Breaking Free [M/M] (closed for garajd)

Simon Thorpe, nineteen years of age, had always felt like an accessory in someone else's life. When walking through the museum-like Thorpe family home, he often paused to glance at the old family photos in heavy scrolled metal frames, under glass like exhibits, and wondered who those people were, even though he recognized his own face among them - baby blue eyes, dark brown hair, rosy cheeks, and a toothpaste commercial smile that his parents had paid an obscene amount of money to perfect. They were all so meticulously crafted and polished, and as a unit, they were more like a product to be marketed to the public than a real family. He supposed that was what they were.

Simon's father, Senator Roger Thorpe, had been born into money, and made plenty more, first as a congressman, and then as a United States Senator. He was in the midst of running for reelection, and Simon knew all about election season. Senator Thorpe was a staunch Republican, and he orchestrated his family into the perfect traditional-values archetype. His wife was seamlessly elegant; Simon had never seen his mother without makeup and a perfectly sculpted hairstyle. The senator's eldest son, seven years Simon's senior, was a high-powered lawyer with a beautiful wife and four irritatingly perfect offspring. Simon also had a younger sister in high school whom he thought of as Little Miss Perfect - ruler of the student council, champion of social justice clubs, queen of the Honour Roll.

Simon was sick to death of all of them, of everything about this life. He was sick of the rigid expectations, of the PR professionals and image consultants, of the pressure to excel and to appear the flawless white Christian straight boy his father had created him to be. Most of his childhood memories were of the nanny, and the only time his parents seemed to pay attention to him was when he dared to place one foot outside the line he was expected to stay behind. He wasn't rebellious by nature - he just wanted to live life, to feel things, to figure out who he was independent of Team Thorpe.

These days he had very few avenues to explore when it came to finding his own path. Simon was attending university as per parental expectations, and they paid his tuition, but they would not allow him to work even part time, insisting he had to focus on his studies. Simon knew it was a way to keep him under his dad's thumb. There was no way he could afford to move out, particularly since dad had made it clear that once he moved out he'd have to "be a man", which meant paying for everything himself, including tuition. Financially, living with his parents was his only viable option until school was done, and so long as he was under dad's roof, he had to play by dad's rules. He'd been quite effectively railroaded.

Simon was pretty sure he knew why his father had been especially rigid with him lately. A couple of times he'd been caught with gay porn, and his parents had lectured him for hours, with his dad frequently referencing how one of his predecessors in the Senate had been taken down by some sort of porn-related scandal, and that he would absolutely not accept his own flesh and blood compromising his carefully crafted public image. Mom had humiliated him by advertising all over church how her son was "battling the devil", and needed extra prayer. It was their typical style of discipline - not abusive, but cruel in its own way, that had an effect like death by a thousand cuts. It just wasn't worth it. He took the path of least resistance and tried his best to do as expected (or at least, got a lot more careful about his porn habits), knowing that once he was able to move out, he could be his own man.

Aware of what his son wanted, and of his 'problems', Senator Thorpe had come to Simon a few months ago with a simple, yet somewhat nauseating proposal: marry a woman, and he'd buy them a house... in another state. Simon had been choked by the very idea of it at first - buying his freedom with a commitment to heterosexuality? It was horrendous.

Yet, it wasn't long before he'd decided to at least make a go of it. It was hard to deny the appeal of a free house and no more parental pressure. It wasn't as if he didn't ever plan to get married anyway. Sure, girls didn't really excite him, but he'd still dated a few. In truth, he wasn't quite sure of his sexuality - he remained preoccupied with male-on-male sex even though he'd never experienced it, but he suspected it might just be the taboo that drew him in - and going straight might just be that path of least resistance he'd always defaulted to.

There was a girl in his neighborhood, a friend of the family, he'd started seeing. Alyssa was a nice-looking, well-behaved girl who believed in promise rings and chastity. This at least bought Simon some time. If it wasn't going to work, physically, they wouldn't find out until after marriage, and by then he'd already have his house. The relationship was bland and routine, but they looked like the perfect couple, and their families mutually approved of one another.

Meanwhile, feeling almost unbearably stifled, Simon masturbated almost obsessively, looking at gay porn on his phone whenever he was sure he had the privacy.

He was supposed to go over to Alyssa's tonight, and his dad had let him take the Bentley. It wasn't until he pulled up to her house that he realized she'd texted him:

I'm so sorry sweetie, I'm held up at work and I'm going to be late. Can we postpone a little?

Simon sighed, and texted back: I'm already here.

Alyssa's response: Oh noooo! I'm soooo sorry :/ Why don't you hang out? My dad's home, and I think he'd enjoy a chance to get to know you better. Would that be okay?

Simon considered this option as he looked out the window of the Bentley at Alyssa's parents' house. Did he want to awkwardly hang out with his girlfriend's dad? No... he didn't. He felt somehow like Alyssa's parents would eventually see right through him. Still... he knew it would be expected of him. Both her parents and his would appreciate him making nice.

He agreed, and got out of the car, carefully combing his dark hair back and smoothing his sweater vest as he approached the front door, praying that this wouldn't be too painful.

Allen Dalton, 52, looked out the window of his study to see a car stopping in front of the house . . . probably Simon coming over for Alyssa, and she was held up at work. Oh, well, guess I can spend some time with him until she gets home.

Walking to the door as the chimes sound, I open it, "Hi, Simon. Come on in. Alyssa is going to be a few minutes late. We can sit and chat in study until she gets here."

Simon's parents have been friends for many years; although wealthier and more influential, we have still been friends and we have supported Roger in his political ambitions. Because of his family background, we are delighted that Alyssa and Simon have become a couple, seemingly headed for marriage. Alyssa holds to our family values, and a pregnancy is totally out of the question, as she has shared her vow of remaining a virgin until marriage with us and others in our church family.

Leading Simon into my study and indicating a comfortable chair in front of the fire place.

"How are your parents, Simon? I see from the news that the Senator is quickly becoming a leader in his party. All the polls show him with a significant lead in the current campaign."

Simon smiled politely as he accepted the seat in the study. The last thing he wanted was to talk about his dad, but he had many duties to his family. He'd learned the hard way too many times that if he neglected those duties, dad could make things far more inconvenient for him.

"They're very well, thank you, sir," Simon replied, poised as if conducting an interview. "Yes, my father is pleased with the polls, and it looks like a solid reelection. How is your family, Mr. Dalton?"

Simon's mind drifted as he went through the routine small talk. God, he was horny. He should have taken the time to empty his balls earlier. It was a good thing Alyssa didn't have any brothers - he'd end up secretly undressing them with his eyes. Maybe he needed to ease off on the porn... Clearly he'd warped his mind a bit.

He tried to focus on Allen Dalton's face as he awaited a response. Mr. Dalton was a fine-looking man for his age. He looked like he might have a nice body. Simon had developed a taste for older men in porn - watching twinks and daddy types go at it was his cup of tea lately.

Fuck. He really needed to curb his porn habits. This was not a good situation.

Allen sat quietly, listening to Simon's 'expected' response about the campaign and his family. While the Senator was more apt to be seen on the golf course or in the club house with his entourage of hangers-on, Allen preferred a stiff game of tennis (either singles or doubles) with a few close friends. Although their games were serious and competitive, they remained the closest of friends off he courts.

The advantage of a stiff set of tennis was that Allen was in quite good shape for 52, and while he had not the slightest intention of straying from his wife, there had been a number of opportunities over the years . . . younger ladies at the office, a couple of wives of his tennis partners, and even the hint of interest from a couple of the men at the tennis who seemed to linger a bit longer in the shower when Allen was there.

"Could I offer you something to drink, Simon? A soft drink or some water?"

As he stood up to get the drinks, waiting on Simon to answer, Allen subconsciously rubbed his hand down the front of his slacks.

Simon's clear blue eyes followed the movement of the older man's hand, and lingered as if locked there. Almost immediately he felt himself throb, and was breathless. His brain seemed to be on hold. His tailored slacks didn't leave much spare room, and it took him several excruciating moments to realize he was on the verge of humiliating himself.

"Water?" he managed once he could kick his brain back into gear. He cleared his throat. "Uh, please, water would be great. Thank you, sir."

He could feel a little heat building in his cheeks and at the back of his neck.

While he had never indulged any of his fantasies, Allen recognized some signs from Simon that indicated he "may be playing both sides of the street" as the boys at the club phrased it. No wonder Alyssa felt completely at ease with him . . . he probably had no real desire to put his hands where they didn't belong.

Not intending on starting anything tonight; after all, Alyssa would be home in a few minutes, Allen had the very distinct impression that, under the right circumstances, Simon would bend to his desires. Allen just had to decide if this was the one he would give in to.

Not wanting to embarrass Simon, Allen moved toward the small fridge in his office and retrieved two bottles of water. Handing one to Simon and opening the other for himself, Allen returned to his seat, but not before sliding a hand into his slacks front pocket and running a finger down his shaft, knowing that Simon was watching.

"So, what are your plans after school? Alyssa tells me that you are not interested in the family business of politics."

Simon breathed slowly, but heavily, trying not to give away the tremble behind it. He took the bottle with thanks and gripped it tightly. He twisted the cap off and put his lips to the opening, taking his time with it. His eyes kept drifting down to Allen's groin.

Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing...?

Surely not. He had an overactive imagination, was all. Maybe Mr. Dalton was just... adjusting? Simon could have used an 'adjustment' himself. He felt very constricted. He shifted slightly in his seat.

"That's correct, sir," he said softly, trying very hard to make eye contact instead of dick contact. "Politics wouldn't be my forte. I've been studying law, like my brother. Though I'm not sure I'll be a lawyer. I'm keeping my options open for now."

"I'm sure that whatever direction you decide to go, you will be successful. As you must know, Alyssa is quite fond of you; and has confided in me and her mother that she hopes there might be a future for the two of you."

Leaning back in his chair, Allen once again ran his finger down his thigh, obviously rubbing his dick under his slacks; noticing once again that Simon's eyes were on his finger. Mrs. Dalton had heard the rumors that Simon was "battling the devil"; she wasn't sure what that meant when she told her husband, but Allen was not beginning to figure out just which "demon" was in play with Simon.

Hearing a car pull into the drive, Allen stood up, "I do believe that is Alyssa; I will leave the family room to the two of you and keep myself busy with some paper work here in my den."

As Simon stood to leave, Allen put his arm around Simon, "I'm glad we had these few minutes together; we really must find more time. I'm sure that we both want only the best for Alyssa."

The arm around Simon was unexpected; Allen felt him react to the touch; especially when Allen leaned his body against Simon and their thighs touched.

Simon had stopped trying to look anywhere but at what Mr. Dalton's hands were doing. Could this really be happening...?! His mouth hung partway open, and he now had a substantial bulge tenting his own pants. He mumbled wooden responses to the man's comments, waiting for something... anything... to happen. He could almost cream his pants. Was he dreaming?

Then they heard Alyssa's car pull up, and Simon felt like screaming in frustration. Thorpes didn't lose their tempers, Thorpes didn't use foul language, and Thorpes didn't blaspheme, but Simon thought very seriously about kicking a chair across the room and belting out, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

Instead, he sipped his water, stood up, and tried awkwardly to shift his pants to give himself a little room. It was a lost cause.

He gasped when Mr. Dalton came up alongside him, standing right against him. A desperate little noise of need - something between a moan and a whimper - escaped from his tight throat as he leaned into the man and inhaled the scent of him.

He was saying something.

...the best for Alyssa....

Alyssa! Simon swallowed again with an audible gulp, and nodded rapidly. He looked up to meet Mr. Dalton's eyes.

"I... need to use the restroom," he stammered, once more adjusting his pants. "Will you tell her I'll be there in a minute... sir?"

Allen realized the effect he was having on Simon . . . obviously the rumors were at least partially true . . . didn't take much of a glance to notice that Simon was fully aroused in his slacks. Simon made some excuse about having to use the restroom before Alyssa came in.

"Feeling OK, Simon?"

Allen ran his hand up and down Simon's back as he pointed the way to the bathroom just off his study. Knowing Alyssa would want to run up to her room and change before settling in with Simon, Allen stayed in his office and listened as Simon went into the bathroom . . . listening for either a good strong piss, or the relieving groan of a load of cum shot into the toilet.

Feeling okay, Simon?

How could he even begin to answer that?

The hand caressing his back drew audible shivers from him, and he leaned into Mr. Dalton a little more before taking a step toward the bathroom.

"I feel... great," he said in a near-whisper. He paused and turned to face the man for a moment, taking a cue from him and sliding a hand into his pocket, reaching for his throbbing shaft through the fabric. "Just need to, uh... empty the tank."

Simon bit his lip and disappeared into the bathroom. He'd barely shut the door, and was already tearing his pants open to haul out his aching member. Releasing a soft moan, he leaned back against the door and jerked it hard and fast.

"Oh... fuck," he whispered.

He loved spouting f-bombs when he masturbated. He almost never said such words otherwise, so they had a potent power for him.

"Fuck me," he gasped, shutting his eyes and trying to picture what Mr. Dalton might look like naked. How big his cock was. What it might feel like in his hand... in his mouth... up his ass.

"Fuck me!"

He pictured Mr. Dalton taking him into the bed he shared with his wife. Or maybe Alyssa's bed. Right next to her stupid stuffed animals.

These and dozens of other over-the-top scenarios flipbooked through his mind, and in less than two minutes he was stifling a groan, shooting a huge load into his cupped hand. He slurped up every drop, went to flush the toilet for no good reason, washed his hands, and did up his pants.

Would Alyssa want to kiss him? Would she have any idea what that taste was on his tongue?

Smirking, Simon opened the door to leave the bathroom, and froze when he found Mr. Dalton still there.

Simon was definitely in the bathroom too long to merely "empty the tank", and there was no sound of a piss stream hitting the toilet. And Allen was pretty sure he heard Simon saying "fuck" more than once . . . and then a stifled groan . . . all indications of a hard, fast wank in the bathroom.

Allen was standing next to the bookshelves his office when Simon came out, a surprised look on his face when he realized Allen was still in the room . .. where did Simon think he was going to be?

"Alyssa said she was going to change from her work clothes and will meet you in the family room when she comes back down."

Picking out a book, Allen walked back to his desk, once more making an obvious caress of his cock thru his slacks, no intent of hiding the move from Simon. After Simon left the office to find Alyssa, Allen stepped into the bathroom and spotted a couple of cum droppings on the floor that Simon had left . . . just as he suspected.

Simon swallowed back a lump and stared longingly at the movement of Mr. Dalton's hand, at the outline of his bulge. He could no longer believe at this point that there was some misunderstanding. What sort of a tease was this? What was he supposed to do? He wanted to drop to his knees and beg to be treated like the slutty twinks in the videos he liked to watch. He wanted to know what it felt like to have a cock ramming down his throat, to know what another man's cum tasted like. He wanted to be bent over and fucked senseless.

But Alyssa was waiting. And this was her dad, her fucking dad, who was friends with his dad. Whatever this was, it was dangerous and oh so very wrong... maybe that was why it turned him on so much. His cock hadn't even fully softened. But he'd have to make do.

"I'll... be seeing you," he managed hoarsely, and suggestively cupped his own package before backing out of the room and going to find his girlfriend.

It was going to be a very long evening.

Allen had every intention of following thru on his overtures that Simon was obviously reciprocating; it was just a matter of when and working out the details. He knew it wouldn't take much for Simon to 'fall' under his guidance.

Before going up to bed (he knew nothing inappropriate would occur in the family room), he stuck his head in to stay goodnight to Simon and Alyssa.

"Simon, do you play tennis? When you get home from classes tomorrow, why don't you change in to something more appropriate and come on over. We can hit a few balls back and forth before Alyssa and her mom get home from work."

Simon was bored out of his skull. Alyssa had gabbed for nearly half an hour about frustrations in her job and personal life and how gosh darn difficult it was to be a good person when there were so many bad people out there, then quizzed him seemingly interminably about school and whether he was working hard. She was almost like a mini mom.

Now they were watching TV, which was a nice break from having to wade through conversations he didn't want to have, but her choice in programming made him want to beat his head against a brick wall after about twenty minutes.

He looked at her occasionally, wondering if he could ever really have sex with her, or whether they'd even get that far. She seemed to adore him and expected him to think about their future together, but he might just lose his mind before reaching a point of actually marrying her. She looked back at him and smiled, holding his hand. She had a very particular sort of Sunday School smile that said, Aren't you glad we're being pure? That was the sort of smile she was giving him tonight. Maybe she sensed he was horny; maybe she'd seen his occasional partial erections when he thought about what had happened in her dad's study. Holding his hand and giving him that insipid smile might just be her way of telling him he'd better continue keeping it in his pants, and weren't they both so wonderful for behaving!

Simon's heart leaped back to life when her dad entered. There was something irresistibly devious about looking at and speaking to him now, knowing they were probably both thinking the same thing, even while he continued to hold onto Mr. Dalton's daughter's hand.

Tennis. Oh yes... it was perfect.

Simon smiled a knowing smile. "I don't have much experience, sir, but I'm sure you play a good game and could show me a few things. I'll join you for sure."

"I look forward to it. When you come over tomorrow, just pull into the drive and come in the back door. I will probably be in my office working."

Leaning over, Allen kissed his daughter on the cheek, "Good night, Alyssa. You two be good down here."

As he stepped from the room, he stopped in the doorway and, unseen by Alyssa, gave his cock a deliberate stroke that only Simon could see.

Vivid color bloomed in Simon's cheeks when he pictured what might happen tomorrow. How far would things go? Did Mr. Dalton do this a lot? He was thrilled at the thought that this upstanding man, whom his family so respected, had some sort of ribald secret life. He licked his lips deliberately as his eyes roamed over the older man.

"I'll be here, sir. It'll be an honour to play with you."

He smiled and gave a hint of a nod when he saw Mr. Dalton suggestively touch himself.

Once they were alone, Alyssa squeezed his hand and smiled at him. "It's so nice of you to indulge him. Are you sure you don't mind hanging out with my dad? I know you're not much into the sporty stuff."

Simon smiled back. "I think I could get into it. It's my pleasure... honestly."

"Aww, you sweet guy. Just for that, you get a kiss." She leaned in and pressed a light, dry kiss to his cheek, way back near his ear, the way an old aunt or grandma might. "I hope he doesn't give you a hard time."

Simon's smile widened, and he blushed furiously. Probably she would think it was from the kiss. "Well, if he does, I can probably handle it. Giving boys a hard time is what a good dad does."

* * * * * *

The next day at school seemed to last half an eternity. He had to fight to keep from popping boners most of the day. He'd refrained for a bedtime or morning jerkoff session, wanting to save it for after school.

When he finally got home, he dashed to his room to change, and nearly collided with his father as he reached the top of the stairs.

"Watch it!" Senator Thorpe snapped, gripping his shoulder hard. "We don't run in the house, Simon. You know that."

Simon gritted his teeth. He hated when his dad scolded him like he was a six-year-old in school. "Sorry, dad."

"Why the hurry?"

He sucked in a breath and smiled, trying not to show too much excitement. "Mr. Dalton is expecting me. He's invited me to play a game of tennis."

"Good man. Making a good impression on your lady's father, are you?"

"I hope so. I'm, uh... starting to feel like part of the family. Things are going well."

"Alright. Behave yourself. You know what I expect."

Simon flinched as his father thumped his back before heading down the stairs. "I'll be good," he said with a private grin, continuing to his bedroom to find the perfect thing to wear.

Before too long he was pulling up to the Dalton house. He looked around before exiting the car, not particularly wanting to be seen. He'd chosen rather tight-fitting clothes, stuff he hadn't worn since high school - a white polo that clung to his slim frame, and coordinating tight shorts that were well above the knee and emphasized the shape of his ass. He brought a small bag with a change of clothes, just in case Mr. Dalton's wife or daughter came home. He was worried someone might suspect something if they saw him looking this slutty.

Following Mr. Dalton's instructions, he hurried around the back of the house and let himself in the back door, making his way to the man's office.

"Mr. Dalton...?"

"Come in, Simon. Please close the door behind you."

Slipping his hand under the desk, Allen touches a button that locks the door behind Simon. No one can come in and no one can leave. Getting up from his desk and walking to Simon, Allen places his hand on Simon's shoulder and steers him toward the bathroom. Opening the door, he turns to Simon.

"Simon, do you see these cream colored stains on the floor? They weren't there yesterday. And you are the only one besides me that has been in here. Can you explain what made those stains?"

Simon stopped breathing for several tense moments, and his insides froze.

Oh lord, no. Was he in trouble? All those signals yesterday... could he actually have made a mistake?

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What had possessed him to dress so whorishly and come over here for what he imagined to be some sort of sexual exploration with his girlfriend's dad?! Maybe Mr. Dalton was manipulating him - setting him up so he could knock him down. Simon had everything to lose. He could be so easily blackmailed.

He wrung his hands until his knuckles went white. He finally pulled in a shaky breath, trying to come up with some sort of explanation.

"I...," he stammered. His throat had gone bone dry. He tried to swallowed, and there was an audible click. "I... I'm... sorry, sir. Sir... it was me. I... I think I did something very foolish."

Fearful tears gathered at the edges of his shining blue eyes as he looked toward Mr. Dalton. He was too mortified to make eye contact... and even now, he couldn't keep his eyes from traveling downward.

Allen pointed toward an empty box on the floor by his office door.

"I suppose you need to understand the consequences of this inappropriate activity in my house . . . in my office!" You can start by putting your shoes and socks in the box.

As Simon looked back at him, taking his eyes off Allen's groin area, he looked a bit surprised at the statement of remove his shoes and socks.

Simon's mouth hung open. What was happening here...? Was Mr. Dalton playing with him... or punishing him... or was he some sort of maniac? Regardless, Simon knew the man had him by the short hairs.

"Yes sir," he whispered.

He lifted a delicate hand, which had never once done a hard day's work, and pressed it against the coolness of the wall for balance as he slipped his feet out of his tennis shoes. His eyes stayed locked on Mr. Dalton as he bent to slide off his socks, and he put it all in the box as ordered.

He couldn't guess what was coming next. Mr. Dalton had all the power... and Simon realized this excited him as much as it terrified him. He straightened, and looked up at the older man, waiting, trembling.

"Now the shirt!"

Allen was obviously taking complete control of Simon. After last night, Simon had to have an idea that Allen was sexually aroused by the younger man, but how was Allen going to show that? Allen was not giving any indication of what was going to happen next . . . .

Allen leaned back against his desk, his cock becoming more and more aroused under his slacks . . . and Simon could not keep his eyes off of it!

Simon took hold of the bottom hem of his polo and slowly peeled it off, baring his flat, firm stomach and pale, nearly hairless chest, his tender little nipples contracted to tight tips. He dropped the shirt into the box.

Mr. Dalton's cock bulge was becoming more and more obvious. The man was getting aroused, very aroused, by making him strip. Simon was practically drooling. His own cock responded eagerly. He was beginning to anticipate being ordered to take off his shorts next, and his hard-on was aching for the freedom.

His fingers lingered at the button of his shorts, knowing instinctively he wouldn't be allowed to make a move until told to do so. Mr. Dalton was totally in charge. Simon's fear rose, and so did his lust.

"Yes sir...?" he exhaled shakily.

"I think I need to catch up with you, Simon."

Still leaning back against his desk, Allen lifted a foot, "Start with my shoes and socks. Make sure they are neatly placed by the chair in front of my desk."

Simon seemed a bit disappointed that Mr. Dalton did not command him to remove his shorts next. However, did as requested, kneeling before Allen and removing his shoes and socks and placing them next to the chair. Allen held a hand toward him, indicating he was to remain on his knees, his face at eye level to Allen's engorged cock, still restrained within his slacks.

Oh lord, were they both going to be naked together? Simon's stomach twisted with a mixture of nervousness and glee. He felt slightly petulant that he hadn't been asked to take anything else off, but once he was on his knees, the pure pleasure of obeying took over. His anxious expression began to soften. His hands were quick yet careful, almost loving, as he bared Mr. Dalton's feet.

He was anticipating getting to take off the man's shirt for him, his fingers twitching with the desire to undo all those buttons. But again, Mr. Dalton redirected him. He obeyed the tacit command, remaining on his knees. He knew right away that this was the right place for him. His eyes locked eagerly on the bulge in front of him. He had never been so close to another cock. He leaned even closer, almost close enough to catch the masculine scent of him. His pupils were widely dilated with pure carnal pleasure. Would he be in even more trouble if he leaned in to press his face right up against that powerful hardness? He wanted it so badly.

Finally, he tore his hungry eyes away and met Mr. Dalton's commanding ones. "What next, sir?" he gasped, panting with anticipation.