My Last Shower With Dad
(Father/son, mast.)
© 1998 by Luz Rojo
author@luzrojo.com

Introduction:

Although the events described herein involve sexual activity between an adult father and a consenting minor child the author in no way supports, encourages or condones any kind of real life sexual activity involving minors for any reason whatsoever.

Standard Legal Disclaimers:

This story intended for adult readers only. It contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity between a father and his consenting, minor son. If you find this type of material offensive in any way you are urged to STOP READING NOW.

If you are a minor (not a legal adult) it is forbidden by law for you to read this story
STOP READING NOW. (Be patient my friends, your time will come.)

If it is illegal for you to read this material where you are located or if this type of material is prohibited by law in your country - STOP READING NOW!

If you continue the author assumes you are proceeding with informed consent.

This story may not be distributed to minors by anyone, for any reason, in any manner whatsoever.

The author hereby grants permission to repost, redistribute, archive and share this story a in any manner you wish, provided you honor the above request.

My Last Shower with Dad
by Luz Rojo

I was a six year old boy when these events occurred. We lived in Florida. My dad and I had just returned from the beach. It was late afternoon during the summer and my mom was off with my sister somewhere that day. It was one of those very rare occasions that dad and I could actually spend some time alone together, man-to-man, so to speak. My father and I didn't really spend much "quality time" together so this was something of a treat for me.

We'd had a great time at the beach and when we got back we headed into the bathroom to take a shower. My dad and I didn't shower together very often but we had done it before (and I always enjoyed it) so, while it was by no means a common thing, at six years old it wasn't all that unusual either and nothing seemed strange about it.

Dad took his suit off and put it in the sink, then started the water for the shower. When he did my eyes couldn't help but look down at his exposed penis. I had seen dad naked before and back then I had no sense that staring at his dick was a bad thing to do. (Well, maybe a little sense it was naughty.)

Since we had just returned from an afternoon of swimming his shaft was all tangled up in his pubic hair and his organ was a bit on the shriveled side. He kept doing what he was doing, getting the shower ready and washing out his suit nonchalantly. Although dad acted very casual I think he must have been aware that I was staring at him because his dick began to relax and descend a bit. It didn't get hard, by any means, but it began "unshriveling" before my eager young eyes.

I kept looking at it, fascinated, and pretty soon I had myself a little hardon, though at the time I didn't know there was any connection between what I was staring at and what my dinky was doing. I still don't think I was doing anything "queer" or overtly sexual at the time. I was just looking at his manhood in the normal, healthy, curious way most boys do at that age when given an opportunity. It was neat seeing it and the fact he was willing to be naked around me made me feel kind of special, like I was his trusted buddy.

When I looked up my dad was smiling down at me, as if he knew what I was doing and really didn't mind. He didn't say anything about it right then, just "Come on, Ricky, let's get your suit off." He leaned over and I put a hand on his shoulder to steady myself as he slide my bathing suit down and I stepped out of it. My wet little boner must have popped out right under his nose, sticking up from a tiny boy scrotum all pruned from a day in the water.

I wasn't embarrassed about it because, as I said, back then I didn't associate it with anything sexual. Sometimes it just got stiff for no reason. Truth is it's been so long I can't truly recall everything that was going through my head but I don't remember feeling awkward about it at that point, though I wonder what my dad must have thought because he definitely noticed it.

He actually made a little joke about my boner which I didn't get, though I knew he was making some kind of reference to my stiffie. It was something innocuous like "Anxious to get in the shower?" or "I guess you're just happy to see me," or some other off hand masculine comment like that which went right over my head. He probably thought I was nervous or embarrassed and was trying to put me at ease, which was totally unnecessary. I felt very comfortable being naked with him and, despite my erection, wasn't self conscious about our nudity together. Actually, I thought it was kinda cool. He was probably more embarrassed about it than I was.

He put my suit in the sink and began rinsing it out. I stood there naked beside him, my hard little boy-toy rigidly at attention as I kept staring at his Daddy-thing with no sense of shame whatsoever. His kept growing as I gazed at it and when I looked up at him he was smiling down at me again with that same sort of knowing look in his eyes, almost like he was proud that I was noticing him.

We got in the shower, the water was nice and warm. He had me stand in front of him, toward the shower part as he started to wash his own hair.

I turned around so the water was hitting me in the back, instead of my face, and suddenly found myself almost literally with my kisser in his crotch. There was maybe a few inches between us in the tight quarters of the shower and my short, six year old height, put his groin right at my eye level.

Once more, I was transfixed. I just kept looking at his thing, watching as the wet shampoo lather ran down his hairy chest, across his stomach and right down his enormous shaft. The white suds were dripping off the end of his penis.

Dad was uncut, but his glans was visible, being only partially covered by his foreskin. His shaft definitely wasn't "shriveled" anymore as I stared at it. His manhood hung low and horse-like now, the trunk dangling loose and thick. I wish I could tell you inches but I didn't know then and wouldn't trust my memory now. I know it seemed mighty big to me at the time, but I was only six. I have no idea what it actually measured but it sure impressed me.

As I kept staring at it I felt my own little stiffie pounding. I was as hard as a kid could get, but I still didn't make any mental connection that what I was looking at was the cause of my little boner.

He finished his hair and looked down at me. I'm sure he noticed my inflexible little petey, and that my face was staring right at his dick, but all he said was something like "Let's get you washed up."

He took a washcloth and soaped it. I remember his dick looked bigger than normal, but it wasn't really hard as he started to wash me.

He turned me away from him as he started doing my back, rubbing the washcloth all over me and all the way down between my butt cheeks. He did my legs, then came back up to the little cleft in my bottom for a second pass.

I remember feeling a little funny as he seemed to spend more time washing me there then usual, repeatedly slipping the soapy wash cloth up and down through my crack. I didn't mind, it felt really good actually, and I liked that he was spending so much time with me. I thought it was neat he was being so intimate, and the way he kept doting on me made me feel special.

He had me spread my legs a bit and then he reached between my thighs with the wash cloth, soaping me all the way forward until he was actually rubbing my itty-bitty ball sack from behind. When his fingers, covered with the washcloth, touched my little scrotum he tickled me! I giggled and pranced a bit, bringing my legs together involuntarily and trapping his hand there for a moment. For me it was a fun game and I loved ever bit of it. I didn't feel used or molested at the time and had no idea that, in later years, people would tell me how wrong this type of behavior was. We were playing together, father and son, having fun in the shower as only two guys could. I loved it and saw nothing wrong with it.

Finally he told me to turn around so he could do my front. When he did I turned right into his dick and this time it was fully (and I do mean fully) ERECT!.

I let out a gasp!

It wasn't just that it was so big (which it was, it was huge!) but that it was so totally different looking then it had been just a few moments earlier. It was like he'd done a magic trick, the way it changed. I'd only looked away for a moment and, poof, it was totally different.

I had never seen my father with an erection before and for the first time I suddenly felt embarrassed. Even though I didn't think anything of my own little pecker being hard THIS seemed like something naughty. I felt I shouldn't be seeing his penis all swollen up like this. I was afraid he'd be upset I was looking at him like that (though what else COULD I do from my altitude!?) and the way I had gasped when I saw it left no doubt as to what I was staring at. Still, even feeling the way I did, I couldn't take my eyes off it.

That's when he bent over a bit (pointing his dick right between my eyes in the process) reached down and started washing my front. Suddenly I was shaking a little, even though the water was warm on my back. I kept staring at this big dick in my face and I felt my knees trembling. He must have known I was nervous but I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

He washed slowly across my shoulders, chest and nipples, then down over my stomach in pretty much the usual way, but when he got to my dick (which was stiff as a steel rod!) he stopped.

Gently he soaped it up, pulled my foreskin back smoothly and exposed my shy little dinky head. Using his thumb through the washcloth he started to make little circles around the glans, as if slowly wiping it clean, over and over again. With only two of his fingers he took hold of the rest of my little rod and began rubbing the washcloth up and down the shaft very gradually, kind of like he was washing it, but not really. He was working it, doing me in firm, loving strokes.

I knew he was taking a lot longer than usual, but I didn't care. Even then I remember thinking it felt really good and I liked the way he was playing with it.

His huge, erection was right in my face and I just kept looking at it. Neither of us said anything for a long time and he just kept moving the wash cloth slowly up and down my wand. Then he asked me, in a very soft and gentle way, "You okay with this, Ricky?"

I wasn't sure what he meant but even though I was shaking I was VERY okay with what was happening. I felt a little nervous about what we were doing but I had no idea there was anything actually "wrong" with it. After all, he was my dad! He was allowed to pull down my pants and spank my naked bottom any time he wanted to! (And believe me, there were times he did!) So I just figured any kind of touch he made to me was fully permitted. And this sure wasn't hurting me, like a spanking, so why would I think it was wrong? The way he was rubbing my weenie made me feel funny inside, but in a good way and the only thing I knew for sure at that moment was that I absolutely did NOT want him to stop!

I don't recall answering him. Maybe I said "uh-huh" or something to indicate I was fine with it, but I don't remember. I just kept shaking and looking at his thing, right in my face.

I'll never forget what happened next. He asked gently, practically whispering in my ear, "You want to touch it?"

I couldn't believe he was actually asking me. Yes, I wanted to touch it, but I couldn't make the words come out, so I think I nodded, maybe, if that. I know I didn't say anything.

"Go ahead," he said softly, "It's okay, Ricky, you can touch it if you want to. I don't mind."

I still didn't move and then, slowly, I raised my hand a little nervously and just held it in the air trying to get up my courage to actually touch It. With his free hand he reached out and took mine, then guided it over, wrapping my little fingers around his enormous shaft.

It looked even bigger with my tiny little hand on it. It felt both hard and soft at the same time. My thumb kind of rubbed a little at the head, as he was doing mine, and it felt slick from what I thought was soap. My other fingers kept a tight, unmoving grip on his shaft.

How different were our organs, size wise? It would have taken FOUR of my little hands put together to cover the extent of his shaft while he enclosed the full length of my little pecker with just two fingers!

I was shaking like a leaf.

He asked if I was cold and he adjusted the water warmer. It helped, although that wasn't why I was shaking. I just held his dick... Didn't move. I couldn't believe I was touching it and I didn't know what to do with it now that I was.

Again, he put his hand on top of mine, and kind of helped me to "explore him" a bit. With his other hand he kept moving the wash cloth on my dick and he asked me if what he was doing felt good.

I was just shaking (kind of like I am now, telling this story) and I didn't know what to say but I think I nodded because I know I couldn't think of anything else. Rather foolishly (in retrospect) I think I was still afraid he'd think I was weird if I admitted I liked what we were doing.

He took some shampoo, baby shampoo as I recall, and poured it over his dick and on my hand. He told me to rub it in, moving it up and down, that would make it feel good, he said, like he was was doing to me. So I did, using my little hand to slide the slick shampoo all over him. It felt so neat but I was so scared too, so afraid I was doing something I was going to get in trouble for.

He had taken his hand off my dick and straightened up to get the shampoo, now he put one hand back on my head, and the other on my shoulders standing upright in front of me as I was rubbing the shampoo on him. I remember he said something like "See, you can wash daddy just like daddy washes you ."

I think I laughed a little at that. It made me feel less nervous about what I was doing and I finally brought up my other hand and took hold of his big daddy thing until I had a grip on it with both hands.

Rubbing his fingers through my hair he again reached down with his other hand and started stroking my wee-wee as before, only this time he didn't use a wash cloth, just his bare, soap slick fingers. As I slowly caressed my hand over his shaft he began moving his hips in a way that seemed very funny to me at first, pushing his rod back and forth through my tight little paws. Of course, now I know what he was doing, but I didn't back then and I was afraid I was holding him too tight. I didn't want to hurt him and I knew how sensitive my own boy parts were, especially my fragile little balls.

He kept playing with my thing and it felt really good, and he kept pumping his big daddy-dick through my slippery palms and running his fingers through my wet hair while stroking my little boy meat. I was frightened because I didn't fully understand what was going on. It was a game, but I didn't know the rules and that scared me a bit. Still, I thought it was great game and I was enjoying playing it with him, even if I was nervous.

He started pumping harder and I heard him moan. Now I was sure I was hurting him when suddenly all this white stuff started shooting out of his dick! It totally freaked me and I started to let go, but he took his hands and grabbed my fingers, forcing them to stay wrapped around him as he kept pumping.

All that white stuff mixed with the lather of the shampoo and ran all over his dick. I soon had the slippery stuff all over my little hands as his shaft pistoned in my grip. Finally he stopped pumping.

The whole event really didn't last very long (less than the time it tales to describe it here) and when he was done I was still holding my hands tightly around his dick. But the absolute worst of it was he had stopped rubbing my little peepee!

I felt an urgent need to keep pushing my poor stiffie forward, but as much as I flexed my hips there was nothing there to push against. I ached inside. It made me feel so weird inside when he stopped rubbing me. I felt hungry and unsatisfied in a way that made me whimper.

I don't think he did it to be cruel. I truly believe he was just sort of coming to his senses about what we'd been doing and was suddenly very upset about what had just happened between us. He took my hands off him, rinsed them in the shower spray and began washing his own dick without a word. He finished up our shower quickly saying nothing more than was needed.

I thought he was mad at me, now I know he was just feeling very guilty about what had happened and didn't want to talk about it.

That was the last time we ever took a shower together. There was nothing abrupt about the cut off since, as I said, we didn't do it very often to begin with so no one even noticed. He never said why we stopped, we just never did it again but I was sure it was because of me.

I thought maybe I'd done something wrong because I didn't fully understand the game we were playing. I thought that somehow I'd hurt him while I was playing with his dick, when I made the white stuff come out. I thought he didn't say anything to me about it because he didn't want to hurt my feelings or admit a little kid had hurt him, but I was sure it must be my fault and he was secretly mad at me about it.

I know it's stupid in retrospect, but I was a kid and I thought it was like I'd busted something in his dick! You know how like, when you squeeze a blister too hard and it pops, pus comes out, well I thought I'd done something like that to my dads prick. I'd squeezed it too hard and I made the wrong stuff come out instead of his pee. Or maybe I'd gotten the soap in it by pumping it so much or maybe, I didn't know what.... I mean, I just kept thinking the kind of really stupid stuff you think as a kid because you don't know any better and I was too afraid to ask him about it.

All I knew was I really liked the way we had been playing and was sad he didn't want to play with me in the shower any more. It had been fun, a special secret thing just between us guys, and somehow I'd screwed it.

I never said anything about it again, to him or anyone else, for fear I'd get in trouble because of what I'd done. Now, as an adult, I'm really glad I didn't because if I had said something about it to the wrong person, my dad might have gone to jail for what he did!

Thank God that didn't happen, that I kept my mouth shut! I got to grow up with a father who loved me instead of having the stigma of being the son of a "child molester," just because he jerked off in the shower one time in his life with his kid!

He never said a word about it after it happened, and now I think that's okay, because as an adult I understand why. My only regret is we never did it in the shower again.

Close Encounters

As time went on I think he sort of hoped I'd forgotten about it, that it had been while I was still young enough that I didn't remember him doing it. Nothing was ever said about it and nothing like it ever happened again, although there were a couple of other times in growing up that we got close to doing something, but it never quite happened.

When I was around 13 dad and I went on a little camping trip alone together. One day we got to swim nude by ourselves in a private area. While we were swimming we kinda got to playing a little "grab ass." He grabbed my thing at one point, just kind of playfully, and I took that to mean it was okay to grab him, so I did, but I wanted to be more aggressive about it than he'd let me be and the game didn't last much beyond that. When we got out of the water I noticed he was hard (so was I) but neither of us said anything about it.

That night in our camper we slept in our underwear. I crawled into his bunk and kind of cuddled up to him. He held me close to him and I kind of pressed myself into his leg. My thing got really hard and I knew he felt it. (I think I wanted him to.)

He didn't pull away or say anything, so I let my hand slowly slide down from his hairy chest. I kind of gently eased it across his stomach, then lower, until I had placed it (rather casually I thought at the time) right on top of his crotch.

I had it right on his thing and I could feel he had a big hardon through his underwear. I just let my hand sit there for a moment, seeing if he'd say anything or do anything. He didn't, so then I got a little bit braver and kind of moved my fingers a tiny bit, sort of very subtly rubbing it, feeling it. That's when he reached down and, very gently, pulled my hand off of him.

"I think it's time we both got some sleep," was all he said.

He wasn't mean about it, or harsh, just very definite, but I was totally devastated. I was so sad that he didn't want to do more and so deeply embarrassed that I'd been "caught" doing something he obviously didn't approve of, even though he'd been as nice about it as he could.

I think he was still regretting what had happened years earlier. My father was a very decent man and I think he must have agonized over that a lot. He didn't want something else to feel guilty about, especially since he knew I was old enough to remember everything that would happen this time.

Anyway, those were the only times I can recall ever getting close to doing anything again with dad.

I'm a father myself now, with two boys of my own, and I understand his feelings better now than I did then. Over the years my boys have had their own moments of sexual curiousity, as boys will do, but with my sons I have always tried to be the kind of father I wish I'd had myself.

The End