This is a story inspired by two hot guys who meet online; one a Nifty author and the other his admirer who is the inspiration for Jarod, the protagonist of the story "Jarod Finds his Daddy". The "real world" Jarod read an earlier series of mine, Pook & Pete, which strongly resonated with him. Pook & Pete tells the story of a mature mentor daddy-type (me) and a somewhat younger lad. Both intense CrossFit competitors, their connection evolves into an impassioned daddy/son relationship. This story, and the nature of the character's sexual relationship, was so meaningful to "Jarod" that he reached out to me and our online relationship began.
We agreed that I would tell his real-life story which in many ways resembles Pook & Pete. We both find that literature is more erotic when you really know the characters and understand what drives them. For that reason, the first few chapters of "Jarod Finds his Daddy" tell the story that fuels the inevitable passion between the two main characters, Jarod and his daddy. "Real world" Jarod and I collaborated on this story and agree that knowing his background makes the sex infinitely more erotic and meaningful. If this type of erotic fiction isn't your thing, feel free to take a pass on this one. If you do go forward, we hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it.
Jarod Finds His Daddy
Chapter 1
It was a pretty typical text from my sister Susan, reading "Hey, we'll be celebrating Joshie's second birthday a week from Friday night. Cocktails, an early dinner, birthday cake...the usual. His bedtime is 7 so we'll have to make it an early start. Can you be over by 5? And don't go crazy on a gift. Just having his favorite Uncle Jarod at his party will be a gift. Give me a call and I'll tell you who else will be there." All pretty routine. Joshie was my only nephew and I was delighted--but not surprised--to be included in his birthday celebration. My sister Susan and I were close and I enjoyed her friends and the few relatives that were likely to be included. I was sure it would be an enjoyable evening.
When I had a spare moment during my busy day I gave her a ring to let her know I'd be coming, find out what I could bring and hear who else would be there. Blah blah...I got all the details but was more interested to hear the guest list: my mom whom I adore and my older brother Rob and his wife Becky who I'm close to as well, a couple my sister knew in college who I've known over the years, and one of her neighbors who I also have come to know. But there was one new person I hadn't met yet, a new neighbor named Richard who Susan and her husband Tom had become friendly with. Susan told me Richard was a practicing psychologist with his own counseling practice that she thought I'd enjoy meeting so she invited him as well. I've liked all of my sister's friends so I was happy to meet another one. Absent from the list was my father who had passed away less than a year ago. I felt guilty that I was pleased he'd no longer be present at functions like these, but I had to be careful not to be obvious about it. My mother was still grieving despite the living hell he had made my life. He didn't taunt my siblings like he did me, although they were aware of my feelings toward him. They knew how I felt about him and why I did, but he was their dad and they cut him more slack than I was able to. There was non-stop tension between my father and me including my choice of careers. I'm a college lecturer in bioscience and he mocked me as being too intellectual. He was convinced most college professors were gay and on the prowl for young college boys. However, the source of our issues were more intensely personal that just that.
As I dressed Friday morning I knew I'd be heading straight to the party so I tried to look a little more presentable than a typical casual Friday at the office. Nothing special but I wore my best jeans, sharp looking shirt and a sport coat. I'm not sure why, but I felt compelled to look particularly smart for the get-together. I work out routinely, so my body wears clothes pretty damn well. Feeling pretty good about myself, I got to the party and quickly saw everyone my sister had told me would be there. I made the rounds, greeting and getting caught up and finally realized Susan's new phycologist friend hadn't arrived yet. Like clockwork, the doorbell rang, Susan went to answer it, opened the door, and there stood the most handsome, late-50-something man I had ever laid eyes on. He had the brooding demeanor of Daniel Craig, the physique of Henry Cavill and the gravitas of Dos Equiss's Most Interesting Man in the World. And he was dressed impeccably. Expensive (well fitting) jeans, expensive (tight fitting) shirt, and beautiful sport coat. As he stepped into the apartment, he had a presence that silenced the room. Realizing the impact he had made, Susan jumped into the void to introduce Richard, their new neighbor. She explained a little about him, that he had a loft in the building down the street and how she and Tom kept meeting him at the bodega on the corner. Their meetings were so routine they finally invited him up for drinks and they had since become fast friends.
Richard graciously made the rounds of everyone at the small gathering appearing to express genuine interest in each of the guests. He was smooth without being cloying. If he was feigning interest, he was doing a helluva job.
Intentionally or not (I may never know) I was the last one he introduced himself to. As he approached, he reached out and took my hand with a handshake that was so warm and inviting it was almost sensual. He looked so deeply into my eyes I thought his xray vision was peering directly into my brain. The exchange was nearly hypnotic. As he warmly grasped my hand he said, "Jarod, so good to finally meet you. Susan adores you and she was eager for us to meet."
My mind was racing. Susan knows I'm gay; was this a setup? It couldn't be as Richard was old enough to be my father. My heart was pounding, my mouth was dry, and I didn't want to let go of his hand. I did everything I could to regain my composure and finally replied, "Thanks Richard. Susan mentioned she was happy you could join us tonight; I'm happy you were able to make it."
We went on to exchange pleasantries long enough for my heartbeat to resume a healthy beat/minute rate when I asked him about his therapy practice. What was it? Did he have a specialty? It was more than small talk. I was struggling with my own mental health issues due to my strained relationship with my late father so I was genuinely interested.
He replied that he had a PhD in psychology, had had a variety of roles in the field, but had settled into a rewarding family practice specializing in adults rather than children. He had recently bought a loft about a block from my sister's place that was big enough to comfortably live and run his practice out of. Kind of like working from home, but not handcuffed to a computer screen all day. He shared that the idea of residing and running a practice out of a loft in this neighborhood was a lifelong dream and he felt proud that, at age 58, he had achieved this dream. It didn't escape me that my father, were he alive, would be 58 as well.
The conversation continued on two levels. If you read a transcript of it, it would read like a list of polite pleasantries. Nothing remotely unusual or inappropriate. But on the level below the chit-chat, my mind was racing. I couldn't help but juxtapose the state of mind this beautiful man and his calming, professional manner with the anxiety and mistrust I associated with my father. Both the same age, but they couldn't be more different.
Since Richard is a professional listener, I shouldn't have been surprised when he leaned in close to me and asked, "I may be way out of line asking this, but I can't help but sense something is troubling you. Did I say something to upset you?"
My heart immediately resumed its 160 beat/minute rate knowing he could, indeed, read my mind. Of course, there was nothing he said to upset me, but I couldn't escape the contrast between Richard and my father. I looked him straight in the eyes to answer but quickly realized my eyes were tearing up. He looked into my eyes and conveyed, without speaking, "Don't worry. We all have stories to tell". I was horribly embarrassed fearing I was making a scene at the party. Fortunately, at exactly that time, the birthday cake was being served and all the attention was drawn to Joshie blowing out his two birthday candles.
I quickly regained my composure and the evening went on without incident. The party wound down and everyone, including me, was making the move to leave. After saying my goodbyes to all, I head to the door to leave and Richard met me there. I had already said goodbye to him, so he clearly had something else to say. He opened the door for me and walked out with me. We stopped together right outside the door, he said, facing me, "As I said earlier, I think something is troubling you and it may have to do with your family. Family issues are my specialty." Handing me his business card, he added, "Take this and please call if you'd like to talk. Knowing Susan and Tom as well as I do already, I want to look out for you. We can meet at no cost to you and decide where to go from there. But only call if you'd be comfortable meeting with me."
With that he turned to open the apartment door to go back in, but just as he was reaching for it, he turned around to me and said, "I hope you do."
End of Chapter 1
Feedback to the author, good or bad, is a gift. I encourage you to share yours at psorenson9@hotmail.com. If you'd like to reach out directly to Jarod, you can find him at TherapyPGuy@proton.me.
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