My Stepfather's Secret by Hankster

My Stepfather's Secret
by: Hankster

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Part One

My father was killed in a military plane crash on the same day that I was born. Some people have dared to suggest that I am his reincarnation. I wouldn’t go that far, but it makes for interesting conversation over a cup of coffee. Anyway, as a result of his untimely death, my maternal grandparents did most of my upbringing for the first three years of my life, enabling my mother to earn her RN degree. Her profession, and my father’s life insurance, gave her the ability to provide very well for us.

When I was three years old, my beautiful mother remarried. Her new husband, my stepfather, was a lawyer and a very handsome man. Of course, I didn’t realize just how good looking he was until I was older. He stood six feet tall, straight brown hair, icy blue eyes, and a torso that wouldn’t quit. After his first wife died in childbirth, his parents raised his son until he married my mother. Sound familiar? Before he met my mom, he spent much of his leisure time in a gym working out. I guess that accounted for his drop dead handsome body. He still works out regularly.

Let me introduce you to the cast of characters in my blended family. My birth father’s name was Capt. John Franklin, USAF. My mother’s name is Marjorie Franklin, nee Smith. When she remarried she became Marjorie Young. My name is Tyler Franklin. My stepfather, Thomas Young, has never formally adopted me, so I have a different name than my stepbrother, Timothy Young. Tim’s mother’s name was Joan Young, nee Carter.

My dad’s given name, mine, and my brother’s all begin with a T, so Dad (I call him Dad because he is my dad) nicknamed us The Three Tusqueteers. Timothy is six months younger than I, and for some reason he has always idolized me. I hate that. I don’t know why, but dad and mom never had any children together.

We boys shared a bed room, and slept in twin beds. We got along very well, but in the early years, I was sure that our dad was more affectionate to Tim than to me. Tim said that I was imagining things. Maybe I was. I don’t know. If I was wrong, why had he never adopted me and given me his name? Early on, he had drawn papers in the courts for my mom to formally adopt Timmy. Why not me? That really bothered me. When I was about eleven years old, I finally decided to confront him about that. I didn’t expect his response. He grabbed me and enveloped me in his strong arms. He actually started to cry.

“Good Lord,” he sobbed. “Don’t you know how much I love you? Your mother won’t let me adopt you until you reach your eighteenth birthday. You are receiving a substantial pension from the government, and if I do adopt you, it will stop.”

I was flabbergasted. I never saw the money. “Where is the money going?” I asked.

“She has set up a trust fund for you, Tyler. Believe me, you are well set.”

After that, for whatever real or psychological reason, I never discerned any difference between how my stepfather treated me, and how he treated Tim.

Tim and I were in the same year in school because of when our birthdays fell. I was glad about that, because except for his overt idolization of me, we got along great. That is to say, we fought like animals in a sibling sort of way, but we truly loved each other like brothers. Well, that’s not exactly true. Our love surpassed ordinary brotherly love, and I should explain that.

It was in early December that things changed between us. Tim had turned fifteen about a month earlier. I was already fifteen and a half. That half year is all important to kids that age. We were now students in second year high school. Since both our parents worked, we were what once was termed ‘latch-key kids.’ The term originated in the fifties and sixties when most American families started to become two wage earner households. I don’t hear that term used much anymore. The latch-key kids were given keys to the house, and they took care of themselves until their parents came home from work. Many psychologists feared that this practice would damage the moral fiber of our country. I think they were correct.

That afternoon, as we got into the school bus, the air was filled with an icy drizzle. Halfway home, the bus began to skid and slide. We were the last stop on the route, and the poor driver barely made it. He was ashen white before we reached our corner. We had about fifty yards to walk to our front door. We only made it home by walking on our neighbors lawns. The sidewalk was a sheet of ice.

The front door was frozen. We had to pound on the ice, and chip it away, to insert the house key. Once inside, I secured the door, and Tim went to turn up the thermostat. I heard the furnace kick in, and the warm air started to flow from the vents. Only then did we remove our outerwear.

The first thing we did when we came home from school everyday was to check for phone messages on the answering machine. There was usually a message from our mother with instructions for something or other. Occasionally, our father left a message too. After that we would change into play clothes, but we did our homework before beginning any actual playtime. Since there were two of us doing the same assignments together, I am sure we finished more quickly than other kids. Therefore we had extra time to play board games and watch TV, before our parents got home.

We were home about two hours, and had just finished doing our homework, when the first call came from my mother. “I am so glad you are home safe. The streets are a sheet of ice,” she informed us of what we already knew. “I can’t get out of the hospital, and even if I could, the accident victims are coming in like we were in a war zone. I wouldn’t feel right to leave. I’ll probably be here all night. If you need me, please call me on my cell phone.”

We assured her that we would be fine, and as soon as we hung up, our dad called. He told us that he couldn’t get his car onto the streets, and the buses had stopped running. There was a coffee shop in his office building. He said that he was going to get something to eat before they closed, and then camp out on the sofa in his waiting room. He told us to call if we needed him for anything. We wondered what either of our parents could do for us if we did call.

We turned on the TV to get filled in on the severity of the storm. Regular programming had been discontinued, and all we could get were pictures of the ice storm and the havoc it was causing. We high-fived each other when it was announced that schools would be closed the next day. We only did that because it was the expected reaction of two fifteen year old kids. Actually we both loved school, and we sought to absorb knowledge like two sponges absorb water.

We turned off the TV and went into the kitchen. The weather was so awful that the afternoon seemed like night time. Whichever room we went into we turned lights on, and of course, we never turned them off when we left the room.

We found our mother’s cookie tin, where she stashed her latest batch of home made cookies, and we ate more chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies than we should have, with a glass of milk. Foolishly we didn’t give a thought to dinner.

Suddenly we lost power, and the house was plunged into semi-darkness. The ice was so heavy that it was dragging down power lines all over the city. There was still enough daylight to see a little, so we finished our snack and put the glasses in the dishwasher.

We knew that there would be no light to play games by this evening, and certainly there would be no TV. Then a miracle happened. We sat down on the sofa in the living room and began to have a conversation. It was probably the first time anything like that had ever occurred. We were actually conversing with each other, tossing real words back and forth. WOW! What a concept.

I don’t know why we never talked about it before, but we began to discuss the fact that we both lost a parent on the very day we were born. We wondered what the odds were of that. We couldn’t really cry about it. We never knew those people, and we were both more than happy with their replacements. Poor Tim; he looked so sad. I wrapped my arms around him and he rested his head on my shoulder. It was a very tender moment, and miracle of miracles, neither one of us was embarrassed by it.

We grew silent, and suddenly I realized that I was getting cold. Of course I was; the furnace could not ignite without electricity. Tim had dozed off on my chest. I roused him as gently as I could. Suddenly he didn’t feel like my kid brother. He felt like my own little boy. I kissed him on his forehead. He was sleeping lightly and he woke quickly.

“It’s getting cold,” I informed him.

“Yeah, I can feel it now.”

“We’d better do some boy scout stuff,” I said. We bounded upstairs and by the last light of day, we dragged out every comforter we could find in the linen closet. We went to our dresser and pulled out our warmest flannel pajamas. We shed our play clothes, except for our crew socks, and put on the PJ’s. We started to put half the comforters on my bed and half on Tim’s, but Tim pointed out that if we put them all on one bed and slept together we could keep warmer. We went through the house and closed every blind and curtain in a vain attempt to keep out more of the cold. Before we drew the blinds in our bedroom, we glanced out on the street. It was full dark now, and the street could not be seen. Not a single light shone from any house or street lamp.

“I just thought of something,” I told Tim. “You get into bed and I’ll be right back.”

From memory, I made my way back to the kitchen and found the essential junk drawer. I opened it and felt for the flashlight that I knew was in there. I found it all right, but the batteries were dead. I felt my way back to our bedroom, and crept into bed with Tim. In spite of all the blankets, the poor boy was shivering. I pushed up against him and wrapped my arms around him. Tim pushed his body hard against mine.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked. “It’s real important.”

“Sure you can. Shoot!”

“You jerk off, don’t you?” he asked me. I was more than shocked. I always did it in the bathroom we shared, never in our bedroom. How could he know? I decided that honesty was called for.

“Sure I do. How about you?”

“Every chance I get. What do you think of?”

“You mean when I whack off?”

“Yeah.”

“I dunno. What do you think of?”

Tim held me closer. He didn’t answer quickly. Haltingly he said, “I imagine that you are jerking me off, and I’m jerking you off. Please tell me what you think about.”

“Do you know James the Dummy?” I asked. James was the handsomest kid in our school, and possibly the dumbest.

“Yeah,” Tim whispered into my chest.

“We’ve done that together, and that’s what I think about.” Tim grew so silent that I couldn’t stand it, so I added, “We’ve done other things too. It’s a lotta fun.”

“Tyler? Do you think that you and I could do it together?”

“Sure.”

Before I could say another word, I felt Tim’s hand on my cock. I jumped a little, not because I didn’t want his hand there, but because I was so shocked. He began to fumble with the fly of my PJ’s, so I helped him, and took out my cock. Immediately, he took his out.

I may have been six months older than Tim, but I was a good year and a half ahead of him in my maturation process. I had grown considerably this past year, but he still had a little weenie. In spite of that, he was hard and I could wrap a fist around him. We were both uncut. In fact, so was my stepfather. I caught a glimpse of him every so often when we were changing in the bath house at the lake. To be honest, I had never seen a circumcised cock in my life. I had a couple of Jewish friends at school. For sure, they were cut. I vowed to see what it looked like. I hoped they would cooperate and show me.

Suddenly I remembered something, and jumped out of bed again. Shit, it was really cold now. I ran to the bathroom and brought back a box of tissues.

“For our cum,” I told Tim, in case he was wondering.

I got comfortable under the covers again and we reached for each other’s cocks. At first we just held them and rolled them in our palms, assuring ourselves how nice it felt. Then finally we started stroking and brought ourselves to a climax. We caught our spunk in the tissues, and I threw both wads on the floor. I could clean up in the morning. I sure didn’t want to get out of bed again.

I was getting shock after shock that night. When we were through stroking each other, we wrapped our arms around each other, and Tim kissed me on the lips. Man, that felt so good and I kissed him back…hard. Tim was fondling me again, so I fondled him. Eventually we fell asleep kissing and fondling. As we dozed off I heard Tim whisper, “I love you Tyler,” and all I could think of was, there he goes idolizing me again.

I woke in the middle of the night. Small wonder!!! I had gone to bed hours before my usual bedtime. I needed to pee badly, but I could see that we still were without power, and it was freezing in the house. I sure didn’t want to get out of my warm and cozy cocoon, but I simply had to. I literally slithered out of bed like a snake and ran to the bathroom. When I got back, Tim had awakened. As soon as I climbed into bed he wrapped his body around me, and whispered in my ear, “What else do you and James do?”

“I’ll show you.” I ducked under the covers and found Tim’s hardening cock. I took it in my hand and guided it into my mouth. I pumped his rod with my lips, and slid my tongue up and down his little shaft. His whole body began to buck. He put his hand on the back of my head as if bidding me not to let go of him. He began to mewl, and then I felt his jism filling my mouth. I swallowed all that I could. His boy cum tasted so good to me.

“What else,” he asked eagerly.

“I’ll show you in the morning. We will need lubrication, and it’s too dark right now for us to look for it.”

Tim was silent and I thought we would resume our sleep, but instead I felt his moist tongue and mouth bathing my cock with his spittle. I got ramrod hard. Man, Tim was good at this. It didn’t take me long to cum either. He swallowed everything he could, just as I had. Finally he was satisfied. He hunkered up to me and we fell asleep, thinking that this was the best day of our lives, and knowing that without a shadow of a doubt, greater days were coming. We had passed way beyond brotherly love.

*********

Tom Young tossed and turned on his office sofa. He just couldn’t get comfortable, not even after he stripped to his boxers, and used his overcoat and his suit jacket to cover himself. There was no power in the office and it was getting colder and colder. He finally dozed off about 1 AM. About three hours later, he was awakened by bright lights. He had never shut the lights in the office when the power went off, and now it had been restored. He looked out of a window, and he could see the moon and some stars. The ice rain had finally stopped. He could also see and hear sand and salt trucks spreading their loads on the streets. He dared hope he could get home soon. He dressed, and changed the message on his answering machine to inform anyone who called, that he was closed for the day.

When he got to the parking garage in his building, he was pleased to see an attendant on duty. “I’d advise you to wait until daylight before driving out there,” the attendant said. “I’ve been listening to the police radio. They expect to have all the streets sanded and salted in another two or three hours. The coffee shop is open if you’re hungry. It never closed.”

Tom went to the shop and ate a slow leisurely breakfast. During breakfast he called Marjorie’s cell phone. She said that she was working the day shift also because so many nurses couldn’t make it in, but she hoped to be home about 4:30 in the afternoon. Tom thought about calling the boys, but he decided to surprise them instead.

**********

Tim and I had no desire to get up, or make breakfast, or do homework, or whatever. The power was still out; at least it was out in our neighborhood. Again I slithered out of bed and got a jar of Vaseline from the master bath room. I told Tim to lie on his side and I applied a generous amount of goo to his cock. Then I greased my ass real good and told him to go for it. We were lying on our sides under the covers, nesting together. It was the only way to survive the cold. I reached behind me, and guided Tim’s greasy cock in. He was small and entered me easily. I decided not to ask him to reciprocate, at least not today, because I was afraid I might hurt him.

Tim was lying perfectly still. “What now?” he pleaded. I started to laugh at how naïve he was.

“Pump in and out,” I said and I started pumping also. I swear he came in less than a dozen strokes. When he did, he started to cry.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Tyler, I love you. Please, now you do that to me.”

“I think I may be too big for you,” I said.

“Please, let’s try.”

We repeated the whole process, and I was shocked that I went into Tim rather easily. Well, we had used almost the whole jar of Vaseline to grease us up, so I shouldn’t have been so surprised. I was blissfully pumping away, going slowly, trying not to cum, and Tim was whimpering, “I love you Tyler,” when suddenly I heard a muffled sound.

“Ahem,” I heard a voice utter.

Tim and I froze. I became instantly limp and fell out of his ass. We looked to see our father standing in the doorway with a very stern expression on his face. I knew we were about to be grounded for life.

I wanted to yell, “We can explain,” but I was mute. Tim was clutching my hand. He told me later that he was extremely frightened because he had initiated the whole thing. He wanted to tell Dad that it was all his fault, but he was as mute as I was.

What happened next left us even more awestruck. Dad stripped quickly and jumped into bed, nestling between us. As he did I got a glimpse of his fat, eight inch, erect love rod. I nearly fainted, thinking of that thing going up anybody’s ass, or even my mother’s vagina.

After he got into bed, he put an arm around each of us. “I thought we were the Three Tusqueteers,” he said. “Tusqueteers do everything together. It wasn’t nice of two of us to exclude the third, now was it?” He turned his head from side to side and started to kiss us.

“Now,” he said, sounding like a stern disciplinarian, “I want you to tell me everything you did.” Tim looked at me pleadingly so I took the helm.

“First we jacked each other off, then we sucked each other and then Tim fucked me. I was fucking him when you came in, but I wasn’t finished.”

“How long have you boys been making love?”

“This was the first time,” Tim said hoping to make the deed seem less horrendous.

“Then maybe I should forgive you for excluding me,” Dad said.

Suddenly we heard a humming noise. The furnace had started up. We could see that there were lights on downstairs. Power had been restored.

“Your mom won’t be home until 4:30. We have all day to make love, and if you don’t want me to get angry at you, don’t ever exclude me again.”

Tim and I got Dad off three times in the next four hours. We mutually gave him a blow job, and when he recovered, he fucked both of us. He taught us a lot about man sex that day. I was dying to ask him how he became so adept at it, but I was afraid to. I only hoped that he would spill the beans soon. Now, a few years later, and countless sex sessions between us, I still don’t know his secret. Actually I don’t much care. I have the two best lovers anybody could want.

Part Two

Tom Young went through high school, college and law school as a full blown, practicing homosexual. He never hid his sexual orientation. He was very handsome, and the pickings were easy and plentiful.

He got his first job after law school in a very prestigious, very conservative law firm. At his very first interview, he was told that the partners in the firm started each day with a prayer service for the staff. Illegal fornication of any kind was cause for instant dismissal. Tom went along with it. It was his plan to build up a client base, and then go out on his own at the earliest possible opportunity. But the senior partner kept badgering him, wanting to know why a handsome Christian man like himself remained unwed. Tom began to think about putting an ad in the gay press, looking for a closeted Lesbian to marry him in a marriage of convenience. One moment he thought that it was an absurd idea, and the next moment he thought of it as a masterful plan. While he was wavering, he did nothing.

Then fate played into his hands. One day, his secretary brought a couple into his office. They were in their late thirties. Their teen aged daughter was with them. They were very conservative fundamentalists who knew the reputation of the firm, and wouldn’t go anywhere else.

Tom got them comfortably seated and asked what he could do for them. Mr. Carter explained that his no-good daughter (who was sitting right next to him looking miserable) had gotten herself pregnant by an air force officer.

She had fallen madly in love with him, knowing he was a married man. It was the old story. He told her he wasn’t getting along with his wife, and they were going to divorce. Of course, Joannie Carter believed him. On the night before he was deployed overseas, the officer came to her. He said that he was lonely and would she spend his last night in the states with him. She did, and he left her with child. He hadn’t contacted her since.

They had no idea how to reach him, but with the help of a detective they found his wife. Since she was divorcing him, they didn’t think she would mind telling them how to reach Capt. John Franklin. They thought that if their lawyer went to see her, she would be more inclined to give up the information than if they went themselves. She would certainly believe a lawyer when he told her that her husband’s proof of infidelity would help her in her divorce case.

This wasn’t what Tom went to law school for, but he was informed that the Carters were very wealthy, and they were extremely important clients of the firm. He agreed to visit Marjorie Franklin. He read the detective’s report and learned that after Capt. Franklin was deployed overseas, Marjorie went to live with her parents. She was several months pregnant, almost full-term. Tom didn’t like that at all. It didn’t sound like that cheating bastard, Capt. Franklin, was divorcing anybody.

He called Marjorie and told her that he needed to see her on an important matter concerning her husband. Marjorie grew frightened. Why did a lawyer need to see her about her husband? She agreed to see him the following Saturday afternoon.

Tom still lived with his parents. He always intended to move out on his own, but he was a natural born procrastinator. The Smiths lived practically around the corner from him, and he was glad he could go right home after he was done there. He rang the bell and did not get an answer, so he rang again. Finally the door was opened. Mrs. Smith stood there with red and teary eyes. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“I have an appointment with Marjorie Franklin,” Tom said.

“Oh yes, you’re the lawyer. Won’t you please come in?”

“Is something wrong?” Tom asked, seeing her pain. Mrs. Smith burst into tears.

“Marjorie gave birth to a son this morning, and we just got a telegram that her husband was killed in a plane crash. I don’t know how I’m going to tell her.”

“I am so sorry,” Tom sympathized. “Look, it’s not important. I’ll come back another time.”

He returned to his office and called Mr. Carter. He wondered if he could come to his office alone, without his wife and daughter. He was already brewing a plan. When Carter arrived, Tom closed the door and explained what happened.

“There’s no way you can claim against Franklin’s estate. His pension and insurance money will go to his legitimate son and his wife, who, by the way, was not divorcing him.”

Carter’s face dropped and he looked defeated.

“Look,” Tom said,” Nobody knows yet that Joannie is pregnant. I would be happy to marry her and give her my name and a good home. Aside from saving the baby from being branded a bastard, I’ll teach Joannie good Christian values. She needn’t ever perform her spousal duties if she doesn’t want to.”

Mr. Carter’s eyes lit up. “Why would you want to help us like that?” he asked.

“It’s the Christian thing to do.”

Carter’s grin was as wide as his ample behind. Tom’s plan was to divorce Joannie after the baby was born, on grounds of infidelity. He had no doubt she would be unfaithful when he wouldn’t fuck her. His marriage would get everyone at the firm off his back. They wouldn’t be pleased about the divorce, but they would be sympathetic because of her unfaithfulness. If she wanted child support, he would ask for a DNA test and prove the child wasn’t his.

Joannie would have been delighted to perform her spousal duties, but Tom kept telling her they should wait until the baby was born. Unfortunately she died in childbirth, and the Carters never laid claim to baby Timothy. If they did, they would have to admit that Tom was not the father. They didn’t want any scandal.

Tom fell in love with Timothy the moment he laid eyes on him. He gave him his name and his fatherhood. His employers never bugged him again.

It didn’t matter. About a year after Tim’s birth, Tom left the firm and struck out on his own. All this time, he continued to have sex with men. There just wasn’t anyone special in his life. Not once did the Carters ask to visit or see Timothy or offer financial aid for his upbringing.

Tom was always curious about what had become of Marjorie Franklin. Living in the same neighborhood as her parents, he decided to do a little detective work.

One beautiful Sunday spring morning, when Timmy was not quite a year and a half old, and Marjorie’s baby was just shy of two, Tom put his blond haired, blue eyed son, Timmy, in a stroller and took him for a walk around the neighborhood. It was no coincidence that he walked right by the Smith house. A gorgeous young woman had put her little blond haired, blue eyed boy in a stroller, and was just entering onto the sidewalk when Tom came by.

“Hi,” he said. “Are you on the way to the park?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“It’s a free country and a free park,” Marjorie said, but she said it with a smile to let him know that she didn’t mind his boldness. After all, he was so handsome.

In the park they found a bench and sat together. He figured that he should find out quickly if she remembered his name. He smiled and held out his hand. “My name is Tom Young,” he said.

She smiled back. “Marjorie Franklin.” She didn’t seem to remember his name or his telephone call.

“I’ve seen you here before,” he lied “and the gossip mongers around here tell me that you’re a widow.”

“The gossip mongers are correct.”

“My wife died in childbirth, so I guess we are pretty much in the same boat.”

“Oh, I am so sorry.”

“I’m sorry also,” he said, and he laid his hand on hers.

He had no idea what was happening to him. He had never been aroused by a woman before. He had heard many stories about straight men that fell in love with gay men, and had great sex with them while they were still married, but he had never heard a story about a gay man being aroused by a woman, and switching teams. Still, he supposed it was possible as evidenced by the tingling in his groin. Even so, in those instances the man could never control his homosexual urges, and was apt to cheat on his wife. At this particular moment he couldn’t be bothered to analyze his feelings. Marjorie was the most beautiful women he had ever met. He got bolder.

“I’m a lawyer,” he said. “It’s really been tough to raise a child. My hours are crazy. Thank God I have my parents to help me out. We live just a couple of blocks from here.”

“Yes, my story is the same. I’m going to nursing school, and without my parents, I could never manage.”

They smiled at each other and suddenly they both got very shy. Conversation ceased and things got uncomfortable. Tom just kept smiling at Marjorie until finally she said, “I can’t believe how much our two boys look alike. They could be brothers.” Tom cringed.

“Would you allow me to take you out to dinner tonight?” He meant what he asked, but he also wanted to change the subject. For the first time since John had been killed, Marjorie had a desire to socialize with another man.

“I think I’d like that,” she said.

They were married a year later; a couple of months after Marjorie got her nursing degree. Between the time Tom met Marjorie and their wedding, he was still seeing men, only now he felt a little guilty about it.

They set up home near both sets of parents. Tom loved Marjorie and Tyler as much as he loved Timmy. He loved both boys a little too much. As they began to mature, he began to covet them sexually. At first, he hated his own feelings, but then he would remind himself that neither of them was a natural child of his. In fact, they were half brothers, totally unrelated to him by blood.

The boys believed that they were step brothers. He longed to tell them that they were really blood brothers, but he knew that he never could do that while they were children. It would break Timmy’s heart if he ever found out that Tom was not his real father. Tyler would be devastated to learn that his hero father was really a cad. To make matters worse, he and Marjorie couldn’t get pregnant. The doctors told Tom that his sperm was infertile. He never wanted Timmy to know that. He would then realize that Tom could not possibly be his father. Fortunately, Marjorie just assumed that his ‘condition’ occurred after Timothy was conceived. She never questioned that Tom was not Tim’s natural father.

Even when they were fifteen years old, and he came upon them making love to each other, he felt that he could never tell the boys about their parentage. It was enough that they were gay and consented to make love with him. He valued every intimate moment he spent with his sons, but still he had several secret fuck buddies in town. He visited them as often as possible.

In spite of his silence, the boys looked and acted like real brothers. Wherever they went, people thought that they were twins; if not identical, then at least fraternal. People just refused to believe them when they said that they were unrelated, except by marriage.

Part Three

Tim and I were accepted to Columbia University in New York City. It was over fifteen hundred miles away from home. Dad insisted that New York City was no place to have a car. He had been there often on business. Parking in the streets was virtually impossible, and garage parking cost a king’s ransom. He insisted that we could get around very well by foot, bus and subway. He told Mom that he would drive us to school. We would only spend two nights on the road. She didn’t like the idea of his driving home alone.

“Besides,” she pointed out, “your sport car will hardly take them, and all their luggage.”

“I’ve thought of that,” he said. “I’ll rent a small U-Haul van. We’ll be just fine. We’ll have fun on the road, just the three of us.” She finally reluctantly relented. She didn’t want to be selfish. She felt that three days of father-son bonding was a great idea.

When we were loading the van, Dad was overwhelmed with all the ‘must-have’ stuff we wanted to take to school. He began to fear that the van wasn’t big enough. In the end we got everything in. On the morning of our departure Mom made us a hearty breakfast before she left for work. We started our journey well fed, but sad on Dad’s part, and full of trepidation on our part.

Tim and I insisted on driving, since Dad would have to drive the entire distance home by myself. It was fine with him. He stretched out on the back seat, and off we drove. The car trip was about the quietist trip I had ever taken with my family. Dad was so down, he just dozed all day. Tim and I were so full of fear we couldn’t talk. This was the first time we would be away from home and a loving family. Thank God we had each other.

Things would never be the same again. We were adults now, embarking on the adventures we were born to experience. We were scared shitless. We would have been even more petrified had we known that the first of these major adventures would hit us smack in the face before the trip was over.

We drove about 525 miles that day before we stopped for our first night. It was nearly six o’clock in the evening. We left the van loaded and took only our overnight bags into the hotel room. I smiled as we went into the room. It had two queen size beds, and I knew that one would never be used. Through all our fears, Tim and I knew that we were in for the sexual adventure of our lifetimes this evening. I sensed that Dad was going to make this a trip to remember, especially since we all agreed that we would not come home for the very short Thanksgiving break, but would wait until winter break at Christmas.

After we laid out our toiletries and such, I began to undress. Dad started to laugh.

“My you’re an anxious pup,” he laughed. “Let’s have dinner first and then we’ll come back, shower and make love slowly. I don’t want to rush my last two nights with my two favorite fuck buddies. We’ve got a long barren period of time ahead of us.”

“You’re right, Pop,” Tim said. “Let’s go ask the desk clerk where we can have a good meal around here. I’d prefer not to eat in a motel.”

The desk clerk was a handsome devil. He and Dad had a long conversation and I distinctly heard Dad say, “I’ll see you on my trip back.” The desk clerk smiled and said, “I’ll look forward to it.” My dad is insatiable.

The desk clerk recommended a Chinese restaurant a short way up the road. The food was pretty good considering that it was in the middle of nowhere, and the restaurant was owned by Caucasians. We got back to the room with full bellies. The shower was big enough for two, but three would never fit.

“You two shower,” Dad said, “and wait for me in bed. I’m warning you not to start without me.” He said that like it was no joke, like he really meant it, so Tim and I did not play in the shower, and crept into one of the beds to wait for him. We didn’t even touch each other even though we were both hard and oozing precum.

Dad seemed to be in the shower forever. Several times I wanted to scream at him to hurry up. Finally he came out of the shower. God he was a handsome dude. His prick was hard and he too was oozing precum. “Lie on your backs,” he commanded and leave room for me between you.”

We did as he asked, and when he nestled between us, he put one hand on my package and his other hand on Tim’s. Not to be outdone, Tim and I started to fondle our dad. I should add that Tim and I had outgrown our dad by just a little bit, so he had plenty of cock and balls to handle.

He turned his head from side to side, kissing both of us alternately. “Let me do all the work,” he said. He scooted out from between us and told us to lie close together. We did as he asked and he got on all fours. He placed one of his knees between my legs, and his other knee between Tim’s. From that position he began to give us head; slow, sensuous, head. Our cocks were covered with his saliva. He was driving us crazy, always stopping before the point of no return, and transferring his attention to the other of us.

Finally I had to scream, “Don’t fucking stop. I’m cumming.” I shot into him and he took all I had to give, and then he returned to servicing Tim. Now his spit and my cum were mixed, and the melded liquids were massaging Tim’s cock. Tim came screaming like he was in agony, instead of in euphoria.

After Tim and I regained our senses, we both headed for Dad’s cock, but he stopped us. “This is your night,” he said. “Rest a bit, and then I want you both to fuck me. I want your seeds to mix together in my guts. Tomorrow is my night. I want to fuck both of you, and then you’ll both give me head.” I loved when Dad talked dirty like this, but of course, I didn’t say anything.

The next evening, in another hotel room, Dad fucked Tim and me, as he had requested. He sure got to spill his juices into our guts. We rested for awhile, and then we gave him a long, very sensuous blow job. I never before heard him scream so loud when he came, nor spew so much fluid.

“Let’s clean up,” Dad said, “and then I have some very serious stuff to talk to you about.” I was elated. Maybe he was going to tell us about his sexual orientation at last. In the end I was right about that, but I got a lot more than I bargained for.

After we were all cleaned up, Dad went to his overnight bag and took out some papers. He handed them to me. “These are your adoption papers,” he stated simply. He smiled at me. “Your legal name now is Tyler Franklin Young. I took the liberty of forwarding a copy of these papers to the registrar at Columbia and that’s the name you are registered under. Remember that, when you have to sign papers, or when a professor calls on Mr. Young.”

I burst into tears and immediately Tim was all over me smothering me with kisses. “Now I’m not going to deny we’re twins when people ask,” he said proudly.

“There’s more boys,” Dad said quietly. Tim and I calmed down and waited expectantly. Dad opened the dresser drawers and found what he was looking for, a Bible.

“Put your right hands on this Bible,” he told both of us. I was now frightened. “I have been harboring a tremendous secret since before Tim was born. It’s something that’s important for you to know, so I am going to reveal it now, but you must swear on this Holy Book that you will never ever tell your mother.”

I began to hyperventilate. I could tell that Tim wasn’t doing well either, but we both swore to keep Dad’s secret. He began to talk, and with each word my jaw dropped lower. He started by telling us that he had been one hundred percent gay until the day he met our mother, but now he considered himself to be bi-sexual, but only where she is concerned. He swore to us that her companionship was the best thing that ever happened to him, and that he had no trouble making love to her because he loved her so much, and because of her extraordinary beauty. I must admit that his admission of love made me feel really good.

Then, almost in a whisper, he said, “After your mother died, Tim, everyone thought I went to the gym so often to work out because I missed Joannie so much, and couldn’t bear to go home. To tell the truth I went to meet up with other men. Even now, besides you boys, I do see other men. I have a few close fuck buddies. They are all married men by the way. Can you see what a hunger homosexuality is?”

I was about to say that I understood, but he raised his hand and I remained silent, so he continued. He described the visit to his office by the Carters and their sixteen year old daughter, Joan, who was three months pregnant at the time. He told us that when he learned that John Franklin, the father of her child, was dead, he married Joan. The mock marriage of convenience was never consummated. I was sitting next to Tim and we were leaning into each other. As his story progressed, I felt Tim’s body begin to shake. I put an arm around him to comfort him.

Dad went on to describe how curious he was about what had happened to Franklin’s wife, and how he maneuvered to meet her. “When I pretended to meet her accidently, I fell in love with her immediately. I was totally smitten,” he said. He had now emphasized his love for Mom twice, presumably for our benefit and comfort.

I suddenly realized that my “hero” father had knocked up a sixteen year old girl, and then abandoned her. At first I didn’t connect to the realization that Tim and I were real brothers. Dad had to point it out to us later on. But before he did, he said. “You see, Tyler, we don’t want your mother to think ill of your father. He wasn’t the knight in shining armor she thought he was, and we mustn’t burst her bubble. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head dumbly.

“You’re not my father,” Tim sobbed. He was crying like a little boy.”

“Nonsense. I’m your father in every sense of the word. I am just as much Tyler’s father also,” he almost screamed at Tim. He threw his arms around Tim, who rested his head on Dad’s shoulder.

I finally got myself together and asked, “Why are you telling us all this now?”

“Lots of reasons,” he said. “First off, the burden of such a secret has been too much for me to carry alone all these years. I needed to get it off my chest, and tell you guys the truth. You’re adults now and you can handle the truth. Then there’s a simple matter of health. My blood type is different from either of yours. If you should need a transfusion or an organ, I’m not compatible, but since you guys are blood brothers, and lovers as well, you can rely on each other.”

It finally hit me. Tim and I were real brothers. I think it hit him at the same time. Suddenly he jumped out of Dad’s arms and embraced me. He was laughing and crying at the same time. “We’re brothers,” he kept repeating over and over as he covered me with kisses. He finally let go of me and gave our dad the same treatment. “Thank you for telling us,” he sobbed. “This means a lot to me.”

“I’m disappointed,” I said.

“I’m sorry that your natural father wasn’t the Mr. Nice Guy you thought he was,” Dad said.

“It’s not that. All this time I thought Tim and you were committing incest and it was kind of titillating. You aren’t his birth father and so no incest is being committed.”

Dad started to laugh. “Sure there is. You and Tim are committing the sin.” He said ‘sin’ mockingly.

I suddenly saw the light. “There can’t be any sin where there is so much love,” I said.

The three of us hopped back in bed. Relieved of his burdensome secret, Dad made love to us again that night, like there was no tomorrow. That was almost the truth. That night would be a prelude to a long sexual drought between a father and his sons, and we all wanted to make it memorable.

Posted: 03/01/13