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Family Circle - The Kitchen


Camy

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Family Circle - the kitchen

by Camy

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why, and don't prevaricate."

"Prevaricate. Big word."

"But apt."

The kettle reached boiling point and switched off. Neither of us got up to make the coffee. We just sat glowering at each other.

"'till death do you part." Sharon muttered. I winced, then got up suddenly needing to move. I picked the kettle up, added water to the mugs, then opened the fridge. I was holding the milk jug as her arms snaked around my waist and grabbed my cock. I got hard, which belied the truth. I could feel her triumph.

"I knew it. You're protecting Sam." she said as she gently squeezed. I twitched: I couldn't help it, but I couldn't lie any longer, and though blaming our son was a way out, it was far too late. Besides, I didn't have the nerve.

"Sam isn't to blame here, Sharon. It's my computer, they're my letters, he's my ... lover."

"But you're hard." Her voice was toneless which was a bad sign.

"Yes I am," I said, "and I love you, truly I do. But I ... I'm ...." I paused as her hands fell away. I poured the milk, stirred, and passed her her mug.

"Thank you. You're ...?"

"Gay." I said for the first time. "Or bisexual, or something." I followed her back to the table and sat down. "But as I said, I truly love you. It's just that ... I need to ...."

"Fuck other men?" Again, her voice was toneless. I blinked.

"Yes. If you put it like that, yes."

"It's disgusting."

"No," I said, "it's not. Actually, it's rather wonderful." Her eyes looked as if they might pop out of her head.

"Get out!"

“No.”

“No!?” I shook my head.

“Susanne Penhaligon.” I said, and watched as she crumbled. I drank some coffee and made a mental note to buy a quieter kitchen clock.

“How long have you known?”

“Ages. You left a letter and her photo on the dresser.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “It's not the same, David.”

“Yes, it is.”

We were back to glaring at each other in a could-have-cut-it-with-a-knife silence, when Sam bounded through the door glowing with joy. Normally he was a sensitive soul, but this time he missed all the signals.

“Mum! Dad!” He started, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. There was a shadowy figure standing in the dark of the hall. “Come in, they'll be fine. I promise.”

“Fine with what, for God's sake” Sharon muttered. I found I was smiling. If it was what I thought it was, I wasn't at all surprised. Sam had talked to me in confidence ever since he'd crawled through puberty, and, I mused, it was probably those talks that had helped me with my own breakthrough.

The shadow seemed to retreat. Sam huffed, strode out, and there was a whispered confab. Sharon and I rolled our eyes, by unspoken agreement, our own problems on hold.

Finally there was a squeal of laughter, and Sam dragged a red faced, good looking, tow haired boy through the door.

“Mum, Dad, this is Ryan,” Sam said, proudly. “He's my boyfriend.”

Hand in hand and more than bemused, they watched as Sharon and I, laughing hysterically, fell into each other's arms.

---

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I knew it! Everyone really is gay, or bisexual...or something.

Camy, what superb irony in your revelations.

Terrific stuff. If only my family had been so honest with themselves. :hehe:

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