The Funeral

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

My uncle Jim was a great bear of a man, dangerously overweight and under pressure, and just another Christian extremist. I loved him dearly. As an antivaxxer he didn't stand much of a chance when he contracted Delta. He died just a week after hitting the ICU. Although I hated the Fox dogma he spewed over beers at the ballgame, he was my idol. His death ripped a hole in my manhood.

My son Jack and I decided to attend Jim's funeral in Galveston together. My wife was out of the question, because she generally found herself in a fuzzy daze of antidepressants and Diet Coke spiked with a whole lot of rum. We were lost to each other. A marriage of lazy habit and financial dependency. Our daughter Kate was all West Coast yoga. Detached and too good to be true on Instagram. A narcissist and wannabe cult leader.

Jack divorced about a year ago, so I thought he may be available for the trip. I had no idea about his life and commitments, though. Knew he worked in Boston in an IT company. He and I had been friends once. That was long before I disappeared during the day in my corporate cube of grey and meaninglessness. My career had gone to shit. By the time he went to college I was invisible at home, too. Most of the time I was vegging out to stupid cable TV. Getting stoned a lot in my makeshift office in the wife's sewing room. And then there were my nightly activities no one would ever learn about. That was a different part of me, separate. Or so I thought.

Jim's death scared me. He and I looked alike. I could've well been his son. Who knows such things in my family anyway? Everybody was fucking everybody in my hometown. My uncle was of the same cloth, but acted like he wasn't. And now he didn't even 70. That felt close to home. I celebrated my fiftieth a couple of years ago. Sure, I hadn't put on the weight he had, but I more than fit the bill of my username "floppybear" on the apps. Sturdy and stout by nature, I walked our dog Fritz at least 2.5 miles a day. My blood pressure was a little high. Meds covered that, though. Even though I secretly pursued blowjobs on Scruff, my heart was barely in it. Rarely did I get a boner when I was on my knees.

My picture on the apps was always the same one: a reflection of me naked in a puddle on our patio. I took it one time when I was high at the house alone. My body was furry, my beard visible, but my face unrecognizable. A lot of younger guys looking for a daddy hit me up when I was online. I wasn't active all the time, but would use them when I was curious. Especially when I visited new places.

The call from my Aunt Carol, Jim's wife, felt like an alarm far in the distance. Just close enough to hear. It seemed like I hadn't stopped sweating since the news reached me. Not to mention the long nights on the couch without sleep. I was relieved when my son Jack agreed to join me. He was pretty much the only person I could talk to.

I chose to drive down to Galveston from Little Rock. I still had PTO carried over from last year. The beginning of March seemed like a good time for road trip. It was easy to be gone from work for a week. I offered to pick up Jack at the airport in Houston.

My son looked good when he walked out of arrivals. Tired around his mouth, furrowed at the brow, but good. At thirty he seemed like a ginger version of me. However, he got the tall gene from his mother's side of the family. And her steel blue eyes. His gait was strong. All the basketball he played through college served him well. Still my introverted boy after all these years. He never partook in unnecessary dialog. Unlike me when I was his age. He appeared to be casual professional. The clothes he chose were athletic and sleek. For strangers he probably seemed friendly and perhaps a little dangerous. That came from my people. Folks don't usually fuck with us.

"Hey Jack." He smiled genuinely when I called him. Even though we had grown distant, we naturally liked each other.

"Dad." Always cautious with words, that one. But, damn, did he know how to give a hug. I cried instantly. Without notice. Quietly, he held me. "You alright?" His voice clear and gentle. I sobbed and shook my head yes into his broad shoulder.

Man, I was fucking lost. What the hell was I doing here?

"Sorry." I knew I had no reason to apologize. Bad habit.

"Had to happen," he consoled me as I released him.

"Yes, I guess you're right. I hate that he's gone, you know? And I feel that he and I missed a chance, too. What the fuck did politics do to us? Broke up the best families." I had stopped talking to Jim around 2017. The country was out of hand, disjointed. Jack didn't answer. "Want a coffee for the road?" I asked him. He shook his head. We walked together in silence to the parking garage. I rested my hand on his shoulder before we entered the elevator. My boy was a rock.

The drive to Galveston was easy enough. We listed to Thom Yorke, our go-to on the road since he was in high school. We traveled a lot back then for tournaments. He was an excellent guard. Cool and sharp like a knife. Even when he wasn't touching the ball, it seemed as if he were driving it by the sheer force of his will to the basket. His teammates honored him. Success never went to his head. After a fantastic game, he liked to be alone in his room.

Jack's mother and I were both surprised when he brought his girlfriend Marion home for Thanksgiving his junior year at Penn State. He never seemed to be particularly interested in relationship. No use prying, either. Jack wouldn't be having any of that. On one of our rare dad-and-son outings to a bar for darts and beer, he told me that she helped take off the edge. I looked at him quizzically. "I can't be the only one with this kind of sex drive, Dad."

I got that. "Yeah, I remember well," I replied at the time.

"You remember? What the fuck? Are you dead inside?" He had had more than one beer too many. His face was flushed. That's all that was ever said about the subject. He won the game. He always did.

He and Marion married right after graduation and moved to Boston, her hometown. About five years later they broke up. My wife saw on Facebook that Marion was soon thereafter engaged, pregnant and preparing to marry. She and her new fiancé had a pair of golden labs. Never did Jack explain things to me. I knew that he had his own reasons. His mind was straight and unfettering.

By the time we reached the hotel in Galveston in the early evening, I felt lighter than I had in a long time. I parked the car and we walked to the reception. The hotel was full. A conference. Jack and I had shared a room often enough on the road, so this wasn't going to be a problem. When I gave the man at the reception my name, he explained that they only had rooms with a king bed. Not our normal way of sleeping, but this didn't seem to bother Jack or me, either.

We brought our bags up to the room and headed out for barbecue and beer. The rest of our family was due to arrive tomorrow during the day. On that evening Aunt Carol was staying with one of her three daughters. Jack and I were happy to let them be. We'd all have the chance to catch up the next day.

My son and I sat in a booth in the restaurant. Sports were running on all the screens. "You've already seen that I'm a mess. How are you Jack?"

"You're just alone, Dad." He took a swig of beer. "And, as you know, so am I." He sat in silence. "Fucking stupid marriage. I should've known better." This was unlike him. He was mostly sure of himself.

"I love you and I know you do what's right for you." I looked straight into those steel blue eyes.

"Thanks. The past year has been rough." He seemingly stared at the TV screen. "And good, too." I saw his determination flash.

We played a couple of rounds of darts. When he went to the bathroom I checked out one of my apps to see what kind of men were out that night. A lot of profiles with no pictures. As soon as Jack came back I put my phone back in my pocket. I probably forgot to turn log off. We drank a few more beers. And then we headed back to the hotel. I realized I was exhausted. "Jack, I've got to sleep. Do what you need to do." He turned on the TV while I flossed and brushed my teeth. He was sitting upright in the bed in the blue light in his t-shirt and underwear. "Goodnight."

It could've been a few hours later when I awoke in the darkness. Jack was holding me tightly and grinding his pelvis into me. His erection pressed against my ass. He was sleeping and his body was warm and strong. I sighed a slight groan. What the fuck was I doing? My body was reacting. It was awake. And ready to fuck. So unlike me, I felt precut leaking from my cock. My ass was in heat and wet. Without thinking about what I was doing, I pushed my butt back into my son's groin.

Only then did I notice that he was naked and awake. "It's okay, Floppy," he whispered. There was a chuckle in his voice. It was then I knew that he had seen my account. So stupid of me. "I'm going to fuck you now, Dad. You need that, don't you? That's what you want."

I quietly pulled off my briefs.