At 13 years old, spending a good part of my summer with a broken arm was not ideal, but what choice did I have? It was my own fault; I’d slid into home hard, intending to cream the catcher if he didn’t get out of my way. He didn’t, and I did cream him, but when he fell, it was directly on my right arm. I’d never felt that much pain before!

But the pain pills made up for that, after the bone was set and my arm put in a cast. Thankfully I didn’t have to worry about school, but for at least a couple weeks, my activities would be limited. I know a lot of kids my age would have been happy to have an excuse to stay inside, reading comics and watching TV, or to spend all day on the computer, but that just wasn’t me. I liked those things, but only sparingly. I’d rather be outside running and playing.

I guess that’s why I’m in pretty good shape, for a kid. Trim and muscular, but not pumped up like those ridiculous looking guys in the muscle magazines. I stood about 5’6″, weighed 140, and liked playing lots of different sports. Baseball was my favorite, but I ran cross-country and played soccer, too. I thought when I got a little older I’d look into football, but wasn’t sure yet.

The first couple of days without the use of my dominant arm was an inconvenience, especially when I finally needed a bath badly enough that my mom put her foot down. The doctor had said I could bathe or shower, but that I had to keep the cast dry. I knew I’d need help getting clean, which was why I was avoiding it as long as possible; it was too embarrassing to be naked in front of someone else.

Mom, though, finally said enough is enough, and told me in no uncertain terms that right after dinner, I was going to shower. Dad said he would help me, and I figured that would at least be less embarrassing since we’re both guys. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to it.
After dinner, Dad and I went upstairs to see if we could figure out how to do this. I needed something to cover my arm to keep the cast dry, but we were at a loss. Dad had some plastic, but it was a big tarp and he didn’t want to cut it if he could avoid it. Mom was the one who came up with the idea of using a bread bag. One wasn’t quite long enough, but by using two together, overlapped, we were able to make it work just right. Dad lightly taped the end over my upper arm, and we were set.

We thought a bath might be best, but then Dad said “You know what? I need a shower too, so why don’t we just get in together. You can wash most of yourself and I’ll get what you can’t. And I don’t have to worry about getting wet anyway.”

So that’s what we did. Now Dad is 6’3″, and also pretty athletic. At 37 he wasn’t in tip top shape, but he still worked out and we played a lot together, so he was in better shape than most of my friends’ dads.

With Dad’s help, I got undressed and adjusted the water, then got in the shower. Dad got undressed and joined me just as I was getting my hair wet to start washing it. We chatted about normal things while dad squirted some shampoo into my left hand, and laughed as I clumsily tried washing it with one hand.

“Let me help you with that, Champ,” he said, smiling. I grinned and relaxed while he gently, but firmly, massaged my scalp getting the hair clean. I stood under the shower head and he rinsed my hair, making sure to get all the soap out. Once completed, my eyes were clear and open for the first time since Dad had gotten in.

I’m not a stupid kid; I knew that at just 13 my own 4.5″ dick (when it was hard) was tiny compared to what an adult would have, but I was absolutely shocked at what my Dad was sporting! It had to be 7″, and he wasn’t even hard. And it was thick! I was in mid-sentence, talking about my plans for the next day, when I saw it and stumbled over the words. Dad noticed.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” he asked, grinning. He’d seen where I’d looked just before tripping over my tongue.

“Um, nothing Dad.”

“Are you surprised at how large I am… down there?”

“Uh… yea, I guess. I knew you’d be bigger than me, but I didn’t know it’d be that much bigger.”

I was soft at the moment, which Dad noticed, and he asked “So how big are you when you’re erect? You get erections, right?”

“Yes sir,” I answered. “I’m about four-and-a-half inches.”

“That’s about the size I was when I was your age. I really filled out when I was 16 or 17, I reckon.”

“How big is it when you’re… uh, erect?” I asked, curious.

“Hm, I guess about 8 inches, and about 6 inches around. Have you started playing with yourself yet?”

“Dad!” I exclaimed, reddening. “Don’t ask me that!”

“Why not?” he asked, laughing again. “Son, there’s nothing at all wrong with jerking off. At your age I was doing it 2 or 3 times a day, and I didn’t stop until… well, hell, I still do even now. Not as often, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right?”

I was still too embarrassed to answer my Dad’s question, but of course I’d been masturbating for about a year. And like Dad, I could go two or 3 times a day. More, probably, if I tried. I got even more embarrassed when I realized that just thinking about it now was getting me hard. I tried to hide it, but some things can’t be hidden when you’re buck naked in a small shower with your dad.

“Well, you never answered, but I see from your, uh, reaction,” he said, pointing down, “that the answer would be ‘yes’, right?” He was having such a good time about this, darn it!

“Yes sir,” I mumbled. Yes, I was embarrassed, but it was kind of funny, and I couldn’t help but grin at him. Then a sickening realization came over me, and my Dad must have caught my expression.

“Oh, crap!” he said. “You’re right handed. You are going to have a hell of a time taking care of that, aren’t you?” I nodded, suddenly sadder than I’d been in a while. “Well, you can try using your left hand. It’ll take some getting used to, but if you’re motivated, and it looks like you are ha-ha, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yea, maybe. I just can’t do anything else with my left hand. I don’t know if I’ll get that figured out or not.”

“Oh, it should be that hard,” he said. “Ha-ha, no pun intended. Seriously, just grip it like you normally would, take it slow, and you should be fine.” As he said this, he took his dick in his left hand and gave himself a few strokes, demonstrating how easy it would be. I was shocked that he did that so openly, and even more shocked to see it twitch and start to grow. In almost not time, it was sticking straight out, pointing at me.

“Oops,” he said, not sounding at all like he meant it. “I guess I got a little carried away. Anyway, give it a try, see what you think.”

I didn’t know if he meant later, when I was alone in bed, or to just test it out a little right there, but deiced that since he’d done it, I could too. I gripped my cock lightly with my left hand and gave it a few experimental tugs. It felt weird, and a little clumsy, but it felt good after going a few days without, and I got the feeling that I would get the hang of it in short order.

“That’s it, see? You should be fine,” Dad encouraged. “Do you squirt when you finish?”

I was beyond being embarrassed at this point, so I just answered him. “A little. I didn’t used to at all, but lately there’s a small amount of semen.” I was showing off my knowledge of the words that I learned in sex-ed.

“Not bad,” he said. “I was probably 14 before I really started ejaculating. The first time, I had no idea what had happened and was surprised as hell. I even tasted it to see what it was.”

“Tasted it?!” I exclaimed, surprised. “Oh, gross!” In one way, it did sound gross to hear him say that, but the truth is I was tasting mine now and then as well. I was always too afraid to taste a lot of it, though. I would just put the tip of my tongue on the wet spot on my hand.
“What’s gross about it? It’s from your own body, and one day you’re going to want a woman to take it in her mouth. You should at least know what it’s like yourself before asking her to do that. And really, it’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

I figured right then and there I was going to get a really good taste of mine the next time I jacked off. Maybe that night.

The whole time we’d been talking, we’d also been continuing to wash, and we were just finishing up. Dad and I were both still erect when we stepped out of the shower and dried off.

“Well, Sport, it’s not a good time of month for your mom to help me with this, so I’m going to take care of it myself. I see you still need to take care of yours, so you can either go to your room, or stay here and we’ll do it together. Whataya say?”

I was dumbfounded, but also curious as to how my Dad jerked off, how much he would spurt, etc. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”

Dad winked at me, and leaned against the sink. He took his dick in hand and started jerking off. I watched, spellbound, for a little bit, then remembered that I needed relief too. I put the toilet lid down and sat on it, which put my right in line to watch my dad while I played with myself.

It was still awkward with my left hand at first, but soon I got the rhythm, and things were going well. I kept watching Dad and how he played, first tugging and pulling, then rubbing the head. I realized that he was spreading wet stuff, what the guys at school called pre-cum, around. Dad noticed I was watching, and said “It really feels good when you have some lubrication.”

At my age, I didn’t have much in the way of pre-cum, and certainly not enough to spread around, but I knew I could use lotion if I wanted to. But I also knew that lotion would ruin the chance to taste my semen when I spurted, so I didn’t want to use that. I just kept playing, watching Dad.

I noticed that Dad’s pre-cum, clear when it was leaking from his dick head, would get worked into a froth by his hand. At one point, Dad looked at it, raised his hand to his mouth and licked some of the juices off. He winked at me and went back to it.

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I don’t have any to slick me up with, or to taste.”

“Well, here,” my Dad said, moving his hand. “Get some of mine. You can taste it or use it however you like.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Somehow it didn’t seem wrong to reach over, take my dad’s cock in my hand, and rub it to get some of his pre-cum. I noticed a fresh drop at the head, and used my thumb to wipe it off. I brought it to my nose and sniffed it, then tasted it and thought it wasn’t so bad. I licked it off, and liked it.

Dad was looking at me, and still hadn’t gone back to playing with himself, so I reached back over and rubbed him some more. I was amazed at how big he was; I couldn’t get my fingers complete around him. I wiped off more of his pre-cum and tasted it again, and without thinking twice went right back to his dick. By this time, Dad had stood up from the sink and moved closer to me and facing me. Now his big dick was right in front of my face.
“You can lick it right from the tip, if you want,” Dad offered. He was still smiling, but it seemed like his smile was tighter. I leaned forward and stuck out my tongue, and licked a big smear of pre-cum right off the head of his dick. In the back of my mind, something was saying this made me queer, but I didn’t care. I’d worry about that later.

I swallowed that bit, and stuck out my tongue to lick him again. As I did, Dad pushed forward slightly, causing the head to bump first my tongue, then my lips. He didn’t move away, and neither did I; I kind of liked the feeling. With his dick head still resting on my lips, I raised my eyes and met his. I intuitively knew that the look in his eyes was lust.
I felt him pressing forward, not forceful but insistent. I parted my lips and he entered my mouth first one, then two, then three inches. I wasn’t sure how far he thought he’d be able to get, but I started to panic a little and leaned back. At first he followed, then he too backed up a little, so that again just the head was in my mouth. Then he gently pushed forward and I leaned in to meet him. The same three inches went in, then out, then back in. With each thrust, he would push a little further, and I felt a little more comfortable with it.

“Oh, Harry, you don’t know how good that feels.” I got a thrill of pleasure knowing I made my Dad feel that good. He continued to thrust in and out, and before lone I was able to take as much as five inches. I knew that was my limit, though; I could feel him hitting the back of my throat, and I knew I’d gag if he tried to go further. Fortunately, he must have realized that because he didn’t try to go any further.

He was really leaking pre-cum now, and it was wet and slobbery all in my mouth and even running down my chin. I was trying to swallow as I sucked him, but I couldn’t get it all.
While still thrusting in and out, suddenly Dad gripped his cock with his hand, and moved it along with my mouth up and down his shaft. He was panting short, quick breaths, and his eyes were starting to glaze over. His thrusting got quicker, then I felt him tense up and his cock swell even bigger in my mouth. At what had to be the absolute last instant, he pulled out, still jerking, and grunted as he came, spurting his semen on my face and chest. Some hit my still open mouth and I reflexively swallowed, then licked what was around my lips and on my chin. The taste was interesting; not particularly good, but not really gross either. It had a weird after-taste, though, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it felt like on the back of my throat.

Most of it hit me in the chest, and dripped down to my still hard dick. I’d become so engrossed in sucking my Dad’s cock, I’d forgotten all about my needs. When he was done coming, though, my Dad picked me up off the toilet, then sat down himself and positioned me in front of him. He licked his cum off my chest, and continued licking down until he got to my dick. After cleaning up all his cum off of me, he took me in his mouth and quickly bobbed his head up and down. I’d been worked up enough that I came almost immediately, and could tell that I’d squirted more this time than usual. It still wasn’t much, and Dad swallowed it without problem.

My knees had become week from the orgasm, and I was a little shaky. Dad turned me and sat me on his lap, and hugged me tightly. “That was great, Harry, and I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I did, Dad,” I mumbled, still stunned by everything.

“Good. Now this has to be our little secret, but if you want to do it again sometime, we can, okay?”

I nodded. “Yea, Dad, I’d like that!” I said, and meant it.

I could feel Dad’s dick under my bottom as I sat on his lap, and I thought I felt it twitch. “Okay, son,” he said “but for now, let’s get you cleaned up again.”