A/N -- Another gay male story. I'll admit I really enjoy writing stories in this category as I can let my creative juices flow. There will be a dual focus to this story. The present day, and also constant flashbacks for the MC, as he reminisces about his sex life and sexual past.
I'll admit that there will be light incestuous undertones at times within the story, though I'm not sure I'll go full incest or not. I enjoy writing it but not everyone enjoys reading it, so I'll think about it. If I do end up adding it, I'll certainly provide warning for when it does.
All characters in sexual scenarios are 18+.
Hope you enjoy!
*****
It was the day of my son's eighteenth birthday party. He'd actually turned eighteen during the week on the Wednesday. I'd taken him out for dinner and his first legal drink at a pub. He was an only child and I'd raised him alone since he was three years old. I wasn't sure what his friends thought, but I'm sure many might think it unusual that an eighteen year old was happy to have a few of his friends over for a summers day pool party instead of heading into the city for a night out.
But my son had always been a little different. He wasn't quite like a chip off the old block. Not only the physical differences between father and son but also our personality. He was rather shy and quiet, a small circle of friends. There were eight of them outside, swimming or lazy by the pool. He was the baby of the group, the last to turn eighteen and be recognised as an adult.
There was one major trait that both father and son shared. We were both gay. I'd known I was gay when I was a teenager but didn't come out to my parents until I'd moved out, though my sisters found out and were nothing but supportive. I knew my mother would support me, no matter what, and she had done ever since that day. My father would be a different proposition, and proved it when I sat them down and told them the truth about my sexuality. I still had a relationship with my father, barely, but I'd made sure that I didn't expose my son to his bigotry.
My son had come out to me when he was fourteen. He was more than aware his father was a gay man so telling me he was also gay was far easier for him. The one question he did have was how he was created, as although I didn't discuss my sex life, my son knew I dated around a lot. He'd rarely been introduced to any boyfriends as I was, to be honest, promiscuous and didn't exactly have long relationships.
I had to explain that he was the result of a drunken one night stand. His mother was the one and only woman I'd ever slept with. And I only did it once. Even to this day, I'm still not sure why I'd slept with her. I think it was a drunken idea to see what all the fuss was about.
I had no idea she had fallen pregnant nor had a child until she appeared on my doorstep when he was two years old. After a paternity test, to prove I was his father, she then dropped a bombshell on me. She was getting married, her new partner didn't want children, so she was willing to give him to me, give up all parental rights, and that would be that. I'd be a single father with a son.
It was all a big shock. I'd never really given kids any real thought, particularly as I was gay and figured that, if I ever settled down, we'd either adopt or go through surrogacy. Everything was legal and above board, and by the time my son was three years old, he was in my custody full-time while his mother signed away her rights, she wouldn't have to pay me anything, but my son was mine and mine alone. The last I heard from her, when he was five, she was married and moving to the other side of the world.
Being a single father was challenging at times, but I loved my son and had loved bonding with him when he was younger and had helped guide him through life. When he came out to me, having been through the trials and tribulations myself, I was his constant source of advice. By the time of his eighteenth, I knew most of his friends were also gay. They found safety in numbers. Of the eight, I believed that six of them were gay, though I was fairly sure the other two were bisexual.
Heading outside to join my son by the pool, I was wearing a tight pair of swim shorts. Standing at around six-two, I was taller than my son of five-nine. We both liked to work out. I'd been lifting for twenty years so had honed a healthy muscular physique. My son focused more on aerobics. I was tanned from working outdoors though my main job was spent sat in an air-conditioned office. He preferred to be pale. Both of us had brown hair and blue eyes, at least. My chest had a covering of hair. Given he barely shaved, I figured body hair wasn't going to be a problem for him.
His friends were a mixture of tanned muscular men and a couple of them were definitely what I'd call twinks. If I looked at my son in comparison, he was definitely a twink. He knew he was too, and I knew played up to it. I knew he was a virgin at eighteen, which pleased me, the fact he had chosen to wait so it meant something. The one solace I could take is that sexual education in our country was liberal and open-minded. Unlike other countries which suggest abstinence is key, and they're happy sending gay kids to conversion therapy, my son was told being gay wasn't a sin. Whatever he didn't learn at school, he always knew he could come to speak to his father about. I had no secrets as all young people going through puberty have questions about what they're going through. Yes, there were the usual embarrassing moments that occasionally happened, but all we did was discuss it, file it away, and move on. Our relationship remained close and strong throughout.
"How are you boys doing?" I asked. They'd always be boys in my eyes since I'd known three of his friends for over ten years.
"We're okay, Dad," my son replied. I noticed at least three pairs of eyes linger on me as I approached the pool. I knew they had the hots for me. Hell, even my son had gazed at me a few times when I'd walked around the house or backyard in just a pair of shorts. Once he was old enough to understand his father had a healthy sexual appetite, he'd certainly seen gentlemen visitors come and go. But I wasn't interested in long term relationships.
"Need more drinks?" I wondered, noticing a few empty bottles and cans around.
"We're being sensible, Mister..."
"None of that, Charlie. My name is Mark. All of you can call me that. Except you, Steven. I'll always be dad. And I'm glad you're all being sensible. I'll order in some pizzas for you later. How many of you are going to stay tonight?"
"Scott, Charlie, Mike and Wayne are staying tonight, Dad," Steven replied.
Charlie, Scott and my son were three of those I would have considered twinks. Mike and Wayne were strapping young men already, both close to or at least six foot, and I knew both played rugby so were broad and muscular already. I kept my face blank though did meet the eyes of my son, who blushed and looked away rather quickly. If the four boys wanted to have sex, I'd rather they do it at home than somewhere else.
"If you need anything for tonight, Steven, you need only ask. Okay?"
"They're not staying for that, Dad!" he exclaimed.
I didn't want to embarrass him so dropped the issue, simply lazing about the pool as the eight boys continued to chat away about all their plans. My son would be heading off to university next month, though would remain living at home as his campus was only a short train ride away. His friends had always been welcome visitors in my home. Most of their parents knew I was a gay man but only one or two ever made it an issue.
Having cooled off, I lifted myself out of the pool, wiping myself down with a towel, before grabbing one of the bottles of beer cooling in the esky. Asking Steven to just holler when they were hungry, or if they needed some more booze, I headed back inside, glancing back to see a few pairs of eyes again watching me. Smiling, I did allow myself a quiet chuckle when I was in the living room. I knew what it was like to be attracted to an available older man.
Sitting back to watch some test match cricket, it wasn't particularly exciting. What did catch my attention was the arrival of one of Steven's friends. Scott. He was a cute little thing, the smallest out of all the boys. Dirty blonde hair but a pair of gorgeous blue eyes. Amusingly, he was actually the oldest of the group. He could be an extrovert at times but he was almost painfully shy around me.
"What's up, Scott?" I asked, muting the television.
I could tell he was a little nervous as he walked towards me. But wearing only a pair of swimming shorts, he didn't attempt to cover his rather obvious erection. I'd never seen him naked, but from what I could see, he was sporting something considered average. Sitting next to me, I rested a hand on his thigh, amused at the fact he was shaking slightly.
"Steven wasn't lying," he said quietly, "We're all virgins. All eight of us."
"You are?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. I would have thought that at least a couple of them would have fucked, thinking they would have fooled around with each other more than anything. "No fooling around with your friends or with each other?"
