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He had placed a towel around his waist and was wearing a t-shirt up top. He frowned and his eyebrows furrowed in thought and-yes, and even remorse too.

"Aaron, I feel . . . bad," he said, his eyes lowered towards his bare feet. "My behavior was inappropriate. I am your father, and you are my son. That should never have happened."

I sighed, relieved that apparently he had come to his senses. He looked into my eyes and then turned away again. "Dad," I said. "It's okay." I smiled at him warmly. I felt sadness for him.

"It's just that . . . I am gay," he said, looking me in the eyes again. "I have never told anyone in the world about it besides you just now . . . I am gay. Your mother doesn't know either. And the thing is that . . . I like young men, like you, 18 or 19 years old." He smiled weakly, peering down upon me. "When I saw you naked, and you had the exact perfect young man's body that I love, I just couldn't resist. You are attractive to me, son."

"I see," I said, genuinely surprised. I didn't know what else to say.

"I think I have a crush on you now," he said. "I . . . am in love with you. But you are my son, and I am your father. It is wrong."

I was sad looking into that face of his just then. But he was right. What was going on here? He shouldn't be . . . in love with me! There is something seriously wrong with this picture. I nodded to him and said dryly: "It's okay, Dad . . ."

"Do you . . . find me attractive?" he asked now. His eyes looked like they would swell with tears. "Do you, son?"

I gulped. "You're my Dad . . . Dad."

He nodded slowly and managed a weak smile. "I know. You're right. It's not right." A tear streamed from his eye and rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away, sniffling. My heart broke for him.

"Dad . . ." I didn't know what else to say. He turned around and closed the flap to the tent leaving me inside. I stooped over and put my hand on my mouth-it still smelled of cum. "This is crazy," I said to myself. "Crazy!"

The rest of the afternoon passed awkwardly, with almost complete silence between me and Dad. We were both pretending to not remember what had happened in the pool that day, and of Dad's confession to me in the tent. We set up a fire before it got dark and now sat there on our lawn chairs, both of us clothed, watching it flicker in front of us, providing us some heat while we relaxed. I turned to Dad.

"Dad, so . . .uh . . . I want to tell you something I've never talked about with anyone," I began. Dad looked at me and put his elbows on his knees to lean forward. "Since . . . you told me something secret earlier, I should tell you something too."

"Go ahead," he said. "I'm here for you."

"I . . . masturbate a lot," I said. "I mean . . . I am so bad with girls, but the desire is still there. I just get so nervous that I can't function around them I guess. I've never even kissed a girl. I don't even know what it would be like . . . So I masturbate a lot and watch a lot of porn-sometimes a couple times a day even-but in real life it just isn't there."

Dad nodded, and said, "I know how that is . . . I went through some time of my college life that way. In fact, I was lucky I met your mother when I did. I was so lonely."

"Had you ever . . . had sex with a guy back then?" I asked, swallowing. I was nervous asking such things. "Have you ever had sex with a guy?"

"Yes . . ." he said. "I had a boyfriend during my freshman year in college. James."

"I never heard about this," I said, honestly surprised. "What happened to him?"

"He had a girlfriend at the time . . . he was cheating on her . . . but she never found out and they got back together and got married, I guess," he said. "I don't see him anymore."

"What's it like having sex . . . I mean, with a guy?" I asked.

Dad smiled. "Well, you can either be the catcher or the pitcher," he began, using his hands to gesture. "With my boyfriend in college, I was mostly the catcher . . . but I now consider myself a pitcher."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

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