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    My Best Friend's Dad
    My Best Friend's Dad
    My Best Friend's Dad
    Ebook65 pages1 hour

    My Best Friend's Dad

    By J.M. Snyder

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    I had the worst crush on Mikey Pierce's dad. As excited as I was to graduate high school and go away to college, what I looked forward to more was returning home a grown man who might fit in with the guys Mr. Pierce invited over for poker at his place. Whenever I spent the night at Mikey's, I always wanted to join in their game.

    The week before leaving for college, I stayed at Mikey's one last time. While Mr. Pierce and his buddies gambled, Mikey and I stole a couple of beers and watched movies upstairs. By the time it was my turn to sneak downstairs to get more drinks, the card game was over and I thought all the visitors had left.

    But Mr. Pierce was in the dining room. He wasn't alone. The man in there with him owed Mr. Pierce a couple hundred bucks from playing cards, and I had a ring-side seat as he paid up.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJMS Books LLC
    Release dateJun 1, 2010
    ISBN9781935753155
    My Best Friend's Dad
    Author

    J.M. Snyder

    An author of gay erotic romance, J.M. Snyder began self-publishing gay erotic fiction in 2002. Since then, Snyder has worked with several e-publishers, most notably Amber Allure Press and eXcessica Publishing.Snyder’s short fiction has appeared online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Eros Monthly, and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies released by Alyson Books, Cleis Press, and others.For more book excerpts, free fiction, and purchasing information, please visit http://jmsnyder.net.

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      Book preview

      My Best Friend's Dad - J.M. Snyder

      My Best Friend’s Dad

      By J.M. Snyder

      Published by JMS Books LLC

      This story is included in the print book Eight by J.M. Snyder.

      Visit http://www.jmsnyder.net for more information.

      Copyright 2010 J.M. Snyder

      ISBN 978-1-93575-315-5

      Cover Photo Credit: fotum

      Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

      Cover Design: J.M. Snyder

      All Rights Reserved

      WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

      No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

      This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Published in the United States of America.

      * * * *

      My Best Friend’s Dad

      By J.M. Snyder

      The first man I ever fell in love with was my best friend’s dad. Mikey didn’t know it, of course, and neither did Mr. Pierce.

      The dad was nothing like the son. I’d known Mikey since kindergarten, when he pushed me off the swing set on the school playground and had to sit in time-out for the rest of recess. When the teacher made him apologize, he stared at his sneakers and mumbled, Sorry. It was only later, when we were leaving for the day, that he approached me at the coat rack and sounded a little more sincere when he added in a breathless rush, I’m sorry I pushed you off the swing. That was rude of me.

      I had looked up, surprised, but someone behind Mikey caught my eye and my gaze continued to travel past the kid to the imposing man who stood behind him. Mr. Pierce wore a dingy wifebeater beneath a half-buttoned, dark blue work shirt. His belt buckle seemed to be twice the size of Mikey’s head, and the hem of his undershirt was caught in the fly of his dark pants.

      I saw that little gleam of white peeking out from between the silver teeth of the zipper and fell for him, right then and there. At six years old, I was in love.

      Without looking away from those stern, black eyes, I whispered, It’s okay. Thanks.

      Mikey knuckle-punched me in the shoulder and laughed. Smell you later!

      The next day he pulled his sleeping mat over beside mine at naptime and we were friends ever since.

      Over the years, Mr. Pierce never seemed to change. Throughout elementary school and junior high, he was an imposing figure on the edge of Mikey’s life. He knew my name, of course; he had to—I was Mikey’s best friend growing up. But whenever I visited Mikey’s house, his dad always referred to us as simply, You boys. It was, You boys turn that TV down when we watched cartoons on Saturday mornings while Mr. Pierce tried to sleep in, or You boys stop running through the house when we chased each other with light sabers, or You boys get to bed up there! when I spent the night and he heard Mikey snicker at my latest dirty joke.

      Mr. Pierce had a hard voice, rough, burned out from too many late evenings with his friends huddled around the dining room table, cigarette smoke stinging their throats and watering their eyes as they played hand after hand of poker. If I stayed over one of those nights, Mikey and I were confined to his room upstairs, out of the way, though not out of earshot. The men’s raucous laughter and coarse language made us envious. To be old enough to join in with the adults! How I longed to have Mr. Pierce call me a dirty bastard one second, then clap me on the back and roar with approval at something I’d said the next.

      On those nights, long after Mikey fell asleep, I would lie awake in the darkness and listen to the game wind down, imagining myself among them as a friend. The dining room table was a thick slab framed on either side by weathered benches and I could see myself so clearly seated on the bench beside Mr. Pierce, sitting so close that his knee pressed into my thigh. In my mind’s eye, I thought

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