A story told through the mind of a young man...
*
It's been about fifteen minutes since I heard the car pull into the driveway. He waited out in the car for a minute, and then I heard the car door open and then close. Then came the faint footsteps along the path in front of the house and up the steps.
He's trying to be quiet, probably for two reasons. One is that he's a considerate man by nature, and since it's late he doesn't want to disturb anyone in the neighborhood. I suspect the second reason is that maybe he's hoping I'm asleep, but there's no way that would happen.
I've been waiting for him, and it's only a little past ten. I would have been awake if he stayed out until 3. He's worth waiting for. I don't know where he goes all evening or what he does. He might have a drink or two at a bar, but he's not much of a drinker. Maybe he just drives around thinking. Maybe we're both thinking the same thing.
It wasn't always like this. Before a couple of weeks ago we were just a couple of guys sharing a home that used to house four. That was then, when my older sister still lived here and Mom was still alive. Now there's just two, a hard working man who just turned fifty and a nerdy college student closer to 19 than 18. The man is my father, and I am his son. We love each other very much, but in different ways now.
It happened, and out of the blue. He's been apologizing for it ever since, but I keep telling him that there's no apology necessary. I was scared that first night while it was happening, and I cried a little, but more because I was confused and had been roused out of a sound sleep.
That time it was Dad coming into my room. It was the only time. Ever since then I've been the one coming to visit him, and tonight will be no different. Just like the last dozen nights he will protest at first, but I think that's more from guilt than anything else. If he didn't want me to come in, there's a lock on the door. It's never been used.
The house is deathly quiet, with only the ticking of the grandfather clock down at the end of the hall breaking the silence. I'm as quiet as a cat. I step lightly because I'm barefoot. I'm also naked. Clothes would only get in the way once I get there. Hopeful Dad will be naked one of these nights too. I've suggested it, but every night he's had his boxer shorts on.
I'm standing at the door and reaching for the knob, turning it ever-so-slowly. What would I do if it was locked? I honestly don't know, and can only hope the knob will turn. It does. I open the door slowly, and my shadow appears on the wall next to the bed. I close the door behind me - it opens and closes silently now since I oiled the hinges - and I stand inside my parents bedroom while my eyes adjust to the near-darkness.
I can see Dad's shape under the sheet, his massive frame taking up most of the mattress. Lucky Mom was a tiny woman, because even in the massive king-size bed there isn't much room when there's a guy that's about 6'5" and over 250 pounds in it.
Dad was a football player, and a good one in his day. He was a all-conference offensive tackle in college and got invited to an NFL training camp at a free agent. Made the taxi squad one year and was hoping to make the team the following year but he blew out his knee. After that he decided to get a steady job and raise a family with his new bride.
I tiptoe over to the side of the bed, watching the sheet rise and fall along with Dad's breathing. He's not exactly pretending he's asleep, but when I whisper, "Dad?" he doesn't answer. I reach for the sheet and gently lift it up and down to his thighs but hesitate before climbing into the bed.
What an incredible looking man, I think to myself, and even in the murky light I can see him well enough that my dick is getting hard already. He's got the boxer shorts on, like I suspected, but he's naked to the waist.
Dad might have put a few pounds on since college, but he's still in great shape, probably because while he owns his own construction company he works along with his employees a lot of the time. Those massive shoulders are the result of hard work, and looking at this giant of a man I remember growing up wanting to be just like Dad.
That didn't happen, obviously, and while I'm not as little as Mom was, at 5'7" and 135 pounds I clearly ended up more like her. This allows me to slip into bed alongside Dad easily, and I leave the sheet down as I roll onto my side to face Dad, close enough so I can feel the heat from his body.
