Home for the Holidays Ch. 03

There were many reasons that Jake hadn't been home to visit his parents in Castorville in nearly a decade. The most obvious of those reasons—to him, at least—was the fact that he was about as deep in the closet as a man could be as he rapidly approached the age of thirty, and for someone like him to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in a town like Castorville was simply begging for trouble.

But, given that he was the only one who knew that secret—well, in addition to Zach and now Coach Roberts—the more obvious reason that Jake and his sister Lucy stayed away from their home was their parents. While Jack and Cindy Huebner were perfectly respectable and well-liked citizens of Castorville, each having done their part to coach the odd little league team or run the PTA's annual bake sale while their kids were still young, behind closed doors, they weren't exactly what one would call the perfect couple.

For nearly thirty years, since just before Jake was born, Jack Huebner had worked at the oil processing plant on the edge of town. He worked nights at the factory, pressing castor cakes on the screw mills and then spent his days sleeping and running the house. Cindy, on the other hand, worked up at the high school as an administrative assistant. They had met at that very school thirty-five years ago and, while they still loved each other to some degree, the spark wasn't quite there the way it was when they were younger.

Nowadays, most of the time they were together was spent bickering about stupid things of little importance, neither ever conceding nor admitting in the slightest that there may be some truth to what the other was saying. It drove Jake and Lucy wild and, instead of putting up with listening to what their parents' marriage had devolved into, they stayed away.

Of course, Jake also appreciated not having his mom regularly lecture him about his need to marry and have kids before it was too late. As much as he wanted to tell her it likely wasn't in the cards, he never quite had the heart to do so.

For all of the years of avoiding his return and the anxiety he had about doing so, Jake found his arrival to be much ado about nothing. His parents had welcomed him joyously the night before, and they had had a low-key evening of chatting at the kitchen table, making up for time lost without any bickering—at least nothing too bad—and no hard-hitting questions he didn't have answers for.

He awoke Christmas morning to the unmistakable smell of cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. The scent wafted from the kitchen, through the living room, and up the hallway to his room at the end. As if his nose was caught on a line, he was lured out of bed and into the main part of the house. The Christmas Tree glowed in the corner, presents piled high beneath it. His father was on the floor, leaned up against the couch, his eyes fixated on the television. The unmistakable voice of Jimmy Stewart was talking about lassoing the moon. He could see his mom in the kitchen, standing by the stove; her back was to him but, given the smell, he knew she had to be spreading icing on the cinnamon rolls. Outside, through the frosted windows, he could see the neighbor kids having a gay old time throwing snowballs and sledding down the hill.

A smile crossed his face and, for once, he felt glad to be home.

Jack took notice of his son's presence and his face lit up. "Morning Jake. Merry Christmas!"

Jake continued into the room. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Dad."

He turned his head toward the television and saw the muted paint-like colors of It's a Wonderful Life. A young Jimmy Stewart stood there, beaming down at the youthful Donna Reed, as the nosy neighbor yelled at him to kiss her already.

"You're watching the color version?" Jake asked as if it were blasphemous. "I thought you hated this version."

His father shrugged, peering at the screen over his square glasses. "I do, but your mother got in the mood to clean and conveniently misplaced my copy, so I'm forced to watch whatever is on television. I guess a little color is better than skipping the thing entirely. You can't have Christmas without it, you know?"

"I do," Jake replied. "You never let me forget it." Every Christmas, when he was on the phone with his parents, his dad asked him if he'd watched it. Jake always made an effort to have it playing in the background just to appease the old man.

"Sit," Jack said, patting the spot next to him and inviting his son to join.

Jake did as he was told.

"To be honest, I think your mother lost my copy just so she wouldn't have to sit through it again," Jack admitted through a handful of M&M's from the bowl on his lap. "You probably won't believe it, but we had a fight about it last Christmas."

He did believe it. In fact, it wasn't that hard to believe at all when considering how they fought about everything and that they'd each seen the movie a hundred times over the years.

"It's nice to have someone to watch it with again," Jack added, smiling at Jake.

Jake hadn't planned on spending the entire morning watching It's a Wonderful Life, but he could tell his presence meant a lot to his old man.

A quarter hour passed before his mom walked into the room, already jazzed up and wearing the red dress that constituted her Christmas outfit. She handed them each a plate with two cinnamon rolls. "Who wants cinnamon rolls?" she asked. Then, after they each took their share, she sat down in the chair and joined them.

Jake looked at his dad, who simply shrugged back.

They sat together that way until the screen went dark and the commercials started, enjoying the movie as a family. There was no fighting, there was no complaining, there was nothing but good cheer.

It was bizarre.

"Jake, honey," Cindy said over a commercial for ringing in the new year with a new car.

Jake turned his head toward her in acknowledgment.

"We are out of milk, and I need some for the sweet potatoes. Any chance you could pop over to McAllister's and pick some up?"

"It's Christmas. Are they even open?"

She shook her head. "McAllister's is always open . . . even on Christmas."

This surprised Jake, but it was no big deal. "Can I get cleaned up first?"

"What's wrong with going as you are?"

Running his hand through his shaggy brown hair, Jake drew attention to his bedhead.

"It looks fine," his mom said. "Just put a hat on."

"I don't wear hats," Jake replied. "I'll just be a minute."

He pulled himself up off the floor and retreated back down the hallway toward his room. There were still piles of his old clothes tucked haphazardly in the dresser drawers, but he doubted any of those fit him anymore. He pulled a clean shirt and a pair of briefs out of his suitcase and, just before he dropped the cover, he noticed Coach Roberts' jockstrap. He had tucked it in the suitcase for safekeeping. Without thinking, he extended his arm and grabbed the now crusty cotton garment. He lifted it up to his nose and breathed in the sweet smell of Coach Roberts' musky load. It was intoxicating. His thoughts returned to their night together and how he had caused that load, how he had planted himself deep within his former coach's ass and made the old man cum hands free.

The thoughts stayed with him as he showered, slowly tugging at his soap-covered cock as he remembered Coach's tongue sliding in and out of his asshole. The memory was so vivid, he could still feel the sensation. Reaching around, he grabbed his butt with his right hand, splitting the cheeks and beginning to gently rub his hole with his middle finger. The pressure stiffened his already hard cock, and as he continued to wank, his tongue slid between his lips and he prepared to shoot. Just as he was reaching his climax, a knock came on the door.

"Jake?" his dad asked. "Are you ready?"

The load retreated back into the cannon and all chances of his getting off faded at the sound of his dad's voice.

"Just a minute," Jake said back.

The moment ruined, Jake did a quick spin to rinse the soap from his body and stepped out of the shower.

* * * * *

"You're going too?" he asked his dad as he entered the kitchen.

Jack was standing there with his winter coat and boots on.

"Yeah, I figured it couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a bit. You ready?"

"Yep," Jake replied.

They made way for the garage, only stopping for a moment for Jack to give Cindy a kiss before he left.

"What was that about?" Jake asked as they pulled out of the driveway.

"What?"

"The kiss?"

Jack looked taken aback. "Is a guy not allowed to kiss his wife anymore?"

"No, no, it's fine," Jake assured him. "It's just . . . I'm not used to you two getting along that well."

This part didn't surprise Jack. "Yeah, well, your mom and I have been getting a little help."

"You're seeing a shrink?"

"Your mom doesn't like to call it that—she's much more into the phrase seeking guidance—but yes, it's a shrink."

Jake considered the situation for a moment. I guess it's better than divorce, he thought, thinking back to their constant bickering the last time he was home. Even when he called home, there was always some shouting going on in the background. And each parent would call him separately to complain about the other. He tried his best to stay out of it, but he wasn't about to go as far as Lucy and just stop answering their calls entirely.

"That's very good of you two," he said. "It seems to be working."

"It is," Jack agreed. "It's not always the easiest, but I think things will work out in the long run."

"I'll tell Lucy it's safe to come back, then," Jake joked.

"How is your sister?" Jack asked, a mixture of genuine concern and interest on his face. He hadn't heard from his daughter in some time.

"She's fine."

"Is she seeing anyone?"

"A guy named Marcus. They've been together a couple years now. They both work at the hospital together."

"Do you see her often? Is he good to her?"

"He's great," Jake said. "The three of us get together a couple times a month for dinner and games. I think you'd really like him."

Jack shook his head, sorry for how things had ended up with his family. "I'm sorry your mother and I put you both in this situation. I hope you'll see while you're here that we are trying."

"I know," Jake replied. That much was obvious.

"We'd love it if you'd come back more, but I understand if it's not what you want."

"We'll see, Dad."

Jack nodded. "Right." Then, shaking things off, he added, "That's enough heavy stuff for now. How are things with you? Are you seeing anyone these days?"

There it was. That dreaded question. "No, not at the moment."

"Really? No women in your life at all?" Jack pressed.

His thoughts turned to the professor at BCU that he'd been seeing regularly, and then they moved on to Coach Roberts, someone his dad actually knew. "No, Dad. No women."

"Well, don't beat yourself up about it. You'll find someone when the time is right."

As reassuring as that sentiment was, Jake wasn't sure things would end up the way his dad thought they would.

They pulled into the parking lot of McAllister's and found it to be quite crowded. It seemed many other people also had some last-minute groceries to buy for Christmas dinner. Jack took a spot about halfway back in the lot, as far away from other cars as he could so no one could ding his doors, and they headed for the store.

A bell was ringing as they approached, followed by a hearty greeting. Jake took a brief look at the Salvation Army Santa Claus near the door and diverted his eyes. He had already donated a pittance through work. Just when they were about past the man, Jack stopped and said, "Hiya, Jerry. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Jack," the man said in that oh-so-familiar voice.

Jake looked up. The smile on Coach Roberts' face stretched from ear to ear. "And a Merry Christmas to you, too, Jake."

There was stir in his pants at seeing Coach Roberts decked out in the Santa outfit. The red, velvety robes wrapped snuggly around his old coach's round belly, and though every inch of the man was covered, Jake couldn't help but appreciate the image and imagine what it would be like to untie the sash and peel back those jolly layers. Lost in his own fantasies, and quite taken aback at seeing the old man so soon after their rendezvous two nights before, he didn't hardly know what to say. He was also painfully aware that for the first time, his dad was actively conversing with someone he had slept with. "Uh . . . Merry Christmas to you, Coach."

"What did I tell you about that, Jake? Call me Jerry," he insisted.

"Getting in some last-minute service before Christmas, Jerry?" Jack asked.

Coach Roberts shrugged. "Well, I don't have much family in the area anymore, so I just try to make myself useful to somebody."

"That's very good of you," Jack responded, clearly appreciating the good Christian nature of the gesture. "You don't have anywhere to go on Christmas?"

"No, but that's all right," Jerry said. "It's no big deal."

"Nonsense," Jack protested. "Stop by the house around 3:00."

Jake looked at his dad and his eyes narrowed. What was going on? He loved the idea of spending even more time with Coach Roberts, but he never thought his family would be there too!

"I couldn't do that. I wouldn't want to impose."

"You won't be. Cindy would love to see you, and we'd be glad to have you, wouldn't we, Jake?"

Coach Roberts looked to Jake for his approval. He didn't want the situation to be weird for the boy.

There wasn't really any way Jake could say no—not that he really wanted to anyway—so he smiled back at his coach and said, "Of course."

Jack beamed back at Jerry. "Then it's settled. We'll see you at 3:00."

"Can I bring anything?" Jerry asked.

"Just an appetite."

"I can certainly do that!" he said, clasping his hands on his belly and laughing.

"Great," Jack said enthusiastically. "We'll see you then."

"See you then," Jerry said back, giving Jake a quick wink.

"Call your mother," Jack told his son as they entered the store. "Tell her to set the table for one more."

* * * * *

By the time 3:00 rolled around, the house and everything inside it was perfectly in place. Cindy had dusted the mantle and made sure the row of stockings—even that of Jake's sister—were neat in a row and perfectly spaced; the tree skirt had been straightened, and the Christmas train was circling the trunk, hurrying along its route bearing gifts for all; candles burned ever so slowly on the dining room table, flickering here and there as the waft of Christmas ham floated in from the kitchen.

Jake sat eagerly on the edge of the couch, anxiously waiting for Coach Roberts to arrive.

The doorbell rang, and Jake's heart leapt. He started for the door, but it opened on its own. Pushing their way through was Jake's Uncle Marty and Aunt Susan. His heart fell and so did his face. The two relatives shouted "Merry Christmas" as they made their way out of the foyer and into the living room. Jake had just enough time to regain his smile before they noticed him.

"Is that my little Jakey?" Aunt Susan squealed, passing the dessert in her hand off on her unsuspecting husband, whose own hands were full of bags filled to the brim with gifts.

"Hi Aunt Susan," Jake answered, bracing himself for her ecstatic embrace.

"It's so good to have you back for Christmas. Oh dear, would you look at you? Put on a few pounds, eh?" she said, pinching his cheek, before turning toward the kitchen.

"So I'm told," Jake replied under his breath.

"Johnathan?" she called, referring to her brother. Susan was the only one who called her brother by his full name. "Why didn't you tell me Jake was coming?"

"Surprise," he heard his dad say from the other room.

"Everything good in the city?" Uncle Marty asked, his arms still full.

Jake shrugged. "Living the dream."

"Good for you. Got yourself a sweet lady yet?"

"No, not yet."

"You know, before I met your Aunt Susan," he continued for some reason, "I used to have the most amazing times with those city gals. There was one by the name of Sadie Greene. She had golden curls running down into the nicest honkers you've ever seen. Not the biggest, mind you, but they were something else. Imagine, if you will, the best-looking honeydew melons you've ever seen. Got it?"

"Honeydew, yes," Jake replied, wondering where this was headed.

"Good. Now cut those down about half—I told you, they weren't the biggest—but they were just as sweet and juicy as any melon you'd find." Marty lowered his hands from the melon gesture he had been making in front of his own chest. "Are the Bay City gals still like that?"

"Like Sadie?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Even better," Jake lied.

"Better?"

"Cantaloupes."

Uncle Marty's face twisted up like he was both reminiscing about the old times, fantasizing about the current times he'd never get the chance to experience, and relieving himself in his pants. "You're a lucky kid, Jake. If there's any advice I have for you: don't settle down. Not until you have to."

"I'll keep that in mind, Uncle Marty."

"Marty!" Aunt Susan called from the kitchen.

"See what I mean?" Uncle Marty asked. "Not until you have to."

With that, he, too, disappeared into the kitchen. Jake rolled his head back to the ceiling and sighed. What on Earth made me think coming back for this was a good idea? he asked himself. As he lowered his head, there was a man standing in the foyer looking at him. Under his coat, he wore a light blue dress shirt beneath a red Christmas sweater that had a row of decorative white snowflakes. The sweater extended out around the man's rotund belly and ran down into a pair of dark slacks. The Santa suit was gone, but the man came bearing gifts.

The smile returned to Jake's face as he saw his former coach standing there in his home.

"Sorry, I'm late. The door was open." Jerry said.

Jake opened his mouth to say something back, but before he had the chance, his mother hurried into the room and, upon seeing Jerry, rushed toward him. "Jerry Roberts? Is that you?" She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in for a big hug. "It's so good to see you again."

"Likewise," Jerry told her.

"How long has it been?" Cindy asked.

"Well, let's see, I retired in 2012, so eight years, I suppose."

Cindy shook her head. "Incredible. It's amazing how the time flies." She turned back to where Jake was standing. "Jake? Did you see Coach Roberts is here?"

"Jerry is fine," Jerry insisted.

"Why don't you take his coat and get him settled. Dinner is in five minutes."

As she fled the room, Jerry and Jake moved slowly toward one another. Neither knowing what to say, Jake decided the best course of action would be to just do as his mother said. "I can take your coat, if you'd like."

Jerry smiled warmly back at the young man. "That would be swell. Would you mind?" he said, extending the plate of cookies and the wrapped gift in his hand.

Jake took the items and held them as Jerry removed his coat. "Coats go back in my room. I'm not sure why we're still doing it that way. Lucy isn't here, but that's how we always did it when I was a kid, so I think my mom just wants to keep the old traditions alive as much as possible, especially since I haven't been around in—"

"Jake . . ." Jerry cut him off, noticing his tell-tale nerves.

"Yes?"

"You're rambling."

"Sorry."

"Your room?" Jerry asked.

"Right. Follow me."

Jake led the old man out of the living room and down the hall to his bedroom. At the end of the hallway, there was a door on the right that was Lucy's room and a door on the left that was his own. He took the coat from Jerry and set it on the bed.

"I see you've had some fun with my jock," Jerry said, noticing the stained fabric on Jake's pillow.