Excerpt for Cumforting Him (Gay Taboo, Household, First Time, Older Man, Erotica) by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Comforting Him



By Dick Bigwood



(c) Dick Bigwood

This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All represented characters are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older – any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters engaging in sexual relations are over the age of consent and are not blood related. This work is the property of Dick Bigwood – not to be reproduced without consent.




The day had started like any other. I had made him his breakfast, and we had sat at the breakfast bar, his Pop, him and myself, and gone over the order of the day. As usual, Jeff his old man, was off to work in the city. He had a short drive to the metro station, followed by a dank and sweaty commute across town to the software house where he worked. He was a successful man, and I was grateful to the Gods that had first crashed us together.

Literally.

It was some fifteen years ago when I had missed the red light and driven my beat up old Buick into his Mercedes at that road junction. It had put the seal on an already shitty day. I had been fired from one shitty restaurant job too many, and sworn that this would be the last one I ever took on. My eyes were puffy and misted up when I kangaroo hopped into the back of his automobile. Crying and driving never makes for a good combination. The anger on his face, the warpaint of disappointment as he clambered out of his car, pausing to check the damage to his fender, melted when he saw me, quivering and blubbing in my driver’s seat. He could see that I was at the very end of my tether, about to do something maybe even more stupid than ram-raid another motorist. He broke into a big smile as he bade me wind my window down.

“Hi. My name’s Jeff” he said, in the friendliest of tones. “I guess we have to swap insurance details. If I say that I backed into you, will you go for dinner with me?”

It was the smoothest pick up line I had ever gotten. I melted before him, bursting out in full-blown tears. Everything flooded out of me. My long term boyfriend leaving me. My rent arrears. My lack of job, and life satisfaction. He just soaked it up as he leaned over into my window, writing out his number and leaving it on my dash.

Our date, and the subsequent three month courtship, was like a dream. He was the perfect man, treating me at all times like the gentleman I had forgotten I was. We were married, and I was installed as a loving house husband, and step-Pop to his four year old son, Bobby, all within three months.

Jeff muttered his appreciation for the home-cooked breakfast I had fixed him, as I did every morning. Although there was no need for me to rise so early, I always made them both a hearty meal before they went out. In truth, it was as much for myself as for them. Some days I hardly spoke to anyone during the day. The twinks at the gym pouted, and some of them smiled at me, but even after fifteen years I didn’t feel like part of their set. To them, I thought, I would always be white trash.

I turned to Bobby.

“So what do you have going on today honey?”

He looked up from his pancakes and grinned

“Spending the day with Josephine Pop” he twinkled. He was spending every day with her now. He called it ‘revising’. I hoped to hell he was fucking her. All young men should be doing that. There was something else I also hoped. Even suspected. That he was a gay as I was!

“Well, you two be good” said his killjoy Pop. “No fooling around ok? I don’t want her irate father coming after me because you got her pregnant just before she goes to college, ok?”

“Pop! Please! Give me some credit” Bobby retorted. He was right. He was a sensible boy. He would use condoms.

Or go anal, like the twink he was!


************************


An hour at the gym and another at the store, buying groceries for a special meal I was planning for my two boys, and I was home by 12. The sun shone down on our perfectly manicured lawn as I pulled up on the driveway in my new sports coupe. Oh yes, life was certainly much better now, my previous, hand-to-mouth existence as a waiter almost completely forgotten.

I kicked the big oak front door open and rattled the keys on the side table as i made my way into the house, my cuban heals clicking proudly on the solid wood floor as I made into the kitchen. The house, as usual, was immaculate. Our maid had done a bang-up job, as always, leaving me with very little to do in terms of tidying or cleaning. It was a good job, my nails would never stand for manual labor now, and my stomach was flat and firm from personal training at fifty bucks an hour, not waiting tables and walking up the stairs because the elevator was bust. Again!


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