I look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It says 3:31 am. I toss and turn, anxious about having to wake up for work in a few hours. I won't be getting any sleep tonight, I decide. I get up and grab my laptop. I turn it on, and I am blinded by the sudden light. Squinting, I log into the machine, and I immediately launch the email client. I click Jason's email and I start rereading it for what must have been the hundredth time.

How long has it been since I tutored cute, ginger Jason? Ten years? No, I was fresh out of college. Before Jasmin got pregnant. Ten years then. Jason must be 22, maybe 23 by now. Images from our time together play in my head. He was a shy and reluctant boy. And I was persistent. I never physically forced him to do anything, but I certainly pressured him to do a lot of things that he did not want to do. So I feel some guilt. Only some, since everything I've done to him, and more, I've done to my own son, when he was far younger. Nevertheless, I am glad he got in touch. It wasn't exactly easy responding to his email, but I want to help, if I can. After a few emails back and forth, we agreed that we'd meet up tomorrow evening.

***

Despite looking very different, I instantly recognize Jason as soon as he enters the café. I wave at him, and he makes his way toward me with a labored smile.

"Hello," I say.

"Hi," he responds, taking a seat on the opposite side of our table.

Jason, the child, was a thin and short kid. This man however, was nearly six feet tall, and he was at least 30 pounds overweight. Adolescence has not treated him gently, and his face is a minefield of old acne scars and a number of red-fresh ones destined to eventually join the canvass of their forebears. His fiery red hair has darkened to a reddish-brown. His eyes, however, are the same verdant green.

The conversation is awkward at first, mostly due to the awkwardness of the man himself. But he loosens up somewhat as we move past the small talk phase to the inevitable one about what our lives in the decade since we parted ways. Apparently, Jason attended college for a while, but eventually dropped out. He still lives with his parents, and he currently works at a fast-food place.

"How about you?" He asks. "Are you still a teacher?"

"Oh, no. I have since moved to real estate. The money is better."

"That's good," he says awkwardly.

"I was newly married, if you remember, back when I tutored you."

"I remember," He nods.

"Well, I got divorced three years after."

"I'm sorry."

"It's no trouble. I was happy when it was over. And besides, I didn't leave empty handed. I got a smart and beautiful child. His name is Oliver. He turned nine last month."

Jason's pupils narrow and his eyes light up.

"Oh? That's awesome," he says in a tone that doesn't betray the excitement in his eyes.

"Yep. He's the light of my life. He splits his time evenly between his mom and me."

I pause, reaching into my pocket and pulling my smartphone.

"Would you like to see him?"

"Sure."

I browse through the thousands of images I have of Oliver, landing on a recent one taken at a family dinner a number of weeks ago. He's all dressed up and winking at the camera. It is among my favorite recent photos of him. I turn the phone, and Jason stares.

"What do you think?" I ask, a few seconds later, as I tuck the phone back into my pocket.

Jason hesitates, before finally stuttering, "He's go… gorgeous."

"Thank you," I nod.

We look at each quietly for several seconds. Jason takes a sip from his coffee, then pushes his chair back as if ready to stand up.

"It was really nice to see you, but I think I should get going," Jason says. "Thanks for seeing me, Peter."

"What are you talking about? You're leaving already? Wasn't there something you wanted to talk about?" I smiled.

He looked around, then looked back at me with an expression of unease.

"How about this, why don't you follow me to my place? It's less than two miles away. Then we can have some privacy."

"I took the bus, and they only run for 2 more hours here in the suburbs."

"It's not a problem. I'll call you an Uber. At my expense."

I stood up.

"Come on." I waved to the conflicted-looking man.

***

"No, he was great. He just does his thing mostly. I honestly don't think he needs a babysitter anymore," the blond sixteen-year-old said.

Amy has been babysitting Oliver for the past year now, shortly after her family moved to the neighborhood. She seems to like Oliver, and the boy gets along with her just fine.

"He is getting more and more independent by the day," I nod. "Thank you again for coming on such short notice."

"My pleasure, Peter. I mean, literally, my pleasure. $20 for sitting around and doing nothing? Sign me up!"

I laugh.

"Glad to hear."

I turn to look at Jason as Amy makes her way out of the front door. He is looking, with intensity, at the nine-year-old lying on the couch, game controller in hand, on the other side of the open-space living area. I pass by him, and I notice him flinch, as I make my way to Oliver.

"What are you doing still up?" I sit next to his stomach, with a hand on his hips.

I move my hand in a slow caress, feeling the soft cotton of his navy-blue pajamas.

"It's not bedtime for another hour!" he responds, pausing the game and looking at me with a big grin, its cuteness enhanced by the two missing teeth in the front.

I take my phone out and look at the clock. "Hardly an hour. You got twenty-seven minutes to be exact."

"So I still have time."

"You do. But I have a visitor, and I would like to talk in private. So why don't you turn the game off, get ready for bed, and spend the remaining time in your room?" I say, moving my hand off his hips and tussling his long dark brown curls.

Oliver gets up, dragging himself in exaggerated laziness.

"I am ready."

He turns the console off.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Uh huh," he nods, then looks at Jason, who is still stood by the front door several yards away.

"Hi." Oliver waves.

Jason waves back.

"Hey."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"No kiss?" I smile.

Oliver covers the distance between us in one skip. I put my arms around him and bring him toward me for an embrace. He kisses me on the cheek. I loosen my embrace a little to look at his face. The light from the table lamp illuminate the yellow streaks in his hazelnut eyes. I give him a peck on the lips. He reflexively glances sideways toward Jason. With a smile, I let go of him.

"Okay, buddy. Have a good night."

I slap his butt, sending him on his way.

As soon as Oliver disappears into the hallway leading to the bedroom, Jason starts walking toward the living room.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," I say.

Jason sits down on the other couch.

"Would you like anything to drink?" I ask.

Jason lifts the to-go cup of coffee in front of his face.

"No, thank you."

"I meant something stronger."

"Oh. No, I better not."

"Fair enough. So, let's talk."

The man clutches his hands together and looks down at the floor silently.

A few moments later, he starts, "You read the email."

"Yes."

"So you already know what I wanted to talk about."

"I gathered that you blame me for making you attracted to children."

He looks up in anger.

"I don't blame you! It is your fault!"

"I wasn't denying it."

Jason's anger seems to ebb, and he breaks eye contact and looks in the direction of the blank TV.

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I didn't want to suffer the way you're suffering right now."

"But what about me?"

His voice rises.

"I didn't mean you any harm. The urge is beyond my control. It could've been someone else, but it was you. I'm sorry."

Jason puts his hands on his face, with each covering an entire half, and his elbows against his knees. I cannot tell if he is crying, but he stays in that state for nearly a minute, before straightening up and looking at me with bloodshot eyes. I expect him to say something, but he remains quiet.

"Do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?" I ask, to break the silence.

He shakes his head. "No."

"Why not? I find it really helps. It's not the real thing, but it's better than nothing."

"I am not interested. I only want boys!" he says with gritted teeth.

"Are you a virgin?"

Jason's face reddens. After a brief pause, he nods.

"Have you at least been sucked?"

"No."

I smile at him. "Would you like me to suck you off?"

Jason looks up at me in surprise.

"Do… Do you want to?"

I nod.

"Of course. You're still my little firecracker."

He smiles.

"You used to call me that."

"I did."

"Okay," He manages with a voice stuck in his throat.

I get up and walk until I'm in front of him, then I get down on my knees between his spread legs. With a hand on each knee, I spread them further, then I move slowly up his thighs, seeing the denim at their other end bulge like a snake leaving its hole.

"Look at you, all grown up," I tease, my hand grabbing the newly formed shape.

That's when I hear a door open in the distance, followed by the high pitch of my son's voice.

"Dad, guess what I just saw on the internet?"

Jason jumps back into the couch, startled, while Oliver stands frozen by the hallway's entrance. I get up on my feet and look at Oliver.

"Come on over buddy, what did you see on the internet?" I ask.

Oliver takes a few deliberate steps until he's a couple of feet in front of me.

"I saw a video about that escaped gorilla. Remember him? The one from the zoo? They found him.'

"Ah, that's good news!"

"Uh huh," Oliver looks at Jason and then back at me. "What were you doing?"

I lean down and grab his hand, then I take a step toward the couch Jason is sat on, and I take a seat next to him. Jason moves over against the sidearm to make space, his face looking uneasy.

I swing Oliver's hand a few degrees side-to-side.

"What do you think I was doing?"

Oliver's face reddens and he looks at the floor, then he shrugs.

I pull him toward me with a laugh and wrap my arms around him.

"I think you know," I say playfully, planting a deep kiss on his neck, before turning him around and pulling him up on my lap.

"Dad!" the boy shrieks.

I press my cheek to his.

"Well, son. Jason here in a virgin, and he wanted to see what a blowjob felt like."

Oliver pulls away with a look of horror.

"Dad! We shouldn't talk about this stuff in front of other people!"

"We shouldn't. But Jason is an exception."

I look at Jason, who is sitting rigid and looking scared.

I look back at Oliver, "But now that you're here, maybe you can teach him a few things too?"

The boy opens his mouth in shock, turning to look at Jason then quickly turning away.

"No, daddy. I don't want to."

I grin at his attempt of endearment.

"Come on, baby, do it for me? He really likes you! He called you gorgeous earlier."

I look at Jason. "What do you say? Want to satiate that hunger?"

Jason stays in the same position, only with his chest moving in visibly heavy breath.

"Your call. Yes, or no?"

"Yes," he says in a hoarse voice, then he clears his throat.

I grab Oliver's chin and turn his head to face me.

"Sorry, buddy, but it seems like you've been outvoted."

I lower my face toward his until our lips are a hair from touching. I pause, feeling the warm air from his nose tickling my upper lip, then I complete the journey, sucking gentle on Oliver's lower lip. Despite being visibly unhappy with my decision, he kisses me back. I break our kiss with a satisfying pop. I look at his perfect face, with the round, rosy cheeks, the full pink lips, and his slightly-upturned button nose.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

"Yes, dad. Like, a thousand times," Oliver responds, annoyance still audible in his voice, but with the side of his mouth twitching in the slightest hint of a smile.

I reach with my hand and grab his cheek in a light but lingering pinch. I rub the soft and elastic tissue between thumb and forefinger, seeing the boy's half-grown canine tooth in the gap that my pinch creates.

"Why don't you go sit on Jason's lap? Let him take a good look at you," I say as I let go.

Oliver looks at me pleadingly, but offers no resistance as I place two hands under his armpits and lift him off my lap and onto Jason's. The man leans in, adjusting his position to accommodate the new situation, and he grabs Oliver by the sides and drags him up his lap. With a hand on the nine year old's stomach, Jason presses Oliver against his laboring chest. The boy keeps his gaze straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular, as far as I can ascertain, as Jason looks down at his face with a studying stare.

"What… can I do with him?" Jason lifts his head to look at me and asks.

"You can't hurt him. If I think you're being too rough, I'll let you know. Otherwise, have fun and give me a good show," I grin.

Jason nods, then lifts the front of Oliver's shirt and puts his hand on the boy's stomach. The nine-year-old quickly lowers the shirt to cover the exposed skin along with Jason's hand. The man's hand moves under the fabric, sliding in a circle over Oliver's chest and stomach.

"Ah!" Jason exhales in a short moan. "Your skin is so damn smooth," he whispers into Oliver's ears, before leaning in and pressing his lips to the side of the boy's face.

Jason skates up an inch, burying his nose in Oliver's hair, then he takes a long whiff, his hand pressing the small body more tightly against his own. His lips start kissing their way down Oliver's face, while the free hand moves up to grab the boy's jaw. After a few soft kisses on the side of the kid's forehead and on his cheeks, Jason backs away and turns Oliver's head to face him. The two lock eyes and stare motionless at each other.

I have been in a state of arousal since we got home, but seeing the intense lust in Jason's eyes, as he examines my child's face, sends me boiling. I lean in and grab Oliver's legs, and I turn him toward me. His whole body turns, and his back, previously centered against Jason's chest, shifts to rest against the man's shoulder. I begin massaging his feet, deeply feeling the skin as I move up, before squeezing the toes and gently mashing them together and pulling them apart.

Jason continues to stare at Oliver's face for another minute, with one hand still feeling around the boy's torso, while the other softly caresses his neck, cheeks, and lips. Slowly, the man leans in closer, bringing the distance between their lips. I see Oliver's eyes close, and his mouth shut into a tight, white strip. Jason kisses the strip, first in a peck, then a few more times with progressively more open lips.

"Open your mouth, please," Jason says, lifting his head to look at Oliver.

The boy shakes his head, the light from the table lamp shining in the moisture around his lips and his chin.

Jason looks at me, and I shrug, pushing the fabric of the pajamas' pants as my hands drift up Oliver's calves.

Given my lack of assistance, I expect Jason would move on. To my surprise, he instead grabs the sides of Oliver's mouth with a thumb on one end, and two fingers on the other, then he squeezes, forcing the boy's lips to pucker.

"Mmmm!" Oliver whines, his clinched teeth, the last of line of defense, visible between his puckered lips.

Jason lowers his head with his tongue sticking out until it is lodged in the awaiting groove.

I lean in to get a better view, and I see the man's tongue eagerly tasting Oliver's gapped teeth, his gums, and the inner side of his forcibly opened lips. Oliver has never been as resistant with me, usually requiring only minimal prodding to accept his lot. It fills me with a twisted sense of pride that my child is more accepting of his father's demands than a stranger's. It so happens that it is also wildly hot.

Jason pulls his hand out of Oliver's shirt and brings it up to grab the boy's jaw. He pulls down, and the nine-year-old's teeth part slightly. Oliver strains to clinch it back closed, but Jason holds firm. Oliver tries to say something, but it comes out in muffled gibberish. I am nagged by an urge to intervene, until, thankfully, Jason lets go, his eye wide as if startled out of a deep sleep.

"You're hurting me!" Oliver shrieks, his lower face covered with red pressure marks, then he raises his head to look at me. "You said he can't hurt me!"

"He didn't really hurt you now, did he?" I smile at him. "He forced your mouth open. Which he wouldn't have had to do if you just opened it when he asked you nicely."

"It hurt."

He repeats in the higher pitch that often accompanies his discontent, the marks on his face already fading.

"Also, your tongue tastes bitter and it's gross."

"It's coffee," Jason says defensively.

I laugh.

"Come on Ollie, you're being difficult. I bet he doesn't even like you anymore, after that tantrum."

"Yes he does," Oliver responds, crossing his arms in front of him. "I can still feel his boner poking me."

"Good."

I lean in and pinch the boy's chin.

"Let's keep it that way. Now lean back and let us resume," I say as I push his head back onto Jason's shoulder.

The man places his hand on Oliver's cheek. "Will you keep your mouth open this time?"

"Yes!"

Jason moves his hand along the contours of the boy's face. Oliver keeps his jaw slack as the large, stubby fingers feel around his lips. Jason then dives in with 2 fingers, and Oliver reflexively closes his mouth for a moment, before relaxing again. Jason begins twisting and twirling his fingers inside the wet cavity, clasping the tongue, poking the soft tissue underneath, and gliding along the slippery surfaces of its sides and its top. The exploration goes on for a couple of minutes, before Jason finally pulls his fingers out, drenched wet, and with a thick line of spit that eventually broke, landing in a streak across Oliver's chin. Jason looks at his wet fingers before sticking them into his mouth. Having thoroughly replaced my son's saliva with his own, he leans in and locks his lips to Oliver's. The boy shuts his eyes as Jason begins eagerly licking and sucking.

Seeing my once-student's tongue buried so deeply into my son's face makes me long for release. But it is way too early for that, having barely started. I grab Oliver's leg again – having let go of it during our little discussion- and bring it to my crotch. I press it against my pants, waves of pleasure shooting forth from my excited member.

Jason's hand lifts the shirt and goes back to its place on Oliver's torso, as he kisses and sucks the boy's face. His breath quickens along with the intensity of the slurping noises. The caressing hand then drifts downward, passing over the exposed bellybutton. Oliver grabs his crotch, over the pants, hoping to prevent entry, as the fingers reach the threshold of the pants' elastic waistband. Jason doesn't stop, now sucking and licking the entire surface of Oliver's face, when he encounters the obstruction blocking his target. Instead, he forces his hands through, pushing Oliver's out of the way. I see the outline of his fist as it grabs my child's genitals under his clothes.

"Aaaah! Ah shit!"

Jason lifts his head away from Oliver's and clinches his eyes shut.

"Oh God!" he moans, his breath quick and loud.

Then he relaxes and takes his hand out of Oliver's pants. He wraps both arms around the boy, and he rests his chin on the Oliver's small shoulder. The nine-year-old dramatically wipes his face with his sleeves.

"Did you seriously just cum?" I say, trying to keep my tone playful.

"I didn't want to," he answers with tired breath. "This is insane for me, you know."

He lifts his head to look at me.

Jason's embrace of Oliver eases, and the boy takes the opportunity to jump off and turn to head in the direction of his room. I grab the back of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

"Where are you going?"

"He came! We're done!" the boy responds.

I laugh.

"No, I don't think so," I say, opening my legs and pulling him closer.

The back of his knees hits the edge of the couch, and he falls in place on the space in front of my crotch.

"For one, neither of us has cum yet."

I press him closer with two hands on his stomach. He looks up at me as I continue.

"Secondly, it won't be fifteen minutes until Jason is ready to go again."

I look at Jason, who had just stood up, a large wet spot visible on his upper thigh.

"The bathroom is in there," I point to a door. "Why don't you go wash up?"

I barely finish my sentence before Jason nods and makes his way to the bathroom in a quick shuffle.

"But Dad! It's past my bedtime!"

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't want that," I laugh, then I put my hand on his forehead, tilting his neck upward as his head presses against my chest. "It's going to be a late night for you. But don't worry, you can sleep in. I'll call the school and tell them you're sick."

I smile at his brightened face.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"And Friday too? It sometimes takes more than one day to get better," he grins hopefully.

"I'll think about it."

I caress his hair.

"You no longer seem upset about what happened."

He frowns in recollection.

"I am upset! It was disgusting. He licked my face like a dog!"

"I thought it was hot."

I reach down between his legs to rest my hand on top of his pants.

"You're a weirdo, though," he says, closing his legs together to squeeze my hand. "But he's even weirder."

"How's that?" I ask as my hand begins to massage and fondle the flaccid penis that hid beneath the fabric.

"He just is. The way he licked me and the way he was breathing and making weird noises."

"He's just very horny," I say, feeling the small penis pushing the fabric of the pajamas as it hardens between my rubbing fingers.

"I think it's because he's fat."

I chuckle.

"I'm sure that's a factor."

The bathroom door opens, and Jason walks out, a pair of white boxers in hand. His pants had a much larger wet spot covering half of his thigh.

"I can't wear those. They need to be washed," he says, sticking the underwear out to show me.

"You're going to have to go without underwear for now, then. I don't think mine would fit you."

"I suppose not," he says. "I'm just going to leave mine in the bathroom for now."

I nod and he tosses the underwear into the bathroom and makes his way back to us, then he sits down in his original spot next to me.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" I respond.

"How long have you been doing… this with your son?"

"Nine years. Why, has the post-climax guilt set in?" I smile.

Jason looks startled for a moment, but he quickly collects himself.

"I was just thinking, I was 11 when I met you. 12 when we went our separate ways."

He pauses in reflection, staring at the hand between Oliver's legs.

"Don't you worry about what it'll do to him?"

"I do, often," I admit, taking my hand off Oliver's privates, and I put both hands on the boy's shoulders and turn him part way to face me. "Do you like having sex with me, kiddo? You can answer truthfully."

Oliver shrugs.

"Sometimes."

"And other times you don't?" I smile.

He nods. "Yeah. Like when I'm busy with something. Like playing a video game, and I don't want to have sex. But you make me do it anyway."

"I usually let you continue with whatever you're doing."

"Yeah, but you're doing things to me, and making me to do things, and it's distracting!"

I laugh.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have bigger gripes about the whole thing in the future."

I look at Jason,

"I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Jason looks at me with unease.

"Dad."

"Yes, Ollie?"

"Jason said you met him when he was 11. Did you have sex with him when he was a boy too?"

"I did."

"Oh."

He hesitates then looks at Jason.

"Did you like it?"

"Sometimes."

The word catches in Jason's throat, and he breaks eye contact.

"Just like me."

He nods then he looks at me with a question in his eyes.

"But it made him a pedo, like me. That, he doesn't like at all," I finish what Jason left unsaid.

Oliver tilts his head up and looks at me.

"Will I be a pedo?"

I shrug.

"I don't know. But if you are, I guess I'll have to find you a kid to play with," I wink.

"I don't think I'll be a pedophile," he says confidently.

I look at Jason and smile, and he smiles back. The refractory period is already over, then. I lift Oliver by his armpits and set him on his feet, then I stand up.

"Let's go to my bedroom. It's pretty cramped on this couch, wouldn't you say?"

Jason nods, stands up, and follows me across the living area, down the hallway to the master bedroom.

Once inside, I gesture toward the bed and ask Jason to sit down. He sits on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. I grab Oliver's shoulders and lead him to stand in front of my old friend. I apply minimal pressure, and Oliver, with understanding, lowers himself to his knees. Jason spread his legs wider to give the boy more space.

Oliver looks up at me waiting for instructions.

I lower myself behind him and I grab his hand.

"Let's see if he's already hard."

I move Oliver's hand and press it to Jason's crotch. The outline of the man's penis becomes visible along his inner thigh. I move Oliver's hand over the bulge and I squeeze it. Jason lets out a barely audible gasp.

"He's hard," Oliver states.

"I can see that," I respond, bowing down to kiss my son's neck.

Oliver moves his hand up and down the outlined erection.

"It feels so big!"

"Are you trying to make me feel insecure?"

I pull him tight against me with both arms, my own erection pressing against his back.

"Take it out. It's been a while, and I'm dying to see how it turned out."

Oliver reaches in and grabs the front of Jason's jeans, undoes the button, then he pulls the zipper down. Jason's unkempt ginger bush pops out, Oliver lets go and I feel his body pressing against mine, as if trying to back up.

"Why does he have so much hair?!"

I laugh.

"You've only ever seen mine shaved or trimmed. Our friend here just left it the way nature intended."

"I didn't know anyone would be seeing it tonight!" Jason objected, his face getting redder.

"It's all good. I'd love to see Ollie's face buried in that bush."

I lift Oliver's shirt to his neck with one hand, while the other feels the smooth skin of his stomach and chest.

"Come on, baby, take it out."

Oliver looks up at me, dissatisfaction in his eyes, before turning back to his task and spreading the flap open, then sticking his hand in and fishing out the large angry dick. He lets go, and we both stare at the soda-can-thick, eight inch [20 cm] long penis, still swaying slightly, as it settles at a low angle, the muscles straining to lift its considerable weight.

"It's so big! I told you!" Oliver says in a near shout.

"It's quite something. And to think just a decade ago, I could fit the whole package, both cock and balls, into my mouth," I chuckle, then I grab the sides of Jason's pants and pull them down to his ankles.

"Take his shoes and socks off," I tell Oliver and watch him comply, before I finally pull the pants off.

"Now his shirt."

I stand up, dragging Oliver along onto his feet. Oliver leans in and pulls Jason's shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. The man sits naked and frozen, his arms limp to his sides, as my son and I look at his hairy body.

"Mmmm, he's so sexy, isn't he?"

Oliver shakes his head in emphatic disagreement.

"Don't listen to him, you're sexy as hell," I smile at Jason.

"No, it's okay. We can't all be as sexy as this little fucker," Jason says, reaching with his arm quickly and suddenly to pinch Oliver's groin.

"Ow!" Oliver yelps in surprise, taking an uneven step back and nearly losing his balance.

My smile widens, happy with Jason's increasing familiarity and comfort, as I catch the boy's fall, steadying him with a hand on his back and another on his stomach.

"Now that you've taken his clothes off, it's only fair he does the same to you," I say, moving my son to stand in front of the naked man.

Jason places his hands on Oliver's hips and moves them slowly up the boy's pajamas covered sides, feeling the child's delicate curves with the deliberateness of one who wishes to savor every moment. He then goes back down, just as leisurely, until his hands are back where they started. Jason grabs the hem of Oliver's shirt and pulls it up a few inches, then he pauses, staring at the boy's bellybutton.

"I love outies on little boys," Jason states, extending his thumb outwards to lightly flick the protruding skin.

Oliver stands rigid, his fingers curled into a loose fist, looking down at the mesmerized man.

Having apparently had his fill of the belly button, Jason proceeds up Oliver's torso, pausing for a few seconds on the nipples, before pulling the shirt off and dropping it in the floor. The hungry green eyes study the slender body with piercing focus.

I take advantage of the opportunity afforded by the moment of meditation to begin unburdening myself of my own clothes, starting with my buttoned-up shirt, followed by my belt, shoes, khakis, socks, and finally my black boxer-briefs.

As I take off my clothes, Jason puts his hands on Oliver's hips and pulls him in closer, leaning in to bury his face in the boy's flat stomach. Oliver's stance loosens, bending his knee outward slightly, and he begins to giggle when Jason starts rubbing his face, side to side, into the cushiony tissue. Oliver tried to back away, but Jason's hands tighten, and his rubbing intensifies. Oliver, twisting and laughing, tries, in futility, with both hands on the top of Jason's hand, to push the man off.

After a few seconds of rubbing and giggling, Jason pulls away with a loud, wet kiss. Letting Oliver take a step back, but keeping his hands in place, Jason looks at me. His eyes widen, staring at my more modest erection.

"You look exactly as I remember!"

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" I smile.

"It's a good thing. You know something? Despite resenting you for what you did, I often fantasized about our time together."

I nod.

"I can relate."

Jason looks back at Oliver, sliding his hands down the boy's hips, hooking his finger into the elastic of the pants and undies, as he continues downward. Oliver instinctively grabs the dropping pants, before letting go, resigning himself to the eventual nakedness. Once both articles are down and off, Jason straightens back up to take in the view.

"Oh. He's just perfect," Jason says under his breath.

I sit down next to the man, facing my naked son. I take a moment to admire the boy's body. Jason is right, he is perfect.

"This is my first time seeing an uncircumcised penis in person."

"In that case, you're in for a world of fun," I say, reaching in and playfully flicking the small, limp penis.

Oliver pulls away with a chuckle and takes a step backward. I grab his hand and guide him closer. He doesn't resist, standing a couple of inches from the edge of the bed.

Jason extends his hand and gently grabs Oliver's wrinkled ballsack with a thumb and two fingers, then he strokes it as one would his chin. The testicles shift their position under the pressure of the passing digits, bulging as they slide against one another's curvature. Jason exhales with a barely audible moan, before moving his fingers onto the thin shaft. Gripping it near the top with a thumb and forefinger, he applies a light squeeze, ending with a pinch of foreskin as the glans slide away underneath. He eases the pressure, letting the concealed head retake its space, before slowly pulling the skin backward. Bit by bit, the moist red tip reveals itself through unfolding skin, until it is all the way out, with Jason's fingers lodged into the thin layer of fat at the base. With a thumb, Jason bends the shaft upward and looks at it eye to eye.

"Bet your dad loves sucking on that," Jason says, looking up at Oliver's face.

Oliver nods emphatically with a smile.

Jason begins stroking the soft two inches [5 cm] base to tip, sliding the foreskin all the way up to cover the head, and then back down revealing it again.

"He loved to suck mine too."

He looks at me with a smile, then back at Oliver.

"But I hated having to suck him back. Do you like sucking your dad?" he asks the boy whose dick has hardened under the constant manipulation.

Oliver hesitates, then he gives a half nod.

"I don't think he really likes it," Jason says as he looks at me.

"Oh, he likes it. And he's good at it. He just doesn't like it when I cum in his mouth."

"Dad!" Oliver shouts, his face reddening.

"What? It's true" I grin.

"You never came in my mouth." Jason says to me.

"I've had more time with my son. I would've gotten around to it eventually," I respond, slapping his thigh.

Jason lets go of Oliver's penis, and we both look at it, pointing upward in a fortyfive degree angle, and standing around three and a half inches [9 cm] tall.

"It's pretty big for a little boy."

"Stop calling me little!" Oliver objects.

"Sorry. It's properly big for a big boy," Jason smiles. "You'll be bigger than your dad in a few years, for sure."

Oliver's eyes drift to my crotch, then he looks up at me.

"Then I'll cum in your mouth!" he says in an unserious tone.

"Oh, Ollie, I can hardly wait!" I smile, and he smiles back before looking away.

"Can you turn around?" Jason asks Oliver, who wordlessly turns to face the other side.

After scanning the boy's backside up and down about a dozen times, Jason reaches in and grips Oliver's left buttock, down near the end of the crack, where the flesh begins to round up to connect with the legs, in a wide pinch. Jason pulls the fatty bunch to the left, exposing the heads of the wrinkled trails that converge in the middle. With his other hand, Jason palms the right buttock, pulling it away from its partner. The light reflects off the pink skin at the rim of the entrance, which mostly hides in the shadows. He lets go.

"Let's give him a better look," I say, standing up and taking hold of Oliver's shoulders, before leading him to the edge of the bed.

Oliver climbs on, shuffling to the middle on his knees. I follow suit, then with light pressure on his shoulder, I say, "Lie down on your stomach."

I wave to Jason to come close, and gesture for him to sit on the opposite side. With one palm on each half, I spread Oliver's buttocks wide. Jason stares at the pink star, illuminated by the light above, unmoving for several seconds. He then extends his finger and looks at me, as if asking permission, before reaching in and resting its tip on the small opening of the spread anus. He quickly pulls away, sensing the sudden tension in Oliver's body, pausing with his tip just an inch over its previous perch, before going back into position. Slowly, Jason's finger moves around the ragged rim, climbing up and over the lines of tight skin, and back down around the curved, soft surface. He finally pulls out, a minute later, and straightens up.

I let go of Oliver's buttocks.

"Can I turn around now?" the nine-year-old asks.

"Sure, you can turn around if you want," I answer and watch him quickly turn around, propping himself up on his elbows to look at us.

His dick is no longer erect.

I expect Oliver to say something, but he stays quiet. Thankfully, the awkward silence ends with an abrupt question from Jason.

"Do you fuck him?"

I look at Oliver, seeing the embarrassment reappear on his face.

"Yeah," I respond.

Jason looks at Oliver.

"And do you like that?"

Oliver shrugs and looks down.

"It's okay."

"Does it hurt?" Jason asks.

"Hmmm, not really. Maybe a little sometimes."

"Did it hurt the first time?"

Oliver pauses in thought.

"I think so. I don't remember."

Jason looks at me, judgement in his eyes. Our eyes lock for a moment, then he looks away.

"I bet that would hurt, though," I nod to Jason's member.

Oliver slaps the bed in frustration.

"Dad, please don't let him do that. It would hurt!"

I smile at Oliver.

"You still have to suck him first. Maybe you'll suck him so good, he won't need to fuck you," I wink.

"It's okay. I won't do it," Jason says, and I see relief on Oliver's face.

"But you do want a blowjob, I hope," I say with smile. "Lie down next to him," I continue.

Jason turns around and lies down on his back, I gesture to Oliver to get going, and the boy straightens up and positions himself by the man's thigh. I shuffle in closer and sit by Jason's knees, one hand already slowly stroking, as I anticipate watching my child swallow that massive cock.

Oliver stares at the erection, which fell back to Jason's stomach, for a few seconds, then he grabs it with one hand and raises it to point to the ceiling. The boy starts moving his hand up it as if examining an unfamiliar object. Once at the top, Oliver wipes the dab of precum that had collected at the tip, before finally leaning in, mouth open, until the tip disappears into the cavity. Oliver closes his lips around the base of the head, dragging their wet inner side along the curve of the glans, and finishing with a loud slurp. Jason moans, and Oliver immediately goes back in, pressing his mouth to the sensitive bottom edge of the glans, tip of his tongue pushing out. He slides down, leaving a shiny trail of saliva across the length of the shaft.

I begin to masturbate in earnest, more aroused than I have been in a long time, by my son's performance.

"Lick his balls too."

Without going back up, Oliver continues the journey down, moving his tongue in circles around the hairy testicles, before opening his mouth wide and vacuuming one of the pair. Oliver sucks hard, and the skin pulls tight. Jason moans again, before reaching in with his hand to grab Oliver's genitals. He begins to mindlessly fondle them as he enjoys the boy's work.

The nine-year-old spits the ball out with a pop, then goes back up, opening his mouth and taking the tip in. He sucks up and down a few times, trying to go deeper with each pass. A third of the way in, the boy struggles, breathing heavily as he tries to deep throat the thick cock. It slowly slides in, until it's more than half of the way in. Oliver then gags and quickly pulls it out, wads of saliva dragging along with the departing appendage, to spill in streaks across Jason's side, the bed, and Oliver's thighs.

"You can do it Ollie!" I say encouragingly as I masturbate furiously. "You can take the whole thing!"

"I can't!" Oliver whines. "It's too big!"

"Just keep trying. Take as much in as you can."

Oliver looks at me with annoyance before returning to his task. After about a dozen attempts, I resign myself to the fact that I will not get to see much more than half of Jason's erection disappear into Oliver's mouth. Nevertheless, the boy did an admirable job, eagerly sucking and licking. Jason made his approval loud and clear.

"I'm getting close." Jason says under heavy breath.

I lean in and stop Oliver. The boy looks at me quizzically.

"Not yet. I haven't had any fun."

I get up and off the bed and I walk to the dresser. I open the first drawer and pull out a bottle of lube, then I turn around and make my way back. Oliver turns around and lies on his stomach as soon as he sees me climbing next to him with the bottle of clear liquid.

"You can take a break for a minute and watch. Then we'll both cum."

Jason, who sits up against the headrest, nods in agreement. His face is blood red, and his chest heaves.

I position myself between Oliver's legs, then I pour a dollop of lube on the top of my index and middle fingers, then I reach in, spreading a generous amount on and around the rim of my son's anus. Jason gets up and sits next to me for a better view of the preparations.

I move my fingers in a circle around the clinched hole, then I move to the center. I feel the opening relax around the tip of middle finger, and I push in, both fingers side by side, slowly inching in until they're buried to the knuckle. Oliver lets out a soft gasp, and I pull out, pausing to give Jason a chance to see the enlarged aperture. I coat my fingers with another layer of lube and go back in, carefully penetrating to smear the lubricant on the walls of Oliver's rectum. I pull out again, and I pour another dollop into my palm, which I then use on the erect five and a half inch [14 cm] pole that points between my son's legs.

"Get up, baby. I'd like for you to sit on it today."

"Okay," Oliver says in muffled voice, before lifting his face off the bed and straightening up.

I move on my knees to the other end of the bed, and I lie with my back to the headrest. I grab my dick at the base, and I gestured for Oliver to come over. The boy complies, walking on top of the bed to face me, before turning around and crouching until his entrance is a few inches from my rod, balanced by a hand on each of my sides. Oliver slowly lowers his body, stopping when he feels my tip against his anus. I center my tip against the hole, and he lowers himself further. The tip goes in, and Oliver pauses again, exhaling loudly.

I see Jason begin to stroke as he watches.

"Don't cum yet."

He stops in startled immediacy, then he moves closer to us and sit between my legs, a foot away from the action.

Oliver continues to slowly lower himself, pausing every few seconds to adjust to the sensation, before continuing on. It takes less than a minute for the entire thing to become embedded, as Oliver sits with his full weight on my crotch.

The sensation is divine, and I am suddenly relieved that Jason will not partake. Having that monster cock violate Oliver's delicate pleasure tunnel would probably loosen it forever. I reach around and grab Oliver's genitals, and I'm happy to see that he is erect. I thrust forward and I begin to stroke him. I hear a faint, but encouraging, moan of pleasure. I fuck him, and stroke him, harder, pulling out as much as I can, before slamming back in with force. He is definitely moaning now, and Jason is back to stroking, while his other hands feels up Oliver's legs and feet.

"Jason."

My voice vibrates with each thrust.

"Cum in his mouth."

Jason hesitates, looking at Oliver, but then he stands up and takes a step forward.

With the man standing in front of his face stroking his erection, Oliver covers his mouth with both hands. I stop stroking the boy and grab his hands, forcing them off his mouth, then keeping them against his chest with an embrace.

Oliver clinches his mouth shut and closes his eyes. Jason takes a step closer and begins rubbing his tip over Oliver's face. Shiny trails appear on the boy's cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips.

"Open your mouth, Ollie," I say in a stern voice, still thrusting forward.

Oliver shakes his head.

I adjust my grip on his arms to hold both with just one of mine, then I bring my hand up and grab the boy's jaw.

"Open your mouth please. I want this hand free to help you cum," I say as I apply pressure.

Oliver shuts his eyes tighter, but complies, opening his mouth with a whine, and keeping it open.

Jason repositions himself, sticking the tip of his dick into Oliver's open mouth, and he strokes energetically.

I moved my hand back to my son's still-erect dick and I begin working it with vigor, as I slow the rate of my thrusting, wanting to see my son fed before I finally complete.

It doesn't take long.

"I'm coming," Jason states, closing his eyes.

"Keep your mouth open," I say, increasing the rate of my already furious stroking, and feeling Oliver's muscles begin to tense.

Despite having emptied earlier in the evening, Jason shoots streak after streak of thick, full cum into Oliver's mouth, as well as his cheeks, lips, and chin. Oliver's own body convulses in the spasms of climax, bubbles erupting in the liquid with every moan. I thrust harder.

"Don't spit it. Swallow," I don't even finish before Oliver spits out most of the cum and closes his mouth.

"Bad boy!" I say to the boy whose lower half of the face, is covered in Jason's ejaculate.

Once his spasms stops, I remove my hand, thrusting one more time with maximum force, feeling my loins empty inside of my child, who whines quietly behind clinched lips. I freeze for a few seconds, overwhelmed by the intensity of the orgasm. It finally passes, and I move in a few more lazy thrusts, easing my way down the other half of the slope.

Pinching Oliver's chin, I turn his head to face me, then I give him a peck on his shining lips. I lick my own, getting a hint of the distinct taste.

"Open your mouth, I want to taste it," I instruct Oliver, who quickly complies, showing me his spunk-coated tongue.

I lock our lips and our tongues entwine, spreading Jason's seed between father and child. After a few licks around Oliver's tongue and mouth, I raise my head and smack my lips in a dramatic savoring of the flavor.

"Yum. It tastes so good," I say.

"It tastes just like yours," Oliver responds, wiping his mouth and chin with his forearm.

Jason lies back, his arms crossed against his stomach and looking exhausted.

"The kid and I need to shower. Would you like to join us?" I inquire.

Jason lazily sits up.

"Yeah, sure."

I lift the boy off my dick, which slips out in a wet slurp. Oliver stands up and immediately holds his buttocks shut with two hands. I get off the bed and stand next to him, then I gesture to Jason to follow as I lead Oliver to the bathroom with a hand on his shoulder.

As soon as we enter the bathroom, Oliver runs to the toilet, sitting down, and squirting out the creamy filling in a series of loud farts. He then wipes, stands up, and flushes the toilet, as I adjust the water temperature in the shower.

Ten minutes later, the three of us return to the bedroom clean and naked.

"I'm so damn tired. Why don't you spend the night, and I'll drive you home in the morning?"

Jason nods.

"Thank you."

"I want to sleep in my own bed," Oliver states in a weak voice, knowing his request will be denied.

"Not tonight, baby," I say, grabbing the edge of the blanket and tucking myself in.

Oliver follows suit, shuffling on his knees to lie next to me.

I reach over the boy's body and slap the space next to him, looking at Jason, who walks around the edge of the bed and lies down where I slapped. I turn the nightstand's lamp off, plunging us into darkness.

"Peter."

"Yes?"

"Will I ever see Oliver and you again?"

I yawn.

"I'd be open to it. But it's a conversation for another day."

"I understand. Well, good night."

"Good night, Jason."

I lean in and give my son a kiss on the cheek.

"Good night Ollie."

"Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Oliver," Jason says, leaning in and giving the boy a kiss on the other cheek.

"Good night, Jason."

The End