Date: Wed, 6 Jan 2010 14:27:10 +0100
From: Fox Wood <foxwood@live.de>
Subject: Man of the House 01: A Change of Routine

***Please Note: This story depicts (or will in following chapters) sexual
acts between adult men, as well as between male family members. If you
shouldn't be reading this, then don't. As for everyone else, enjoy!***

Slowly, consciousness encroached further upon Frank's morning, until at
last his eyes fluttered open. There was a big splash of sunlight across the
ceiling, and it immediately brought a smile to Frank's face; it was a
Thursday, and Frank was waking up -- without the aid of an alarm clock
-- well after dawn. For Frank, this was an event akin to the earth
deciding to rotate backwards on its axis.

There was only one day a week when Frank woke up to that most glorious and
pleasing of sunlit views: a Sunday. Every other day of the week, Frank was
up by five and out of the door by six. Making sure his construction company
ran like clockwork. But a serious snafu at the site late yesterday had put
a halt on absolutely everything, and the site was shut down for two days.
With paperwork handled nowadays by the sometimes scarily efficient Vaughn
(a college grad that had started four months ago as manual labor but soon
eked out a new position for himself upon seeing the mess Frank's files were
in, as well as realizing that manual labor just wasn't was he was cut out
to do), Frank found himself in the almost unheard of situation of a
spontaneous two days off, and nothing to fill them.

As a yawn overtook Frank, he arched his back, levering himself up off the
mattress on his elbows as he stretched himself taut for a moment. The thin
cotton sheet slid down his over his work-hardened and beer-softened belly,
pooling around his crotch, a contented sigh escaping Frank as he settled
back down. He felt the familiar throb, and closed his eyes once more as his
right hand slithered down, through the masses of dark fur, over the gently
rise of his slight beergut and found his morning wood waiting for him, as
always.

Only this morning it'd be more than a quick hand-job in the shower (and
some mornings not even that, much to his unrelenting libido's indignation).

This morning, he'd enjoy one of his epic Sunday morning (or occasionally
late-evening-after-three-beers-and-a-game) jacking session.

But this was going to take place on a warm, sunny Thursday morning. The
anticipation of feeling his cum blasting into his mouth and against his
chest and face already had his saliva glands working up a mouthful of spit.

Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he slathered it with his spit, and
closed his large, work-coarse fingers around his impressively hard and
thick girth once more, his left hand foraging through the dense black mat
of hair on his wide chest, until it found his plump, soft right nipple once
more, giving it a second sharp tug. On cue, his dick pulsed even harder and
fatter for a moment within his grip, and a second later, he felt precum
leaking over the back of his thumb. He lazily ranged the pad of his thumb
over the slick, blunt head, and his skin prickled in a million places as
the roughness of his thumb grazed his smooth, sensitive glans.

Bringing his left hand from his firm, fat nipple, his dabbed his thumb and
forefinger in the steady stream of precum that was now leaking from his
slit. A fine thread of precum stretched between his cockhead and his thumb,
glimmering in the morning sunlight for a brief moment before the strand
broke just as Frank's hand reached his nipple. He spread the lubricant
gently, before reapplying the pressure as his thumb and finger clamped
increasingly harder onto the engorged point of flesh, feeling it squirm
between his digits, trying to slip free. Taking his time in the glorious
rays of the morning sun, over the next ten minutes, Frank gradually worked
his tit harder and harder, only stroking his dripping cock infrequently and
slowly, concentrating on the pounding sensations coursing through his body
from his now puffy and bright pink nipple. Suddenly, sharply twisting his
nipple as if trying to pull it from his chest, Frank hissed through gritted
teeth, arching his back once more, his feet thrumming as he held it for one
moment, then another. His dick lurched, a fat glob of precum actually
spurting from his slit onto his crotch, and Frank began to slowly stroke up
and down his fat dick, which was now slick with his ever-copious precum.

He was really getting into it, his elevated mood at his unplanned but not
unwelcome days off coupling with his almost month-long drought of sexual
encounters, to heighten every sensation and multiply his pleasure. Frank
could hold out for hours on cumming if he put his mind to it, and the idea
passed through his mind to spend the day edging, maybe slip on the nipple
clamps for an hour or two as he got some minor chores out of the way, until
just before the boys got home and he would open the floodgates.

Suddenly, he heard the toilet flush in the main bathroom. His left hand
jerked free of his nipple as though it were suddenly electrified, and his
stroking faltered, before stopping altogether. Frank checked his clock: it
was ten o'clock. Bailey should have been in school for three hours, and TJ
should have left for college at half eight. He was almost sure that Bailey
was in school, as he was a good student, but TJ was at that age where he
was testing his boundaries. Frank knew his sons' school and college plans
without having to look, and TJ didn't have a free period, or study period,
this morning.

TJ hadn't been acting out anywhere nearly as bad as Frank had expected (he
knew that he'd given his own parents plenty of sleepless nights in his
adolescent years, and more than a few since), so Frank had fallen into what
he now realized was a false sense of security. He'd mentally steeled
himself for curfew breaks, hormone-fuelled tantrums, an increasing distance
between them and such. So far, it hadn't happened. TJ was always home on
time, made a noticeable effort to keep his emotions from swinging too far
from normal and if anything, the two had grown closer, with something like
a friendship developing between them, now that TJ was himself becoming a
man.

But truancy was something else. Frank had always taught his sons the
importance of an education; although Frank now lived comfortably from his
construction company, having dropped out of high school a year before
graduation had been his biggest regret. Apart from a couple of breaks
between jobs in his late teens and early twenties, Frank had done nothing
but do back-breaking work his entire life. He enjoyed manual labor, and had
a thickly muscled, powerful body courtesy of said labor, but it had been
one of only a very limited number of options open to him. He'd always told
his boys that he didn't want them to become doctors or lawyers just to get
money. He wanted them to have an education so that they could make their
own decisions about what they wanted to do, with the most possible choices
available to them. Maybe they ended up in jobs that didn't require a
university degree, but as long as they were in a job they loved and had
enough money to be independent, that was what mattered.

He had never totally ruled out truancy as a form of rebellion, but the boys
both knew how strongly he felt about this, and it was a hell of a way for
TJ's rebellious phase to finally manifest itself.

Feeling irritation glowing inside him like a hot wire knotted around his
stomach, his hand relinquished its grip upon his slowly deflating cock, and
Frank swung himself out of bed. He scooped up the boxers he had dropped to
the floor late last night as he'd groggily climbed into bed after spending
the evening deflecting the shit-storm the stalled project had created
(although, at the end of the day, they were almost a week ahead of schedule
even at this early stage, so it was easy to sell it to both his workers and
the firm who they were building the hotel for) and pulled them on, feeling
that hot wire tighten around his stomach and glow brighter as he felt his
epic day of shameless self-gratification slip away.

Stepping into the hall, he looked at the boys' rooms. The toilet in their
shared bathroom was still refilling, so he wasn't able to hear any small
sounds of movement. Frank would have heard his son going down the stairs,
so it left the boys' bedrooms. Bailey's room was the nearest, on the
opposite side of the hall (which was more by design than by accident. Frank
had taken his, the smallest room, from the very beginning, giving up the
space and the shared bath for the extra privacy it afforded him. This
morning, for the very first time, the privacy it also afforded his sons
made itself uncomfortably clear. Opening Bailey's door, the room was
unkempt, as befitted a teenager, but nevertheless empty.

It had to be TJ.

Pulling Bailey's door quietly shut to maintain my element of surprise,
Frank crept down the hallway to TJ's door. The toilet was now finished
refilling, and he could hear shuffling from TJ's room. Summoning all his
frustration, disappointment and anger in true fatherly fashion, Frank burst
through the door.

The man who let out a (comically, in any other situation) girlish scream
and jumped out of his skin was most definitely not Frank's 18-year old son.

THE END

This is just the opening teaser for my upcoming Master of the House series,
but I wanted to throw it out there to see how you guys liked it. Please
send any comments or criticism to Foxwood@live.de