The following account is about my son and the pride I have for him. I enjoy my multifaceted sexuality and it gave me great satisfaction, recently, to have been able to 'catch' my almost 15-year-old son following in his dad's footsteps. He is our only child and a gift from God.
A few weeks back, I had decided to take the day off to catch up on some chores around the house. It was also close to my son's birthday and I had purchased some tickets for him and me to go to a baseball game that evening.
My son is growing fast; his height is now 5'9, a full six inches taller than a year ago. He has beautiful sandy blond hair that he keeps short on the sides but long on top. His voice is starting to crackle and his sideburns are showing a little more thickness and color than your typical boy 'peach fuzz.' He excels at baseball and soccer and loves his skateboard. He wears baggy pants a lot of the time and has that cute boy look that the girls love. He has lots of friends, including a few girls, but no real girlfriend, yet. He's a great kid and still thinks the world of me, even though he is a typical teen!
I was down in my shop when, around 2:45, I heard my son opening the front door upstairs. He was returning home from school and his bus had dropped him off a block or so from where we live. I didn't pay too much attention to him since I was busy doing some reading for an upcoming project. His growing body tromped up the stairs and I could tell he was headed for his room. He soon had a CD playing louder than it should have been and water was running for the shower he was always taking these days. It dawned on me that this was probably the reason our water and gas bills had increased so over the past few months. I wrapped up what I was doing and headed upstairs to give him the news about the game we were going to tonight.
The door to his room was open and it then occurred to me that he wasn't aware that I was home. The hallway leading to the bedrooms of our house was dark without a light on. His booming stereo masked any sound of my presence. I was about to head into his room when I stopped short. There, in full view, was my naked son, still drying himself off from his shower. I respect his privacy so I decided to not barge in on him but I was more than curious about how things were developing on his still boyish but transitioning body. I stood there in the shadows and wondered what kind of show I would get to see. I was not to be disappointed!
My son's room has a nice full-length mirror, the type you use to dress with. As soon as he finished drying off, he stood in front of the mirror and struck several 'Mr. Universe' type poses, showing off to himself his still developing muscles. Oh yes, I had to admire his penis. It was a long hanger in its flaccid state, not much different from mine. My wife and I decided to leave it intact at birth so it was hard to compare it to mine, though. My parents, in collusion with my pediatrician, had me mutilated, like most boys born in 1958. This was something I was not going to put my son through. If he wanted to be cut, he would be the one to make the decision. His enlarging nuts were hanging loose in a supple skinned scrotum, still relatively hairless. He was becoming a man as evidenced by the darkening pubic brush beginning to grow above the base of his beautiful package. I have to admit it kind of turned me on to see him this way. I remember with fascination my own coming of age and how the feelings and sensations originating from my own growing testes and thickening penis turned me on. What happened next made me downright hard.
His hazel eyes soon focused downward and I could tell he was becoming engrossed with that nice cock of his. His hand was soon cupping his nuts and he spent a few seconds alternatively cupping and yanking them. Sure enough, I could see the first signs of his penis hardening. It bobbed with his heartbeat and soon he was flexing it, filling it with more of his boiling-hot teen blood. His dark red, almost purple, cock-head started to poke out of its foreskin 'shell.' He slowly worked his foreskin back, totally exposing a nice mushroom, just like mine. Damn, if his penis wasn't longer than mine is when erect! He must have inherited the 'long penis genes' from his mother's side of the family. I'm by no means small, but his 6 1/2 inches beats my 6 inches easy. It had a nice slender shaft and a stiff upward curve that pointed it more towards his head than mine did. He would turn from side to side, admiring his prize package from the reflection in the mirror. He experimented by rolling his foreskin back as far as it would go and then pulling it out and over his swollen cock-head. He pranced and made thrusting motions all timed with the beat of the music playing from his stereo. I was going out of my mind watching this. I had to unzip and let things out.
He went over to his bed and laid down on his back, legs 'spread eagle.' He went to work on his teen pride by taking his right hand, thumb and forefinger towards the root and started to stroke, unevenly at first. His left hand was busy caressing the family jewels. He let out several sighs and rested for a few seconds before beginning again. Smart kid, he knows how to delay his orgasm. He knows how to slow things down, the mark of a superior masturbator and I knew then he must have been practicing this for some time.
When he was much younger, my wife and I never embarrassed him when he would get an erection. We taught him to love his penis but there is a time and a place for 'playing.' We encouraged and allowed him to get naked in his room by himself with the door closed. I was never embarrassed by the inevitable questions he had as a toddler when waking me up on weekend mornings and pointing and giggling with admiration at my morning 'hard-on.'
My son was doing nothing different from what I had done as a kid and I was extremely proud and pleased I was getting the chance to observe the show he was unknowingly giving me. The joy I felt boiling up from my own nuts made me appreciate the fact that the child I had produced along with my wife and my own flesh and blood, was now able to produce children of his own.
He was squirming now and I loved how he moaned with each delightful thrust of his hand. His foreskin slipped over and back, over and back, across his glistening cock-head. He had a copious amount of pre-cum flowing by now. His hand was jerking to the solid beat of the music: stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke, one-two-three-four. The kid certainly knows how to be erotic! He is going to make a future partner very fulfilled sexually. He grabbed his tightening nuts and pulled. He let out a muffled scream and the cum started flying! The first contraction produced a shot that landed beside his head on the pillow. After an agonizing (for him and me!) couple of seconds, he let loose with more shots, this time in rapid succession, the majority of his creamy, white manhood landing on his hairless chest, the last of it dribbling out and filling the depression of his navel.
After a minute or two, the afterglow wore off and he was looking for the box of tissues to clean himself up. I decided this was a good time to split and I left him to himself. I moved quietly downstairs and out the front door where I waited a few minutes before reentering and announcing that 'I'm home.' I called for him and he ran downstairs to meet me. He didn't realize it, but his face was still blushed with the telltale evidence of what he just did, just like mine gets after a good orgasm. I loved how he acted as if nothing had just happened! I surprised him with the tickets.
"Happy Birthday, kiddo."
I won't let him know what I saw, at least not for now. I love him too much and I remember how I was as a horny teen. As we headed off for the game, I began look at him a little differently, one of respect because he is becoming the man I was hoping he would become.
"I love you, son."
"I love you, too, dad. Thanks."