Date: Mon, 29 Feb 2016 02:43:23 -0800
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: First Shave I

First Shave I
by Jon Hold
Copyright © 2013, 2016
jonhold@earthlink.net
M/F/t ibxeslau, and NO, I'm NOT dyslexicalish


I've always been proud of my boy, and he's given me a lot to be proud
of. He's an only child and we've always been close. He has always been
quite popular and a good student. Lately, he's become quite the little
athlete as well. He'd always enjoyed playing with his friends, but when he
entered Jr. High he suddenly became interested in competitive team
sports. I've never been big on sports myself, but I've learned a lot about
them to keep abreast of my son's activities and so I could help him. I
don't push, but whenever he asks, I'm ready to help.

His latest great interest is swimming. My son isn't a very big kid, but
he's lithe and very strong with a lot of never-say-die go power. The
swimming coach said that with his build and fearless approach to anything
new my boy could become either a great little diver or one heck of a good
speed swimmer. True to his nature, Kris chose both. He had to do some fast
talking with the swim coach, but managed to get his way, as usual.

After the preliminary trials were over, Kris had made both teams and was
ecstatic, jumping around and acting the wild animal. I tried to act my age,
but had great difficulty not repeating his performance up in the stands
were I was watching. To say I was a proud Papa would have way understated
what I was feeling. The swim coach finally picked him up and threw him into
the pool to cool him off, raising quite a laugh among the spectators,
myself included.

The trip home was rambunctious as only a station wagon full of teenaged
boys who have all made the team can be. I moved my family into the country
when my parents decided that they were going to move into their motorhome
and live in it full-time. They made my wife and I a deal we couldn't
refuse. Old-fashioned two-story farm house in excellent condition with all
the modern amenities, swimming pool, lake, an "office" for me, a big oak
and green leather library for her, a wood lot and all of it sited on 480
acres of very private farm land that Dad had planted to wild flowers when
he retired. Kris had the entire attic to himself. My wife had taken one
look at the kitchen and refused to return to our city apartment except to
pack and leave. As for me, well, I ran my own one-man business and had
never really wanted to leave the country in the first place. Our neighbors
were all working farmers and thought us a bit odd, but not so odd that they
couldn't be friends or to keep them from taking advantage of the fact that
I could always be depended upon to provide transportation and "babysitting"
services. I'd gone to school with most of our neighbors and enjoyed my time
with their kids, so everyone was happy.

After we dumped off the other kids, Kris hopped over the seat to sit next
to me. I had a grin on my face all the way home as my son delivered an
animated recital of his preparation, the test and his chances on the
swimming and diving teams. The car hadn't really stopped when he jumped out
and ran to the house to repeat his victory saga to his mother. Shaking my
head and feeling more than a little proud, I finished parking the car and
went out to my "office".

You may wonder why I keep putting quote marks around
"office". Wellllll... originally, my dad built the building to resemble an
Irish pub he had become familiar with during the Great War. A great
cavernous place with an oak interior, a fully functional bar and kitchen,
tables, chairs and "cozies", which were nothing more than comfortably
upholstered booths. Dad's cronies and their pals were fond of spending the
evenings out there sampling Dad's latest batch of home brew. And he was a
pretty good brewmaster and a pleasant host. I'm what's referred to as a
"concepts engineer" and the place was now full of gaming machines I'd
designed and, at least in part, engineered. Pinball machines, video
machines, slot machines --- all sorts of grand toys given to me by happy
customers. Sprinkled about were all sorts of computers to play the various
computer games I was associated with. I worked mostly on Macintoshes, but
had at least one of every sort of machine a customer might be expected to
own. Needless to say, I was VERY popular with the local teenagers — and
most of their parents. Friday evening through Saturday night was open house
and we most often had a good sized group sharing the games, swimming pool,
outdoor games and sports. Poker evenings and Bingo evenings attracted
deadly serious crowds of avid players who always showed up with enough
snacks and finger foods to feed an army, which was good since Kris and his
teenaged friends could eat like an army.

I had just settled down to work when Kris came busting in yelling, "Hey,
Pop!" In reflex reaction I grabbed my wallet because the only time Kris
calls me "Pop" is when he's figured out a good way to spend some of my
money.

"What?" I asked cautiously, still holding onto my wallet with a death grip.

"Well..." he started. Now, I've been around that boy a long time, and
anything that he starts with "Well..." is gonna be a lulu, so I listened
carefully. Seems like the coach had told him he was going to have to buy,
not one, but two new swim suits. One in the school colors for the swim team
and one of his own choice, "To express my individuality" for the diving
team. He quickly added that he hadn't actually FORGOTTEN to tell me while
we were still in town, he just didn't think I'd want to be bothered when I
had to get the other kids home, BUT he had to have the suits RIGHT NOW
before the other kids got all the good ones in his size and please,
couldn't I PLEASE, just this one time, drop everything I was doing and
PLEASE help him because he'd DIE if he didn't get the right suits.

I said something about checking with his mother and he ran out yelling that
she'd already agreed and that they'd be waiting in the car and would I
please quit goofing around and get a move on. I decided right then and
there to check with his mother on exactly what she'd said because I smelled
a major snow-job in progress. Half-way to town I did remember to ask and
his mother said "But he said that you said...." We both turned and looked
at him. He just grinned and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "Hey, I'm
just a kid." I made a mental note to get him in an awkward position the
next time we wrestled and tickle him until he begged for mercy. I saw his
eyes glinting at me in the rearview mirror, and then he grinned again just
as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and couldn't wait.

The store clerk measured Kris's waist and got him a pair of speedo's in the
blue and gold school colors. My wife plowed into the shopping with feminine
zeal and came up with several pairs of diving trunks for Kris to try
on. Kris and I headed for the dressing rooms.

Kris peeled off naked as soon as we got into the private room and I sat
down on the bench, amazed and very pleased once agan to see how quickly and
how well my son was developing. Even though he was still small for his age,
his pecker was no longer a little boy-toy. He definitely wasn't done
growing, but he already had a man-sized tool on him that looked huge on his
slight body and there was no end to the weapons growth in sight. Burt saw
what I was looking at and shook his hips, wagging his equipment from side
to side. "Bet you wish you had one this big!" he laughed.

"I could have one that big if I wanted too. All I'd have to do is cut mine
in half!" I teased right back.

Kris snorted, but then just laughed as he put his hand on my shoulder and
stepped into the racing speedo's I was holding out for him. His youthful
flesh was so firm that the tight elastic barely indented his natural
smoothness. The electric blue of the swimming trunks shinned gaily across
his lower belly and firm, smoothly curved ass and threw out extra
highlights where the material was forced to curve around his developing sex
tackle. The tight trunks made it clear that my boy was going to be quite
the man some day. I reached over and felt the lay of the material over his
body and he stretched like a cat, enjoying my touch. I turned him so that
his hard butt was on the bench right in front of me and so that he could
see himself in the mirror. I ran my hands over his front again. "Ok. This
is how it looks when all your stuff is sort of bunched up in the middle,
and this," I slid my hands into his trunks and adjusted the position of his
cock and balls, "is called 'left dressing'. If you have a tailor working on
clothes for you, you need to tell him whether you dress left or right." I
reached back into his speedo's and pulled his dick up so I could push his
balls over to the left and arrange his slightly puffy dick on the
right. Smoothing the speedo's back down I asked him which way he preferred.

"Put them back on the left, Daddy. So I can see again." I complied, taking
extra care to adjust his now swelling cock into place. "How come I have to
say something like that to a tailor, Daddy?"

"Well, you're going to be a pretty big man," I said, emphasizing what I
meant by patting the package bulging out of the front of his swim
trunks. "And the tailor needs to know which side you prefer your equipment
on so that he can leave you a little extra room."

"That's cool!"

"Yeah. But maybe we better figure out what you're going to do with this rod
when it springs up like this." I had hold of a hot stick that was trying to
force it's way through the stretch fabric. Kris blushed bright red and
looked away, but not before grabbing a sneak peek at the major distortion
of his new speedo's. "Hey! Come-on," I said in my best 'Daddy Loves You'
voice. "I thought we were buddies and could talk. What do you usually do
when you get a bone-on like this one?"

Looking everywhere but at me, my boy quietly said, "Well... You know..."
and made a couple of small pumping gestures with his right fist.

"Yeah!" I grinned. "I used to whack mine all the time when I was your age!
Still do when I get horny and your Mom isn't around."

Big, soft brown eyes looked up at me in wonder, "Really!?"

I laughed. "You bet. When I was your age, sometimes I thought I was going
to wear the damn thing out. But I never did!" I got a good belly laugh out
of his reaction to that. "Well, you gonna take care of that thing, or are
you going to show your new suit to your Mom with your boner poking out like
that?"

Kris grinned and put on a little show, strutting around the small dressing
room with his hips thrust forward, showing off the jutting bulge in his new
speedo's. I laughed at his antics and then put my hands out, motioning for
him to come to me. I turned Kris and settled him against my chest, his butt
in my crotch. Using both hands I pulled the tight suit forward and down
over the leaky head of my son's beautiful erection. Holding the elastic
fabric below Kris' balls I whispered in his ear, "Wank that big thing off,
Boy. Hurry up and get it off so you can go show your mom your new suit."

Kris didn't hesitate. Grabbing himself with both hands and pulling his
stiffness away from his belly, the randy boy immediately started wanking
himself like crazy. Looking over Kris' shoulder at what he was doing, I
pulled his suit down below his butt so the elastic wouldn't get in the way
when I let go. I was so hot! This was just like when I was a teen, fucking
around with my buddies. I started running one hand up and down Kris' torso,
from pulling on his small pubic patch up to where I played with his little
titties. My other hand was pulling and fondling his hot nuts. Kris moaned,
wiggled his naked butt against the hardness in my crotch and dropped his
head backwards onto my shoulder as he started to cum. I let go of the titty
I was playing with and cupped my hand around the end of Kris' dick as his
clotted teen cum blasted forth.

While Kris was catching his breath and coming out of his orgasmic haze, I
sucked up his load and licked my palm clean. Kris watched with wide eyes. I
helped my boy stand up and turned him around. Taking his half-limp cock in
my hand I stripped it down. Kris shuddered all over and then shuddered
again when I bent forward and sucked the last of his cum off his dickhead
and out of his piss tube to make sure he didn't leave pecker tracks on his
new swimsuit. I pulled up his speedo's and then stuck my hand inside to
adjust him so that my wife and the salesman could see what a nice package
my son had.

Slapping Kris on the butt I told him to get out there and show his mom his
new suit and then to hurry back so that we could try on his new diving suit
before the store closed.

Kris threw his arms around my neck and then kissed me on the lips. "Thanks,
Dad. That was the best cum I ever had." With that he ran up the hallway
from the dressing room laughing happily and calling for his mother.


-----
Now I know what a statesman is; he's a dead politician. We need more statesmen.
     ---Bob Edwards