by Seth King
Fuck. I need to stop thinking about my former stepdad like that. It’s weird. It might not be illegal, but still – it crosses a line. Right?
I slobber all over David’s tip and then plunge him into my throat, and as he groans I imagine it’s Robert instead. I imagine it’s his precum I’m tasting, his balls I’m playing with, his exhalations I’m hearing…
But even imagining it kind of breaks my heart, because he’s the one I actually want. If I could switch them out, I would. And that is terrifying.
And then suddenly I am not imagining anymore.
My eye catches a movement, and I glance up at something out of the window – and that’s when I discover that Robert’s room looks down into ours. And he is staring at us, in nothing but a towel from the gym. And that fat dick of his is showing through a slit in the middle.
And guess what? I don’t stop. I am emboldened by this new audience, because at least now Robert is paying attention to me. If he won’t text me back or acknowledge me in any other way, the least I can do is make him jealous, right?
I suck David harder and harder, glancing up at Robert as he watches. I’m pushing the limits and I like it. Robert’s mouth does an O shape, like he’s moaning, then he fully drops his towel to show me that beautiful body and perfect dick. I nod at him, signaling for him to jack it, and he does.
“What’s that?” David asks. “What do you keep looking at?”
“Nothing,” I say, grabbing his face and forcing him to keep looking at me, so he won’t see Robert. “A bird flew into the window. Poor thing. Anyway, I want to fuck you.”
He lets go of the window thing and smiles at me. “Really? You want to fuck me? You haven’t wanted that in weeks.”
For a moment I feel bad for him, genuinely bad. David still loves me, on some level. But then again, if he loved me, why did he go with that tourist to the W Hotel for a night of sleazy fun? He broke us, and I’m not going to pity him now that we’re in pieces.
“Well get ready,” I say. “I do, now. Badly.”
I lube up my dick, glancing at Robert to make sure he’s watching. He shakes his head at me, and it’s so authoritative it makes my whole body shiver. God, how long can we play this game before he just comes down here and plunges that thing into me? I want it, and I want it now. Even if it impales me.
I watch as Robert rubs his shaft. He angles his body a bit to show me his full length, and I go harder than a boulder. God, if I could just trade out David with Robert right now, and if I could just fuck who I really want to be fucking…
I get David in position and push my dick closer to his hole. This is the strangest thing, but I want to impress him – I want his approval. I get closer, closer, closer…
Then I stop, letting my shoulders fall. This feels all wrong. I want Robert. I don’t want David.
I lean back and wipe the lube off my dick.
“David,” I say. “Can you suck me before I fuck you?”
I know I’m going to orgasm from this, but I don’t care. Making sure Robert can see, I let David start sucking me until I get close to climax. Robert looks horrified, but horny, too. At the exact moment I come, I lock eyes with Robert in the window and shout a garbled word that sounds something like “RooooobshshshshshAHHHHH.”
Oh my God – I almost said Robert’s name.
“What was that?” David asks, my come dripping all over his chin. I lean down and kiss his cheek. “Nothing. That was just really hot. Thanks. Wanna shower up now?”
With that same weird look in his eyes, he nods and heads for the bathroom. Shaking it off, I jump off the bed and share one last stare with Robert – but this time, he looks sad. His eyes are full of longing, and his brow is all creased. And I’m sad, too, really. I’m sad we’re two people who like each other, and can’t pursue it. But the world has rules, right? And rules are made to be followed. That’s why they’re rules…
God. This is a mess, a total mess. The longer I’m away from Robert, the more I want him – and I even just turned a hookup session with David into being all about Robert, as usual. I mean, I just hooked up with the guy I brought on this trip, except in my head I made the entire thing about Robert instead. The whole thing! So clearly this thing isn’t going away. And Robert is still interested, too, or else he wouldn’t have watched me. I can sense that he’ll reach out again, I just don’t know when. And soon it might be too late.
That’s when I know it’s time to bring out the big guns: I need the advice of my gays. But not just Oz.
David falls asleep quickly, giving me the privacy I need. For the last three years or so, I’ve been a member of a Reddit subgroup called GayInTheDeepSouth. Some members are people I know in real life, some are anonymous accounts who are still closeted and use shell accounts to get the advice they’re too afraid to seek in reality. But one of the most important things about this life is seeking help from those who came before you, so whenever I need something figured out, I head straight here. And now I think I want to ask them about Robert. I wanted to ask them before, I was just afraid of being judged. But not anymore.
And maybe someone else has been in my shoes, too. I mean, this is the South we are talking about – I can’t be the only one who has fallen for a quasi-family member. Right?
Just to be funny, I type up a post in the form of one of those HELP ME! personal ads I used to see in the back of local magazines in the ‘90s:
Chat Room: GayInTheDeepSouth
Category: Love & Dating
Posting Title: Help, I’m Falling For My Former Stepdad!
Okay, I know the title of this post sounds like a bad Lifetime movie, but unfortunately it’s my life. Here’s the deal: I’m Eliot, and I like a guy named Robert. I’m obsessed with him, actually, but we have issues. Major issues. Some might even call them daddy issues...
Here’s the lowdown. Robert was only married to my mom for two years, over a decade ago, and at the time I never lived with them or knew him. (Due to my mom’s chaotic personal life, I chose to live with my own dad.) Eventually Robert learned the source of his problems: no matter what his religious parents had told him all his life, he was gay, and it wasn’t going to go away. After divorcing my mom and coming out, Robert moved to Atlanta and lost contact with us – until I just met him again at a family funeral. Cue fireworks.
Honestly, it was like meeting someone for the first time. I didn't even recognize him at first. Same for him. He is hot and smart and successful, and against all odds, I felt a reaction from the first moment. Passes and glances led to more, and soon things started happening. Sexy things. When I look at him, I see glitter in the air - and feel TNT in my pants. Robert is only 42, and he is everything I ever wanted. He also used to be married to my mother.
Let’s get one thing straight: Robert was never a father figure to me. Actually, he came and left so quickly, I barely have any memories of him at all. Mentally, I am fine with this. But I’m afraid our potential relationship would make my mom hit the ceiling.
On the other hand, though, we’re both adults. We can make our own choices. Why should we care what anybody thinks? The connection I feel with him cuts through our differences in age, financials, education, everything – and at this point I know I could really fall in love with him.
Society tells me I can’t be with Robert because that would be wrong, but society has also told me that my entire life. When I was a little effeminate kid listening to my Sunday School teacher call gay men deviants, when my dad heard I’d been spotted flirting with another guy in high school and didn’t look me in the eye for weeks – ever since I can remember, society has disapproved of me in some way or another. Why should I start caring now?
I was raised to believe that love is the only important thing in this world. I can’t lose him yet. I only have a few days left with him before we both go back home, and I’m starting to fear that I would risk everything for this– and that could spell disaster for my entire life.
Right?
I tak
e the deepest breath of my life and press Send.
Whatever’s going on between us, starting tomorrow, it’s no longer “just between us” at all.
Robert Glazer
After the Mary Kate incident, a full day passes with no contact between Eliot and me. I ignore all his correspondence, but it doesn’t get any easier. During the day I can only think of one person. At night I only dream of only one thing.
One pair of dark blue eyes.
One head of blondish-orange hair.
It’s him, and he won’t leave me.
But I have no idea what to do. Should I leave? I promised Sara, the very last time she called me, that I’d watch her ashes be spread into the lake. It would arise suspicions if I left, too. So I guess I’ll stay, and just try to figure it out here…
Maybe it’s for the best that Mary Kate did what she did. I needed to press the brakes. I can’t let myself fall for Eliot while his family falls apart, and while his mother refuses to tell him about it. It’s not fair. We shouldn’t be talking at all. In fact, we probably shouldn’t have interacted in the first place. He’s got his own shit to worry about…
But I miss him. I’m man enough to admit that. So much, actually. It’s the weirdest thing. Watching the hookup made me furious, but it also made me want him like never before. In the afternoon I take out my iPad and look up his social media profiles again. Then I spend an entire hour stalking his Twitter, reading his posts going back years. He doesn’t say much, but everything he posts is funny.
It’s also fascinating to see a guy his age…well, get to be gay in public. I notice that whenever we’re with his family, he and David don’t even try to hide their closeness. When I was in school, people suspected I was gay because I liked female pop stars and had many female friends. These days, people know the gay kids are gay, because they come out on Facebook in middle school and then get showered with praise and acceptance. I’m not jealous, per se, but sometimes I get so sad about all the years I lost to the closet. I was breathing, but I wasn’t alive.
They say you can’t mourn what you never had, but I disagree. I didn’t openly date another man until I was twenty-four years old. I didn’t experience my first heartbreak until most of my peers were paying mortgages. I will never get to go back and hold the hand of the person I loved at sunset while my parents snapped photos before a school dance; I will never get to breathe on the cheek of a partner on a college party dance floor, reckless and drunk. Sometimes I do mourn the childhood I never had. While everyone else went on their first dates and fell in and out of their first romances, enjoying freedoms they didn’t even know were freedoms, I was in my bedroom lusting over Luke Perry. For many, to be gay is to live all your adolescent experiences on a decade-long delay. I didn’t get a real love note until half my classmates were married and having children, and that is a tragic nostalgia I cannot convey with words. So I look at Eliot’s experience with a mix of nostalgia, regret, fascination, and fine, maybe a little envy – sometimes I just want a do-over. But that’s the thing about life – you’ve got to grab it before it’s gone. You never know when everything can change…
The morning of the second day, my phone vibrates with a text from Mary Kate, asking when I’ll be coming down to the van. I sigh and drag myself out of bed.
Damn it. As if this wasn’t complicated enough, I have to spend the day at a romantic winery with Eliot and his mom and the rest of this stupid party. And at this point, anything could happen. I know he’ll respect my wishes and stay away from me, but that’s not the problem.
The problem is that around him, I don’t even trust myself…
And staying away from him is getting harder by the hour. He is the only thing on my mind, and soon I’ll lose my resolve…
Eliot Prince
The day after I ask for advice, my family visits a local vineyard. Robert steers clear of me, but in the bathroom I glance at Grindr and notice that he’s online. Stupid asshole. People only use this app to find guys. Is he checking for me? Or is he looking for other guys?
I send him a simple message: Hey. He doesn’t respond. Ugh.
During our tour of the winery, David acts incredibly strange, too, drinking too much and standing really close to me. He keeps sharing glances with Gracie and my mom, too, like that night at the restaurant. My patience with him is wearing thin. What’s gotten into him, and why is everyone acting so weird?
But time and again, I am reminded that whatever connection I have with Robert, it is not fading. He is everywhere I go, he is everything I think about. Wherever I go, there he is…
After we get home, I notice I have eighteen Facebook notifications, all from the post I made and then forgot about. But does it even matter anymore, now that Robert apparently isn’t coming back?
Just for shits and giggles, I decide to read everything and engage, anyway:
Yikes, Melissa says. I’m speechless. Dating your former stepdad? Abort mission immediately. I repeat: abort. It’s not worth losing your mother over.
I’m not so sure, ClaudiaLezar98 has chimed in. Eliot, let me get this straight: this man never acted as your father figure, right? And didn’t really live with you? I don’t see a huge problem, then. Follow your heart. And your penis. Just don’t let anyone find out yet.
I’m confused. Did you never notice this connection before? Michelle asks under that. How are you just now realizing you had feelings for him?
Can’t you read? Because he hasn’t seen the man in ten years, someone else responded. And he says they never really knew each other.
Good point. Sorry. Just trying to understand. What do you really think your mom’s reaction will be, then? Michelle has said.
I open up the dialogue box and respond: Hi. So. I know my mom very well, but her reaction is still a mystery. She owes me a lot, and she can’t be THAT mad when she’s never been much of a mom to me, in the first place. My hunch is that she will either be much better than expected, or much worse. She’s a very either/or type of person. But if it falls under the “worse” category…we are talking D-Day levels of disaster and mayhem here. I really can’t predict it.
Eek, the anonymous person says after a minute. I’ll be sending prayers.
I bite my lip. Then I click “reply all” to get their opinions on it from another angle. Hey. This is for my younger gays. Have any of you dated much older guys?
YES, AND IT IS AMAZING, Freddy says almost immediately.
Why? I ask.
Because they’re really good at sex, they’re very protective, and they pay for things. Lots of things.
I mean…can’t argue with that, I reply. But one response in particular catches my eye:
I think you’re worrying about the wrong thing here, Hector says. Everyone always wants to paint older men as desperate and lonely. Often it’s the opposite. I know older men who have entire lines of younger guys waiting to date them or entertain them. If this guy is as much as a catch as he sounds, maybe you should stop being so hesitant and work on keeping him around, instead…
How rude, I think to myself. But then I realize…he’s kind of right. Actually, he’s extremely right.
Forget about our issues for a second: Robert is still sexy and rich and apparently amazing at hooking up, and yet I’m sitting here fretting over whether I should date him or not. Maybe I’m the delusional one here. And why am I so torn up about this to begin with? Guys always say they like me because I’m so chill and nonchalant. I’m never like this. Why am I starting now?
And the final thing – what if he never even talks to me again?
I scroll some more and eventually see a message that stops me dead:
Hey, your post caught my eye, and I thought I’d share my story. I’m 86. In 1972 I fell for a man named Jo, no E at the end. I can still smell the smoke in the air – we were at a bonfire on a cold spring night, and he ran off with my heart. We loved each other from the first moment, but our town in northern England looked at that love as something bad and sinf
ul and shameful. We were afraid, so we never did anything about our love, aside from a sex session here or there. He died eight years ago, and I still see him when I close my eyes. I can still smell his jumpers.
Societal disapproval is societal disapproval. If you feel for this man as strongly as you say you do, don’t wait – you may not find that again. I would know. I never found another Jo.
Godspeed to you.
I try, but for some reason I can’t get this story out of my head for hours…
~
That night is Gracie’s birthday party. She’s turning twenty-one, and all the aunts are excited she’s stayed at Woodhouse Lawn instead of going on some trip with her girlfriends to Vegas or Atlanta or wherever. With that in mind, we all want her to have a good time – and David and I are drunk pretty quickly.
Gracie, David and I break off in a little group, and start playing a drinking game in the breakfast nook while the aunts talk and drink wine in the family room. I’ve been so strained and lost in my own head, it feels good to let go of everything for a minute and be around people my own age. I deserve it.
“Ahh, Robert!” Gracie says a minute later, speaking of him. Robert turns around from the fridge, wearing black joggers and a black shirt. Even in workout clothes, he looks chic and fit, and I have to look away to control my reaction – and to hide it from David, too.
