1. The Way It Used To Be - Blake & Ben (Part 11)


    Date: 12/9/2014, Categories: Fiction, Gay, Teen Male / Teen Male, Author: StudioXPS, Rating: 88.9, Source: sexstories.com

    “And a gentleman at that,” my mother says. “These are beautiful, honey. I better go find a vase to put these in. I’ll put them on the table, so we have something beautiful to look at while we eat dinner.” My father and I look at each other and both roll our eyes. He winks at me and I smile back. Feels good to be back on good terms with dad. To be honest, I’ve missed our father-son camaraderie. My mother notices our mocking of her comment. “You two knock it off,” she says. “Wow, Ben,” I say. “That was pretty… gay, man.” A shit eating grin spreads across my face. My dad turns away, and ducks into the hallway to mask his laughing. Ben turns around, realizing we’re alone in the room. He leans down to me and whispers in a very intimidating tone, “After that little comment, you just wait ‘til I get you all to myself…” He then shines a demonic smile, showing off his perfect teeth. Little Blake begins to flutter to life at the thought of what he’s going to do to me next time we get some time alone. Fucking hell! Good thing I changed into these shorts, because my father walks back into the living room. There is no smile on his face. The smiling and laughing has been replaced by a solemn, sentimental expression. “Blake,” he says, “Would you mind giving Ben and I a moment alone?” Ben looks down at me as I attempt to get up. Just like he has been doing the past couple of weeks, he helps me to my feet and leans down and grabs my crutches for me. I look at him. My eyes go wide and my ...
    eyebrows raise, as if to say, “Good luck!” I make my way out of the room and head towards the kitchen. But, not before glancing over my shoulder to see dad sitting on one couch and Ben on the other. The only “buffer” between the two of them is a coffee table. I hope nobody gets slammed through it, WWE style. Please, make up, you two. Please! I then round the corner and enter the kitchen. Mom has just finished filling a crystal vase full of the flowers Ben brought for her with tap water from the sink. She spins around and begins walking towards the kitchen table. “Oh, where are Ben and your father,” she asks. “In the living room… ‘talking,’” I say, using air quotes around the word, “talking.” “Well, we can’t very well leave them unsupervised, can we,” she says, raising her eyebrows up and down a couple of times, mischievously. “Guess not,” I say, smiling. We proceed into the hallway, leading towards the living room. He quietly make our way towards the threshold that leads into the living room and begin creeping, slowly, towards it. Mom looks back at me and raises a finger to her lips, motioning for me to be quiet. I raise my right hand, elbow bent to my side, palm up, like that popular “confused black girl” meme as if to say, “Really?” We remain quiet and listen in. We hear my father’s voice first… “…you just have to understand, Ben. A million thoughts were racing in my head when I caught the two of you. Confusion. Anger. Rage. All swirling through my head in that split second. I ...
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