Author's note: You know the drill, if you're too young to read this or if gay sex offends you, how you made it this far is beyond me! Everyone else, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 8: The Knob
Dad could not have possibly barged into my room at a worse time. Me, frozen on my bed, shirtless, coated in jizz, my deflating dick in hand, a photo of Ryan from Facebook on my laptop along with a chat screen open with a fairly naught conversation between the two of us. The bottle of lube on my nightstand. It wasn't difficult to see what had just happened.
"Oops," he said.
"Uhm," I said, looking at him straight-on, unsure what to say in this moment.
"So...we have dessert downstairs, you should join us," Dad continued.
"Oh...kay," I said slowly.
"Yeah," Dad stammered. "Well, gotta go!" He turned around and closed the door behind him.
Well, that was awkward, I thought to myself. I sat still on the bed, hoping I could quickly figure out how to turn back the hands of time. After a few seconds, I realized how futile that effort would be.
I grabbed the oversized shirt that I had worn earlier in the evening and cleaned my stomach and chest up, wiping up anything that hadn't already started to dry. I got up from the bed, walked the shirt over to the hamper, lowered my cum-stained boxers off my body and tossed them into the closet.
Fully naked, but far from aroused, I walked over to the dresser and grabbed a fresh set of underwear and another oversized shirt. The shirt had been a hand-me-down from Dan -- some souvenir shirt from a concert he'd gone to as a teen himself. My underwear choice for the night: A pair of plain white boxer-briefs, nothing too special about them.
I plopped back down on the bed, scooted my back toward the wall, and grabbed the laptop. There were five million messages from Ryan since I'd last sent him something, which I figured to be about five or ten minutes ago.
"So what are you doing tomorrow?" "Hey you there?" "Hellooooo, earth to Jamie?" "Hope you aren't upset or something."
I wrote him back: "Sorry, had to clean up." I left out the part about my dad walking in on me.
By this point, that post-masturbation guilt was starting to set in. Or maybe it was the rational part of my brain turning back on after my dick had released its grasp. A flood of thoughts entered my brain. Oh God, why did Dad have to see that? Did this really just happen with Ryan? Did we take our friendship to another level? Was it too soon? Is this really where I want things to go? Are we now sex buddies or something? Would it have been better if we'd just waited? What if, after a few days, he gets tired of talking with me, because all we talk about is sex? Did I really want that? Again, I was overthinking the situation.
"So you're not pissed off?" Ryan asked.
"Nope," I said. "That was fun. I am kind of tired though." Really, I was just trying to figure out a way to get out of the conversation. I realized how awkward it might sound to use the tired excuse -- I was tired, though -- and I hoped he didn't think I was blowing him off after our little cyber session.
"Heading to bed? It's so early," he wrote.
"Maybe in a few minutes. Have to finish up some stuff on the computer." And by finish up some stuff, I meant go through all of Ryan's photos. There were hundreds of them. He really liked having his photo taken, it seemed. The best ones were, obviously, the ones he'd taken at the beach. There was him wearing a grey tank top and blue board shorts -- the same thing he'd worn earlier in the day to the beach -- and another one of him without his shirt wearing green board shorts -- kind of like Colin was. And then, one that made my heart stop and my dick cum, the one that Dad had seen on my computer -- Ryan standing shirtless in front of the ocean wearing a pair of skimpy Speedos that accentuated the bulge in his front. That photo sent me over the edge. I saved it to my desktop before clicking out of it.
"Well, what are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.
"Not sure," I wrote back. "Will probably catch up on some stuff around the house." There wasn't anything to do around the house, but I thought it'd be lame if I told him I was going to catch up on some coding. "Try to avoid my brother while I'm at it," I added.
"Haha your bro doesn't seem all that bad," Ryan wrote. "He seems cool."
"Try living with him for 14 years," I typed. "You have any siblings?"
"Only child," he wrote back.
"See? You don't understand," I replied.
For several minutes, no response. I wondered where Ryan had gone. Maybe he was just now taking the opportunity to clean himself up. As unlikely as that was -- he almost definitely cleaned up while I was still going at it -- it was fun to think about, him sitting at a desk with his dick in one hand, typing to me with the other, his cum drying on his amazingly hot body.
He broke the silence, avoiding the sibling talk altogether; "So if you want to get together tomorrow, I'm down."
"Maybe," I said in a non-committing way. Part of me wanted to, but I didn't want to come off overly-eager. The other part of me was apprehensive after what happened earlier in the day coupled with what had just taken place a few minutes earlier. "What did you have in mind?"
"You ever been to the surf shop at Park Plaza?" Ryan asked.
"Didn't know there was a surf shop," I replied back.
"Yeah, they sell all sorts of things -- boards, shorts, trunks, you name it. We need to get you some proper beach gear! Haha."
"What's wrong with what I wear now?" I wrote back.
"I think we both know the answer to that, LOL," Ryan typed.
"Doesn't make much difference if I'm going to take them off anyway, right?"
"True, hadn't considered that," Ryan said. "Well, where would you want to meet up?"
"Surf shop is fine, I just don't know where it is."
"On the end. Can you meet me there at noon?"
"Maybe, I'll text you in the morning if I can come."
"Great," Ryan wrote back. "Have a good sleep!"
I closed the laptop and set it on the nightstand. Realizing I'd left the lube out, I quickly put it in the nightstand drawer.
What a day, I thought, as I glanced over at the clock: 8 p.m. I skipped out on Dad's invitation for dessert and threw the covers over me, quickly falling asleep.
I bumbled down the stairs, fully dressed, at around 11:30. I'd decided to meet Ryan after all at Park Plaza, even if I didn't know where the surf shop was. If I leave early enough, I thought, I'll have time to look for it.
Fate, however, had something else in store for me that morning.
I found Dad sitting at the kitchen table typing on his laptop. A door handle in a plastic container was in front of him, a cup of what I presumed to be coffee to his right. He had his reading glasses on, meaning whatever he was doing on the computer, he meant business.
"What are you doing home?" I asked him.
"I could ask you the same thing," he quipped without even looking up.
"Spring break, remember?" I said as I headed for the fridge. Might as well grab some water before I go, I thought.
"Right. Sit down for a second, I want to talk with you."
"Actually, I was just heading out, so..."
"It'll only take a second."
This better not be about yesterday, I thought. But, of course, I knew it was about yesterday. Still, I obliged my father, taking a seat in front of him. This looked familiar, I thought, having flashbacks to yesterday's condom-and-lube discussion that was more a practical joke I wasn't in on.
"So..." he said, looking up from his laptop for the first time.
"So..." I mimicked back.
He grabbed the door handle off the table. "This is for you."
"What is it?"
"Consolation gift. After yesterday, I figured this was the best way to apologize for barging into your room."
"Dad, it's okay, really," I said, my tone suggesting very strongly that, while I knew perfectly well he knew, and while I knew he was going to say everything was okay and what I was doing was perfectly natural, I definitely did not want to talk about it. Not here, not now, probably never.
"No, it's not okay," Dad said. "You're growing up. And whether you think you might need it now, you're definitely going to want your privacy. So, here it is. Your privacy."
"Um, Dad, this is a doorknob."
"I know that," Dad said. "I was the one who bought it last night from the hardware store. But look," he said, picking up the knob. "It has a lock on it and two keys. You can lock it from the inside by pushing this button, and you can lock it from the outside with this key, see?"
"Dad, you don't have to do this," I said.
"I know I don't have to do it, but I want to do it. I talked with your mother about it too, and she wants to do it, too. She said..."
My face scrunched up. "Oh God, you didn't tell her about...?"
"No no no," he said reassuringly. "Believe me, if I told her all the details, the exact opposite would be happening. She'd have made me take the door off the frame last night!"
"Uhm..."
"I know that won't stop you," Dad said, holding up a hand. "You'd just find somewhere else to do it. The bathroom probably, or God forbid a park or something."
Or the beach, I thought.
"This way," he continued, "you can feel like your home is your castle too. A safe place where you can be yourself and do whatever without having to worry about anything. Where you can...well, you know..." He choked up a little. "...grow up."
The sight of my old man getting worked up over me maturing caused me to lower my guard a little. "Thanks," I said, turning to leave. "I gotta go though, I'm meeting up with someone."
"See you tonight for dinner," Dad said.
I started for the door and then paused for a moment. Turning around, I walked back into the kitchen.
"Hey Dad?"
He looked up from his laptop.
"What are you doing home?"
"Your mother gave me the day off. We switched shifts, but don't worry, I'll still be here for dinner."
"No, no, I mean, what are you doing right now?" I asked.
"Watching doorknob installation videos on YouTube," he said. "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere," I said, not wanting to get into it. Not wanting to tell him I was meeting Ryan and give him a reason to tease me mercilessly. "But, how about letting me do it?"
"Do what?"
"How about I install the doorknob when I get home tonight?"
He took off his reading glasses. "If you want to."
"I just figure if I'm old enough to...you know..."
"Masturbate," he said.
"Masturbate," I replied, as if he'd found the word for me. "If I'm old enough for privacy to...do that...well, I'm old enough to put that thing on my own door, right?"
"Makes sense to me," he said with a smile on his face.
"Alright, great," I said. "Later." I walked out the door.
A short chapter, yes, but hopefully it gives you something to look forward to in Chapter 9! Send me your e-mails, let me know what you think: cullen.dyer@gmail.com