Returning home, I couldn't help but wonder what Shiro meant in his journal. I understood his desire for me to take his virginity, a pleasure I wanted to give him, but what could possibly repulse me about Shiro?
I passed out after drinking more Jack Daniels and dreamed about Shiro's oversized Japanese body under mine.
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The next day, at 11:45 a.m.....
I was startled from a deep sleep by the ringing sound of the main gate alarm. My cell phone also rang, and I looked at the monitor before I answered the phone.
Looking back at me on the monitor's screen was none other than Matthew. Over the intercom, he said, "Dad. Open the damn gate. Why isn't my code working?"
I didn't reply or answer the phone; I only remotely opened the gate. Then, I crawled out of bed and walked to the shower, scratching my dick and balls.
The shower in our bathroom is excellent, with an original waterfall shower head, double wall-mounted shower heads, in-wall jets, marble walls, and a stone-like tiled floor. The shower space is roughly 6 feet by 8 feet, with no door and a half wall with glass on top, reaching the ceiling; it is an open space in the left corner of our very large master bathroom.
Standing under the hot water, covered in Old Spice Soap, the suds running down my body, Matthew walks in and asks, "What the hell is up with you? Angel called. He said you spent all of yesterday in the bed, and it's noon now, and you haven't even checked in at the barn for work. Did you just now get out of the fucking bed?"
"Checked in? Me check in for work at the barn? I own the Mother Fucker! I hired his ass to be Foreman! Fuck him! Does he have a problem doing his damn job? What the fuck? And what else did the little bitch do other than call your ass and bitch about me?"
I turn, letting the water run down my back, and face Matthew, who is leaning against the opening to the shower. We stared at each other in the eye for a minute or two before he replied, "Yes. He called me, but not to bitch about you. He called because he is concerned about you. To be honest, from what he said and what I see, I am too."
"From what you see? From what you see? What the fuck do you see?" I asked.
In one quick motion, Matthew kicked off both boots, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and, putting a thumb on each side of his jeans, also on the elastic of his briefs, pushed his pants and underwear down and off, removing his socks, then pulled the tee-shirt over his head as he moved towards me.
In outstretched arms, he embraced me in a hug, and I felt myself falling into his arms.
For at least five minutes, we stood under the running hot water in a close embrace, our dicks rubbing against each other, hot water running down and off of our cock heads onto the tile, before he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Still in his embrace, feeling the strong muscles of his masculine body, I said, "No." But in reality, I did. I started telling him everything from the first Saturday in May with Tyler walking into the New Barn, how Jacob waited in the Club House, to the gummies, and even Angel's role in the situation.
"I am full of guilt, Matthew. I have so many secrets, and I've told so many lies to your Mom and your sisters. I was lying to you and your brother." I stepped back a step from Matthew, but he took a step forward, staying only inches from my wet body. "I've lied about Angel. The weekend in Oklahoma with the three of them. The secrets and lies are a burden on me."
"Dad. This family is full of secrets. Nothing is your fault, no more than anyone else. I kept secrets from you. Michael did, also. I have another secret I'm keeping from you. Please, Dad. Please. Listen to me. Let's go to the bedroom. I have a lot to tell you."
As I turned off the water, Matthew retrieved our towels. We dried off, but staying nude, we went into the bedroom and climbed into the king-size bed, propping up against the pillows and headboard.
"Dad, do you remember the multiple personalities of Grandaddy Daniels during his dementia years?" Matthew asked.
"Yes. But what does that..."
"Everything," Matthew said, interrupting me. "When it was my time to sit with him, I was his brother, Jim. When Michael sat with him, he was you. Other times he just told stories, about his dad, his life as a kid, his brother. Whatever. Talking to me as if he didn't even know me."
"Ok. Go on."
"When we were alone, when Grandmother would go out to do her errands and such, Grandaddy and I 69'ed just as he and Jim did when they were together for years on end. He would call me Jim and say how we needed to be careful, that Grandpa couldn't catch "us" or Grandpa would punish them, crazy ass shit talk. A lot of it I didn't understand. And Michael, well, he was you. Grandaddy and I had consequential sex, but Grandaddy raped Michael, calling him Dean. Grandaddy would say you were a bad boy and needed to be punished by sucking his dick! He was as mean to Michael as he was nice to me, but calling Michael, who was "Dean" in his head, a fucked up brat who needed punishment!"
"I. I. I don't know what to say. Dad never did anything sexual to me. I mean, he was always naked, walked around nude, that big ole dick swinging, but never once..."
"Yes. I know. Or so I figured. But Grandaddy told me about him and his Dad. Your Grandmother passed during your Dad's birth, right? And Jim was only eleven months old?"
I nodded my head.