Daddy Knows Best
Daddy Knows Best
MY FIRST SUMMER BACK
"Why aren't you out there with the other guys?"
I snapped out of my daydream and turned my head towards the voice.
Mr. McAllister stood in the doorway bare chested, his sweaty gym shirt tossed over his left shoulder. His 6'4" frame looked even bulkier in the narrow door that connected his family room to the garage, which his four kids used as a hangout during the warm and healthy summer months.
At forty-five years old he maintained his boyish charm, which was coupled with a burly manliness. He'd been my crush growing up, and while away at college, he'd become one of my main jerk-off fantasies.
"Ah, I don't know," I replied. "I'm just thinking about stuff. Thinking about high school. And, well-going back to Brown."
He tossed his shirt into the hamper across the room then made his way to the other side of the garage, where he opened the running dryer and pulled out a fresh one. He pulled it over his head and let out a sigh. Then he came and sat next to me.
"You know," he said, "Bradley told me about your announcement last semester. I'm proud of you."
"Bradley told you? Or you heard it at some cocktail party?"
"You're right-a cocktail party," he said with a laugh.
At eighteen, I was pretty familiar with how things worked in my hometown of Warwick, even though I'd been out of Pennsylvania for the majority of the past year. The announcement was my coming out during the first few weeks of freshman year. I let my parents know first, then my friends, and the news quickly swept through the town.
"They say you can tell when someone is gay, but I didn't know with you," he added after a moment's silence. He adjusted his position, putting his right arm on the back of the couch we were sharing. He wasn't that close, but I felt my heart race.
"You didn't? I mentioned it in my graduation speech," I joked. "I suppose I was right when I believed no one was listening."
Mr. McAllister left out a hearty laugh as he tossed his sandy blond hair out of his eyes and put his arm on my shoulder.
"Just have fun with it, buddy. That's what college is all about ..." His voice trailed off, as if he'd wanted to say something else but had stopped himself.
I felt uneasy. His hand gripping my shoulder was making me uncomfortable-mostly because my cock was starting to grow and I was wearing gym shorts. I thought about that night a week before I left for college when I walked in on Mr. McAllister stroking his cock in front of the TV in the basement.
It was around 2:00 a.m. Bradley was blackout drunk and slumped over in his room. I was merely tipsy as I crept down to the third or fourth stair and glanced around the corner. There was Mr. McAllister with his navy dress pants around his ankles and his white oxford unbuttoned all the way. His tie was on the sofa next to him and his eyes were fixed on the screen. I wasn't sure where Mrs. McAllister was, but I didn't care.
His legs were arched and his hairy chest dripped with sweat as, for whatever reason, there was no air conditioner in the basement. The TV's volume was so low I could hear every moan and whimper he made as his left hand vigorously jerked his nine-inch cock that was thick and full of veins.
"Huh?" Mr. McAllister's voice snapped me back to the present. "Sorry. I guess the heat is making me spacey ..."
"Well, that's one thing I remember from your high school days," he said with a laugh, "you were always daydreaming!"
"Aaron, what the fuck are you doing?" Bradley was yelling from the backyard.
I got up, walked to the opposite side of the room, and screamed back through the open window. "I'll be right out!"
"Dude, we're all going to Amelia's. Call your mom and see if you can stay over. No homo, though!"
While Bradley knew I