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Chapter One: What ever happened to...
It was something that had been on my mind for much of the summer, but I hadn't mentioned it to my son until the day he was heading off to college. I tried to be as casual and distant as possible when I broached the subject while we drove out to the University of Buffalo, where he would be starting his freshman year of college, not wanting to expose my more than casual interest.
"What ever happened to Marc?" I asked in a flip manner while the seemingly endless trip along the interstate droned on. "I didn't see him all summer, and you two were always joined at the hip."
"Fucking faggot!" my son blurted out, and the ferocity of his reply almost made me lose control of the car and the little U-Haul we were towing behind us.
"What?" I asked after regaining control of the vehicle.
"Sorry," he said, apparently just then realizing how loud and strident his answer had been. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh," I said, but after a few minutes of awkward silence, he did want to talk about it.
He told me about how after they had dropped their Senior Prom dates off, Marc had made a pass at him. More than a pass, I guess, but more like a grab of his crotch.
"I should have known he was a queer," my kid said. "He never really went after girls like he wanted them. They were more like friends. When I think about all those times we spent together, the times he saw me naked, and the times we even slept in the same bed..."
I watched my son shudder as he let his voice trail off, and I was very disappointed in his reaction for a couple of reasons. The first being that I had hoped he had been raised to be a more tolerant person, and would have been more forgiving toward a friend that had been like a brother to him all those years.
The second reason I was saddened was that he didn't realize that the man sitting next to him, his father, could have easily fit all the derisive words that he had applied to his former friend. Queer. Faggot.
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Chapter Two: Fighting the feeling.
My wife was aware of my bisexuality when she married me over twenty years earlier. Bisexual barely described my sexual experiences prior to meeting Kara. I had been with only a couple of women before meeting and falling in love with the woman that would become my wife.
How many men? I couldn't say with any degree of accuracy, and I'm not especially proud of the fact that even during a very promiscuous age, I could have been described as extremely promiscuous. I was a poster boy for the phrase "young, dumb, and full of cum", and although back in the 70's it was a very different and MUCH safer time to live that lifestyle, it was still very reckless on my part, and I'm lucky to have made it through healthy and wiser.
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Chapter Three: Marc.
After helping my son move into his room at college, I spent the entire six hour ride home thinking about Marc. I wasn't shocked over the revelation that he was gay, because I had suspected as much from the first time I had seen him. I was sorry about what had gone down between the two former friends, and had to admit to myself that part of the sadness I was feeling was because I wouldn't be seeing him around our house any longer.
My mind went back to that day when Marc had come along with the rest of our family for a picnic at a State Park near our town. It was just before their Prom incident must have occurred. While my wife and son set up the picnic table, I had gone to the beach house with Marc to change into bathing suits.
When we got into the changing area, I was a little surprised at how open the area was. Usually, this kind of place would present a visual feast for me anyway, but the prospect of changing next to my son's best friend was an added treat.
Marc was a very slight young man, and at around 5'7" was a couple of inches shorter than me. I have a fairly slender build, but Marc was even thinner, and his body was very athletic. Marc had just gotten a full-ride scholarship to our local college for his swimming prowess, and it showed.
Marc undressed very slowly, and I was certain that it was because I was standing next to him. I felt a tad strange getting naked next to Marc, but I was certain that once he got a glimpse of my body, he would feel less self-conscious about his own.
When I got naked and fumbled around with my trunks, I could see his eyes looking over at me. Like just about everyone else who had ever seen me naked, I saw the familiar double take when he saw my genitals, but I pretended not to notice while I took my time putting on my trunks.
Years ago I had stopped being ashamed of myself when others would see me naked. Part of that came from the fact that a lot of men, mostly older men, were quite attracted to me just as I was. This gave me the confidence to let it all hang out, even though in my case, what "hung out" wasn't even 5 inches long when erect, and less than half that limp. I wasn't blessed with thickness to make up for my shortcomings, and that, combined with my almost total lack of body hair, made me crown myself with the title, "The Man that Puberty Forgot".
Marc continued to undress while I fiddled first with the string that held up my trunks, and then with folding my clothes. Marc's body was nearly as smooth as my own, and as his hairless chest became exposed my eyes traveled down to his stomach with his well-defined abs.
I almost felt guilty in continuing to look as his pants came off, but kept on looking anyway. When the underwear came down, I saw the tiny tuft of jet black pubic hair first, and while that was expected, what came next wasn't.
My jaw might not have hit the ground when Marc's briefs did, but it couldn't have been far behind. I was dumbstruck as my eyes got sight of Marc's cock, almost refusing to believe what I was seeing.
To put it bluntly, little Marc was hung like a horse. His beige cock swung down between his legs like an elephant's truck. Incredibly thick at the base, it tapered somewhat as it reached the glans, which was long and conical in shape. Behind his flaccid hose, a pair of nice-sized balls hung loosely in a hairless, wrinkled sac.
I snapped out of my trance when I realized that Marc had noticed me staring at him, but if it had bothered him, he didn't seem to let it show, and he proceeded to take his sweet time getting his trunks on as well.
Why should he hide himself, I thought to myself while I mumbled something before securing my stuff in a locker and hustling out to the beach. If I had that equipment on me I'd walk around flaunting it every chance I got.
I felt like an idiot for having stood there naked next to this kid, trying to make him feel less embarrassed about having what I had assumed to be a build similar to mine, when it turned out that not only wasn't 18 year old Marc a kid chronologically any longer, he certainly wasn't physically either.
For the rest of the day, no matter how much I tried not to, whenever I saw Marc, my eyes went to his trunks. The tan trunks were baggy and revealed nothing, yet when I looked at him, it was as if they weren't on him at all. All I could see was that incredible cock swinging lazily between his legs.
While this vision might have made the long drive pass by in a more interesting manner, it gave me a boner that was stuck to my underwear when I finally made it home. Kara having already fallen asleep, I tiptoed through the quiet house and went down to the den, where I slowly stroked my dick while reclining on the couch.
I came quick and I came messy, spouting cum all over my chest and stomach. Because I was so exhausted from the driving, I feel asleep right after that, which would have made for an interesting sight had my nap lasted until morning when my wife got up.
Instead, I woke up a half hour later, with the cum hardened on my body and my dick hard again from having dreamed of you-know-who. It took only a minute for me to pop another load all over myself, an orgasm much less messy but no less satisfying than the first one, and only then did I get up and head into to bed after a brief trip to the can to wipe myself down.
"Mm," Kara cooed, scrunching up next to me when I got into bed, grabbing at my drained little pecker. "Missed you."
"I'm dead," I told her, blaming the 12 hours of driving for my lack of response, and soon dropped off while dreaming it wasn't Kara's hand on my dick.
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Chapter Four: Swim meet.
I found a seat in the bleachers on the side of the pool in the humid University rec center and leafed through the program, looking for his name before finally finding it way down toward the bottom of the page. Marc swam the 100 meter freestyle, and was also listed in the 100X4 relay, but both were much later in the event, so I had to sit through almost the entire meet before Marc would appear.
