Diary of a Teenage Hunk 19 (mm)
by Peterbilt
Brandon Confronts His Dad
Brandon sat gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white, his eyes fixed on the red Silverado. He finally guided his shaking hand to turn off the key. It took him a moment to gain his composure and drive back the awful thoughts that were creeping into his head. What the fuck is happening! This isn't happening. It's all a nightmare. He went inside and turned off the porch light. His breath came hard as he went into the living room. His Dad was flipping channels.
"Did you buy a new truck?" he asked. He had to force the words out and hoped they weren't as shaky as they felt.
"Yeah, you like it?"
"It's a beauty."
"I was waiting on you, thought we might go get something to eat and give you a chance to drive it," his Dad said as he turned off the TV. He leaned up and reached around the end of the couch. "Bought new work boots too. Didn't need 'em but they just seemed to go with the truck."
Brandon froze and he could almost feel the color draining from his face. The boots! He had not paid particular attention to them but he had seen those boots through the hole, sitting against the wall when the man had taken off his clothes. Then came the clincher as he watched his Dad pulling on the boots. His ring!...the same black onyx ring on the hand that reached through and pulled his face to the hole. His stomach felt queezy as he realized.....Ohh, Godd, I sucked my own Dad! It was his own Dad's sperm swimming in his stomach.
"You feeling okay, Son?"
"No, actually, I don't. That's the reason I'm home so early. If we could do it another time, Dad...I just want to go to bed."
"All right, another time."
Brandon didn't make the final entry in his diary. He started to but he had already been entertaining thoughts of going to his Dad about everything, even possibly letting him read the diary, and he couldn't let him read that. His nerves were on edge. He couldn't eat or sleep. He knew his Dad would listen, but he couldn't be sure of his reaction. He knew his Dad would eventually ask what was bothering him and he didn't know what he would say.
He woke up on Saturday morning still pondering what had kept him awake for the past several nights. He got up and slipped on a pair of shorts and went downstairs. His Dad was at the stove, making breakfast.
"I was just going to wake you," he said. "You wanta pour the orange juice?"
"I've been awake for a while," Brandon said. He hitched up his briefs and went to the refrigerator. "All night, in fact."
"I know something's been bothering you. What's the trouble? That's not like you," his Dad said
Brandon didn't answer him. He poured the juice then sat at his side of the table that sat in front of the window.
"Nothing you wanta talk about, huh?" his Dad said.
"I want to, but...it's hard."
Paul turned from the stove with the skillet in his hand. He had a worried scowl on his face as he served the eggs and sausage onto the plates. "If it's that hard to talk about, then it's something you need to talk about," he said.
"I know I do."
"Well, I'm not going to pry it out of you, but when you're ready....."
"I know. In my own time," Brandon said.
"Just remember, I'll be leaving tomorrow night for a couple of weeks."
"I know." Suddenly, Brandon got up and went out the back door. He walked out to the garage and got his diary.
"Well, I'll bet that gave the neighbors a thrill, walking out there in your shorts," Paul said.
Brandon didn't respond. He sat back down. "I think I've got a problem, Dad."
Paul scowled again. "What kind of problem?"
Brandon rose up and laid the diary beside his Dad's plate. "It's all in there."
"What's this?" Paul asked, laying his hand on the diary but he didn't pick it up.
"It's a diary. Please don't read it right now," Brandon said.
"All right." He pushed the diary aside.
There was an uncomfortable silence as they ate.
"So, you don't want to talk about what's bothering you till I read this, is that it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Uh-oh."
"What?" Brandon asked.
"You called me sir, that doesn't bode well."
"I don't know, Dad, how it bodes," Brandon said.
Bandon didn't finish his breakfast. He excused himself and went upstairs to get dressed. As he went back through the kitchen he said, "I've got a couple of things I have to do. I'll be back." He didn't look at his Dad, but walked out to his truck.
He didn't really have anything he had to do except get out of the house and away from his father. He drove out to state park and followed the winding road to the cove, a heavily wooded area overlooking the small, secluded lake. He parked and got out and walked down to the dock. It was seldom used nowadays, and it was green with moss. He walked out to the end of the dock and sat down, dangling his legs over the edge, and gazed into the still water. He wished he hadn't given the diary to his Dad. He pictured him reading it, and tried to imagine his reaction. He sat for more than hour, staring off into the still water. He wondered if a good swimmer could drown himself.
When he left the cove he drove around the park, tracing nearly every road he could find. When he left the park he drove aimlessly around the countryside. His mind didn't seem to be working; he couldn't hold onto a thought, and when he did grab hold of a thought he quickly let go of it.
Old familiar places drew him back, for what reason or purpose, he didn't know, and he didn't linger at any of them. It was mid afternoon before he stopped at the truck stop for lunch. He was hungry, but when his order came he picked at his food, and finally left much of it.
Out on the highway again a tiny voice told him to keep on driving, don't look back, leave it all behind. He listened to the voice till he had to pull in for gas. When he left the station he headed back in the direction of home, facing the dusk left by the setting sun.
His Dad was in bed when he got home. He grabbed a snack then went upstairs to shower. He took his time under the warm spray, stalling, but when he turned it off all the anxieties came back. He almost chickened out, but there was the open door to his Dad's bedroom that he had to walk past, beckoning him. Finally he walked down the hall and stood in the doorway, holding the towel around his waist. His Dad laid aside the diary he was reading.
"You've been gone a long time," Paul said.
"Yeah. I, uh....needed to think."
"I was worried you wouldn't come back."
"I almost didn't," Brandon said. "You're still reading?" he asked, nodding to the diary.
"Actually, I just started. I started to read the Mall entry and decided to wait till we talked. I can read as we go if we think it's necessary or beneficial. But I think we should talk first."
Brandon nodded, surprised, and he didn't understand why his Dad had waited. He was somehow relieved that he hadn't read the whole thing.
"Brandon, there's something wrong," Paul said.
"Yeah, Dad, there is."
"Well?"
"I think I need help," Brandon said.
"For what? What's wrong?" his Dad asked with a worried look.
Brandon couldn't answer at first.
"What's up? Are you in some kind of trouble? You know you can talk to me about anything, Son."
"Yes, sir, I am, sort of...in two ways."
"What? What's happened?"
Brandon heard the deep concern in the man's voice and he hated himself for having to tell him.
"I haven't been arrested or anything. It's nothing like that."
"Then what?"
"I...I think I might be a sex addict." It wasn't what he intended to say but it was what came out. He couldn't even remember what he wanted to say.
Paul laughed softly. "All eighteen-year-olds are sex addicts," he said. "And forty-year-olds wish they were."
It was Brandon's turn to laugh. "You don't have any problem with that," he scoffed.
"That's a pretty unusual concern for a boy your age. What makes you think that?"
"Well, you know I'm sexually active."
"I assumed so. I was going to talk to you about that."
"You were?"
"Yes, just to be sure you're taking care of yourself."
"I am. But it's beyond that. I'm super active. I can't get enough. I think about it all the time."
"That's not so unusual either. If it's thinking about sex every six or eight seconds, that's perfectly normal for your age. And that won't change much. Hell, I still think about it every twelve seconds," Paul said, laughing.
"Don't try to shit me, Dad, you do more than think about it," Brandon said. "No, it's not that I think about it so often, which I do...I act on it."
"Not every six or eight seconds," Paul said.
"No, but every chance I get. It's a constant for me. Every waking moment is how and when and where it's going to happen next."
"And the who?" Paul asked.
"The who is....well, it just seems to all come together, the how, who, when and were. I don't really go looking for it, it comes looking for me, and it's everywhere, but I go to where it can find me. Dad, I've lost count. I'm just eighteen years old and I've lost count of all the times I've had sex."
"Well, that's sort of understandable, isn't it? I mean, look at you. You are a bit of a stud. I can see how you would have girls, even women, come on to you."
"But I should be able to say no, and walk away, at least sometimes."
"Is there a reason why you feel you should? Some need for self control? Listen, you don't have anyone pregnant, do you?"
"No, sir, you can be certain of that," Brandon said, looking down, away from his Dad's penetrating eyes.
"Well, I'm glad you're protecting yourself."
"It's not just that. And it's not what you would think or expect of me. You haven't read the mall entry, have you?"
"No."
"Well, I'm...they...my sex partners aren't...all girls or women." That brought a different expression to his Dad's face, one of concern and worry.
"Oh? Other...men?...or boys?"
"Yes. I've had sex with guys, too," he said.
"Why don't you sit down, Son," Paul said, moving over on the bed.
Brandon sat on the edge of the bed, shoving the diary out of the way.
"How much sex with guys? How often?" Paul asked, as if suddenly realizing the possible seriousness of the situation.
"Lately, more often than with girls," he replied.
"And how often, in general?"
"Four, five times a week, sometimes more."
"Well, I doubt that's so unusual for a guy your age, except if most of the time it's with other guys. Where do you meet up with these guys? And are they other boys your age, or older men?"
Brandon nodded to the diary. "That'll probably answer most of your questions. All ages. The first time at the mall was an older. We went out to my truck. I was so blown away by that first time, then after the second time, or the third, I started keeping the diary."
"You know, a diary is probably not a good idea, if you're writing down details," Paul said.
"Maybe not, but it'll help you see how far I've sunk."
"Don't put it that way, Brandon. Son, it's easy to imagine guys of that persuasion coming on to you. As long as you don't......"
Brandon held up his hand, looking down. "Don't say it, Dad. Just read the diary. Then we need to decide if I need help." He picked up the diary and handed it to his Dad.
Paul took the diary, opened it and started reading.
"It's not a lot of detail, just the highlights," Brandon said.
Paul began reading. He didn't say anything or look up for a very long time. "My God, Son," he said quietly at one point, still without looking up.
"I'll be right back," Brandon said, and left the bedroom. He went out to his truck got the video from behind the seat. That had to come out too. He went back upstairs and laid the sack with the video on the floor beside the bed.
"Do you think you're gay, Son?" Paul asked when Brandon returned to his bedroom.
"I know I'm not the totally straight, normal son you thought you had."
"Son, I never set any parameters for your sexuality. That's not my job. Or yours, for that matter. You are who you are. I love you no matter what."
"Hold that thought, till you know the full what." He said as sat on the edge of the bed.
His Dad continued reading. Brandon sat and watched his expressions. At one point, many pages into it, he paused and looked up.
"There's a lot to read."
"But you get the idea," Brandon said.
Paul nodded.
"There's more, I'm afraid."
"Another diary?" Paul asked.
"No. Worse. I wasn't going to bring this up, didn't think I would have the courage, but I have to. Tell me, have you ever had a blowjob, Dad?"
"Yes," he replied hesitantly with a curious frown.
"Have you ever gotten a blowjob at the video store outside of town?"
"Yes, I have on occasion."
"Yes, I know you have. I just gave you one a few hours ago."
There was silence so deafening that it reverberated against the walls.
"Brandon...no.....:" His voice was suddenly weak, as if he couldn't find the air to speak.
Brandon went on to explain how he knew it was him. It was sad the way his Dad just stared down at the diary. "That's how far I've come," he finished. "Well, not really," he added quickly.
"What do you mean?"
He reached down and got the video and handed it his dad. The man's face was pale and blank.
"You're...doing porn?"
"Not intentionally. I went to this guy's motel room and he had cameras set up. I got caught up in it and told him he could turn them on. He told me I could have all the copies, and I took them, from all three cameras. He obviously had sophisticated equipment that made duplicate copies simultaneously, because this one is a compilation of all three."
"Where did you get this one?"
"At the video story. I put it on my charge card, so I would have to tell you eventually."
"Oh...it's on the market, then."
"Yes, I'm scared to death somebody who knows me is going to see it. I think the man at the video store recognized me. He looked at me funny as he was putting it in the bag. I bought this one to get it off the shelves, but he said he would have to order another one. It's only a matter of time before it shows up in the video booths in back. I don't know what to do, Dad. I think I need to leave. Move away. Or maybe join the Marines."
"I don't know about the Marines, Son, if this video ever surfaces......"
"The worst they could do is kick me out. Regardless, I thought I might move away, to California. I don't know if I'm gay or not, but that stuff's pretty common out there."
"It doesn't matter if you're gay, Brandon. You follow your own feelings."
"I could establish a new residence out there. That way they couldn't connect me with you back here at home."
"You don't have to be protect me, Son."
"Yeah, I do. I owe you at least that. I'm so ashamed, Dad. I'm so sorry I've hurt you and disappointed you."
"Have I said you've hurt me or disappointed me?"
"No, sir, but....."
"That's up to me, not you. Right now we're talking about you. That's my biggest concern, my only concern. I think you've got the right idea, about moving somewhere else. I can take some time off and we can go out to California together, find you a place and get you settled in, if you're sure that's where you want to go. Then you can decide if you want to join the Marines. But if I were you, I would go talk to a recruiter and lay it all on the line about the video. Get his advice."
"Dad, I can't tell you how relieved I am over how you're taking this and handling it."
"I'm your Dad. That's my job."
"No, you didn't sign on for this. Fuck, I'm so happy I could cry. Oh....sorry.""
Paul laughed. "You don't need to apologize, I know all the words, and considering......" He held up the video, smiling. "When was the last time you had a good cry?"
"I don't even remember," Brandon said. "I don't even know if I remember how to cry."
"Well, you don't have to cry. You could just crawl in here with me, like you used to, and we could talk."
"Could I? I mean, you wouldn't think I'm being a big baby?"
"Brandon, you're my Son. And you're going to be my son – my boy – no matter how old you are. Besides, you give pretty damned good blowjobs."
"You...you want me to give you another blowjob?"
"Naw, I was just kidding, trying to make light of it. I would never ask you to do that," he scoffed.
"But...somehow, I don't think you wouldn't mind if I did."
"Well, I...I guess...I don't know, maybe I wouldn't try to stop you."
Brandon crawled onto the bed, lying a safe distance from his Dad.
"You didn't write about the last part," Paul said quietly.
"I couldn't. I couldn't bear for you to read it."
"But you told me."
"I had to. It all had to come out."
"You must feel so much better, getting it off your chest," Paul said.
"No, I feel like total shit, for causing you such embarrassment and disappointment."
"Don't, Son. We all make mistakes. You've made some pretty big ones, but we all get past our mistakes."
"How am I going to get past these whoppers?"
"You can start by moving over here where I can hold you and maybe that will help convince you that you're not the huge disappointment you think you are."
Brandon moved over closer to his Dad. Paul put his arm out and pulled him even closer, so their bodies were touching.
"I haven't done this since I was a little boy."
They lay quietly for a long time.
"It was neat, Dad, the way you tried to make light of it. And funny, in a way."
"Neat and funny, but also true," Paul said.
"Listen, Dad, if...if you're really not disappointed in me...you said you wouldn't try to stop me......"
"I will stop you if it's a form of penance," Paul said. "Because you don't owe me anything, Brandon, except your love. And I know I've got that."
"What if I say I want to. Because I love you."
"You're a big boy, able to think for yourself. I wouldn't try to stop you. And I would never rebuff you."
Brandon rose up from his Dad's arm, twisted around on the bed and hovered over his middle. He looked up at the man as he took his cock in his hand. It was pulsating, on its way to hard.
"This is pretty awesome, you know," Brandon said, holding his Dad's cock up. "This is what created me." He was warmed by his Dad's lopsided smile. "This isn't going to be another blowjob. I love you, Dad, so much that right now it hurts. I wanta show you...."