I grew up in a very rural farming community with 5 siblings and my father was a fiercely religious man. The year I turned 12 my mother fell ill and died, "God's will" my father decreed. After my mother's death my father became even more stern and physically abusive. When I turned 15 I left home to live with an old spinster aunt whom my father hated and thus became totally estranged from my family.
25 years later I've left my nightmarish childhood behind... Well almost. Attitudes and experiences from one's childhood can leave deep scars and I have mine. While I'd had success with my career, I've never had any luck with relationships of any kind. One of the major stumbling blocks is the fact that I have real issues with intimacy, emotional and sexual. I'd meet a nice woman and we'd go out several times. Eventually the woman would want to take the relationship to a more intimate level and things would fall apart. I figured out that I was gay in my mid 20s and I briefly experimented dating a few men: That was even more of a disaster. By the time I was in my mid-thirties I just stopped even trying to date, having had my fill of rejection.
About the time I turned 40 I made my first real close personal friend, a man from work named Brian who was also gay. One night he invited me to going her for dinner and a movie. I was filled with dread, thinking I knew where this was headed... For disaster. After the movie we stopped in for a few drinks at a pub and we just talked. Brian made me feel at ease and for the first time I felt a real deep human connection with another person. While he was attractive and had we had a lot in common, he too was over the idea of dating or ever finding a permanent romantic partner. His situation was different from mine, several years earlier he had a brief relationship with a woman (experimenting, he called it) and she got pregnant. The woman had no interest in being a single mom, so instead Brian became a single dad.
Brian and I grew closer and soon we were inseparable. Rumors about our relationship spread at work, and that worried me, but Brain just said, "Let them talk". We car-pooled as the commute from the suburbs to work was brutal. Hours spent in the car together cemented our friendship. One particularly bad winter commute during a storm, Brian suggested we both look at moving down-town. That weekend we headed into the city to look for apartments. After looking at a few places it became clear that anything either of us could afford would be pretty dismal... Then we stumbled across a beautiful model suite in a new building. It was a spacious three bedroom unit in a development with an indoor pool and a gym. While even smaller units were over out budget, after a depressing day of looking at crappy apartments it was nice to stop and dream for a few minutes. Brian got really quiet and I could tell he was lost in thought. The next day during the drive to work, Brain proposed that we rent the beautiful three-bedroom apartment together. He outlined all the reasons why it made perfect sense, and it did. I gave it a lot of though. I was finding living on my own increasingly lonely and depressing, so, I agreed and told Brian that we'd give it a shot.
About a month, later Brain and I were moving in together. Of course it wasn't just the two of us, there was his 18 year old son, Duncan. He was, I supposed, a typical teenager. Duncan was a quiet boy who had inherited his looks from his Mother. While Brain looked very Scottish with dark hair and eyes, his son had his mother's Nordic genes. He was tall and trim with very blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. His hair was longish and was constantly falling into his eyes which always seemed to be examining me critically, sizing up the man whom his father had become so close with. He was friendly enough, just not ready to let his guard down I imagined. Duncan mentioned that people were going to wonder whether Brian or I was his actual father. He liked the idea of keeping people guessing. From that moment on Duncan started calling me "Dad", he called his father "Papa". It seemed very odd to me at first, but I quickly grew to like the boy calling me "Dad" even thought he always said it as if it were some kind of inside joke between the three of us.
We all seem to be happy with the new arrangement and I was enjoying Brian's company. Duncan was friendly, if quiet. He was usually either out with friends or alone in his room doing whatever it is teenage boys do. Once we all got settled, Brian asked how I'd feel about him taking some courses so he'd qualify for a big promotion. A number of universities offered 'executive' MBA programs, the courses are run on evenings and weekends. While Duncan was very mature for his age and quite self-sufficient, Brain asked if I'd be comfortable keeping an eye on the boy while he was attending evening classes. I agreed and thought it might be an opportunity to develop a rapport with Duncan beyond the occasional nod and grunt that we currently shared.
Duncan was much more of a free spirit than I'd ever been. The first morning the three of us were living together I was in the kitchen, fully dressed for work. Duncan stumbled out of his room and headed across the hall wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting boxers. I was recovering from the display of near-nudity when he emerged from the bathroom still just wearing his boxers and walked into the kitchen. A young man being so comfortable displaying so much skin would take some getting used to considering my Puritanical past.
Brian's first course started on a Saturday and I was left to interact with his son, Duncan. I have to admit that I was a bit intimidated. I was trying to look approachable, so after Brian had left in the early morning I'd decided to return to my bedroom and changed back into my pajamas so I didn't look so... Stuffy. I waited in the kitchen reading the paper knowing at some point Duncan would emerge in his boxers, as was his routine. About an hour later I heard movement in the boy's room and his head poked out of the doorway. He emerged wearing something I hadn't expected, tight Lycra boxer briefs. I couldn't help but stare and he noticed, blushing slightly,
"My sleeping boxers are all in the laundry, theses are all I have." Duncan explained.
I was like a deer in the headlights and my eyes kept alternating from his face to his skin-tight boxer briefs. I think I was in shock, to be honest. I mean, you could clearly see the outline of his penis. It wasn't a small display either, if you get my meaning.
Duncan quickly sat on a chair at pulled up tight to the table, concealing his... stuff. I was much more comfortable and started to relax, refocusing on my paper and trying to look as casual as possible while I made small talk with the boy. The reprieve was short lived as he got up and started fixing himself breakfast. As determined as I was not to look, I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances over my paper as he moved around the kitchen. From the first time I met Duncan I was surprised how fit he was. He had the build of a farm boy despite not being involved in any sports or athletic activity. I was taking in all of the details of his build: Broad shoulders, squarish pecs punctuated with big brown nipples, and a very flat stomach and just a hint of a six-pack. Not a body builder by any stretch, but I could clearly spot all the key muscle groups on his frame including his butt, which was firm and round. His Adonis's belt kept pulling my gaze in like a magnet, the clearly defined V pointing straight down into his tight boxer briefs at his bulge. My eyes lingered there, it was an impressive sight. I could clearly see every detail, the big impression made by his large ball-sac and the outline of his penis gently curving in a soft arc down and to the left. I surmised it was a very large penis at that, it looked to be long and quite thick, ending in a smooth taper. It occurred to me that he wasn't circumcised, I could see the outline that clearly.
I don't know how long I'd been staring, 5 seconds? 10? Longer? The next thing I was aware of was a sound, Duncan clearing his throat.
"Ahem. Getting an eyeful?" the boy asked.
I looked up and we locked out gaze as he gave me this look. It was hard to read beyond the fact he was examining me very closely.
I was struggling for something to say, some explanation... "I was just..." My voice trailed off, I was just staring at his penis, that's what I was just doing.
"It's cool, no worries. I won't tell Papa," the boy coyly stated.
I tried to defend myself, "It just that you were, well, strutting around practically naked and I..."
