little then, until I set him down in the water. He let out a shriek then and started cursing me, as I lowered him into the water. The poor kid, I felt awful for him. He tried to struggle to get up out of the water, but he couldn't. He was so weak, he couldn't even hold himself up. I had to wrap an arm around him, and hold him up, so he didn't slide all the way down into the water. He was shivering worse than ever, and whining pitifully. I explained he had to stay in the water to get the fever down. His initial anger eventually dissipated, giving way to self-pity. As he sat in the water, trembling, he looked forlornly at me, and tears welled in his eyes. Finally, resignedly, and partly because he was so weak, he laid his head on my shoulder and wept softly for a minute, as I knelt outside the tub, holding him up. I felt so bad for him.
The water did help his fever drop. After several minutes, it was down to 102.3, and was feeling a little better. I told my wife to get me a wash cloth and towel so he could wash quickly, then asked her to shut the door, and leave us alone a while. She did. I lifted Michael up slightly and pulled his boxers off. I asked him to wash himself, but he said he couldn't. He let me wash him though, like I used to when he was a little boy. When I got to the point I needed to wash his crotch, I offered him the cloth, so he could do it himself.
He just looked at me through half-closed eyes, and said, "You do it. I can't!"
He leaned on me again, as I washed his genitals. I lifted him slightly and washed his ass as well.
When I was done washing him, I drained the tub and lifted him out of it. I sat him on a towel on the toilet, where he could lean on the sink. I dried him off then, and blow-dried his hair.
Thoughtfully, my wife had brought in a pair of clean boxers for Michael, which I put on him. Then I carried him back to his bed, which my wife had put clean sheets on. He was out like a light, the moment his head touched the pillow.
I had to bathe Michael like that two more times, before he stopped spiking those high fevers. Being that he's so modest about his body, each time, I left his boxers on him, so that he wouldn't be embarrassed that his mother saw him nude. He appreciated that, even though he didn't appreciate the cold baths.
* * *
This spring was Michael's Junior Prom. As
he didn't have a girlfriend, he wasn't sure he was going to go. At the last
minute, a girl named Ashley asked him to take her. She's a good looking girl,
and had broken up with her boyfriend, who was from another school, just before
she asked Michael to take her to the prom. She already had the tickets, limo,
and gown. All she asked Michael to do was get a tux, and flowers. Michael was
happy to have a date, and to be going to the prom, as all his friends were too.
When Michael got home from the prom, I asked him if he'd had a good time. He said that he had. Then, he said he was tired and went right to bed though.
The next day, he didn't have a lot to say about the prom, but later on, Joey came over, and as I sat in the living room on the computer, I overheard snatches of the boys' conversation taking place while they sat in the kitchen, having a snack.
"Well?" Joey asked.
I didn't hear Michael's reply, but Joey's next statement was loud enough to hear, leaving no question in my mind as to what the conversation was about.
"I can't believe she let you fuck her! That's so Cool!" Joey burst out.
"SHhhhh!!!!!!!" Michael hissed.
The rest of the conversation was muffled then.
That night, I stopped by Michael's room. His door was open, and he was watching TV. I knocked. He told me to come in. I went in and closed the door. He looked at me expectantly.
"Um.... Joey can be a little loud at times I guess," I said. "I was in the living room on the computer when you two were in the kitchen demolishing the pan of brownies this afternoon. I kinda overheard part of the conversation. You're not in trouble or anything. I just thought maybe I should see if everything's OK. I kinda got the impression you had sex with Ashley last night. Is that true?"
Michael blushed, then smiled sheepishly and nodded.
I smiled in return. "So?"
"So? What?" he asked.
"Was it good?" I asked, smiling.
He hesitated a couple seconds, then said, "Well, yeah."
"Hmm, sounds like it wasn't everything you'd hoped it'd be. It was your first time right?" I said.
"Yeah," he said.
"Did you use a condom?" I asked.
"Of course!" he replied, quickly.
"Good," I said, smiling. "I'm sorry it wasn't everything you'd hoped it'd be though."
"I think it was the rubber," he said. "It took away some of the feeling."
"Yeah, that's true," I said. "But promise me you'll always use one. If you don't, you don't know what you could catch. Also, you don't know for sure that a girl's really on birth control, or that it's working. So, better to be safe than sorry. OK?"
"I know. I'll always use one," he said.
"Good!" I said. "It could be that it wasn't a nice as it could've been, because you aren't in love with her too! When you're in love with the person, it's better!"
"So you've told me before," he said, smiling wryly at me.
"Did she seem to like it?" I asked.
"Oh yeah! She got off big time!" he said, smiling slightly.
"Must be that big tool of your's!" I said, snickering. "Think you'll see her again?"
Michael grinned momentarily, and blushed. Then he looked a little sad.
"I don't think so. She's not my type," he said.
"Well... OK. Anything else we should discuss?" I asked.
"Naa, but thanks!" Michael said.
"OK, G'night," I said.
"Night," he replied, as I left.
* * *
Over the last few months, my wife and I've
noticed that Michael's got something that's weighing heavily on his mind. At
first we chalked it up to his up-coming final exams, but now that they're over,
his mood really hasn't improved much. He spends hours at a time, just sitting,
thinking, no - brooding! It worries me, because his brooding seems to be taking
up more and more of his time.
My wife's tried to talk to him. I've tried approaching him, and asking him if there's a problem, but he says there isn't.
A few nights ago, before I began writing this story, I went to use the computer, not realizing Michael was still logged on, and had just gotten up to take a phone call. When I jiggled the mouse, and the screen saver cleared, an IM screen appeared in front of me. Michael had apparently been in the middle of a conversation with someone, when the phone rang.
Normally, I would've respected Michael's privacy, but, as my eyes fell on the screen, I immediately saw the words, "I'm so miserable. I don't know what to do! I want so much to be straight, but I think I'm gay!"
Seeing those words, my mind blurred, and I just kept on reading.
Whoever he was talking to replied "I thought you just lost your cherry with that girl you took to the prom?"
"I did. Sort of. I fucked her, but I couldn't cum. I finally faked an orgasm after she'd already cum twice! Does that count as losing my cherry?" Michael had typed.
"lol - yeah, as long as you get it in her. But, you didn't have an orgasm?"
"No! I could barely keep it hard."
"Maybe you weren't well."
"I was fine when I jerked off a couple hours later, thinking about having sex with my best friend."
"Is he gay?"
"I used to think he was. A few years ago we sucked each other off. Back then, I thought I was straight though, and blew him off afterwards."
"But you're friends again now? Are you doing each other again?"
"Yeah, we're friends, but he has a girlfriend he's boffing all the time now!"
"Oh! Sorry to hear that. Have you asked though if he'd like to do it with you too? Maybe he's bi!"
"No. I'm afraid to."
"You'll never know till you ask."
"brb - phone"
The conversation ended there. Just as I was finishing reading it, Michael walked into the living room and saw me reading it. He looked stricken and terrified when I looked up at him. I just looked at him a moment.
"I'm sorry," I said, finally, tinging pink. "I thought you'd finished using the computer. When I sat down, this came up. I wouldn't have read it, but... after I saw the first line, I was worried..."
Michael looked at me silently. He began blushing deeply, and I saw tears welling in his eyes. He didn't move.
Realizing how terrified he was of my reaction to what I read, I got up and went over to him.
"I don't know who it is you're talking to there, we can discuss that later. I'd rather you talk to me about your problems though. I want you to feel you can come to me to talk about things. You always used to. I'm still here for you. I always will be. I love you Michael - no matter what! You don't have to hide anything from me! I'll always love you!" I said.
I took him in my arms then and hugged him. I felt him squeezing me back, desperately almost. Then, I realized he was shaking. He'd buried his face on my shoulder and as he was hugging me back, he'd begun weeping softly.
I held him, until he let go of me a couple minutes later. Then, sniffling and wiping away his tears, he said, "You don't care that I might be gay?"
"Not at all," I said, smiling. "I love you no matter what!"
"Thanks. I feel so much better knowing that!" he said.
Smiling at him, I said, "Good, I'm glad!"
I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. He told me he really didn't want to. At least not then.
"Maybe someday I'll want to though. Just not now," he added.
"OK. Will you come find me when and if you need to?" I asked.
He nodded yes.
"I love you Michael! That love is unconditional! I love you for the person you are - no matter who that is, or what kind of person you turn out to be!"
"I love you too dad!" he croaked, as he turned to me and wrapped his arms around me and began crying softly again.
After a minute, he broke our embrace again, and wiped his face dry. He sat down at the computer a moment, typed out 'g2g' hit enter, then logged off.
"You can have the computer," He said. "Please don't tell Mom, or anyone else about this, OK?"
"I won't tell anyone. Not even Mom," I said. "Your mom will feel the same way I do though!"
"Thanks," he said. Then he ran upstairs.
I sat down at the computer, but I couldn't do a thing. All I could think of was the pain and turmoil my son was going through. As I sat there, thinking, it occurred to me that he'd inherited even more from me than I'd thought. He'd also inherited my sexuality. As much as I thought of myself as being bisexual, I realized that I too actually enjoyed gay sex more than straight sex. Thinking back to how miserable I'd felt at his age, upon discovering that I was bisexual, or possibly gay, tears filled my eyes, and shortly I was crying. I felt awful for having passed on my problems to my boy.
* * *
Last night, I went up to Michael's room.
"I know I told you to come to me if you needed to talk. Well, I'm hoping you won't mind that I'm coming to you to talk, because I have something to say," I said.
"It's OK," he said.
I closed the door and sat down on the edge of his bed.
"It occurred to me after the other night, that there was something you should know, that might make you feel better," I said.
"What?" he asked.
"Well, I know you're struggling to figure out if you're straight or gay, but Mike, there's not necessarily a clear-cut answer to that question! I know that generally it's thought that 15-20% of the population is gay, and the rest are straight, but that's not necessarily true. See, Freud had a theory that people's sexual preferences fall on a scale. The scale runs from 0 to 100. On one end, are strictly straight people, and on the other are strictly gay people. Most people don't fall on one of the two ends though. They're spread out, all over the scale. So there's only really about 1% of all people who are completely straight. And, there's only really about 1% of all people who are completely gay. Everyone else is a mix and falls somewhere in between. So, I guess what I'm saying is that most people who claim to be straight, have at least a bit of homosexual tendencies or desires, and conversely, gay people have at least a bit of heterosexual tendencies or desires. So, there's really no clear answer about a person's true preferences sometimes." I said.
"So you think I may be somewhere in the middle?" Michael asked.
"Only you can answer that question," I said, smiling. "And you're the only person you have to answer to. It's personal and private information about yourself, that you only have to share with people you want to share it with. All you need to know is, that no matter where you fall on the scale, I will love you no matter what. So will your mom!"
"YOU DIDN'T TELL HER DID YOU?" he cried.
"No," I said, smiling. "That's between you and her. It's up to you what you tell her about this, and when, or if you tell her."
"Thanks," he said, relaxing again.
"Anyway, I don't know if what I told you makes you feel any better or not, but if you look at it a little differently, maybe it will. Instead of trying to just figure out where you fit on the scale, try thinking about the fact that everyone else fits on the scale somewhere too. That means that all your friends fit somewhere on the scale. Only 1 percent of them will be completely straight. So you're in the majority!" I said.
He looked at me a moment, and smiled slightly.
"And Michael, I'm not in that one percent either. Not by a long-shot. I don't know exactly where on the scale I fit, but I'm a little more like you than you may have thought," I said, finally, feeling my face flush a little.
Michael looked a little surprised then.
"Does Mom know?" he asked.
I grinned and said, "Where we fit on Freud's scale isn't something we ever really discussed, but keep in mind that she most likely isn't in the one percent herself! Listen, don't spend a lot of time trying to figure out where you fit either. It doesn't matter. I only told you about it, to illustrate the fact that very few people on the planet are exclusively heterosexual. Besides, personally, I think your amount of sexual experience is too limited for you to try and figure out yet where you fit in exactly. I think you need to leave yourself open to the possibilities of forming relationships with anyone you come into contact with. I don't mean sexual relationships. I mean friendships. You need to get to know them, and be friends with them. If it gets romantic, that's OK. If you eventually get to a point where you want to be sexual, well, then as long as they do too, I guess you should try it out - as long as you do it 'safely'! Always use condoms! And never force anyone to do something, or let them talk you into doing something you don't want to do either!"
"So, did you try guys, as well as girls?" Michael asked.
"What a person does sexually is personal and private. It's nobody else's business. I don't really want to discuss my sex life with you Michael. And, you don't HAVE to discuss yours with me either. However, you're still confused about your feelings and desires, and I'm your dad. I want to help you figure things out if I can, so you should feel that you can come to me and openly discuss your sexual thoughts and feelings. So please! Do come talk to me and tell me what you're thinking and doing, and I'll do my best to help you figure things out. I promise to keep anything you tell me to myself. I won't even tell your mother, unless you want me to. Now, I suppose, if I'm asking you to share your experiences with me, I should probably at least answer the question you just asked. I expect if I promise to keep our discussions private, that you will keep anything I tell you a secret as well right?" I said.
"Absolutely," Michael said, looking intently at me.
"Without going into details, I will admit to you that yes, I have had sex with guys." I said.
Michael's eyes got big.
"Like I said, I'm not in the one percent of people who are completely straight," I said.
"Does Mom know this?" he asked, again.
"No, and I'd like to keep it that way," I said. "The only reason I told you, is because I want you to understand that you and I are more alike than you may think. I also want you to feel completely comfortable coming to me to talk about things."
"OK," he said, smiling.
"Anyway, forget the scale now. Where a person is on it doesn't matter. The only important thing you need to focus on now, is building relationships with kind and supportive people. If they happen to be nice looking, and share the same sexual desires you have, then all the better. You'll eventually find a person you click with romantically. It doesn't matter to me if that person is a girl or a guy. I just want you to be happy and healthy! If it turns out to be a girl, fine. If it turns out to be a guy, so be it. Sure, society won't be so kind to you if you choose a guy, but you'll have mine and your mother's love and support. And your sibs' too I expect. You have to live your life in the way that will make YOU happiest!" I said.
"But if I do turn out to be gay, I am worried about what society will think, you know, my friends. They'll drop me!" Michael said, sadly.
"If someone you're friends with turns their back on you if they think you're gay, they're not worth having as friends. A true friend won't care! And, you only want to have true friends!" I said.
Michael smiled at that, "Well, before you saw my IM the other night, I was worried about what you'd think if you found out. That turned out OK. Maybe it won't be as bad as I think with my friends too."
I smiled and said, "well, we're your family. It's a little different. If you are gay Mike, there will be people who will hate you for it. It's unfortunate, but that's how it is. But there will be some who won't too!"
"Well, at least I don't have to worry about you guys anymore!" he said.
"That's right! Your mom and I will always be here for you!" I said.
We talked a couple minutes more, then I left. Although he wasn't completely happy, Michael seemed to be much less stressed, than he'd been in some time. Now it remains to be seen, what lifestyle he decides to choose for himself. I hope he looks to me for advice, when and if he needs it. I expect he will. It's heartbreaking for a father to watch his son suffer so much though.
Later, when my wife came to bed, she said "I don't know what you said to Michael, but he sure seems less depressed now!"
"Good!" I said, smiling to myself. Finally, I was able to fall asleep.