Try to forget about it

Shaken, Jack finished out his work day, unable to really reconcile what had happened. He was nervous, skittish, but too afraid to ask if anyone else had seen the boy or knew what was happening. At some point he just decided to pretend it never happened. It didn't seem like a great solution, but it was all he could come up with. He drove home, with a lingering sense of dread, but when he pulled into his driveway and went into his house everything was exactly as it always was.

“Hey, Todd,” Jack called out.

“Hey Dad!” Todd called down from somewhere upstairs, “Mom said to say she’s stuck at work and is probably going to be home late and not to wait up.”

“OK, sounds good!”

Jack went into the kitchen, opened a beer to steady his nerves a bit, and read the newspaper. A few minutes later he heard Todd stomping down the stairs and his son walked into the kitchen. Jack kept reading the newspaper, only looking up when he felt his son walk right by him and stand at the bar right next to where Jack was sitting.

Todd was wearing just a pair of gym shorts and no shirt, scarfing down a bowl of cereal. Jack noticed his son’s sculpted, teen-aged physique, his abs still visible even as his son stood hunched over the bar, visible muscle definition across his strong back. Then Jack leaned back and caught a glimpse of his son’s ass, framed by the thin, shiny gym short material draped over it, the two firm globes of Todd’s ass clearly defined against the shorts. Jack’s breath caught in his throat, and then he opened his mouth and quietly whispered to nobody in particular.