The next morning everything was normal. My wife made coffee, and we sat around the table with the whole family. There was no rush; it was Saturday. We talked about what everyone had been up to during the week: hobbies, school, and life in general. My daughter had started playing tennis as a hobby and asked me to watch her practice sometime. It sounded fun and exciting. She was quite tall for her age, with long legs and arms; good body for a tennis player.
My son got a B+ in algebra, which was just fine for him; I was pathetically miserable in math in school. My wife said she hurt her back at work yesterday after lifting a patient. She had asked for some light work for a moment, but it was in vain. She thought her supervisor could have been more qualified and nicer.
The coffee tasted good and the sandwiches were tasty, but everything around me felt secondary; my thoughts were elsewhere. I wondered what kind of moral backbone I would lack if I did something irreversible with a boy the same age as my own. I watched Jack laugh at something his sister said, I had two beautiful children and it was clear. It seemed impossible to me that a man of my age would put his dick in the mouth of my son, the very mouth with which he was chewing on a sandwich. Or lie naked on top of such a young lad, pressing his hips against him, cumming into his ass.
For some reason, my moral alarm clock remained silent; I guess it was a different thing to think of something sexual about someone stranger than my kid. I tried to put the thought out of my mind and go back to chatting with my family. After breakfast, I grabbed my phone and went to the bathroom. I texted the boy and asked if he was still interested in meeting me, and got a response almost immediately.
Not only was the answer positive, but he asked when and where. He said that since it was a weekend, he could easily move around. Is it really possible that I could have sex with such a young man? Ideas started moving in my brain, and I began to sketch out some viable possibilities.
>> Want to meet somewhere outside? In a park? Bar maybe? - I didn't have to wait long for an answer.
<< Anything works for me. I live near Maple Park and it would be nice if we could meet somewhere near there. I don't have a car, but I can come wherever we agree. What do you think about Maple Park?
That sounded like a nice coincidence. Our house is only half a mile from that park.
>> Maple Park is perfect. Would you like to meet me on a certain day? I asked.
<< How about today? The sooner the better. I am really looking forward to meeting you.
>> Me too. But I'm a little scared. Promise me this isn't a trap. I don't want any problems. This is the first time I do something like this.
<< No trap, I promise. What if we end up wanting to do more than just talk?
He asked. He was surprisingly self-confident and determined. It felt good,
>> There's no way we can go to my house. My wife and children are here.
<< Too bad :( - the boy replied.
>> But I'm sure we'll come up with something if the situation calls for it.
I thought about booking a hotel room. We agreed to meet at Maple Park at four in the afternoon. The boy said there was a gardener's shed behind the playground, a small shack with a bench next to it. The park wasn't too familiar to me, but I didn't mention it; I said I'd definitely find it.
We ended up chatting. I looked again at the picture the boy had sent. A nice young dick wanting the attention of a grown man. Incredibly arousing thought, I wanted to jerk off, but I restrained my lust.
I went to a large market with my wife. It was the kind of hypermarket where you could find everything you needed in your life. My wife wanted to look at the clothes (surprise?), but I wasn't interested at all (surprise again?). So I went to the sports department for a while, even though I didn't think I'd find anything there.
I cooked lunch with my wife; garlic potatoes and pork chops. My wife made the potatoes and I cooked the chops. At the same time, my daughter was in her own room, and I could hear a sound that could be considered music, an effective beat to which someone was shouting some vague shit in a defiant voice. Music used to have a melody; now it was just mindless speech with poorly functioning lyrics.
Jack wanted to cut the vegetables for the salad. He chopped tomatoes next to me. My thoughts began to turn to the upcoming meeting. I wondered what it would be like to fuck a boy the age of my son, and I got an erection. Again, I wanted to relieve the pressure by jerking off. But I wanted to save all that energy for a meeting in the afternoon.
At two o'clock we sat down again with the whole family. My daughter had earbuds in her ears and I asked her to take them out. She reluctantly did so; fortunately, I didn't have to get angry with her this time. Forks and knives squeaking on plates. I wondered how I could leave the house at four o'clock without raising questions until my wife broke the silence.
