9. Jeff
The end of my relationship with Danny—and I could finally call it that—came more abruptly than I’d planned. But at the time, it seemed like the cleanest way to break things off, so I didn’t fight it. What would be the point, anyway? He was supposed to leave town at the end of the week in any case, so why drag out the inevitable? That’s why I busied myself with my sons, spending all my free time with them so my brain wouldn’t go back to the lusty images of my cock being sucked by a slutty boy next door, or fucking said boy’s sweet ass.
It was when Matt and Tyler went back to college that the real problem began. With the house all to myself again, I was left with the memories of all the things Danny and I had done in it, replaying all the hot sex we’d had everywhere, and I feared my cock might explode like a firecracker. I was whacking off more than I did when I was a teenager, but my hand was not enough. Nothing was. I was so horny I thought I was going mad.
Lonely and desperate, I let one of my buddies set me up with his wife’s friend—a hot divorcee named Pam—and we went on a date a few days later. She was an attractive woman in her late forties, with a teenage daughter and two cats, but somewhat of a bore. It didn’t matter; she could’ve been dull as dishwater for all I cared. Since I hadn’t had a pussy or a nice pair of tits in forever, I was so focused on the prospect of getting in bed with her that nothing else mattered.
Three dates later, the wait was finally over and I was crazy with the pent-up lust. I took Pam to my bed and attacked her breasts with such ferocity that I tore the buttons of her blouse. I squeezed those bouncy boobs in my hand, sucking at her nipples, my other hand already sneaking under her skirt and between her legs to pull down her panties. She was wet and warm down there, but quiet as a mouse, small and barely audible gasps the only sound escaping her lips. Wanting to loosen her up, I rubbed her clit with my finger, then slipped it inside her cunt, but the first thing that struck me was how different it was compared to Danny’s tight hole.
(“Yes, Daddy, come on and fuck me, please hurry up and put it inside me…”)
Angered by that thought, I went down on her, eating her pussy like a starving man. Going even lower, I licked her asshole, which in turn evoked a series of small tremors in her body. When she was dripping wet from my saliva and her own juices, I straddled her and brought my cock to her face. She licked the tip a few times, then turned her head away in silence, letting me know in no uncertain terms that that was all I was going to get in the blowjob department.
Disappointed but still eager to proceed, I put on the condom, positioned myself on top of her, and guided my cock into her cunt with my hand. God, yes—finally. Yet something still didn’t feel quite right. As I started pumping into her, she kept lying there, motionless, squirming only when I picked up the pace, her hands flying to my hips to keep me at bay.
(“Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me hard!”)
Apologizing, I slowed down, taking care not to shove my cock all the way in. At that point, both of us were more frustrated than horny, and when I finally came it wasn’t very satisfying, only a shadow of the mindblowing orgasms I used to take for granted. I’m pretty sure she didn’t come at all.
“I liked this blouse,” she said later, as she put on the ruined garment, clicking her tongue in annoyance when she couldn’t button it up. I just lay there naked on the crumpled sheets, my face probably as dark as my thoughts.
“I’ll buy you another,” I offered, to no response.
After she finished getting dressed, she spoke again. “That thing you did when, you know, you licked me there … I didn’t like that. I got too self-conscious and couldn’t enjoy myself after that.”
“What thing?” I asked, but she only shook her head and refused to explain. “You mean when I licked your asshole?”
“Don’t be so crude!” she hissed, frowning. “ Yes . That.”
“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” I said. “Cause it didn’t seem like you didn’t like it. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
My bluntness seemed to offend her even further—or maybe she couldn’t face the truth about her own desires. At least I could relate to that , I thought. “I don’t think we should see each other again,” she said, and that was that.
* * *
Spending Thanksgiving alone was a gloomy affair. Matt and Tyler had decided not to come home until the Christmas holidays, so I skipped the turkey and grabbed takeout from El Chilito. Munching tacos on the couch and watching Rocky was pretty much my idea of heaven, but this time, it only served to remind me how empty my life had become. More than once, I caught myself glancing at my neighbor’s house, looking for any sign of Danny. But there was none. I guess he didn’t come home either.
I could’ve gone on more dates, tried a few other flavors, but to what end? I’ve been with enough women to know that none of them could offer me the same thing Danny did. It was basic anatomy, but even that aside, women simply didn’t enjoy the same things men did, and that was perfectly fine. Yet where does that leave me? Do I resign myself to uninspired sex for the rest of my life—or take the plunge and embrace the possibility of fucking guys? After everything that transpired this summer, I had to accept the fact that I was bisexual. No point in denying it, especially in the face of the recent evidence.
But here’s the kicker: I still didn’t find men sexually attractive. When I tried to picture hooking up with guys, imagining them slurping on my cock, or taking me up their ass, I couldn’t even get hard. But if I thought about Danny —bingo. Instant erection. It was like my body had been rewired to respond only to his, and I didn’t know how to undo it. Would I even want to?
Because it wasn’t only the sex, however awesome and life-changing it was. It was all those things in between our porny interactions that made all the difference: all the talks, the jokes, the shared interests that I missed now as much as I missed the fucking. And knowing all that, what am I going to do? What could I do?
I was still wrestling with all these questions and doubts when, just two days before Christmas, I heard someone call out my name at the grocery store. “Jeffrey.”
Turning around, I saw Philip, Danny’s dad, scarf snug around his neck and glasses slightly foggy over his flushed, clean-shaven face. Instant guilt burned my cheeks (thank God for the beard). How could I look the man in the eye after all the things I’d done with his son? We had only seen each other in passing since Danny had left, waving to each other or saying hellos across the yard. This was the first time we stood close enough for a real conversation. “Phil… Hi.”
We exchanged the usual pleasantries and went into small talk about the prices and the economy. But, pushing our respective carts side by side, I could see that something was bothering him. As we touched on the topic of the Christmas holidays, I mentioned that my sons were coming over tomorrow to spend the winter with me. He said that Danny was going to stay with them, too.
“How is Danny?” I asked trying to sound casual, and he leaped on the chance to broach the subject.
“Not good,” he said, “and judging by your look, neither are you.” When I tried to brush off his comment and feign ignorance, he just raised his hand to cut me off. “Please, Jeff. I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you, but I’m not an idiot. I saw him sneaking over to your house multiple times all through the summer, and your bedroom window looks directly over at my upstairs bathroom.”
My mouth was hanging open for a while before I could speak again. “You… You saw us?”
“I’d seen more than I cared to,” he replied, turning scarlet from the neck up. “But my son seemed happier than ever, so I didn’t say anything, didn’t want to interfere. I figured he would come clean with me and his mother once he felt comfortable enough. After all, you are both adults, and I had known you long enough to trust you wouldn’t take advantage of him—”
“Never, Phil, believe me,” I had to interject. “I would never have coerced him into anything against his will. I get that our age difference is too big for some people to accept, especially having kids his age myself. I—I’d tried to be level-headed and responsible, but… I was lonely, and I was weak. I have no excuse.”
“I don’t need your excuse, Jeff,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder as if to reassure me, his expression softening. I understood then how Danny turned out into such a great human being. “What I need from you is to sort things out with my son. If you don’t really care for him, let him know so he can move on. And if you do care for him, well, then… be a man and own up to it.”
Well, that was a slap in the face that I sorely needed. I nodded. “I’ll speak to him, Phil. I promise.” I just needed to figure out what I wanted to say to him, first.
He nodded too and moved his cart in another direction. “Take care, Jeff.”
* * *
The following morning Matt and Tyler came home, and the day flew by with the three of us decorating the Christmas tree and making the rest of the house look equally festive. All the neighborhood houses had been decorated weeks ago, but I hadn’t felt like doing it without the boys around. It was something we always did together as a family, and even though their mother wasn’t here—she was on her honeymoon in the Bahamas—I wanted to keep the holiday spirit intact as much as I could.
In the evening, as we gobbled on junk food and watched Die Hard per our tradition, the first snow began to fall, transforming the landscape into a real winter wonderland. The boys were having fun and I didn’t want to spoil it, but every now and again, thoughts of Danny intruded upon my mind. I needed to have a serious talk with them too, right after I saw where Danny and I stood.
Speaking of fresh relationships, it seemed Tyler had found himself a boyfriend. Every few seconds, his phone chimed with a new message, and he turned bashful under Matt’s teasing grin, shoving his shoulder against Matt’s to make him stop. Yeah, the boy had fallen hard. His flushed cheeks and the way he kept glancing at his phone spoke volumes, but I didn’t press him. Tyler would open up to me when he felt ready; he always did. Until then, I was content to watch the spark of something new and exciting unfold for him. For now, we could just relax and enjoy some good old-fashioned guy time together. Yippee Ki‐Yay, motherfucker .
By Christmas day, everything was white. I got up super early, had a shower, and made myself a cup of coffee, wrapping a thick bathrobe over my naked body. Since the boys were at home, I stopped walking around nude as much, although they made up for it with their own shameless displays. It seemed that we had finally reached an unspoken agreement that the nudity was natural and not something to be ashamed of, so they used it to the fullest extent, parading around the house in the buff as much as they could. Loving the sense of closeness, freedom, and camaraderie it brought us, I felt no inclination to reproach them.
Sipping my coffee at the kitchen island and scanning the headlines on my phone, I heard someone knock at the door. It was still early in the morning so I had no idea who could it be. I went and answered, then stopped dead in my tracks. Because there, on my porch, stood the one person I most wanted to see in the whole wide world.