Sidney Quinlan is the 35-year-old father of two, the loving husband of a stay at home mom named Janet. He works as a dentist at his own office and has his own parking spot. He doesn't live an exciting life. Or at least he didn't. Not until he meets...
"Are you just going to walk in there and take it?"
"Of course I am, it's eleven in the day. The boys in a coma right now Janet."
"And what if you find something like... Like drugs, how do we handle that?"
"I don't know. Google it, I'm sure there's something on there about how to discipline your child if you snoop through their phone and find out their selling drugs."
Janet and I were sitting at the dining room table, a mug of coffee between both our hands as we tried to come up with an idea on how to nab Eric's phone. It's been a few days since I told her I was going to take it and looking in it. But I hadn't been able to grab it during the night because apparently, Eric stayed up half the night playing on his phone. So the only option was to wait until Saturday morning when he was sleeping as any normal teenage boy would.
So now I was trying to work myself up to actually go violate my son's privacy. And hope to god he never finds out.
It wasn't so much about taking his phone that bugged me, I paid the bill his phone was my phone and he and I had a pretty clear understanding of that. It was the fact I was taking without him knowing and looking into things without his consent.
Maybe I could just blame everything on Morgan if something was out of place.
Either way, my nerves were a mess as I walking upstairs and down the hallway to Eric's bedroom at the end of the hallway. The same bedroom he's had since he was ten years old when we first bought the house seven years ago.
I opened the door as was hit by the smell of teenage dreams and OB. And none of those teenage dreams were written by Katy Perry. It was more the smell of gym socks and rotting pizza. Both of which were on his floor half under his bed.
Eric was laying on his bed snuggled into his blanket like his room was a freezer when really it was relatively warm. And beside him on his nightstand was his black Samsung S7 plugged into his charger with a blue light flashing from it.
I walked in, careful not to step on any tissues that he had thrown on the ground, because. Ew.
I tipped toed around all his garbage, my big toe stepping on something wet while my other foot got caught up in some, hopefully clean, underwear. and laundry making it to the side of the ad reaching down to take the phone and unplugging it, and just as I had it in my hands the damn thing vibrated and made me jump.
I paused, quickly looking down to a sleeping Eric who shifted in his bed turning his back to me as he let out a big snore. Slowly I tipped back out of the bedroom and into the hallway where I B-lined for the bathroom. I wasn't letting Janet get the first look into this, all that hard work I just put into getting it? Hell no.
I don't know why I thought it would be easy to get into his phone. The first thing I was greeted with was his lock screen, a picture of our dog Sam asleep on his dog bed. Then I was faced with the difficult task of unlocking the phone.
A pin that contains at least four digits.
It wasn't his birthday, or my birthday, or the first four numbers of his phone number.
Goddamnit.
What would Eric pick as four numbers...
It took me a second before I entered four simple, easy numbers.
2009. The year our first dog died.
This kid was a softy.
My heartbeat was in my chest and my adrenaline pumping, every sound in the hose had me on high alert just in case it was Eric waking up. It took me about a minute to figure out where I wanted to go first. Photos, internet or texts. I opted out if snooping through his texts, figuring the fact his phone was in my hand was enough to kill our trust I didn't need to throw going through his conversations into the mix. So the first thing I did was open his gallery and went into his camera photos. It was mostly pictures of Sam, a few of the football team and a couple of selfies. But for the most part, there was nothing. No drugs no nudes no nothing.
So with that, I opened his internet browser and before I could type anything in I came face to screen with a very suggestive website with a very graphic video.
I didn't want to watch it. But before I could close the app the video started to play and the two men on the camera started letting out soft moans as one pushed his hips into the other from behind. The video was homemade, which I think made it worse for me because amateur porn was one of my turn-ons. I didn't like the bug lights and fake scenes. I like real and romantic, the heat of the moment sex that left you wanting more.
Not that I watched porn often.
And now here I was hiding in the guest bathroom with a sticky situation going on down under while holding my son's phone in my hand in the daylight.
God shoot me now.
The video in my hand started to get louder startling me enough to look down at the two men. Now face to face, while one bounced on top of the other. Neither man looked familiar which was a relief to me as the sounds grew along with my arousal. Without much thought I moved my hand into my gym pants, stroking myself enough to enjoy it.
It didn't take long and before I knew it I came. A sticky white mess on my hand and in my pants.
Biting my lip I washed my hands and erased all traces of me from Eric's phone before tiptoeing back into his room and putting it back where I found it.
I felt gross. Disgusting. I just jacked off to a video of two men having sex on my son's phone while my wife was downstairs waiting for me to tell her if our son was the next El Chapo or not.
I decided to hide in my bedroom for a moment to collect myself, changing my clothes and leaning back on the ensuite bathroom door but before I could really collect myself Janet ran into the room like someone had just thrown a firebomb in the living room and shut the door as quickly but as quietly as she could. "Well?" She whispered as our comatose son could actually hear her from across the hall.
"There was nothing. He likes sushi and taking pictures of Sam. Besides that, there wasn't really anything to see, Just a normal kids phone."
"Maybe we should get that parent app, that lets us see everything on their phones. What if Morgan is doing drugs! Or, or Eric is selling them? How are we going to know."
"Janet, you sound crazy. All we need to do is trust our kids. Be open with them and let them know they can tell us everything. Like we've been doing this whole time. You keep taking Morgan out on Saturdays, I'll take her for a daddy-daughter day next weekend, and I have the car rides to practice to talk to Eric about anything. It's really not that big of a deal if they don't spill their every little secret to us. We didn't tell our parents everything."
"Yeah and we ended up with kids, like kids."
"And if our kids have kids while they're kids, will support them and show them there's nothing to be afraid of."
"But he's been so off lately.."
"He's a teenage boy. It's what they do."
Janet huffed, falling back on the bed while closing her eyes, before getting up again and kissing my cheek, telling me she was going to Debbie's house next door. And I was left there sitting on our bed, trying to wrap my brain around what the actual hell just happened.
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