Date: Fri, 9 Sep 2005 18:45:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: New Stories <storiesnew@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Son Drives Me Crazy - Chapter 3
My Son Drives Me Crazy - Chapter 3
by Dennis B.
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com
WARNING! To qualify to read this story, you must be of legal age
and allowed by the jurisdiction or jurisdictions that govern you
to read sexually explicit and homosexual material. If you do not
qualify, you must exit and seek other material. You have been
warned. Thank you for cooperating and being fair to others.
THE FOLLOWING IMPORTANT NOTICE APPLIES TO ALL PARTS AND CHAPTERS
OF THIS STORY--PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE, IF ANY: This story is
intended solely for purposes of fantasizing, and is not to be
taken as an example or basis for behavior by anyone, nor for
anyone. All readers are strongly urged to know that the sexual
activities and conversations depicted in this story are entirely
fictional and forbidden by law in most regions of the world.
All persons, names, places, descriptions, and events are purely
fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, names, places,
descriptions, or events is totally accidental and a pure
coincidence.
____________________________________
My Son Drives Me Crazy, by Dennis B.
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com
John Millerson, 34
Jason Millerson, 14
Kevin Walsch, 14
Carl Mueller, M.D., 35
__________
"I love you, dad," he said, totally out of the blue, reaching
around my ribs.
"I love you too, Jason."
The hug was superb.
"I'm hungry, dad."
"Again? You ate yesterday!"
__________
CHAPTER 3
We enjoy our Saturday breakfasts. I mentally congratulated
myself for keeping Saturdays open for Jason. He likes my
cooking, and I love watching him eat. During this relaxed time
with my son, my gaze often lingers on his face. I admire the
beauty and animation of his eyes. Looking forward to all this
care-free time with my son thrilled me almost as much as he did.
As we ate, my thoughts wandered to the exam, and how I had
touched and stimulated him. I felt guilty that, in addition to
testing his responses, I had gained pleasure from arousing him.
Jason was always too busy eating to speak without prompting.
"Do you feel different since I massaged your prostate?"
"Hmm," he said, looking up at me and sliding his hand under
the table, "I don't feel as tight, down there."
I loved how he took my questions seriously and would launch
into an investigation, however brief, to give me his best answer.
"Do you mean you're not erect now?" I asked the easiest
question, hoping he meant something else.
"No. I am."
"Where do you feel less tight?"
"Here," he said, standing and pointing to the area just under
his scrotum.
"Perfect," I said as he sat down. "Do you know why?"
"Not really." Jason's hand dove under the table again.
I could tell he was playing with himself, and I could not
bring myself to object to that. Besides, I knew the fabric in
the chastity brief was too stiff and thick to permit any intense
stimulation--certainly not to orgasm--although he could touch and
keep himself erect through it.
I explained about the fluid that collects in the prostate
gland and the tight feeling that can create.
"So, when I pushed that fluid out while massaging it, I
relieved most of the tense feeling you had."
"Oh," he said, looking down, "there's more, I think."
"Can you show me?"
"Sure." Jason stood, looking down at the wet spot. His
bulge looked more prominent than it had, moments before.
"I see. Did you remember it's called pre-cum?"
"Yep," he said with a smile. "I got a lot more than usual.
Does that mean I'm growing, too?"
"For sure, you're growing. More pre-cum can be a sign of
growth. It can also mean you're very exited."
"Does that mean . . . like real horny?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, I'm real excited. I gotta pee, too."
"Why don't we finish eating and see if that erection goes
down before we get you to the bathroom?"
"Okay."
"Why do you think you're real excited, son?"
"Well--'cause I know I can't jerk off . . . and the stuff you
did when you checked . . ."
"Your sexual responses?"
"Yeah, that," he said, blushing with his cute grin.
"Anything else?"
"Yeah. I wanna jerk off." This time, he gave me his cheeky
smile.
"Well, we know that," I said, laughter overtaking both of us.
"And I want you to do it again," he said.
"Oh? IT?"
"You know--touch like you did after you put your finger on my
tongue."
"Oh--you want me to test your sexual responses again."
"Yeah, but do it a lot more."
"Touch you more?"
"Yeah, dad," he said, as if asking what had taken me so long
to figure it out.
"Okay," I said, trying to sound neutral as I reached down
furtively to adjust my erection.
"You got a boner, too!"
"Yes," I said, getting the admission over with.
"Can I see it?"
"Of course." I had not anticipated that question, but
quickly realized that to preserve my son's carefree attitude
toward sexual matters, I must not hesitate. I stood, letting my
tented underwear point directly toward Jason.
"Well?" he said.
"Well, what?" I was already uncomfortable. I couldn't bear
the thought of complications.
"Aren't you gonna let me see it?" His cute face implored so
sincerely. I had no idea he had meant to see it in the flesh.
"It's too soon," I said, thinking quickly, realizing where
this could go. I was not about to traumatize my son.
"Too soon?"
"That has to wait until tonight, when you masturbate for me
in your room." Aroused by masturbating, Jason would likely not
be shocked by my erection. But he was nowhere near that level of
arousal now.
"Well," he said with a devilish grin, standing and closing
the blinds, "we can pretend it's night!" Jason burst into
giggles and tried to come to me, but had to hold on to the table
edge to avoid falling down laughing.
"Careful," I said, fearing he might trip and fall. I put my
arms out and got him before anything happened. "Pretend it's
night. That's very creative, Jason."
"Mmm," he said, laying his head on my shoulder, lips at my
ear--giggles and all. "Yeah, dad--it's night. Time to see the
big one." Despite the giggling, he'd pitched his voice as low
and deep as possible.
"Oh, really?" I hadn't known he'd given my penis a name.
"I never saw it hard. Yeah . . . the big one . . . with a
boner!" came the low voice again. His hand found my erection and
squeezed it. My boy got so silly, he ended up a puddle on the
floor, heaving with laughter.
I think my mouth hung open, realizing my son had just groped
me. Though shaken, I smiled inwardly, knowing that the closeness
of our unusual bond had made this playful intimate moment
possible.
"Yours looks very big, Jason--bigger than yesterday," I said,
hoping to distract him, yet the bulge I was seeing did seem
larger than I'd remembered it.
"Really?" he said from the floor, lying on his back,
squeezing his penis through the protective fabric--the top of the
pouch wet with pre-cum.
"Be careful with your erection, son. It's so stiff, it might
break off." That was the wrong thing to say. Jason launched
into another charming round of hysterics.
"Ahhh! HELP! It broke off! Quick! Sew it back on, dad!"
"I'll prepare the operating room." This did nothing to calm
his effervescent laughter. At least he wasn't trying to see my
penis anymore.
A tension gripped my insides. I yearned to lick his face,
red with pubescent glee. In an instant, I imagined it and could
feel his hot cheek against my tongue.
"Ah!" he said, recovering quickly and looking pained, "I
gotta pee bad, now!"
I led my son to the bathroom, wondering how he could possibly
urinate with such a stiff erection. I knew the trick to getting
a stiff penis down--a simple squeezing maneuver that caused
slight pain, but I never wanted to hurt him there.
"Hurry, dad!" he said, dancing a bit in front of the toilet.
"Oh, right! The clasps!" I had forgotten all about them.
I undid the clasps, snaps, and two buckles as Jason's squirming
became more frantic. "Ready! Pull them down." I helped him
step out of the thing.
I watched from the side as he stood there. The situation
looked hopeless--the water below him, and Jason's penis pointing
to the ceiling.
"Do something, dad!"
I wanted so much to hold his hard boyhood in my hand.
"All right," I said, my fascinated eyes shifting from his
full-blown erection to the graceful curves of his tight butt.
I tried everything. At one point I had him stand two feet
back from the bowl and lean forward with his hands on the wall.
It did look rather odd--a boy trying to go with his body in a
diagonal position. But his penis still aimed upward and away
from the water. I gave up.
"Step into the tub and just let go, Jase. We'll rinse it
when you're done."
At first, he still couldn't go, then I remembered an old
nurse's trick, and ran the water in the sink. That didn't work,
either. Finally, I poured warm water on the stubborn hard flesh.
I was amazed when at first, his pale-colored stream shot up
nearly as high as the showerhead.
After getting the chastity brief back on him and rinsing both
boy and tub thoroughly, I cleaned up the kitchen, with Jason
doing his share of the work. Then, I announced it was time to
shower and get ready for our shopping trip.
"Oh, yeah. My new underwear."
"That's right."
"How can I shower, dad? You have to take this thing off me,
and then I'd be all by myself." I was sorry I'd put it back on
him.
By then, I was soft. Jason's condition was less predictable.
"We can shower together this time."
"Really?"
"Yes, we're both males, aren't we?"
"Sure," Jason said, sensing my mood and becoming reserved.
I had expected to have an uncomfortable moment in the shower,
anticipating that he might want to touch, but that didn't happen.
"So, what time is your practice?" I asked while I washed, as
a pair of good-looking eyes observed my every move.
"Two-thirty."
"Good. That gives us plenty of time. IF you start soaping
up soon, that is."
"Oh. Yeah," he said, blushing and grinning up at me.
My heart pounded in my chest. I grit my teeth, resisting the
urge to wash him myself.
"Is your uniform ready? You know where your glove is?"
"Yes, dad," he said in his sing-song way, trying to sound
annoyed that I would ask. This, despite the little smile he gave
me that went clear down to my knees.
I can't fault him for putting on a little show as he washed
his privates--facing me and making a big deal of displaying his
half-hardness. I put my mind in clinical mode, forcing myself to
biologically analyze what I was seeing. I must not, would not
get hard.
"So, do I sound manly?"
"Sound?" I expected anything but that question.
"Yeah, you know!"
"Oh, with Kevin. I thought you sounded like a real man,
Jason."
"Yeah, I am," he said, hand poised over his penis. "See, I
could be jerking off now, but I'm not."
"I see," I said with a proud grin, postponing questioning him
about Kevin, stunned at his grasp of adulthood.
"But if I was like . . . gonna explode, I would. I know
you'd let me." He said it confidently, with that self-assured
grin of his. We stared at each other, Jason looking for an
answer in my eyes. A little doubt crossed his face as he waited
in vain for a response. "Right, dad?"
"Yes," I said, feeling the pride and love I had for him swell
in my chest. Without thinking, I hugged him. "I'll watch you
through the shower curtain." I felt my penis hardening.
I rinsed quickly and sat on the closed toilet, attempting to
dry myself, thankful that my erection hadn't developed in the
shower. I knew I didn't need to stand guard over Jason, but he
expected me to watch, and I was more than willing to observe.
"Have you heard from Kevin?"
"I called him this morning. He said he was sorry, and wants
to come back."
"Well, I hope so!" I said indignantly, just for Jason's sake.
"Yeah--but I told him he can't come over till tomorrow."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"DAAaaad! You know! TONIGHT!"
"Oh, yes. I didn't forget that."
I had just assumed that Kevin would take precedence. Silly
me. What did I know? I knew about Jason's bodily changes, but
now I had to face the pleasant fact that there were mental
changes as well.
"Thanks, son!"
"Thanks?" he said, looking quite puzzled, sticking his head
out of the shower curtain.
"For putting me ahead of Kevin," I said, kissing him briefly
on the lips--an act that surprised the poor boy. One hand
grasped the curtain more tightly, the other went between his
legs.
"Oh, yeah," he said, touching his lips with two fingers, and
obviously not understanding what I'd said. I regretted
stimulating him again, but loved the emotion we'd just shared.
Jason and I chatted about his schoolwork and the baseball
team as I drove him to the department store.
"Looks like we'll have plenty of time for lunch, Jase." A
glance at my son told me his mind was elsewhere.
"Is some salesman going to try to--you know, help me buy my
underwear?"
"No, nothing like that. You just pick out what you want. I
know what size you need."
"Cool."
I was sorely tempted to help him pick out his new briefs, and
felt like I was letting a tiger loose down the underwear aisle of
the store. Jason was thrilled that I was letting him choose all
by himself.
"How many, dad?"
"Oh--about ten pair should do it, don't you think?"
"Okay," he said with a new type of smile that revealed his
exhilarated response to this new independence.
From a distance, I watched him eagerly pick up one package
after another, reading the labels, making an occasional odd face,
putting the package down, and moving on. I hoped that I hadn't
corrupted him--hoped he wouldn't choose some ultra-brief, sexual
type underwear.
"Dad! Look! I think I got all the right ones." Jason
returned with an armful and an enthusiasm he could hardly
contain.
"I'm proud of you, Jason," I said, inspecting his choices. I
trembled somewhat as I sorted through the packages, working hard
to suppress a tear. He had selected the usual, standard white
briefs.
"Except this one," he said, holding up a red pair.
"Oh," I said, my heart pounding.
"Yeah, they only had nine white ones."
The red pair was the same style as the others. I chided
myself for doubting him, and was quite relieved.
"You're the best boy a father could hope for." I hugged him
tightly, right there in the underwear aisle.
"Well--I know you love me and I love you back," he said
softly. When I pulled away from him, I saw a blush and look of
boyish, adolescent modesty that put me to shame.
"Jason--you picked exactly the right ones."
"Really?"
"Yes. You did very well."
"Thanks, dad. We gonna eat lunch now?"
"Well, it's a bit early. But, if you're hungry, why not!"
"Cool."
"I'm taking you to The Corner."
"Yeah!" The Corner Diner was one of Jason's favorite
restaurants. It had everything, as they say.
"Will you have your favorite big-burger platter?"
"No, dad. I gotta eat light. Practice, remember?"
"Oh, yes. Well, in that case, I'll take you home and feed
you a little snack."
"No, come on, dad!" he said, then looked me in the eye.
"You're just kidding!"
"Yup. How can you tell?"
"Oh . . . I just can."
"Okay, smart one. Take your uniform in with you, and change
in the bathroom after you eat."
"Will my jock and cup fit over this thing?" he said,
whispering to me.
"Yes."
Baseball practice was fun, and although Jason didn't get a
huge number of hits, he got his share, and I thrilled to every
one of them. He seemed to play with more confidence. His
fielding was excellent, and he looked nothing short of cute in
his practice uniform, as he moved about gracefully, and
interacted with the other boys on the team.
They had a very nice dugout, with a fair-sized bathroom to
accommodate the boys' needs during a game or practice.
I watched from the dugout, near the entrance to the rest
room, ready to help Jason get loose from his chastity jock if he
needed to use the facilities. He did need to pee once during the
practice. Fortunately, there was no rush, and he'd picked a time
he knew there would be the least chance of encountering anyone in
there.
Finally, practice was over, and I watched all the other boys
run toward the locker room in another building.
"Millerson!" coach bellowed at Jason, "No shower for you
today?"
"Sorry coach, my dad's gotta take me somewhere right away."
"Okay, Jason. Have a good weekend."
"Oh, yeah--I will, coach," Jason said with a smile.
I had to smile, myself. My son had told his coach the truth
without revealing my purpose. I did need to take him somewhere
right away--home.
As I shook the coach's hand, I was glad he wasn't the prying
type. I knew the man liked Jason, and had all the boys' best
interests at heart.
"Wish I had more like him," coach said to me, as Jason ran
off toward the car.
"I can imagine," I said.
Driving home, I kept glancing at Jason, who had his eyes
closed from the time we began the journey home.
"Is it dark, yet?" he said, opening one eye a bit.
"Not quite, Jase," I said. "Do you need to pee?"
"Yeah, but I can wait till we get home."
We hit some heavy traffic, and my son was desperate by the
time the car hit the driveway.
"Dad, no!" Jason shouted as I did my usual and started to
tidy up the car. "This," he said, pointing to his groin while
facing me as I sat in the driver's seat.
"Oh, shit," I said, not thinking.
"Oh, God--you cursed!" Jason said in shock, going into a
giggle fit. I never used coarse language.
"Sorry, Jase. I guess I slipped a cock--COG, I mean."
"Oh, no, no!" he said, hands to his lower abdomen. "You're
makin' me laugh!"
"That's not a bad thing," I said, enjoying his youthful
tittering.
Jason collapsed in laughter next to the grass, on the
sidewalk, one step below the front porch.
"I can't hold it!" he said, pissing himself, a small puddle
soon accumulating next to him.
"It's okay, Jase. No one else saw," I said, punching the
keypad to open the garage door. "Just step in here."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he said, tears beginning to flow as
the garage door descended.
"Don't worry, Jason. I'll toss your clothes in the washer
right here, and run them through twice," I said, stripping him.
"Ewwwww! I got pee on me!"
"Well, this is the best thing that could have happened."
"No way, dad!"
"Yes. It gives us an excuse to shower together . . . and
pretend it's night."
I turned on the light over the workbench. The garage was
already dark, even though there was still some light outside.
"So, this is it?"
"What's that?"
"We're really gonna pretend it's night--right now?"
"Yes." I smiled to myself.
"Oh." My boy sounded deflated. "I'm not horny now."
"That's where I come in." I remained buoyant.
"You? Oh, yeah--the touching, like when you checked my
resexuals."
"Well, yes," I said, chuckling, "but that's checking your
sexual responses."
"Yeah, that."
"Stand still. I have to take your chastity brief off. Hang
on to the edge of the workbench."
The dampness in the waistband made the clasps and buckles
difficult to undo.
"Why do they make those?"
"Chastity briefs?" I could not bring myself to give Jason
the full answer.
"Yeah."
"A long time ago, people thought masturbation wasn't good for
your health. So,--"
"Oh, I get it. They put them on boys so they wouldn't jerk
off, right?"
"Very good."
"But . . . didn't they get really horny?"
"That was so long ago--it happened before I was born. So, I
don't know. I suppose if the parents had their sons wearing it
before puberty, the boys never started masturbating. Maybe they
didn't miss it."
"Oh. But--still, when they got a boner they would feel they
hadda do something. And having this thing on . . . sounds like
it was torture for them."
"I guess that's possible. Are you all right, Jase?"
"Yeah," he said, squirming uncomfortably, "I'm still kinda
wet. Maybe when their moms washed those things they got a chance
to jerk off?"
"Maybe," I said, puzzled about my son's fascination with the
history of the chastity belt.
"God, those poor guys."
"As soon as I can get this brief off you, I can get you dry."
"Okay."
"Ah, here we go!" The last clasp came undone.
"Ohh, that feels great!" he said as I pulled the thing down
his legs.
"Okay, turn around." Once facing me, I saw Jason was erect.
"Jason--I thought you weren't horny."
"Wellllll," he said with a guilty tone, "talking about those
boys that got real horny and couldn't jerk off till their moms
washed their briefs . . . sorta made me horny."
"I see." It doesn't take much to give a 14-year-old an
erection, I thought. "I'll wipe you down with shop cloths, then
I can carry you into the bathroom."
"Mmm! You gonna give me a bath, too?"
"Nope. We're going to shower together." I was staring at
Jason's beautiful body, envisioning what we might do in the
shower, glancing at his eager-looking erection, and getting ideas
I shouldn't have.
"Oh."
"Nice erection you got there," I said, pulling on his pubes,
making his penis bounce enticingly.
"OW!"
"Has it risen above the level of 'sorta horny' yet?"
"Yeah, I guess. You got a boner, too!"
"Yes. And in the shower I'm going to watch the water trickle
down here . . . and here," I said, sliding a fingertip on his
penis and scrotum.
"Ahh! Ooo!"
"Sorry. Did that bother you, Jase?"
"Huh? No way!"
Soon, I put him into the tub. I was suddenly struck with the
thought that Jason was naked, and I would need to undress in
front of him. I had no problem with his erection--I practically
adored it. It was Jason seeing my erection for the first time
that troubled me. At that point, I had stripped off everything
but my underwear.
'What would Jason see?' I thought. I worked out regularly,
so he would see my good body, but he'd seen that dozens of times.
I was proud of my six-foot-one, 180 pound build, with flat abs
and a good chest. At 34, I was quite firm all over. And my
penis measured about seven inches, hard, so it wasn't as if I had
a monster between my legs. I felt a bit better as I took a
breath and grasped the waistband, ready to take off my last
article of clothing.
"Yeah," Jason said with his big grin, eyes wide with
anticipation, "now I get to see the big one. The big one--with a
boner."
I pulled my underwear to the floor and stood quickly--at a
total loss for words.
"Wow!" he said. "It really IS big!"
"Y-yes, I suppose," I stammered, "I'm bigger all over,
remember."
"Yeah, but--wow."
I wanted so badly to explain that size is meaningful only to
those who admire size over other attributes, but my mind was
awash in thoughts of touching Jason, seeing him masturbate,
feeling his smooth skin, maybe rubbing it gently as his body--at
the edge of adolescence--rose to experience that impossibly vast
realm of youthful sexual bliss.
Yet my mind could not comfortably grasp his fascination with
my hardness. I kept waiting for him to realize HIS body was the
central issue, while keeping in mind that there is always a
certain sensual self-admiration, especially at puberty.
He seemed so at ease handling my organ, eventually bringing
his other hand into action, and soon my scrotum received his
delicate attentions. I seemed to be trapped. How could I tell
him to stop? To do so would taint the whole idea that I had
nurtured--that sexuality was a good thing and learning about it
was part of growing up.
"Don't I get a turn?" I asked, somewhat childishly.
"Oh, sure, dad," he said, standing tall and pushing his hips
toward me.
Instead of reaching out to him, I began to touch myself,
mimicking his finger motions on my own privates. "Mmm, yes, very
nice," I said.
"Aw, come on, dad," Jason said, grinning, catching on
immediately to what I was doing.
"Oh, sorry," I said, continuing the pretense. "What do you
want me to do?"
Hearing my own words, I began to see a side of myself I
wasn't liking very much. I knew better than to put my son in
control of things by asking such a question. I was a prisoner of
my own desires, and had given Jason the reins. I comforted
myself with the thought that I could refuse his request.
"Um, well . . ." he said, his cute expression and boyish
hesitation charming me, "wash it, I guess." His grin seemed to
have an edge of victory. Could he be so aware of adult
subtleties, at his age? I decided to make it playful.
"You mean like this?" I pushed his erection down a bit, and
picked up the soap, tapping it gently to the more sensitive areas
of the penis, and sliding it strategically.
"Ah! Oh! Uhhhnn . . . yeah! Like that!"
"Maybe I should do it lower," I said, laughing openly,
bringing the soap to his scrotum, repeating my procedure there.
More shouts and a sort of erotic dance was Jason's reaction,
not to mention an outburst of boyish giggling--one of life's most
pleasant sounds.
"You're fun, dad. We should do this all the time."
"Ah! Then maybe I should tickle you." I brought my hands
slowly toward his ribs as the thought of habitually showering
with my son overwhelmed me. Could I permit such a thing?
"No, dad--no!" he said, staring at my threatening fingers,
backing himself against the wall--face contorted as if in fear
for his life.
When I dropped my arms, we both burst out laughing. A moment
later, Jason did something that seemed odd, out of context, at
the time--he hugged me tightly. Was all this play feeding his
happiness, enhancing his childhood? Or was the hug a need for
security? Did the sexual element frighten my son?
"You wash yourself, I'll watch."
"I'll watch, too," he said simply, as if there were no
question that his statement was absolutely correct.
"Fair enough."
"Mmm!" he said, glancing at my erection, then looking down at
his penis and talking to it, "You're gonna be big and strong like
that, someday."
"I'm sure he will," I said, touching Jason's shoulder. His
smile went deep into me.
Somehow, the soap on his body enhanced my desire for him, as
if encountering him in the shower made him more vulnerable, more
needful of my love and protection. I had plenty of both, and I
ached to give him those.
We dried ourselves without incident, except that Jason
pointed out that I had pre-cum.
"Does that always mean you're very horny when you get that?"
"Yes, it does, Jase."
"Are you horny 'cause of me, dad?"
There it was. The fundamental question. No escaping it this
time. How could I answer without shocking, maybe scarring him?
"What's making YOU horny?" I said.
"Oh--I'm horny 'cause of you," he said with a grin.
"Well--I guess it's the same for me, about you," I managed to
say.
I had answered his question. I was never so relieved in my
life. It wasn't the perfect answer, but it would do, for now.
There was a comfortable pause, Jason stopping his ablutions
to look at me. His face reddened.
"Wow," he said softly, "that is so cool."
"All right, young man, get to your room. I'll be right in."
I darted into my bedroom momentarily to supply myself with
lubricant and a few towels, in case Jason got ready to masturbate
only to discover he'd forgotten those things.
I decided I would remain naked. I could always cover up, but
undressing would be clumsy. To say I was nervous would be an
understatement, yet I craved seeing him, and, regardless of
medical observations, the thought of him bringing himself off for
me--knowing that was about to happen--took my arousal to new
levels.
I stepped into Jason's room. An unforgettable sight greeted
me--my son in his new, red briefs. Just under the waistband, at
the top of his bulge, I saw a sizable dark circle, shiny with my
boy's pre-cum.
"Your boner bounced, dad," he said with considerable glee.
"Yes, it certainly did. Do you masturbate with your briefs
on?" I said, feeling tense as I took a chair and sat right next
to his bed.
"Sometimes," he said, reaching into his fly and pulling out
his eager boyhood. Its redness intensified as his hand made the
first stroke. "Awhhhhh . . ."
Dennis B.
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com
Any comments would be great!
Thanks for your email. It made me want to continue this story.
I'm enjoying writing it, especially after getting some nice
comments on the first two chapters. I hope you keep liking it,
and thanks for reading--and writing.
--Dennis.