Damien's Introduction

Clinton Malone and I had been best friends since middle school. We grew up next door to each other, so if we weren't with each other at my house we were over at his. Naturally, he got to know my family and I got to know his. That's how i knew Allan, he was Clinton's dad. I don't know if anyone could have been a better friend to me than Clinton, but Allan Malone was the man that changed my life.

Clinton went off to college out of state after high school and married soon after graduating. We keep in touch, but only see each other on rare occasions when he comes back to visit home. After high school I got a job in a warehouse making good money but was laid off a few months ago when the economy tanked, so I moved back in temporarily with my parents. I wasnt a lazy shit... i pounded the pavement looking for work everyday... but inevitably i found myself with more and more downtime each day. On many of my afternoon walks to the mailbox I would see Mr out doing the same. We would exchange hellos and friendly smiles, but that was always the sole interaction... until the day it wasn't.

I had moved back home just as winter was coming to an end. Spring had just begun, bringing pleasantly warm days again. I heard Mr. Monroe call over from his porch on my way back from the mailbox.

"Hey Damien!"

I looked towards the porch to see him just at the top of the steps.

"Sure is nice not needing to bundle up for that walk today, huh?" he offered.

It was nice for sure to walk out in some hastily thrown on basketball shorts and white tee, but i couldnt reply in agreement. my brain stuttered when my eyes caught him standing there...

He had just taken a break from pulling weeds in the yard. His tall, muscular, heavyset frame was glistening with sweat. he was shirtless and his ample black chest hair was matted by the perspiration and seemed to point my eyes lower. I followed the thick line of hair that ran from just below his toned chest, over his slightly rounded yet still firm stomach, past his belly button and...

Shit.

I realized I hadn't said anything yet.

I was staring directly at his crotch, covered by a pair of loose running shorts. My eyes were just starting to investigate further when I realized what they were doing and pulled them upwards to meet his...

He noticed.

"Man, you bet!" I said shakily.

He smiled knowingly, but didn't answer. He reached down and adjusted the shorts at the hips with both hands, just turning them mildly side to side then up just a bit. My eyes betrayed me again. I glanced down and then quickly back up, but it was too late. He was watching for it, and i didnt disappoint.

"Mmhm..." he grunted out. "...you bet."

He smirked and turned away toward the front door. The look he was leaving with was that of a man who had just found buried treasure but would bide his time to claim it when the time was right. I was embarrassed and confused, but somehow that look began to set me on fire. He walked inside and I continued back to the house, but that look was repeating in my head. It stayed with me into that night. After dinner with my parents I retreated quickly to my room. I just couldnt shake it...

Why did I do that?

I was trying to check out his dick!

Replaying it brought more imagination. I began to picture what it would look like. Watched with my minds eye as it began to grow and show its shape through his thin running shorts. The small adjustment he made was turning into pulling them down to reveal the swelling shaft of his...

What was I doing?!

I had never had thoughts like these about any man... much less my parents neighbor... my best friends dad!

Sure I had played around with a few men online... had some fantasies... but those were all innocent...

This wasn't.

The image of him adjusting those shorts followed me into my bedroom that night. Was it intentional? More importantly... why was I hoping that it was?

Part of me knew I had just created an awkward situation. I knew I wouldn't be able to see him the same way ever again.

Another part of me was bathing in the hope that it wouldn't matter...