I had my sixteenth birthday on June 23rd, and I graduated high school a week before that.  I was the valedictorian of the graduating class, and I had earned a full scholarship to MIT.  I was to begin my college career right after the following Labor Day weekend.  I would be two years younger than the average entering freshman.  I was glad I was tall, and looked older than my years.

I grew up in Newton, MA, and even though I could commute to the university, I was going to live on campus at MIT.  My parents could well afford the housing fees, but they didn’t feel that I would have the full college experience if I lived at home.  As for me, I was glad to leave the nest.  You see, I knew that I was gay since I was thirteen.  Actually, I knew earlier than that, but I wasn’t sure.  By the time I turned thirteen, I was fully aware of what direction my masturbation fantasies were taking me. 

Whenever I could, I would go to the gay section of town.  I was too young to get into any of the bars, but one of them had a rack outside the entrance.  It was full of magazines and newspapers.  I would snatch some of the literature, and bring it home with me, where I kept it well hidden in my room.   As soon as I perused the rags, I threw them out so that my parents would not come across them accidentally.

On my fifteenth birthday, I was taking some of the literature out of the rack, when a very handsome, twenty-something man, was leaving the bar.  He saw me, approached me, and propositioned me.  I was still a virgin, and I couldn’t wait to lose my virginity.  Nonetheless, I felt ethically bound to let him know that I was jail bait.  I told you I was very tall for my age, and could easily pass as an eighteen-year-old.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, after I told him that I was just fifteen.  “I live close by.  Do you want to, or don’t you?”

“Let’s go,” I said.

There wasn’t much about the experience to remember.  He gave me a blow job, while demonstrating good technique to me.  I was grateful for the lesson.  I came way too quickly, but given my age, maybe it wasn’t quick at all.  Then I went down on him.  He had swallowed my spunk, so I did the same.  When I was done, he started to dress.

“Aren’t we going to fuck?” I asked him.  Boy, I sure was naïve.

“Nah,” he said.  “I can only go once a day, and sometimes I have to skip a day.”

Neither of us took any personal information should we want to see each other again.  My first “affair” was over.  I wasn’t surprised.

A year later on my sixteenth birthday, my curiosity brought me back to the magazine rack.  I’m sure that subconsciously I was hoping to make another contact.  It didn’t happen.  That night I closed myself in my room, and got naked.  I knew that when I saw all those hot pictures of nude men, I’d want to jerk off.  I did just that, but I also did one more thing.  I always did it.  I perused the personal ads.  I often saw one I wanted to answer, but I always chickened out.

The ad I came across, which got all my attention, was for a sperm donor.  A lesbian couple was seeking a donor who was at least six feet tall, handsome, and with a high IQ.  They gave a number to text, and an E Mail address to write to.  I read the ad over and over again.  I had already reached 6’2”, and might grow some more. 

I knew I was good looking.  Girls were always coming on to me.  I had no interest in them.  I wanted to screw a boy, but I guess the other boys were as fearful of discovery as I was.  My academic achievements were not to be questioned.  The icing on the cake was that the couple was offering $1500 to the donor, and would sign a legal document absolving him of any parental responsibility.

I was anxious to pursue this intriguing ad, so I pulled out my phone and started texting.

I’m 6’2”, and the girls tell me I’m handsome.  I was valedictorian of my high school senior class, and am attending MIT on a full scholarship.  If interested call me at this number.  Luke

Even though I hadn’t started college yet, I wrote everything to sound past tense.  I knew I could fool the ladies into thinking I was at least nineteen, if not older.

In less than fifteen minutes my phone rang.  The caller identified herself as Margaret Collins, and said that she had written the ad.  I made up to meet her (them?) at 10 AM the next day at a malt shop in downtown Boston.  When I hung up, I was shaking like a leaf.  I managed to calm myself down by reminding myself that I was going to earn $1500, and all I had to do was jerk off into a bottle.

When I entered the malt shop, they recognized me from my description.  One of them waved me over.

“Are you Luke?” she asked.  “I’m Margie, and my wife here is Beth.”

They never asked me about my sexual orientation.  I suppose it didn’t matter to them.  Since I had answered an ad in a gay publication, I’m sure they assumed that I was gay.  However, the moment I sat down with them, they asked me two questions.  How old are you, and do you want a drink?

I told them that I was twenty, and a coke would be fine.

After ten or fifteen minutes they offered me the “job.”

“I’d like to ask you a question,” I said.  “How come you didn’t ask a friend whom you knew well?  Why are you seeking a perfect stranger?”

“We discussed that with our lawyer,” Beth said.  “He felt that a friend might want to intrude himself into our family.  He suggested that we find a stranger in need of the money, and not let him into our lives or the life of the child.  We didn’t want an unknown donor from a sperm bank either.  We wanted to meet the donor, and frankly, to screen him.”

“That’s fine with me,” I agreed.  “As soon as one of you gets pregnant, I’m out of the picture.  How do we proceed?”

“We’re leaving it all to fate,” Margie said.  “When the first of us is at the most fertile time in our menstrual cycle, you’ll get a call from this number.  It’s a fertility clinic.”  She handed me a card.  “The call will be from the receptionist at the clinic, and you will rush right over to do your thing.”

“How do I get paid?” I asked on purpose.  The women wanted to keep the whole transaction very business-like, and I determined to oblige them.

“When the pregnancy is confirmed, and the fetus is deemed healthy, one or both of us will meet you here, and give you the money.  It’s all here in this contract.  Our lawyer drew it up for us.  If for some reason your sperm is healthy and active, but the recipient of your sperm does not get pregnant, we will meet here, and we’ll give you $750.  That’s half the fee for your efforts.  It’s a win-win situation.” 

She handed me the contract.  It was simple enough, a one-page document laying out the terms we had just discussed, and absolving me of all parental rights.  We all signed in duplicate and shook on it.  The ladies paid our bill and I was off.

Everything went according to plan.  When I left my home in Newton to go to MIT, one of them was two months pregnant, and I had been paid off.  I never asked which one was pregnant.  I had contracted to disappear, and I did.  For your information, I never donated my sperm again.

*****

After I got my PhD in physics, I was recruited by the US Army to do secret research in a remote part of the world.  I didn’t know at the time, but DNA testing was becoming more available and more common.  Since I worked for the government, my DNA was stored in their archives, and available to all the up and coming DNA testing companies.

I worked for the army for ten years, and then I sought a position teaching physics at my old alma mater, MIT.  I was only thirty-three years old when I left the army.  I found a nice one-bedroom apartment walking distance from the university, and I settled down at last.  My only regret was that I had never found love.  It was pretty difficult to do that, when you are hundreds of miles from civilization. 

I vowed to change all that with my new and rather staid life.  I started to go to gay bars, and I had plenty of one-night stands.  Unfortunately, Mr. Wonderful was out of sight, until I met some guy at a bar one night.  We really hit it off, and spent the whole weekend together.  I thought that I had found The One at last.  At the end of the weekend, he told me that he was married, and had to run home to his wife and son.  I never did find out how he could manage a whole weekend away from his family.  In fact, I was so disappointed and down hearted, that I didn’t even think about it at all.

Then one day, I got a letter via snail mail, and my life was about to change, if I allowed it.  This is what the letter said: 

Dear Mr. Jenner:

My name is Matthew Collins.  I was created by artificial insemination.  I have always been curious to learn of my heritage on my donor’s side, so I did a DNA test.  My parents are not aware that I did this.  The testing company gave me your name with a 99% probability that you were my father.  For an additional fee, they revealed where you lived and how I could contact you.  I got really excited when I learned that we both live in Boston.

I don’t want anything from you, nor do I wish to disturb your life, but I would love to meet you and learn your (my) family history.  I found out that I’m 1% Viking.  Did I get that from you or from my mother?  So many questions.  If I don’t hear back from you, I will be disappointed, but I swear, I won’t be angry at you. I’ll understand. 

You may have a wife and kids, and not want them to know about me.  I’d so love to meet my brothers and sisters, but only if you allow me to.

You can contact me at the address on this letter, or text me to the telephone number, also on the letter head.

Matt 

So much for anonymity in this digital world.  I agonized for several days about what I should do.  My rational side told me to let sleeping dogs lie, but I would never have another child, and my curiosity won out.  I reckoned that Matt would be close to his seventeenth birthday.  Did he look like me?  Was he brilliant?  Was he straight or gay?  I had to know, and I decided to send him a text message. 

Hi Matt:

Yes, I would like to meet you.  I can meet you any Saturday or Sunday for lunch or brunch.  FYI, I have no wife or kids.  Call me at 617-555-1213.

Luke Jenner 

It happened to be a Friday, and I got a call not ten minutes later.  Matt was discreet enough to address me as Mr. Jenner.  It was clever of him.  If he had called me Dad, I would have hung up on him.  Matt was still a minor, and if I breached the contract, I had no idea what the consequences might be.

He sounded so excited on the phone, that he passed his excitement on to me.  He said that he had no transportation, and asked me if I would meet him at 10 AM the next day in a coffee shop very near MIT.  More wonderment.  Was he a genius like his old man, and was he attending MIT at the young age of seventeen?

I ran to the registrar’s office.  There was no student named Matthew Collins enrolled at the university.  The new semester was due to begin the following Monday. 

*****

I got to the coffee shop way too early.  I couldn’t contain my excitement.  I waited for him on a bench outside the restaurant.  He came precisely at ten, and I didn’t have to ask who he was.  My clone, my absolute clone, was entering the restaurant.  I called to him, and when he turned and saw me, he broke out into a wide grin.  I swear he was way better looking than I am.

We shook hands, and I said to him, “This place is really crowded and very noisy.  I teach at MIT, and I live very close by.  Would you like to come home with me?  I’ll make us brunch, and we can get acquainted.”

“I’d love that,” he smiled at me.  He had a beautiful smile and radiant white teeth.  I was attracted to this stranger, but I realized that he was my son.  I shivered, and tried to shake off whatever it was that I was thinking.

Knowing how I felt, imagine my shock when he said to me on our short walk to my apartment, “You’re really handsome.  If I didn’t know that you were my dad, I’d make a play for you.”

Well, that answered one of my questions.  “Are you gay?” I asked.

“Yes, and my impeccable gaydar tells me that you are also.  Am I right?”

“Yes, you are,” I said, but I was disturbed.  Life would be much easier for him, for my son, if he was straight.

I was prompted to ask, “Are you sure?  I know you grew up in a happy gay household.  Maybe that skewed your thinking.”

“No way, Luke,” he called me by name.  “I knew I was gay, the first time I jerked off at eleven.  Besides, I didn’t grow up in a gay household.”

“What do you mean?” I gasped. I suddenly feared that Marge and Beth had put him out for adoption.”

“My mom and Beth divorced when I was two.  Beth had no problem saying sayonara to us.  In fact, she lives in Seattle now.  A couple of years after their divorce, my mom married her male investment advisor.” 

I was shocked.  Margaret was a lesbian.  Did she turn straight? Is that even possible?  Was it a marriage of convenience?  I could only wonder.

“He adopted me, and he’s been a great dad,” Matt continued.  “He’s a good friend also, so don’t cry for me.  When I came out, he couldn’t have been more supportive.  He told me that he wanted me to be happy, and I should always be true to myself.” 

“I’m really glad to hear that,” I said sincerely, “but how come your surname is Collins if you were adopted by him?”

“It’s not.  My name is Matthew Barnes.  My dad’s name is Scott Barnes.  I used the name Collins on my correspondence with you.  I knew you’d recognize the name and would not think this was a hoax.”

No wonder I couldn’t find his name on the student roster.  Now I had a new puzzle to ponder.  The name Scott Barnes rang a bell in my brain, but I couldn’t remember where or when I had known him, so I stopped trying to figure it out.  I was probably mistaken.

We reached my apartment, and Matt said that he had eaten breakfast, and wasn’t hungry.  “Maybe we can have lunch together later.  For now, let’s just relax and talk,” he suggested.

We both sat down on the sofa.  Matt reached over and took my hand.  I thought I should pull away, but it was an innocent enough act, and I didn’t want to upset him, so I pretended that I didn’t notice.

“I think the easiest way to begin is for you to ask questions, and we’ll go from there,” I proposed.

“Yes, I agree, but I have to tell you something first.  After orientation yesterday, I looked at my class schedule.  My very first class on Monday morning is Physics101, and somebody named Luke Jenner is my professor.  I got butterflies, thinking it might be you.  As soon as I could I went to my computer and googled you.  It was you.  So, when you see me in class Monday don’t freak out.  Promise?”

“Promise.”

He squeezed my hand tighter.  I was getting more and more aroused, and worse yet, I was beginning not to care.  I even moved a little closer to him.  It’s not like I was sitting next to my son.  Matt was a perfect stranger to me.  I could very well have met him while cruising a gay bar. It would have been obvious to a village idiot that he was coming on to me, and I wanted it to happen.

Then to make matters worse, he said to me, “You’re so fucking handsome, Luke.  I’ve got serious hots for you.”

“I know, and the feeling is mutual, but there are a few problems.  You are not only my son, but you’re jail bait as well.”

Matt started to laugh.  “I’m only jail bait, if my parents find out.  They don’t know about my DNA search, and they think that I’m settling into my dorm room.  They’re not even home.  To celebrate becoming empty nesters, they went on a two-week tour of the alpine countries.  Please, let’s make love.  I want to celebrate also.”

“What do you want to celebrate?” I asked as if I had no idea.

“Well, first of all,” he said.  I’ve left home, flown the nest, and that’s worth celebrating.  I also want to celebrate finding you, and last, but not least, the minute I laid my eyes on you, I fell madly in lust.  Five minutes later, my lust turned to raging love.”

“I’ve breached my contract with your mother just by talking to you, and it might be easy for you, but I can’t get over thinking about the incest we’d be committing, not to mention a possible legal battle with your mother.”

Matt put his lips on mine.  He was trying to shut me up.  I couldn’t help it.  I responded, and seconds later, we were kissing passionately.  Our tongues became dueling swords.

I pulled away from him.  “We can’t do this.  It’s all wrong.”

“Wow, you’re a hard sell,” he said with a laugh, as he started to undress.

“Don’t do that,” I screamed at him.  “I’ll make you leave, and we’ll never see each other again.”

“Impossible!  I’m in one of your classes.”

I was losing the battle by the minute, and then Matt said something very interesting.  “You’re right.  I can see that this is all too fast for you.  Tell you what.  Let’s pretend I never wrote to you and never met you.  When we see each other for the first time in class, we’ll both admit to ourselves that we have the hots for one another.  I’ll begin to flirt with you every day after class, and eventually we’ll have lunch or dinner together.  It could really happen that way.  I was enrolled in MIT before I reached out to you.”

“It’ll take a lot of imagination on my part to forget that you’re my son.”

“It’ll also take a lot of wasted time.  Luke, please, let’s do it.  It’ll be our secret.  Let’s both live a little on the edgy side.”

I gave up.  I pulled him to me and we began kissing passionately.  We practically ripped our clothing off.  I could not ever remember being so sexually aroused by anyone in the past.

*****

When we were both naked, I took a good look at him like all men do.  We were both hard, and even there we were clones; uncut and about eight inches erect.  My first impulse was to fall to my knees, and take him into me.  Even though I could smell his morning shower on his body, I pulled him into my bathroom.  Let’s shower together,” I said.

His eyes lit up, which made me wonder.  “Are you a virgin?” I asked.

“Yes, and I’ve heard more than once that it’s not uncommon for a gay father to give his gay son his first experience, to make sure that it will be a good one.”

“Funny,” I said, “I never heard that, but I guess it’s about to happen.”

We soaped each other and fondled our cocks in the shower.  I avoided having actual sex with him, and he asked in wonderment, “Aren’t we going to suck each other off?”  It reminded me of my first experience when I asked in all innocence, “Aren’t we going to fuck?”

“Absolutely,” I answered him, “but in bed and dry.  It’ll be more comfortable and I’ll be able to instruct you better.”

“Yes, teach,” he laughed.

Before we left the shower, I initiated Matt into the wonders of golden showers.  While I was peeing on him, he was laughing hysterically.  I restrained myself from asking him why he was laughing.  Without my saying anything, he told me that my pee was tickling him.

Once we were in bed together, I taught him how to give good head, how to prepare an asshole for fucking, how to give a titillating trip around the world, how to rim, and a dozen other little tricks I had learned over the years.  During my bedroom instruction, Matt stopped laughing and actually cried in ecstasy.

When we were both exhausted for the moment, Matt hunkered up to me.  He began to fondle my cock, and with a slight sob, he asked, “What happens now?”

“Forgive me,” I said.  “I can’t think beyond this moment.  I’m still trying to come to grips with the fact that my son and I fucked each other.”

“It was wonderful,” he said.  “I can’t begin to thank you.”

“Yes, I agree.  It was beyond wonderful.  Once I get over the guilt, I’ll appreciate it more.”

“Good.  Will you do me a favor,” he asked.  “I can pass for being over eighteen.  Take me to a gay bar and restaurant for dinner tonight, and let me stay the weekend.  My folks are in Europe, and anyway, they think I’m in the dorms.  I promise not to have anything stronger than a coke, so I won’t get carded.”

“Yes, yes,” I cried.  I grabbed him in a bear hug, and kissed him more passionately than I had ever kissed anyone before.

“Next year, I’m going to tell my folks that I’m moving in with someone.  They’ll object, and want me to live at home, but I’ll be eighteen and they can’t stop me.”

“May I ask who you had in mind?”

“Why you, of course.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.  If your folks found out that you are living with your sperm donor, they might be angry enough to put me in jail, and not finance your education.”

“Matt laughed. “I’m on a full scholarship, and I can get part time jobs to supplement my income.  I assure you they won’t do that, and they won’t find out.”

“Just the same, I won’t allow it, but I will agree for us to see each other in secret.  I love you, and I want us to make love together, but neither your parents nor the university has to know about us.  I’m sure they would think our relationship was dirty and unnatural.”

Matt had to acquiesce to my demands, but he made me promise that we would continue to have a relationship.

We loved each other more every day, both as a son and a father, and as lovers.  Keeping our secret was wearing on both of us, and yet we managed to keep that secret for over twenty years.

Along the way, Matt got his doctorate in physics.  Like father, like son.  He began to teach at Boston University.  He rented his own apartment not far from mine, and we made the best of our sleeping arrangements.

*****

Matt celebrated his fortieth birthday with his parents.  He and I were going to celebrate on the following Friday evening in our favorite gay bar.  We went there often as a couple.

During dinner with his parents, they told him that they were both retiring.  They had owned a condo in Palm Beach for a few years, and they were going to make it their permanent home.

About two months after his parents moved to Florida, Matt and I rented a much larger two-bedroom apartment, and we moved in together.  When he gave his parents his new address, he simply stated that he was moving in with a colleague.

His father asked him bluntly, if the rental came with benefits.

“For sure,” he answered.

Neither parent asked him my name.  Matt said that if and when they asked, he would tell the truth.  If his mother remembered and recognized the name, they would chalk it up to sheer coincidence.  Whatever the outcome, he wasn’t going to let it ruin our happiness.

We have different names so we passed as a loving and devoted couple, but every once in a while, someone would say, “It’s uncanny how much you two resemble each other.  Why, you could pass as brothers.”

We would laugh our sides off.

When Matt was forty-three, and I was fifty-nine, his mother, who was now seventy, developed ovarian cancer.  She suffered a little but she didn’t last too long.  She wanted to be buried in her home town of Boston.

Scott called and asked if he could stay with us, until he decided what to do.  He had no other family.  Of course, we said that he could.  He knew that we were both gay.  I just prayed he wouldn’t remark about our resemblance.  I was sure Marge had never mentioned my name.

“I may even move back to Boston,” he told Matt.  “It’s home, and I want to be near you.  I never wanted to move in the first place, but it was your mother’s choice.”

Marge’s body was flown up to Boston and delivered directly to the funeral home, but Matt and I met Scott at Logan Airport.  We picked up his luggage and drove straight home.  The poor man was freezing, and neither Matt nor I had thought to bring him an overcoat. 

When I first laid eyes on Scott, I got a strong feeling that we had met before.  He looked at me strangely, and I thought that he felt the same way.  I decided to pursue the possibility with him that we had met in a former life.  I would do it innocently while we were having a cup of coffee or a hot chocolate.

I made us a nice dinner that evening, and when we sat down to eat, I said very bluntly, “Scott, I have the strongest feeling that we have met before.”

“We have,” he said, “but let me tell Matt about it.  Now that his mother is gone, I can bare my soul.”

He turned to Matt.  “You knew that your mother and Beth were a lesbian couple, didn’t you?”

Matt nodded.

“Did you ever wonder, why she married me?”

“Actually, I did, but I just figured she fell in love with you.”

“She did, in a way, but we both felt that our careers were being hampered by our sexual orientation.  I’m gay, Matt.”

Matt was stunned.  “So much for gaydar,” he lamented.

Scott went on.  “We married for convenience.  Even though we slept together, we never made love together, but we became great friends.”

“Why are you even telling me this?” Matt cried.

“Because, I’ve got to come out of the closet and be me again.  Do you remember when you were about ten, you and your mother went to Michigan for a week to visit your grandparents?  While you were away, I had a little binge and released all my pent-up emotions.  I met Luke in a gay bar and we spent a weekend together. It broke my heart to leave him.”

“It broke my heart too,” I said sadly.  I wanted to hug him and I know he felt the same way, but we refrained.

Matt was bursting to talk, but he was mute.  I looked at Matt and asked, “Shall I tell him?”

“Why not, it seems to be confession time.  Maybe we should go out and find a priest?”

I told Scott about our true relationship, and how Matt and I had fallen in love with each other as two strangers.  That started Scott crying.

“I love you also, Matt.  I love you in that very special way.  Every time we were together, I wanted to wrap you in my arms and make love to you.”

Now the three of us were sobbing, and we were in a group hug.  Suddenly Matt pulled away, and started to laugh.

“I have two fathers, and they both want to be my lovers.  Ain’t that a hoot?  Worse yet, I want both of them to fuck me.”

“It’s a dilemma,” I said.

“No, it’s not,” Matt declared.  “We’ll just live together, all three of us.  I love you both.  I want you both, and you’ve confessed that you two have been pining away for each other for a generation.  If I can fuck one father, I can fuck two of them.”

As soon as he could arrange it, Scott moved back to Boston, and lived with us.  Nobody thought it strange that Matt’s widowed father came to live in our home.

We had the most inventive love-making bed in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

Matt always makes my life a joy.  Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if I had refused the women, and hadn’t jacked off into that bottle.  It’s too awful to contemplate, so I have learned to shake away the thought.  Not only would I not have Matt in my life, but I wouldn’t have Scott, who completes both of us.