The Awakening
 by: Hankster

© 2021 by the author

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

hankster@tickiestories.us

My brother attended The University of Buffalo in Western New York, where he was a freshman studying pre-law.  Our dad is a lawyer, and I guess Jonathan wanted to emulate him.  He, and his buddies, went out somewhere to celebrate Johnny’s eighteenth birthday.  While they were at some bar or other, it started to snow badly.  It was snowing like it can only snow in Buffalo; thickly, rapidly, blustery, and very cold.

The only villain here was the condition of the road.  None of the cars involved in the accident were ever accused of being at fault.  To cut to the bottom line, at an intersection on the way back to campus, there was a six car pile-up.  There were several fatalities, and my brother did not survive the carnage.

You can imagine how devastating this was to my family.  My parents were inconsolable.  My twin sister, Trisha, who idolized our older brother, and thought that I was a pain in the ass, went into some sort of shock.  She never cried.  She just stayed in bed on her back, facing the ceiling, and not moving a muscle.  As for me, I went into a denial mode.  I couldn’t think or talk about it.

Before I continue, let me tell you about my family, so you’ll have a yardstick to understand all that happened following that miserable day after we got the news.

*****

My father, Franklin, and my mother, Carol, met in their senior year at Brooklyn College.  When I was an adult, my dad told me that they both lived at home with their parents, so they had no opportunity to be intimate until after they graduated.  My mother got a great job in an import-export firm, and my father went off to Fordham Law School. 

My mother could afford a one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, and they moved in together.  They married the weekend after my father graduated law school.  About a month before his graduation, my dad was recruited by a prestigious law firm in Manhattan.  He gladly accepted a position with them.  Now, almost twenty years later, he’s a senior partner in the firm.

With two very good incomes, my parents could now afford a better apartment in Manhattan, close to their work.  They wanted it to be large enough to raise a family in.  They rented a three bedroom apartment on the upper west side; and raise a family, they did.

My older brother, Johnny, was born about a year after my folks were married, and my twin sister, Trisha, and I were born three years later.  We were a month shy of fifteen when Johnny died.

When I was four, and Johnny was seven, my parents divorced.  My dad found an apartment close to my mother’s so he could be close to his kids.  Their divorce was not as devastating to any of us, as was Johnny’s death, but it was traumatic enough.  After the divorce, Trisha and I lived with my mother, but we were free to visit with my father as often as he was available.  He had a two bedroom apartment, and should Johnny and I stay over together, he furnished the guest room with twin beds.  My sister always chose to visit him when her brothers weren’t there.

My father was very discreet.  If he had a sex life, we kids were not witness to it.  Dad was very handsome.  He stood six feet tall, and worked out at a gym near his office a minimum of three times a week.  He had straight, black hair, blue eyes, a nose that was just the right size for his good-looking face, and a manly, square chin.  I saw him naked one morning, and I can tell you that he was cut, like Johnny and me.  He was about four inches flaccid.  If I ever saw him hard, it was a figment of my imagination.  The bottom line is that my dad was one handsome, attractive dude, (he still is) and I couldn’t imagine why my mother would let him get away.

*****

On the first night after Johnny’s funeral, Trish and I struck a deal.  She would stay with my mother, and I would stay with my father.  We didn’t want to leave either of them alone.

Frankly, I was happy to be alone with my father.  You see, I had already determined that I was gay.  Much to my dismay, I had the hots for him.  He was so freaking handsome.  Every time I had a carnal thought about him, I kicked myself in the ass.  Figuratively, of course.  It was such an unnatural yearning, I hated myself for it.  Whatever I was thinking or wishing, I got more than I bargained for that night.

We brought food home from my mother’s apartment, where the mourners had gathered after the funeral.  Dad had arranged to have it catered.  We ate some of the food for dinner, and we froze the rest.  Neither of us had much appetite.  We ate very little, and threw out a lot of the food we hadn’t frozen.  After we cleaned up, Dad said he was going to get comfortable, so I did the same.  Even though it was way too early, we both got ready for bed.  We came back out into the living room wearing pajama bottoms only.

Dad sat on the sofa, and I sat on an easy chair.  He asked me if I wanted to watch television.

“No,” I said.  “Let’s just talk.” This was the moment I decided to come out to him.

We never did talk.  Dad broke out into loud gasping sobs.  He completely lost his breath.  I scurried over to the sofa and hunkered up to him.  He wrapped his arms around me.  The little boy that was still in me scooted over and sat in his lap.  We sat that way for a long time.  Neither of us spoke.  Dad was rocking me gently in his arms, calling Johnny’s name over and over.

And then it happened!  I think of it as my awakening to the fact that my dad was gay.  I may have been a virgin, but I had been whacking off for almost four years now and I knew a hard cock when I felt one.  There was not a doubt in my mind that my dad was getting hard, and he was rubbing his hardening cock against my ass.  Instinctively, I began to gyrate my hips and ass, as if I was doing a lap dance.  I could tell that Dad was getting more and more aroused, because he stopped sobbing, and rubbed harder.  I knew that he was about to blow, and he did.

After he came, he held me very close and kissed me on my cheek.  Then he began to cry, but it was a different cry than the cry of anguish of just a few minutes ago.

Holding me even tighter than before, he sobbed, “I’m so sorry, Terry.  I should never have let that happen.  I don’t know what came over me.”

I needed to ease his conscience.  “It’s all right, Dad,” I said.  “I know how much you needed that.”

My cock was very hard now, and it had snaked its way out of the fly of my PJ bottoms.  I took my dad’s hand, and laid it gently on my pulsating rod.

“I could use a little relaxing, myself,” I let my dad know.

He smiled at me, and kissed my cheek.  Then he gently stroked my ever growing cock.  I didn’t last very long, and I breathlessly spurted into his palm as I gasped for air.  At this point I wasn’t thinking rationally.  I reached up and kissed my father on his lips.  He kissed me back.  We parted our lips, and things got very passionate.

Finally, Dad spoke.  “Wow,” he said, “that was something else.”

“I know, Dad,” I replied.  “I’ve dreamt of this for a long time.  I prayed it would happen someday.”

“You did?”

“Yes,” I answered, and I’ve always suspected that you did too.”

Let’s take a shower and clean up,” he said.  “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Can we shower together?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

In the shower we romped like real lovers.  We bathed and soaped each other, stuck our fingers up our asses, fell to our knees and rimmed our asses, and sucked our cocks.  Neither of us was reticent to do anything we wanted to do.  We actually forgot our grief for a short time.

Finally, Dad just gave up.  He started to sob again, and blurted out, “Help me forget what happened to Johnny, Terry.  Fuck me.”

He leaned against the shower wall and stuck out his ass.  It was still firm and bubbly.  I nearly passed out.  My joy was overwhelming me.  I soaped myself up good, and entered him very slowly.  Then, to shock me even more, he said.  “You don’t have to be so gentle.  I’ve been fucked many times before.  I like it hard.”

I was stunned, but I was rational enough to hope that this was one of the things he wanted to talk to me about.

I wanted to stay inside of him forever, but I couldn’t control my orgasm, and I came too quickly.  After I fell out of him, and rinsed off, I begged him to fuck me.

“Sorry,” he said, “maybe in the morning.  I need more recovery time than you do.  Come let’s go to bed.  We’ll sleep together.”

“No,” I said.  “Nobody’s going to sleep until we have our talk.”

“Of course,” he said, and we went back into the living room, but this time we were naked. 

“You go first,” he said.

“Dad,” I started.  “I’ve known that I was gay for at least four years now.  I was going to tell you, I swear, but I was waiting for the right time.  I guess this is it.”

“That’s not the worst thing in the world.  You should have told me.”

“Wait.  There’s more.  All this time, I have had the hots for you.  I wanted to make love with you so much, and it has really happened.  I never thought it would.  I’m so happy.”

My dad grabbed me and placed his lips on mine.  He kissed me like a lover not a father.

“Now, Dad, tell me about you.”

He sighed deeply and began.  “I suspected that I was gay from about the time I was twelve, but I never gave it much thought.  I just went about doing what was expected of me.  I dated girls, met your mother, had kids.  You know, the whole nine yards.

“In spite of that, I’d see a guy who attracted me, and I wanted desperately to make love with him.  I never acted on it, so I still didn’t realize that I had homoerotic desires.   About a year before your mother and I divorced, I had to go out of town with a client of mine.  He was negotiating the purchase of a new business.  God, Terry, he was so gorgeous, and I suspected he was gay.  We shared a hotel room, and we both started making innuendos about having sex.  All of a sudden, we fell into each other’s arms, and I had my first male experience.  He taught me a lot.

“We continued to see each other for a while, but neither of us was in a position to make a commitment.  He was married also.  After that, I began to have trouble performing in the bedroom with your mother.  She wanted me to see a urologist, so I finally told her the truth, and we agreed to divorce, but neither of us wanted to let you kids know the real reason.

“I still see my client for sex occasionally, but he has chosen to stay with his wife.  Someday, I hope I’ll run into Mr. Right.  I’ll know when it happens.  You will also.  Since the divorce I’ve had an active gay sex life, but never when you kids were around.”

“Thanks for letting me know that you’re gay, Dad.  It’s quite an awakening.  It might not be so for most kids, but for me it’s a very pleasant awakening.”

“Your so-called awakening has been my pleasure also.  I’m just as happy about it as you are.”  Dad hugged me tightly.

“Did you and Johnny ever do anything together?” I had the nerve to ask.

“Hell no.  Johnny was one hundred percent straight, but I’ve suspected that you were gay for a long time now, and I have wanted you so much, but until Johnny went off to college we were never alone.  The first time you came around by yourself after he left, I was just too chicken to act on my yearnings.”

“I was too chicken also,” I said.  “Now I’m sorry I was such a nerd.”

“What do we do now?” Dad asked.

“Do you think if I told Mom that I wanted to live with you because I’m gay she wouldn’t object?”

“She might agree to it.  She loves you, and would want you to be happy.  On the other hand, she might see it as losing another son, and Trisha might see it as losing another brother.  In that case, your mother would veto the whole idea.”

“I’ll wait until she goes back to work, and we all settle down, and then I’ll ask her.  I really want to give it a try.”

“I think that you should wait until you turn eighteen.  Then you don’t have to ask her anything.  You can tell her you’re gay, and that you want to live with me.  In the meantime, we can make love as often as time and circumstances allow.”

“I’m telling you now, Dad, I won’t go to college unless I can go to one in New York.”

Dad hugged me again.  It seems he couldn’t get enough of showing me affection.

“What will you do if by that time I’m committed to Mr. Right?” he asked.

“I’ll move in with you anyway.  That way I can bring a boyfriend home with your blessing, instead of Mom’s evil eye.”

“It’s a deal,” Dad said.

“You’re hard,” I pointed out.  “Do you think you could fuck me now?”

“I think so.”  And he did.  My sex education was advancing quickly.

*****

Over the next three years, Dad and I saw as much of each other as was possible.  With practice, we gave each other more and more pleasure with each encounter.  During that time, Mr. Right did not enter Dad’s life.  I don’t know if that made me glad or sad.  Nobody special entered my life either.

On my eighteenth birthday, Dad took me, my mom and sister out to a fancy restaurant to mark the occasion of his twins reaching their majority.  The following day I moved in with him, and on the following Saturday night he took me to his favorite gay bar, The Male Room, in Greenwich Village.  I couldn’t drink the hard stuff, but I socialized, and I began to make friends in the gay community.  Nobody could believe that we were father and son.  They all believed that we were brothers.  I gotta tell you that swelled my father’s ego.

We made it a habit of going to that bar every Saturday night, even after I graduated high school, and all during the summer before I started to matriculate at NYU.  I knew that someday my dad and I would have to go our separate ways, and I prayed that we would both meet our soulmates one day soon.  I figured that the bar was the most likely place. 

I couldn’t have been more wrong.  I met my soulmate in a college classroom, and he was the one who introduced my father to his Mr. Right.  Interestingly, Trisha met her future husband at CCNY, and he had a widowed father.  My mother and Trisha’s future father-in-law began to date very seriously.

*****

My major was pre-law, just as Johnny’s had been.  Like my late brother, I hoped to join my father’s practice one day.  My very first class on my very first day at the university was Political Science.  I got there early to grab a seat.  I didn’t want to sit right up front, nor did I want to sit in the last row.  I took a seat dab smack in the middle of the room. 

The classroom was filling up quickly.  At the last moment some guy ran in.  The only seat available was right next to me in the middle row.  He had to climb over several people to get there.  After he sat down, he looked at me and smiled.  He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he was far from plain.  He had a great body, and I could see his muscles through his tee shirt.

He turned to me and stuck out his hand.  “Hi,” he said, “my name’s Logan Bradford.  My middle name’s Barry, so I usually don’t introduce myself as Logan Barry.  If you laugh, you’re a dead man.”

I returned his handshake.  “I’m Terry Crawford,” I said.  “I don’t have a middle name.  My folks cheated me.”

Just then the professor walked in, and there was no more talking until the end of the academic fifty minute hour.  As we were gathering up our books and notes to go to our next class, Logan asked, “Where are you headed? What’s your next class?”

“Economics 101.”

“Me too,” he grinned.  I must say that he had a very winning smile.  “What’s your major?” he asked me.

“I’m pre-law,” I smiled back.  I could be just as charming as he was.

“Fantastic.  So am I.  What dorm are you in?”

“I live at home,” I said.  Then I added, “Uptown.”

“Me too, uptown,” he laughed.  “I live with my father’s kid brother.  He moved to New York right after college.  He went to NYU also.”

“Just because we both live at home,” I said, “that doesn’t mean that we can’t be sociable.  I hang out every Saturday night at a fun bar.  My dad’s single and we usually go together.  We’re more like buddies.  You’re more than welcome to join us any Saturday night,” I said, without thinking.  I completely forgot that it was a gay bar. 

“Wow,” he smiled at me yet again, “you must have a great relationship with your father.  I wouldn’t want to socialize with my dad for all the gold in Fort Knox.  Thanks for inviting me to join you sometime?”

I smiled back at him.  I think that my smile was enchanting him the same way that his smile was enchanting me. 

We sat next to each other in our Economics class, but we didn’t have any afternoon classes together.  We both knew that we were going to be great friends, so we arranged to have lunch together.  I had a growing suspicion that Logan was gay.  He was just too eager to promote a friendship between us.  At lunch I learned that he came from a really small town just outside of Cincinnati, Ohio.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of there,” he said.  It sounded to me that he sneered as he said that.  “It was too fucking constricting, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.”

There it was, right out in the open.  Logan was gay, as I suspected, and he had no trouble conveying that message to me.  I would not have been so forthcoming.

“Do your folks know?” I asked, “and I think you know exactly what I mean.”

“Not on your life.  I think my father would kill me.  How did your father take the news, or haven’t you told him yet?”

I broke out laughing.  “He took it with a great big grin on his face.  He was pleased as punch.  You see, my dad’s gay.  He and my mom were married for a few years, but when he couldn’t get it up for her, he told her the truth and they divorced.”

“Christ.  How do you know all this?”

“He told me,” I said, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

“You do have a great relationship with him.  You’re so lucky.”

“A few months ago, right after my eighteenth birthday, I moved in with him,” I said.  “The bar we socialize in is a gay bar.  Everyone there thinks we’re brothers.  Dad lets them believe that.  He doesn’t look much older than my big brother might look.” A picture of Johnny came to me, and I shuddered.

“That’s great,” Logan said.  “Give me the name of the bar and what time to get there.”

I did, and then he stunned me.  “Could I bring my uncle along?” he asked.  “He’s gay and I’ve been trying to seduce the bugger since I got to New York, but he keeps rebuffing me.  The problem is that his partner of fifteen years ran off with a twinkie recently, and Uncle Carl just can’t get over it.  If he’d let me, I’d make him forget that bastard quick enough.”

“Climb into bed with him tonight, and give him a blow job.  Trust me.  He won’t resist you.  I seduced my dad with a lap dance at a time when he desperately needed a lot of TLC.  He’s so fucking handsome, and I’ve had the hots for him ever since I accepted the fact that I was gay.”

Logan was stunned.  “You and your dad have had sex together?” he asked.

“Not sex,” I said indignantly.  “We make love together.  I hear that father and son love matches are not that uncommon.  Nobody loves me more than he does, and that makes the loving spectacular.”

“I envy you more and more,” Logan sighed.

“How old is your uncle, and what does he look like?’ I asked.

“He’s thirty-nine, and he looks like, and he’s built like, a Greek statue.  That’s why I’ve been trying to make love with him.  He’s really hot.”

“Have I got a guy for him,” I said with a glint in my eyes.  “He’s forty-three and hot, hot, hot.  By all means ask your uncle to come with you Saturday night.  The four of us will have a ball.”

Logan and I had lunch together all the rest of the week, but the only thing I could think about was meeting Uncle Carl on Saturday, and introducing him to Daddy Franklin.

*****

Dad and I always took a cab to and from the bar.  That way, we didn’t have to drive home in case we had a little too much to drink.  I wasn’t old enough to drink anyhow, but Dad would get me a drink and ask for a glass of ice alongside it.  He would keep watering down my drink with the ice.  I didn’t mind that.  At least he was treating me like a grown-up by buying me a drink. 

Manhattan traffic was particularly heavy that evening, and we got to the bar a little later than usual.  The bar, like the heavily trafficked streets, was very crowded that night also.  I searched the faces until I spotted Logan.  He, and the man he was with, had drinks in their hands.  I assumed it was Uncle Carl, who was indeed drop dead gorgeous.  I wouldn’t have minded doing a four-way at that moment in time.

I took my dad’s hand.  “There are my friends,” I said.  “Let’s go.”

We made our way over to where Logan and his uncle were standing.  Logan saw me approaching and waved at me.  As soon as we arrived, he grabbed me and gave me a kiss.  It was dry, but I was surprised.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since we met,” he said. 

All I could manage to do was to smile at him.  I had already figured out that smiling at him was my secret weapon.

“Guys,” I said.  “This is my father, Franklin, but you can call him Frank.  Simultaneously, Logan and Carl extended their arms to shake Dad’s hand, but he was standing as still as a statue, staring at Carl.  I had to poke him in the arm to revive him.

He shook their hands, and Carl said, “I’m Logan’s Uncle Carl.  Let me buy you two guys your first drink of the evening.”

Most of the weekend crowd was hovering around the bar, and hanging onto the piano.  I actually spotted an available table, and hurried our small group over to grab it.  The best part of having a table, besides being able to sit, was that we would get table service.

What happened at our table was interesting.  I was sitting perpendicular to Logan, and Dad was sitting perpendicular to Carl.  We might as well have been at separate tables.  Logan kept grabbing my hand and smiling at me.  Dad and Carl weren’t talking much either.  They just kept smiling insipidly at each other.  They were acting like a couple of high school kids who have just met for the first time, and are at a loss for words.

Sometime during the evening, Carl excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Dad said that he had to go also.

As soon as they were gone, I whispered to Logan, “I think my matchmaking is working.”

He reached over to kiss me, but this time the kiss was very wet.  “Please,” he said, “come home with me tonight.”

I couldn’t wait to go home with him, but all I said was, “We’ll see.” 

I wasn’t fooling Logan at all.  He knew that we would make love that night.

When Dad and Carl returned, Carl said to Logan, “Frank and I are leaving now.  I’m going home with him.  Do you have enough money for a cab?”

“Yeah,” Logan said.  “Go have fun.  Terry and I will be just fine.  I’ll take him home with me.”

“I didn’t say yes, when you asked me to come home with you before, but I accept,” I told him.

A seed was planted that night that would grow into a tree, and we four would bond into an inseparable family unit.  Of course, we didn’t know it at the time.  It took a few weeks for our lust to turn into love.

Carl was a journalist.  He worked for The New York Times.  Dad made a lot more money than he did, and even though he and Carl both had two bedroom apartments, ours was twice as large and had two and a half bathrooms.  Six months after our first meeting at The Male Room, Logan and Carl moved in with us.  Logan and I could hear the “old” guys making love almost every night.  We were younger, but we had to take a break every so often.  We admired their stamina.

Dad, bless his soul, gave Logan and me after school jobs in his office.  We did little things to help the lawyers out.  We also worked for him all summer.  The experience was invaluable, and put us a notch ahead of our classmates.  After we left NYU, Logan and I attended my dad’s alma mater, Fordham Law School.  Upon graduation, we were taken on full time in Dad’s firm.

Many nights, as I wrapped my body around Logan in our bed, and he would fall asleep in my arms, I wondered what would have happened if Johnny hadn’t been killed.  Of course, I would have come out to my father sooner or later, but he would never have needed the TLC and the comfort I offered him on the night of the funeral, and he might never have come out to me.  I would not have awakened to the knowledge that he was gay.  We would not have known how much we loved and needed each other.

When we were mourning Johnny’s death, dozens of people tried to cheer us up by saying, “Everything happens for a reason.”  At the time, the platitude fell on deaf ears.  It actually irked me.  However, now I often reflect on the true meaning of it, especially when Logan empties his seed high inside of me, and I am at my most euphoric.

Did Johnny give me a gift when he died so young?  I don’t know, but I am reminded again of that old adage that everything happens for a reason.  It doesn’t irk me to hear it any longer.

Posted: 02/26/2021