Live Again

Craig was studying for his finals when the front door opened and slammed shut. He felt the floor vibrate through his bare feet a split second before his books shook on the dining table. He sighed and closed his big blue eyes, running his curved fingers through his long blond locks. Though he could feel his step-father's heavy steps stomping ever closer, he kept his head bowed and eyes closed.

"Fuckin' day!" his step-father, Nate, proclaimed as he stomped past the dining table, reeking of grease and sweat. He grabbed a couple of cans of cold beer from the fridge and stomped past again, dumping himself onto the couch.

"Must you walk like a dinosaur?" Craig muttered through gritted teeth. "I was studying for my finals."

"It's my fuckin' house!" Nate roared. "I had a lousy day! Gimme a break!" He chugged his first can of beer and scowled sullenly as he popped open the second can.

Craig choked back his angry retort. He wanted to speak candidly with Nate about their feelings, but his step-father always shied away from such talk. It had been three years since Craig's mother, Nancy, had been killed in a car accident during an ice storm. Instead of grieving and then moving on with life, Nate had turned sour and withdrawn. As a sixteen-year-old teenager at the time of his mother's death, Craig had received comfort and guidance from his aunt and grandparents. Nate had only his step-son, from whom he had closed himself off.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day, Nate. Why don't you take a hot shower while I make you a burger the way you like it?"

"With fries?" Nate asked eagerly, pausing from his drinking.

"Sure."

Nate bolted up the stairs for the bathroom, barely shaking the floor. It was a startling sight for Craig. His step-father's bulky figure and general state of mild inebriation made it hard to grasp such alacrity and soft-footedness. Nate had once been lean and athletic, but years of married life, hard labor and repressed sorrow had taken a toll on his fitness. He had grown barrel-chested with a round beer belly. His handsome face that used to light up with joy and melt the hearts of men and women was now ruined by a perpetual scowl. It seemed lately that only food, beer and loud music were his only sources of pleasure.

Craig pushed himself to his feet, feeling suddenly old and weary. He shuffled over to the fridge to pull out the patties he had made earlier. He laid them down on the counter and stared blankly at them, momentarily lost in thought.

Somehow I have to make him understand, he thought as he snapped out of his ruminations to focus on the task at hand.

They sat across from each other while eating their burgers. Nate chased down his burger and fries with more beer, contentedly rubbing his bared gut and unmindful of the open fly of his boxers.

"Nate, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Craig said, shifting in his seat. "A couple of my friends are planning to rent an apartment and they've asked me to join them."

"You wanna?" Nate blurted hoarsely.

"Well, it may be for the best. I'll have to get a job, but I think I can handle that. You won't have to support me financially. You'll have your house to yourself. And, who knows, you might even consider dating again."

"So you're movin' out for my benefit?"

"We both need to move on, Nate. My being around to remind you of my mother hasn't done you any good."

"You move out and suddenly I'm bursting with enthusiasm for life?"

"Stop it, Nate. Your sarcasm isn't helping. It's been three years since mom died and you're no better now than back then. I just thought that maybe my absence may help you start living again."

A long silence followed Craig's words. Nate turned his gaze down. His wide chest and belly heaved with deep breaths. When he spoke, his words were muffled and strained with emotion.

"You're the only good thing in my life, Craig."

Nate struggled to breathe. His lungs seemed to have forgotten how to inflate. He envisioned himself coming home and not having Craig around. He had dreaded those few nights when Craig had slept over at a friend's or a date's place and he had sat in the dark with his misery and the television as his only companions. To be all alone day after day and night after night was too painful to contemplate.

"I don't wanna be alone," he croaked.

Craig reached out his arms to enfold his step-father in a comforting embrace, hesitated a second, and then withdrew his arms. Nate had never been one to receive an embrace from another man. His blue eyes tearing up, Craig said, "You don't have to be alone, Nate. You can hang out with your friends. Go to the bar. Go bowling. You used to love bowling. In time you'll be ready to date. And I'll visit as often as I can. The apartment is only a couple of miles away."

Nate shook his round head side to side, his eyes still cast downward. His choked voice and gasping breath were hard for Craig to bear. Nate forced air into his lungs and steeled himself.

"Do what you feel you need to, Craig. I'll be fine."

He pushed back the chair with his sturdy legs and stood up. He turned away and began trudging toward the stairs, his steps slow as though he were making his way through deep mud. Craig glared at Nate's broad backside.

"Don't turn your back to me!" Craig cried out in anger. "If I'm the only good thing in your life, why do you keep closing yourself off from me? Talk to me, damn it!"

"There's nothin' to talk about," Nate replied, stopping without turning around. "You have a life to live. Forget about me."

"Nate, how can I forget about you?" Craig asked in exasperation. He rose to his feet and took long strides with his wiry legs to stand in front of Nate. Crouching down a couple of inches so he may face his step-father eye-to-eye, he whispered, "Don't you know how feel about you, Nate? I've had a crush on you since I was twelve. You were so handsome and funny and you always made time to play with me. I'm not a kid anymore and what I feel for you is more than a crush. I love you, Nate. I could never forget about you."

"Then why do you wanna leave me?" Nate whined like a child. His dark eyes were moist and his thick, wide lips trembled.

"I don't want to leave you. But we could never have the kind of relationship that I want. And you need to make the necessary effort to live again. Reconnect with your friends. Date. Have sex. Without me around, you'll get tired of being alone."

"Who'd date a fat, boring, self-employed auto mechanic with a receding hairline and who always smells of grease? Even my friends couldn't stand being around me."

"Can you blame them, Nate? You've been exceedingly morose the last three years. They understood that you were hurting but as the months past ... well, you know."

They stood in awkward silence, a burly man in his mid-forties and his tall, athletic step-son, bound together by the love and grief for the woman who had been the central figure in both their lives. Unselfconsciously, Nate nodded his head slightly as he considered Craig's words.

"You're right, Craig. This isn't what Nancy would have wanted. She would have kicked me in the butt if she saw me like this." He closed his eyes for a few seconds, mustering up his courage, and said as he re-opened them, "What do I do? Help me."

Craig made no move to stop the tears of relief forming in his eyes. "That's a good start," he said with a sigh and wrapped his arms around Nate's broad torso without thinking. He laid his smooth cheek against a shoulder and let his weary mind rest.

Nate trembled in Craig's embrace, breathing deeply the clean scent of the long hair brushing against his neck and face. Where young flesh touched his own, long deprived of human contact, he felt a growing warmth, thawing him from his bitter chill. He couldn't help feeling more alive. The embrace electrified him, emotionally and physically. His breathing deepened, grew insistent, and his manhood awakened from a state of disuse and rose through the fly of the boxers. Only when the head of his growing penis pressed against Craig's inner thigh did Nate jump back and break free of the embrace.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, mortified. "I haven't been touched in so long. I ... What are you doing?"

He could have stopped Craig, but he watched in fascination as his step-son dropped to his knees and opened his mouth. Nate felt his throbbing cock engulfed in a warm, moist mouth, a velvety tongue licking around the sensitive head, and became re-acquainted with a pleasure he had thought forever lost to him. He stared down at the soft, pink lips moving along the long shaft of his cock. It was a beautiful sight in its own right, but when Craig, his mouth full, looked up with clear blue eyes beaming with love and joy, Nate was overcome and burst out in a full-bodied orgasm. He had always been a heavy shooter, his cock spouting a fountain of semen, but he was at a new level now, filling Craig's mouth with voluminous high-pressure shots, forcing the young man to back off and take the wet blows against his face.

"Heaven help me!" Nate gasped, doubling over when the shots ceased. He laughed uncontrollably, a deep resonant laugh, his gut shaking. He felt simply wonderful. His entire body tingled and tickled .

Before his step-father had a chance to descend from his euphoria, Craig jumped to his feet, took hold of Nate's calloused hand, and quickly led him up the stairs. By the side of his own bed, Craig released Nate's hand and stripped himself of his t-shirt, jeans and briefs. He pulled out a bottle from the nightstand and began working lube into his anus with his fingers. Nate observed his step-son with mounting excitement, too horny to really understand what he was about to do. The light from the hallway cast a rectangular swath across the bedroom and lit Craig's body, a swimmer's body, sleek and well formed. His wide upper torso tapered to a narrow waist where his hips flared out slightly to the sides and his firm buttocks bowed out big and round.

Craig climbed onto his low bed and, spreading his knees, presented his lubed ass to Nate. The man couldn't help himself. His cock was painfully hard and needy despite the powerful orgasm just minutes before. The young man's ass was wide open, the crack and sphincter glistening in the light. Nate eyed the smooth roundness of Craig's ass and disregarded the pendulous testicles hanging low. He thrust forward, piercing the hole in one smooth lunge, and moaned deeply. Craig cried out lustfully, his anus well stretched from frequent use.

Nate couldn't think. His need was too great. The body receiving his thrusts could have been a soulless and sexless mound of flesh–it could have been his own flesh-and-blood son–he was oblivious to such distinctions. It was flesh, warm and soft, and that's all that mattered to him. His pudgy hands, rough with callouses, groped the flesh. He kissed and licked it. He drove his hard cock into the flesh, fast and furious, gasping and moaning with the sensations that blinded his judgement.

He had no interest in having another orgasm. It would have only forced upon him an early end to his pleasures. Nate pushed the flesh farther onto the bed and spread his stout frame over it, pressing the flesh into the mattress. His robust legs, blanketed with dark hair, rubbed against smooth, slender legs. His pudgy fingers entwined with long, nimble fingers. He panted his hot, heady breath against narrow shoulders and nape. His wide, fleshy chest and belly caressed the flesh's back. His ample ass, also covered with dark hair, heaved and bunched as he gratified his need for a more intimate contact with flesh.

Nate fucked for a good while. Had he not been so loud and preoccupied with his own gratification, he may have heard Craig's muffled cries as he stained his bed. Craig whimpered each time Nate thrust into him, the man's big cock bludgeoning the nerves in his anus and forcing his own cock to rub against the cum-soaked portion of the bed. Craig held on, biting into his pillow, loving every minute of being fucked by his step-father and not wanting to pass out from too much stimulation.

Both men were thoroughly fatigued by the time Nate emptied his nuts into Craig's ass. Nate rolled off and pulled Craig into his beefy arms. Their heavy breathing relaxed gradually until sleep overtook them.

It was still dark when Nate woke up, awareness returning groggily from deep slumber. Soft hair, smelling faintly of lavender, tickled his face. A body lay against him, enfolded in his arms and legs, and breathing deeply yet quietly. Then he became aware of an unfamiliar stiffness, unyielding and mildly aching, rising up from his crotch and pressing into curved flesh. He hadn't woken up with a morning wood since Nancy had died.

The body was so warm, firm with sinewy muscles but soft-skinned. Nate luxuriated in the pleasure of not waking up to find himself all alone. In his grogginess, he couldn't quite recall where he was–it definitely wasn't his own bed–nor who he held in his arms. But as the fog cleared from his mind he remembered.

He nearly bit his tongue to clamp down his cry of horror. Nate quietly, gingerly, untangled himself from Craig and tiptoed into his own bedroom, holding his gut to stave off the vomit. He shut the door to his room, rushed to the adjoining bathroom, shut that door, and doubled over the toilet. Nate emptied his guts but couldn't empty himself of the self-revulsion and guilt.

"What have I done!" he cried softly to himself, again and again.

Nate showered and scoured his body roughly with a washcloth. He couldn't stop sobbing. No matter how hard and how much he scrubbed, he felt dirty and perverted. In his mind, what he had done was tantamount to raping his own son. The truth that Craig had instigated the sex was irrelevant. Craig may legally be an adult, but he was still just a boy in Nate's mind, Nancy's boy, his beloved, late wife's son. Nate had used him, forced his heavy body upon a weaker, younger boy. He believed this, and his belief fueled his self-hatred.

He threw on some clothes and rushed out of the house while it was still dark outside. A heavy sleeper, Craig wouldn't wake up for another couple of hours. Nate drove to his auto shop and busied himself for the remainder of the day. He couldn't afford to allow any time for his mind to wander to the events of the previous evening. He worked beyond his shop's official closing time, too afraid to go home and face the victim of his perversion. He ate at a diner and rented a motel room. Nate lay awake on the over-used mattress, whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His cell phone lay turned off by his side.

He couldn't avoid Craig for long. The young man cornered Nate at the auto shop the next day.

"What happened to you, Nate? I was up all night worried about you. I kept calling you, but it kept going to voicemail."

Nate kept his distance, shuffling backwards away from Craig. His eyes roamed everywhere except where Craig filled his field of vision.

"I worked late. I promised a client his car would be ready this morning. I didn't finish the job last night, so I slept at the motel across the street to get it done first thing this morning. Craig, I'm really busy so I can't talk right now. Okay?"

"Alright, but we'll talk tonight. Promise?"

"I don't know, Craig. It's been crazy here."

"You'll come home, have dinner with me, and we'll talk. Tonight! Promise me!"

"Craig, I can't –"

"Promise!" Craig shouted, taking quick steps to bridge the gap between them, cornering Nate.

Nate craned his neck away and rolled his eyes upward to avoid meeting Craig's eyes. "I promise," he yielded.

Come 7 pm he stood nervously before the front door of his house. He didn't make promises lightly and he strived always to keep the few promises he made. "God help me," he pleaded before entering. Craig greeted him immediately and instructed him to shower. Nate complied and returned to the dining table fully clothed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. They ate their maple-glazed salmon with small salads in silence. He sat nursing his beer on the couch while Craig cleaned up the kitchen.

"Alright, Nate. Let's talk about what happened two nights ago," Craig said as he strolled around the side of the couch and sat down next to Nate.

"Nothing happened," Nate blurted.

"Something most definitely did–"

"Nothing happened!" Nate cried out, jumping to his feet. "I'm tired. Thank you for the dinner. It was very good. I'm going to bed." He marched up the stairs, mentally chanting, "Nothing happened."

The next few nights were similar. Craig tried to steer the conversation to what was in his mind one of the most wonderful events of his life, but Nate either carefully evaded the topic or bluntly killed it. Worse yet, Nate diligently avoided any physical contact with Craig.

Frustrated and hurt, Craig stormed up to his room after another failed attempt to draw his step-father out. He sat on his bed in a dark mood, unable to understand how Nate could deny that something so beautiful and intimate had ever happened. He wanted Nate ... too badly to be able to put himself in Nate's shoes. He could not think past his own desires. A blatant and yet non-aggressive method was required with Nate, he decided after pondering for an hour. He could not force the man.

His step-father climbed the stairs a couple of hours after Craig had gone to his room. A ceiling lamp lit the upstairs hallway with a pale yellow light. Nate stopped a few steps short of Craig's room, troubled by the open door: Craig had never left his door open in the past. He resolved to walk past without looking but couldn't stop himself from glancing in. Instantly, he had an erection. His heart beat painfully in his chest.

Craig lay naked on his bed. His smooth body, unmoving and dimly golden in the wan light from the hallway, beckoned to Nate, who moved unawares into the room. Nate stood over the still form. The long legs were spread apart. Two perfectly round buns rose high and teasingly exposed the treasure lying between them. Still not aware of himself, Nate slid his thick index finger into the cleft and moaned when he felt wet lube. He lost all self-control then. He stripped himself bare in seconds and mounted the body, penetrating the lubed hole with his drooling cock.

Craig gasped and sighed when he felt Nate enter his body. The man's heavy body crushed him, but he loved it. His step-father fucked him mercilessly, driven by a need the man couldn't control. Craig cried joyfully as Nate touched and kissed his arms, shoulders and neck. He wanted to turn his head and join his lips with Nate's but feared the old man would balk. He chose to remain still and enjoy the ride.

For an hour Nate ravished his step-son's ass, panting and moaning loudly in the young man's ear. Twice, with strangled gasps, he hosed Craig's anus with his thick cream. Craig could feel the semen pour out from his anus as Nate's cock slid in and out. He had been ready for his own orgasm for a while, but it was the sensation of Nate's hot semen sliding down from his anus and onto his balls that tipped him over the edge. Craig unloaded onto his bed, his panting mouth spread wide into a smile.

Nate lay exhausted on top of Craig but not for long. Awareness returned to him. "I'm so sorry!" he cried out and bolted for his room.

Craig pursued him and pounded on Nate's door. "Please, Nate! Open the door! You have no reason to be sorry! I wanted it! I needed it!" he shouted again and again. Nate didn't respond. "Nate, I love you! Please don't shut me out like this!"

Eventually, he stumbled back to his room, shut the door, and fell crying on his bed.

The next several days were awkward. Neither knew how to act around the other. Nate was more withdrawn and sullen than ever before. He brushed away any attempt from Craig to engage in conversation. Craig castigated himself for seducing his step-father. He believed the old man hated him. Nate only hated himself, blamed himself for his lack of self-control and somehow enticing an innocent young man. Craig was Nancy's son, after all; he was a good boy, not a seductive incubus..