Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2012 16:45:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jerlar <jetdesk2@yahoo.com>
Subject: New Shower, Part 16 - Next Generation

This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of
this nature offends you then you should not read this story.  Additionally,
if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read
this story by law.
  This story is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to person's
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.
  The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it
has been posted, without the consent of the author.

Mark Stevens



New Shower, Part 15 -- Next Generation



	Yes, my father's retirement brought about a big change in my
life. Just the fact he was around the house all of the time allowed us to
enjoy a more frequent sex life and that in its self, meant a lot to us
both. However, as the days turned into months, it was evident we were
growing much closer. Now Dad had three roles in my life. First and for
most, he was my father, the dad I had looked up to my entire life. Secondly
he had become my lover, and that made him even more special to me. However,
as time passed, I became aware of something else; not only was he my father
and my lover, but he was also turning out to be my best friend. His
friendship, I think, was the thing that surprised me the most. All the time
I was growing up I had lots of friends, but now as I was moving into my
middle thirties, I discovered he was the only friend I really cared about
sharing time with.
	Another change that evolved that year was my son's
birthday. Brandon had turned fourteen and was quickly on his way to young
manhood. I began to see a change in him and in his actions.
	One big change I noticed was that he no longer associated with his
friends from school. After the school year had started the fall after Dad
had retired, I couldn't help but notice that my son began staying around
the house more. He would spend the day at school and then come home and
offer to help on the farm. He spent a lot of time with his grandpa,
offering help the moment he jumped off the school bus.
	When I came home from work Dad usually accepted any help I offered,
and Brandon would alternate back and forth between the two of us,
volunteering his time. I loved the time my son spent with me, and I was
happy that he was so eager to do so. Still, it bothered me some; to the
point I finally had a talk with him.
	One afternoon in October Brandon came home from school, and as
usual, he hurried inside to change clothes. When he returned, he asked if I
needed any help.
	Looking at my son, I asked, "Brandon, can I ask you something?"
	At his nod, I said, "Don't get me wrong, Son; I like it a lot when
you help your grandpa and I out. I appreciate it, and I certainly know he
does." I looked closer at him and asked, "But what about your friends at
school? Don't you want to hang with them?"
	Brandon didn't answer for a moment. Instead, he stared down at his
feet. When he finally raised his head and looked me in the eye, he said,
"I'm much happier helping you and Grandpa."
	God, that's the son I love so much, I thought to myself. Aloud, I
said, "Well, God knows I love having you around, and like I said, I know
your grandpa enjoys having you help him. I just don't want you to think you
have to spend so much time with us."
	"So you don't mind if I hang with you guys?"
	I felt my lips spread across my face with a smile. "Son, as long as
it's what you want to do, then I can assure you, it makes me very happy."
	"I can't explain it, Dad; about wanting to spend my time with you,
and with Grandpa. I just do," he said.
	I reached over and gave his shoulder a pat. "Then, for as long as
you want, you can spend as much time with me, with your grandpa."
	Neither one of us spoke after that. One of the things Dad loved to
do outside was burn trash, something he could readily do since we lived out
in the country. That was his plans for the next day, so I had been cleaning
up outside and stacking everything in a pile making it ready for him to
burn. Brandon helped me with that particular chore.
	Dad joined us as I threw the last piece onto the pile.
	"I think it's time to call it a day," he said. "Time for showers,"
he added with a grin.
	"You just want to show off your latest project," I teased him.
	The latest project I was referring to was a closet he had built
inside the shower house. Mom would complain every time one of us would
track dirt inside the house.
	"I work my fingers to the bone, and then you three come along and
leave dirt and smudge everywhere you walk. Do you think I have nothing else
to do, that my only job is to clean up after you guys?"
	For a while she would take clean clothes out on a daily basis so we
would have something to change into. For a time that had worked, but soon
she grew tired of making a trip outside each day. That's when my father
came up with his idea for building a closet. Of course, his project quickly
became "our" project, but compared to building the entire shower house
years before, this project went much faster. From start to finish took only
three days to complete. The shower house now included a nice sized closet
with a set of drawers on either side. In one set Mom had placed towels and
in the other, socks and shorts.
	The three of us hurried inside, and I walked over to the recently
added closet. I opened the door and looked inside. There were shirts and
jeans for all three of us. Mom's only stipulation was we had to bring our
dirty things inside the house for her to wash; also if she washed the
clothes, we had to make sure they were returned to the new closet.
	"Damn, Dad, I don't know who built this, but they did a hell of a
job," I said.
	"I accept your compliment".
	"I was thinking about the part I played in this," I informed him.
	"Well, if that's the way you feel, just remember who carried all
the damned boards for the project," Brandon grinned.
	"You did work your ass off," Dad assured his grandson.
	"You two are so full of shit."
	I pulled a clean shirt and some jeans out of the closet and walked
over to one of the benches. I stripped my clothes off and headed for the
shower.
	Dad said, "Brandon, I'm going to rest a bit; you go ahead and take
your shower. I'll wait."
	"Are you getting old since you quit work?"
	Dad looked at my son. "Don't get smart with me, young man. I can
stay up with you any day of the week," he added with a grin.
	"Okay, old man, you sit and rest."
	I watched as my son pulled his shirt over his head and with a tug,
slid his jeans down to his ankles. At fourteen, the boy was already filling
out, his chest starting to tone up. Although not very thick now, Brandon
had a nice treasure trail of brown hair from his belling button down to his
bush, and it wouldn't be long until I was sure it would be as thick as
mine.
	My son walked naked toward me and turned the water on. He stepped
under the warm spray, and I heard him let out a sigh.
	"Always feels good, doesn't it?" I asked.
	"It does."
	For almost a year now, Brandon and I had been showering together. I
don't think he was ever uncomfortable being naked in front of me. However,
early on, when he would get a hard on, he would quickly cover himself with
a towel. After a few talks where I told him it was natural to get hard the
way he did, well, that was all it took to make him comfortable. When he
showered with me now, if he got hard, it didn't bother him or make him feel
embarrassed.
	I washed myself all over, enjoying the touch the water made against
my body. I also enjoyed very much the sight of my hairy son in the shower
next to me. It was like looking at a replica of me when I was his age. The
hair around his dick was a bit darker than mine, but just as thick.
	Okay, time to turn around, I thought to myself. I could feel my
cock starting to thicken up.
	As I turned to face the wall, I remembered something. Why should I
try and hide my dick if it got hard? After all, hadn't I told my son it was
perfectly normal to get? To hell with it, I thought. I turned back around,
giving my son a clear view of my body. There was no way he could miss my
hard on now; I wasn't even going to try and hide it.
	I remained quiet, pretending to concentrate on washing my body.
	"Wow, you must be thinking nice thoughts!"
	Those were the words that came out of my son's mouth.
	Without thinking, I reached down and touched my dick. Then giving
him a grin, I said, "Well, actually, no particular thoughts, Brandon. I'm
just enjoying the massage the water's giving my body."
	"You're enjoying something all right."
	I looked down at my son. "So, tell me, what are you thinking
about?"
	Brandon's face turned red, and he quickly turned with his back
toward me. "Shit," he muttered.
	"Didn't we talk about this, Brandon? I thought you were cool with
yourself; with your body."
	As I watched, I saw my son stand straighter, his head held high. He
turned back around and faced me.
	"Hey, I'm cool with it if you are."
	"I'm very okay with it," I assured him.
	I watched Brandon as he washed down his chest. When he came to his
bush, I saw his cock jump, and I knew he was just like me. After I grew
hair around my dick, I found it hot and exciting to play in it, to run my
fingers through the thick curls. In fact, just looking in the mirror at my
body, my cock and bush and hairy balls, I could go from soft to extreme
hard instantly. Watching as my son washed that area, I was positive it
affected him in the same way.
	I watched him for a couple of minutes longer, and suddenly I made
up my mind about something. Other than my talk assuring him it was okay to
get hard, and just as okay not to hide it that was the extent of what I had
told him. Now I wish I could talk to Brandon about masturbation, but I was
afraid he would be uncomfortable with his grandpa in the room.
	I looked across the room at Dad, hoping he could read something
from my look.
	My father gave me a smile, he mouthed, "Later."
	I gave him a nod back. We were on the same wave length.



<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<



	Later that evening, after the evening meal was over, Dad pulled me
to the side and said, "If you want to catch Brandon for that talk, I'll
help your mother clean the kitchen up. You should have a good half hour,
maybe longer."
	I told him thanks and hurried up the stairs. I knocked on my son's
door and waited.
	"Come in," he called.
	I pushed the door open and walked into the room. Closing it behind
me, I walked over to the bed. Brandon was reading a book.
	I sat on the side and said, "Brandon, can we talk?"
	My son laid his book on the bed beside him.
	"What's on your mind?"
	I looked down and suddenly became overwhelmed with the love I felt
for him.
	"Brandon, I hope you realize I would never do or say anything
intentionally to embarrass or make you feel uncomfortable."
	"I know that, Dad."
	"Good, cause it's the truth."
	I was quiet for a moment, trying to decide how to go about this
conversation. Finally I said, "Okay, Brandon, I realize we've talked some
about what it's like being a guy, that sort of thing."
	I paused, but when my son didn't comment, I took a deep breath and
continued. "You remember when I told you it was normal for any guy to
suddenly get a hard on?" I reminded.
	There was a slight flush in his face, but Brandon nodded and
remained silent.
	"Okay, and like I said, I don't want to make you
uncomfortable. It's just that I know how guys at school can talk, the ideas
they can come up with, and, believe me, most of the time they are full of
shit. I would much rather you hear from me than from them; about certain
things.
	"Brandon, you're fourteen, so I'm pretty sure you know about
masturbation."
	My son had a puzzled look on his face. Then smiling, he said,
"You're talking about jacking off, right?"
	Leave it to my son.
	Feeling my own face warm up, I said, "That's right. Brandon, I
don't know if your buddies talk about it to you or not; whether they even
admit that they do it. When I was your age, a lot of my friends would deny
they jacked off; said it wasn't healthy to do it. I don't think there's a
guy in the world that's not masturbated."
	Another trait my son and I share is being direct and to the
point. He proved it then by asking, "So, when you were my age did you jack
off?"
	Without hesitating, I answered, "I did. Quite frequently," I added
with a smile.
	Brandon seemed to be digesting my words. After a moment he asked,
"So, do you still do it?"
	"Do I jack off?"
	He nodded.
	Honesty was another trait the two of us shared. I chose to display
that now. "I do," I admitted.
	Although I wanted to be as honest with my son as possible, I didn't
add that I didn't always need to jack off if I fucked Dad; or Dennis. He
was too young for now, I thought; I'll tell him about that part of me when
he's older. There would be time for that later.
	"How often?" he asked me.
	"How often do I jack off? As often as I need to." I gave him a
smile and said, "I will admit, when I was your age, it wasn't uncommon for
me to do it three or four times a day."
	"And now?"
	"Damn, you're nosey," I said. I reached down and gently pulled his
hair.
	"You started this conversation," he reminded.
	I nodded. "I did, didn't I? Well, okay, to answer your question, I
would say on an average, I jack off once a day; sometimes twice, depending
on how I feel."
	"If you're horny, you do it more?"
	"That's about the size of it."
	I couldn't help but notice he was hard through his jeans. It took
all I had not to reach over and touch him. I still wasn't sure he was ready
for that yet. I hoped if ever he wanted me to, Brandon would be the one to
initiate it. In fact, I wanted it to be him. That way, I would know for
certain how he felt.
	"I guess what I want you to know, Brandon, is that it doesn't'
matter what guys tell you at school; it's okay, and there is nothing
absolutely wrong with bringing yourself pleasure. As far as I'm concerned,
if you want to jack off every hour on the hour, it's okay and not a damned
thing wrong with it."
	I decided to give my son one more "food for thought" as the saying
goes. Looking directing into his eyes, I said, "I can see how hard you are
right now, so, I'm going to leave, and I want you to know it's okay to pull
your dick out and stroke it. Okay?"
	Brandon surprised the hell out of me when he reached down with his
hand and placed his fingers around his cock. With his thumb on one side and
his fore finger on the other, it was plain to see just how thick and how
hard he was.
	"I may just do that," he told me.
	I stood to my feet. I thought what the hell and said, "Well, look
at me."
	I placed my hand on the crotch of my jeans. "You can see that I'm
hard, so, I'm just going to tell you; when I leave here, I'm going in my
room and jack off."
	My son, ever the smart ass, gave me the thumbs up sign. "Go for it,
Pops," he said.
	I hurried out the door and down the hall to my own room. I closed
the door and with one quick motion, I had my jeans and shorts off and was
on my bed. My bush already had a wet spot from my talk with Brandon. A
thick strand of pre cum stretched from my wet curls up to the tip of my
dick.
	I took my slick dick between my fingers and began stroking. As was
my usual practice, I jacked with my right hand and teased my bush with my
left. As I laid there jacking off, I pictured my son down the hall. I knew
without a doubt he was stroking his cock, same as me. I had seen him enough
times with a hard on that I knew how he must look stroking his hairy
cock. That thought alone caused my balls to draw closer to my body, sending
the first thick glob of cum up the shaft and out the tip.
	"Fuck!" I cried out, trying not to scream.
	I still had my cock in my hand when there was a knock on the door.
	"You in there, Steve?"
	It was my father.
	I had cum every where, so there was no way I could cover it up.
	"I am. Mom down stairs?"
	"She is."
	I was relieved. "Come in, Dad," I called.
	My father walked into the room and quickly shut the door. "Wow," he
grinned. "What a lovely sight!"
	He walked over and sat beside me on the bed.
	"I take it you had a good talk with your son," he said.
	I nodded. "I did."
	"I can see how well it worked."
	I gave him a wicked grin. I asked, "How about a clean up?"
	Dad jumped up off the bed and locked the door.
	"Sure thing," he said.
	I felt his tongue lapping the cum, lifting it out from my wet
pubes. I had shot a huge load, and there was plenty for him to
swallow. When all of the cum was off my body, Dad placed his mouth against
mine and kissed me. He passed some of my cum to me, and then breaking the
kiss, he smiled and quietly said, "I love you, Steve."
	"Love you, too, Dad. I love it when you share my cum with me," I
smiled.
	"I just love your cum," he said.
	I reached across the bed and picked up a box of mints from the
table. "Here, take a couple of these," I told him.
	"I'm anxious to hear about your talk with Brandon," he said as he
walked toward the door. "It'll have to wait until tomorrow, if that's
okay."
	I shook my cock at him and then reached for my jeans. "I'll tell
you all about it," I said. "I won't make any promises, however; there's no
telling how you may be affected by it."
	"Oh, I can imagine," he said and left the room.
	I finished dressing, opened the door and fell back on my bed. With
my hands behind my head, I just laid there remembering the talk I had had
with my son.
	Suddenly, deep in thought, I heard, "Dad?"
	Brought back to the present, I saw my son standing in my door way.
	"Can I come in?" he asked.
	I motioned with my hand and said, "Sure; have a seat."
	He closed the door and sat on the side of my bed.
	He just sat there all quiet like until finally I said, "Something
on your mind?"
	"I did it."
	When I caught his meaning, I said, "You jacked off, huh?"
	He nodded. "I did."
	I looked at him for a second or two. Then, a grin on my face, I
said, "Me, too, Son."
	"I thought you would."
	"Did you, now? Well, I knew you would."
	"How?"
	"Because I was fourteen once," I reminded him. "Hell, I knew I was
going to when I left your room," I added.
	"Dad, I glad we can talk about stuff like this."
	"Me, too, Son."
	I watched him stand to his feet.
	I couldn't keep the words from coming out of my mouth. "You're hard
now."
	"I just can't help it," he said.
	"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for," I assured him. "Hell, I'm
getting that way myself," I said pointing to my crotch.
	"Well, I'm going to go take care of it," he said opening the
door. "Are you?"
	"Maybe," I said with a grin.
	"Night, Dad."
	"Night, Brandon. I love you, Son."
	"Love you, too,"
	My son closed the door and left me alone with my thoughts.
	God, he was such a good son.
	Suddenly I was reminded of his mother. I hadn't thought of her in
quite some time. Brandon was such a good son, and I wondered how the hell
she could have just walked out of his life and never returned.
	It was definitely her loss, I thought as I went down stairs to join
Mom and Dad.



End Part 15

Mark Stevens