There were many reasons that Jake hadn't been home to visit his parents in Castorville in nearly a decade. The most obvious of those reasons—to him, at least—was the fact that he was about as deep in the closet as a man could be as he rapidly approached the age of thirty, and for someone like him to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in a town like Castorville was simply begging for trouble.
But, given that he was the only one who knew that secret—well, in addition to Zach and now Coach Roberts—the more obvious reason that Jake and his sister Lucy stayed away from their home was their parents. While Jack and Cindy Huebner were perfectly respectable and well-liked citizens of Castorville, each having done their part to coach the odd little league team or run the PTA's annual bake sale while their kids were still young, behind closed doors, they weren't exactly what one would call the perfect couple.
For nearly thirty years, since just before Jake was born, Jack Huebner had worked at the oil processing plant on the edge of town. He worked nights at the factory, pressing castor cakes on the screw mills and then spent his days sleeping and running the house. Cindy, on the other hand, worked up at the high school as an administrative assistant. They had met at that very school thirty-five years ago and, while they still loved each other to some degree, the spark wasn't quite there the way it was when they were younger.
Nowadays, most of the time they were together was spent bickering about stupid things of little importance, neither ever conceding nor admitting in the slightest that there may be some truth to what the other was saying. It drove Jake and Lucy wild and, instead of putting up with listening to what their parents' marriage had devolved into, they stayed away.
Of course, Jake also appreciated not having his mom regularly lecture him about his need to marry and have kids before it was too late. As much as he wanted to tell her it likely wasn't in the cards, he never quite had the heart to do so.
For all of the years of avoiding his return and the anxiety he had about doing so, Jake found his arrival to be much ado about nothing. His parents had welcomed him joyously the night before, and they had had a low-key evening of chatting at the kitchen table, making up for time lost without any bickering—at least nothing too bad—and no hard-hitting questions he didn't have answers for.
He awoke Christmas morning to the unmistakable smell of cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. The scent wafted from the kitchen, through the living room, and up the hallway to his room at the end. As if his nose was caught on a line, he was lured out of bed and into the main part of the house. The Christmas Tree glowed in the corner, presents piled high beneath it. His father was on the floor, leaned up against the couch, his eyes fixated on the television. The unmistakable voice of Jimmy Stewart was talking about lassoing the moon. He could see his mom in the kitchen, standing by the stove; her back was to him but, given the smell, he knew she had to be spreading icing on the cinnamon rolls. Outside, through the frosted windows, he could see the neighbor kids having a gay old time throwing snowballs and sledding down the hill.
A smile crossed his face and, for once, he felt glad to be home.
Jack took notice of his son's presence and his face lit up. "Morning Jake. Merry Christmas!"
Jake continued into the room. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Dad."
He turned his head toward the television and saw the muted paint-like colors of It's a Wonderful Life. A young Jimmy Stewart stood there, beaming down at the youthful Donna Reed, as the nosy neighbor yelled at him to kiss her already.
"You're watching the color version?" Jake asked as if it were blasphemous. "I thought you hated this version."
His father shrugged, peering at the screen over his square glasses. "I do, but your mother got in the mood to clean and conveniently misplaced my copy, so I'm forced to watch whatever is on television. I guess a little color is better than skipping the thing entirely. You can't have Christmas without it, you know?"
"I do," Jake replied. "You never let me forget it." Every Christmas, when he was on the phone with his parents, his dad asked him if he'd watched it. Jake always made an effort to have it playing in the background just to appease the old man.
"Sit," Jack said, patting the spot next to him and inviting his son to join.
Jake did as he was told.
"To be honest, I think your mother lost my copy just so she wouldn't have to sit through it again," Jack admitted through a handful of M&M's from the bowl on his lap. "You probably won't believe it, but we had a fight about it last Christmas."
He did believe it. In fact, it wasn't that hard to believe at all when considering how they fought about everything and that they'd each seen the movie a hundred times over the years.
"It's nice to have someone to watch it with again," Jack added, smiling at Jake.
Jake hadn't planned on spending the entire morning watching It's a Wonderful Life, but he could tell his presence meant a lot to his old man.
A quarter hour passed before his mom walked into the room, already jazzed up and wearing the red dress that constituted her Christmas outfit. She handed them each a plate with two cinnamon rolls. "Who wants cinnamon rolls?" she asked. Then, after they each took their share, she sat down in the chair and joined them.
Jake looked at his dad, who simply shrugged back.
They sat together that way until the screen went dark and the commercials started, enjoying the movie as a family. There was no fighting, there was no complaining, there was nothing but good cheer.
It was bizarre.
"Jake, honey," Cindy said over a commercial for ringing in the new year with a new car.
Jake turned his head toward her in acknowledgment.
"We are out of milk, and I need some for the sweet potatoes. Any chance you could pop over to McAllister's and pick some up?"
"It's Christmas. Are they even open?"
She shook her head. "McAllister's is always open . . . even on Christmas."
This surprised Jake, but it was no big deal. "Can I get cleaned up first?"
"What's wrong with going as you are?"
Running his hand through his shaggy brown hair, Jake drew attention to his bedhead.
"It looks fine," his mom said. "Just put a hat on."
"I don't wear hats," Jake replied. "I'll just be a minute."
He pulled himself up off the floor and retreated back down the hallway toward his room. There were still piles of his old clothes tucked haphazardly in the dresser drawers, but he doubted any of those fit him anymore. He pulled a clean shirt and a pair of briefs out of his suitcase and, just before he dropped the cover, he noticed Coach Roberts' jockstrap. He had tucked it in the suitcase for safekeeping. Without thinking, he extended his arm and grabbed the now crusty cotton garment. He lifted it up to his nose and breathed in the sweet smell of Coach Roberts' musky load. It was intoxicating. His thoughts returned to their night together and how he had caused that load, how he had planted himself deep within his former coach's ass and made the old man cum hands free.
The thoughts stayed with him as he showered, slowly tugging at his soap-covered cock as he remembered Coach's tongue sliding in and out of his asshole. The memory was so vivid, he could still feel the sensation. Reaching around, he grabbed his butt with his right hand, splitting the cheeks and beginning to gently rub his hole with his middle finger. The pressure stiffened his already hard cock, and as he continued to wank, his tongue slid between his lips and he prepared to shoot. Just as he was reaching his climax, a knock came on the door.
"Jake?" his dad asked. "Are you ready?"
The load retreated back into the cannon and all chances of his getting off faded at the sound of his dad's voice.
"Just a minute," Jake said back.
The moment ruined, Jake did a quick spin to rinse the soap from his body and stepped out of the shower.
* * * * *
"You're going too?" he asked his dad as he entered the kitchen.
Jack was standing there with his winter coat and boots on.
"Yeah, I figured it couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a bit. You ready?"
"Yep," Jake replied.
They made way for the garage, only stopping for a moment for Jack to give Cindy a kiss before he left.
"What was that about?" Jake asked as they pulled out of the driveway.
"What?"
