Fall asleep on sofa(reddit)

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Revision as of 16:08, 19 January 2015

In a brief sliver of lucidity, Don thinks that sleeping is the fastest, easiest way to see Michael again. But sleeping, in this situation, is not a matter of comfort. Should he just sleep on the couch, he might wake up when Michael comes home. Although harder on his back than a bed, the couch better appeases his anxiety.

Don moves around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position. His dick feels confined in his briefs, but a fatherly shame stops him from sleeping naked in the living room.

In his youth, the same Michael is so filled with, Don did not consider sleeping a difficult task. But six decades left him with ocasional seasons of insomnia.

It's been one year since Don reconnected with the son he abandoned on birth. While still occasionally difficult, he since has had no night in which sleep was absolutely impossible. And, since then, he is prone to a very special dream, one he cherishes right after waking up.

Don's dream begins with the first time he talked with his, then a 35 year old engineer with too many failed projects and enterprises. It was a small, awkward talk, one filled with sentences cut short and unsaid words. It goes by the weeks of slow rekindling of lost embers until Don saw the sorry apartment his son lived in. Exceptionally well kept, clean with such care and attention, but surrounded by drug addicts and families ruled by screaming drunks. In the night, Don thought, police sirens ought to pierce this neighborhood and busted doors might be a common sound.

Still, Michael was proud of his life. A honored life, won with hard work although stained by many ventures and investments that consumed his finances.

Don sought forgiveness for abandoning his son, such a wonderful boy turned into a respectable man. When Don offered his own house and Michael accepted (after just enough days as not to seem desperate), Don thought it was the greatest mercy on his life.

But the dream changes and goes on. The bliss of forgiveness is substituted by a racing heartbeat. He sees Michael on the sofa, sleeping with just some flimsy, white, old running shorts. Don finds himself unable to look away. The bulge in his son's crotch is evident, and so is his lack of underwear.

Don is painfully aware of his own hard on. His eyes are locked on his son, and he ravishes the sight of his slightly fuzzy belly with such a well defined treasure trail. He wonders how big his son ought to be. But, for just a moment, Don remembers of his son's supple butt, also so evident through the running shorts. And, before doing anything, he looks at his son's face, marveling at his stubble.

Don is marginally aware this is just a dream. There is no right or wrong, he can do whatever he pleases and pleases himself.


What should Don do?

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