EPISODE 1
I have a friend, Remy. Or rather, I used to have a friend Remy. He was one of the most beautiful men I've ever had laid eyes on. Didn't you have friends like that, those who were so good-looking you find yourself tongue-tied just being around them, and the fact that they were your friends - heck, the fact that they were your acquaintances - was so mind-blowing and utterly gobsmacking that you couldn't help to invest everything into your relationship? Well, Remy was one of those friends. Not to say I have lots of friends like Remy, far from it, but they simply didn't have his - for lack of a better word - beauty.
I'd seen the way girls and boys fell and trip on their toes around him. It was the way he carried himself, like nary a care in the world, that was what was so attractive about him. Physically he was more in the line of sylph-like perfection that the ancient Greeks and Romans - and perhaps, me too - knew and prized and worshipped. His body was all elongated planes, all perfect lines, the lines that ballet dancers made whole careers out of. There was nothing exotic or foreign about him, rather he was the perfect example of the male specimen.
Remy played the flute for our college orchestra, and the way this orchestra was the flutes sat way up front. It was like the gods were playing us, because there was no more beautiful sight ever was than Remy playing the flute - all lines and planes, again, that art adored. I was a tuba player, all huge and boisterous and clumsy, the lowest instrument on the staff, in fact we sat way at the back of everyone else, but Remy seemed to like me and I of course worshipped the ground he walked on, so we had a fair weather relationship.
One day we played an outdoor concert of a new song, in which Remy played a short but brilliant solo - more like a cadenza than anything else. My parents were in attendance, my mother with the ever-present pashmina shawl that she bought on an Indian holiday one time and never forgot, together with my handsome but distant father. I even wondered why my father joined my mother for this excursion, because usually it was just my mother who took an interest in my collegiate activities. But I was to get my answer in a spectacular way later.
After the concert my mother and I went to the cafeteria while my father strolled the ground, uncomfortable of the lunch-going crowd. While tucking in at the delicious rolls, I realized I forgot my camera. My mother tut-tutted, remarking how could I forgot such an important thing, and told me to fetch it. It was on a shelf in my room in the dormitory. Remy's and his roommate's room was facing mine. I didn't know why but I sneaked a look into the open door and had a shock.
My father, my handsome tall misanthropic father, had his pants and his sedate black boxers down his ankles. His thighs were thick and separate, testifying his gym-going days. His cock was rampant, thick and erect and vibrating in an apparently intense orgasm by the look of it, spurting white cum flowing lava-like down his crown and his foreskin, into the lips and tongue of one who was very familiar to me.
"Fuck, daddy, so delicious, so fucking worth it," said Remy, as he lapped around my father's cock head.
My father was still panting lightly. "Never knew my son's friend could suck cock like a champ."
Remy smiled lasciviously. "Hmmm, it's the daddy's approval-seeking in me, much like your own son."
"Oh yeah, you nasty freak," my father hissed, surprising me in its lustful venom, "How much like my son?"
"Correction, Mr. Fraser. I'm nothing like your son." With that Remy turned around and bent out like a bow waiting for an arrow, ass out, lubing his hole with the cum that ran from his mouth. "Now, fuck me silly, daddy."
My father grunted. "Your wish is my command, son."
I turned away as they commenced fucking. Half of me was eager to see, to witness my father's betrayal of my friendship and my mother, but the rational half of me reasoned enough was enough. This would be one of those secrets sons were privileged to see and to keep until the bitter end.
EPISODE 2
The bitter end, apparently, could not come fast enough. My father came out, blasting out of his closet in all his forty-five year old glory, and divorced my mother. My mother, ever being the practical one, cleaned my father out of the coffers - of which were plenty - and claimed custody of me and my three brothers. We moved across the country, because there's no distance like the devil to put between my mother and her former spouse, as she called him, which was better than the 'sperm donor' moniker she called him when she was depressed or drunk.
In all of these upheavals Remy lurked in the background, and after a respectable interval he and my father married in a happy little ceremony. I visited them a few months after their nuptials - by that time I had came out myself, realizing my worship of Remy's altar a manifestation of my own homosexuality. Mother, dear mother, had sighed and only remarked, rather inanely, "Oh poor baby."
My father on the other hand had beamed, strangely affable, a major difference from before. With his arms around Remy he welcomed me to their home, our old home with some renovations, all masculine in style and fashion, as if erasing my mother's influence with every minimalist touch. By that time I was dating Gerry, an exchange student from Singapore, who was tall, lean and a mean fuck machine. I brought Gerry to that first meeting with my father and Remy - in retrospect I should've had noticed my mistake right away.
I was talking with my father for a long time, updating him about how my life and those of my brothers had progressed sans him in the picture. He was saddened by the circumstances, but insisted he must live his truth. I could have rolled my eyes at that, but then again I hadn't had the pain of breaking a marriage in my own coming out, so perhaps I lack understanding of his predicament. I was sipping my third glass of wine before realizing Gerry and Remy had been gone a long time, surely his plants and roses were not that aplenty?
Suddenly as if their names were being called, Gerry and Remy arrived at the gazebo where I was sitting with father. Remy's clothes were slightly dishevelled, Gerry was mildly flushed in the face, and there was a strong whiff of perfume in the air, as if hiding the smell of something. Then I noticed a pearly glint at the corner of Remy's mouth. The fucker. I waited until father was inside the house fetching another bottle of wine before I hissed at Remy.
"You haven't married my father for long, yet you're already sucking off someone else? What are you, really?" I pushed at Gerry. "And you, you fucking cunt. Couldn't you keep it in your pants for a goddamn visit?"
"It's not his fault," Remy started, but I threw the wine at his face.
