Journal Entry 5/16
Summer with dad will be awkward at best this year. Mom and dad divorced shortly after I started my courses in August at UNH. It didn't come as a surprise to anyone. It was never a happy marriage. They didn't hate each other. In fact, we were quite happy overall. They just didn't love each other anymore. Mom and dad were always very careful to make me feel loved when I was younger. The last couple of years, though, were strained. Anyway, I spent Christmas break with mom in Alexandria, VA, where she lives with her boyfriend. Now, it's dad's turn.
My dad is bit of a recluse. He has a little place in the Northeast Kingdom, always writing his strange science fiction and fantasy novels. They sell well enough to cover his financial needs, including some of mine. Mom also supports me financially. But he stopped socializing long before the divorce. He would lose himself in his writing, typing away on his old desktop for hours. He shares his writing with me, respecting my comments both positive and negative.
Spending a whole summer with dad wasn't my idea. It wasn't his idea. Mom wielded her mighty scepter of power. We must obey Her Majesty. Well, dad was more like "Fine. Whatever." I hope to get outdoors most of the time and leave him to write in peace.
Journal Entry 5/29
Dad has a friend! I was shocked. I'm not sure if it's a mutual friendship but Mr. Merrin visited us four time since I arrived. Dad seems to tolerate his company. Personally, Mr. Merrin can visit us as often as he wants. I haven't come out to dad and I have no idea which way Mr. Merrin rolls, so I try to be careful. He's a big man with a big voice. I don't want to anger him by being caught staring. But it's fucking hard to keep my dick under control when his deep baritone voice sends shivers through my entire body. And he talks a lot! He could talk me to an organism. Almost did yesterday.
I'm not sure if he'll visit today. It's raining pretty hard. I'd love to see him though, his tall frame towering over me, his thick arms crossed over his chest, and his booming voice saying, "What you been up to you, son?" My eyes would be level with his pecs, bulging through his t-shirt, forced outwards by his crossed forearms, and I would reply, "Not much. Just reading." He would stride towards my dad on his computer, his steps heavy on the floor, legs like tree trunks, his big round ass filling his faded blue jeans. He would say to dad, "You making the boy read your crap again? It's summer vacation for chrissake." He would rumble on and I would stare at his broad back, his round ass, and trace the outlines of his hamstrings.
God, I'm hard. I need to take care of this. Bye.
Journal Entry 6/1
The rain won't let up! Flood warnings are posted for several counties. Memorial Day weekend was a bust. Dad hardly notices but I'm sick of this.
Journal Entry 6/3
Sun at last! We can't go anywhere since the driveway is under water. Good thing dad usually stocks up on non-perishables. And Mr. Merrin called. I answered the call since dad was eating.
"You still sane, son?" Mr. Merrin had asked.
"Just barely, Mr. Merrin."
"Son, call me Jim. All this mister crap makes me feel old. And when I feel old, I feel ornery."
"Alright. Jim it is."
"Your dad still writing his crap?"
"He's eating right now."
"Good for him! Tell him he should eat more and put some meat on." I gave the message to dad.
"Son, why don't you come up the hill to my cabin before you lose your mind? It's not as bad up here."
"I can't, Jim. Our driveway is flooded."
"You got boots don't you? Take the trail behind your dad's place. It's only a couple of miles. You'll see my cabin. The trail will be muddy but nothing dangerous."
"Alright. I'll be there. Thanks, Jim."
Somehow I managed to sound casual even though my heart was beating fast and my cock was staining my cargo shorts with precum. I hung up and made for the bathroom. I managed to drop my shorts before I exploded. I caught my jizz in my right hand, supporting myself with my left on the sink. I licked my hand clean, imagining it was Jim's cum.
Journal Entry 6/4
I spent the night here at Jim's cabin. It's a nice, roomy log cabin. He passes the nicer seasons here and winters in Florida.
When I arrived from the hike up, my boots and calves were caked in mud. Jim had me stand on a flat rock a few feet away from his stacks of firewood while he hosed my boots and calves with water. I had to do some complicated calculus in my head to keep from getting aroused. He put my boots on a boot warmer to dry and gave me a towel. I dug out my trailrunners from my backpack and we went for a stroll around the hill.
I love walking behind him. He kept pointing out the views but I was seeing something better. At one point, he bent down to pick up a fallen tree branch. It was a big one. I watched as his buns and hamstrings stretched out. I stopped breathing for a few seconds! And then, before we went into his cabin for lunch, we stopped at the same flat rock he had hosed me down. He planted his right foot on the rock and nodded to his cabin. "I had that built five years back. Best decision I've made. It did wonders for my writing." He chuckled. "Yup, I'm a writer too. Mysteries are my thing, though. That's why your dad puts up with me. I don't really believe his writing is crap. It's just friendly banter, you see."
"I see, " I said, literally and figuratively. I saw the mound between his legs. His bulge had always been visible but now it was more fully revealed. "I need to use the bathroom. Do you mind?" I blurted out.
"Help yourself, son. I'll heat up some soup."
I stood over the toilet and jacked off, imagining how big his cock and balls must be to create such a mound. Mine were bigger than average, a good size. Somehow I had to see him naked, I thought, as I once again filled my cupped hand with cum and ate it.
When I came out of the bathroom, Jim called me to eat in the living room. I sat down on the sofa and started on the chicken noodle soup, apparently from a can. Jim was sitting in a recliner, angled toward the sofa, in front of the fireplace with his mug of soup. I darted glances at him when he wasn't looking my way. His shaved head glistened in the light. His green eyes would look out contentedly through the windows. He kept his moustache and beard short but not too short to be bristly. High cheekbones, wide and full lips, strong chin...I wanted to kiss him. His lightly haired arms were thick and muscular. He probably played football in his younger days. Now, chopping wood kept his upper body strong. Seated, bare feet on the hardwood floor, all of his lower body strained against the fabric of his jeans. I had to stop looking before...
"You alright, son?" Jim was looking straight at me. "You're looking at me mighty strangely."
"Sorry, didn't mean to be rude." I didn't know what else to say.
"Don't mind. I was hoping you'd be a little more straightfoward. I'm not very good at making advances." Was that hope I was seeing in his eyes? He was hoping I'd hit on him!
"I...I didn't...uh..think you...you know," I stammered, hoping he would finish the sentence for me. But he kept quiet. "I didn't think you were gay."
His eyes never wavered from mine. "Well, I'm not, I guess. Never looked on a man with desire...before."