ONLINE ACTIVITY (Boy is 18+)Dean was anxious. Pacing around his office, he tried not to let his para
ONLINE ACTIVITY (Boy is 18+)Dean was anxious. Pacing around his office, he tried not to let his paranoia get the better of him while he waited for a download to finish on his computer. Meanwhile, his son was in the bathroom upstairs… taking his fourth-ever unsupervised shower. Since entering puberty, the boy’s deeply religious father had insisted that all bodily cleansing be monitored as a way of preventing forbidden masturbation. The man was still uneasy about the new routine he had recently afforded his son (the boy had become stubbornly adamant about having more privacy, now that he was a “grown man”), but he had opted to give the lad the benefit of the doubt. Finally, the computer dinged. Sitting down at his desk, Dean opened up the digital report on his screen, which presented all of his son’s online activity for the past seven days. It documented everything- down to the last keystroke. Just like every week prior, the boy’s Internet activity seemed to be pure and innocent in nature… until Dean noticed a small red flag about halfway down the report. His son had evidently typed the words “neighbor” and “creampie” into a search engine earlier that very day. The longer he stared at the word, the wider Dean’s eyes became, as he came to terms with this damning piece of evidence. He knew that his son was going to be curious at his age, with his young mind hijacked by hormones… but Dean had set clear and concise rules about what was permissible under his roof… and this was simply unacceptable.Marching up the stairs with a printed copy of the report in one hand and a thin strap of leather in the other, the man was already fuming when he reached the top and heard strange sounds coming from inside the bathroom. Over the white noise of the running shower, Dean could hear deep, urgent, noises barreling out of his son’s developed throat and chest. His lips tightened and his fists clenched in mounting rage; leaning in and pressing his ear to the door, his suspicions were confirmed when slippery squelching noises betrayed the boy’s unholy actions.As per Dean’s rules, the door had been left unlocked, allowing him to burst inside and startle the preoccupied youth. His son wasn’t even inside the shower- he was standing against the opposite wall, selfishly wasting water in order to create a diversion while he disobeyed his father’s wishes and attempted to relieve his disgustingly congested prostate. Eyes glazed and dilated, his mouth hung open with a film of drool on his bottom lip. Both hands clutched his erection; only the fat helmet was visible to his father as it poked out from inside his strangling fists, the pisshole gaping as though it were screaming.Dean stood up straight and stared at his son, unblinking. He spoke in a calm and controlled voice, hoping to gain compliance without spooking the kid into unpredictable behavior. “Young man… you are going to stop what you are doing immediately…”The boy’s legs trembled as he slowly peeled one hand away from his rubbery penis, the other still clinging to it instinctively. Before Dean could encourage him to remove both hands, the teenager’s faced scrunched in on itself… and he let out a deranged howl of primitive lust. He had gotten too close to the finish line by the time his father burst into the room… and now, he was simply a boar who needed to finish breeding. Primal urge trumped fearful obedience. Unable to control himself, the young man resumed wanking with his remaining fist, spreading his legs and rutting into his own hand.Dean could do nothing but stand and watch… there was no stopping his son’s unauthorized ejaculation now. The boy’s large testes visibly churned before emptying onto his abdomen and the tiled floor below. He was unable to look at his father as he unloaded noisily, closing his eyes while his body submitted to youthful urges. After a few moments, he began to descend from clouds of masculine ecstasy, tears welling up inside his eyes and pungent globs of sack sauce dripping from his hand. When Dean turned and left the bathroom, his son began to weep, and continued to cry until his father returned with a small toiletry bag in his hand.“I knew it was too early.” the man spoke stoically as he approached the sweaty, terrified boy. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but you have left me no choice. Place your hands at your sides, and do not speak.” -- source link