Handjobs Magazine - Dad's BedTime Tales Vol. 14.pdf - Dads Bedtime Tales - ag9691

OH MY GOD!

You OK,

Benny?

You’re

awfully

quiet this

morning.

www.hjmag.com

Dad’s Bedtime Tales Volume 14

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner

whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief

quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Dad’s Bedtime Tales Volume 14 is a collection of stories

from the Subscribers Section of our website:

www.hjmag.com

A special thank you to those who contributed artwork:

Lord Iron

Player

Roger

For more information about Handjobs publications, please write:

Avenue Services, Inc.

PO Box 2000

Bow, WA 98232-2000

Or call us toll free at: 1-866-304-7848

Dad’s Bedtime Tales Volume 14

ISBN 978-1-886458-xx-x

USD 20.00

Handjobs Presents

Dad’s Bedtime Tales

Volume 14

If Only . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

The Responsibility of Teaching . . . . . . . 24

This is Gonna Hurt . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Dad’s Torment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34

My Son the Doctor. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Rugby Coach Dad’s Dilemma. . . . . . . . 56

Learning to Bake . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68

“Mr. Sperm” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

Memorial Day Weekend. . . . . . . . . . . 82

Over Here, Boy! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115

A Man’s Measure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121

The Ferret . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126

or in part without written permission of the publisher, Avenue Services, Inc., a gay-owned and operated business.

Published by Avenue Services, Inc., PO Box 23219, Seattle, WA 98102-0519.

Handjobs is a trademark of Avenue Services, Inc.

Safe and sane sexual behavior is encouraged by the publisher. The publisher, editor and contributors to Handjobs

cannot be held responsible for accidents or injuries or any other misfortunes that results from proper or improper

application of information imparted or ideas generated by material in Handjobs. Handjobs is designed to be used

only as an aid for masturbation. Any similarity between people and places in the fiction in Handjobs and any real

people and places is purely coincidental.

No responsibility can be assumed for unsolicited material. All rights in letters sent to Handjobs will be treated

unconditionally assigned for publication and copyright purposes and are subject to Handjobs’ right to edit and

comment upon editorially.

Printed in the US.

Despite the terms such as “boy”, “kid” or “son”, all characters in the fiction of Handjobs are 18 years of age or older.

It may be against the law to have sexual intercourse with people under the age of 18, but we do print memoirs of

men talking about their own boyhood experiences.

This magazine is in compliance with the so-called “Child Protection Act of 1995”.

Nurse Jackman’s Lesson. . . . . . . . . . . 148

To Despunk or Not . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157

Life’s Lessons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166

Cop Bob The Masturbator . . . . . . . . . 183

The Exchange Student. . . . . . . . . . . . 187

I Am Evil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191

If Only

If only I had looked the other way none of this would have happened.

I wouldn’t be in Kyle’s bedroom, my left hand gently caressing the

soft fuzz on his bare bottom while his dad glares at me in the doorway,

his eyes fixated on the juicy, raging hardon I’m massaging with my

right hand. Now what am I supposed to do?

I’m naked on the boy’s bed, my fingers trembling, sweat beading

on my forehead, wondering how to get out of my predicament. The

kid doesn’t realize his dad is on to us. The boy has his eyes closed

and is loving the feel of my fingers on his naked butt. Three seconds

ago, I had no idea the kid’s father had a clue what his son was up

to, and I was in heaven, savoring the heat of the kid’s butt crack on

my probing fingers.

My heart stopped for a second when I saw his dad’s reflection in

the closet door mirror. My bare back was facing the doorway. But

what can you do? You can’t undo what’s been done. And you can’t

live regretting what’s happened. All you can do is keep moving

forward and hope for the best.

It all started to unravel last weekend at the annual block party.

The neighborhood blocked off the street to traffic and everybody

brought their lawn chairs out into the street for a good time. Some

of the guys rolled their barbecues into the street and cooked up a

storm.

After a few beers I had no complaints, though I was getting close

to having to take a nice, long piss. But I was having too good a time

to get up. I was sitting on a lawn chair laughing up a storm with Al,

a hilarious fireman who lived three houses down, when this young

guy sat down in an empty lawn chair nearby. I didn’t know whose

boy he was. In fact I couldn’t recall seeing him around before.

“Whose that kid?” I asked Al, pointing to the boy.

“That’s Kyle,” he told me. “He’s Frank’s kid.”

“Frank has a boy?” I asked with surprise. Frank lived next door to

me. I had always taken him for a single man.

“Yeah, lives with his mother in Tennessee,” Al said.

“Frank’s married?” I asked.

“Used to be. Got divorced years ago. Wife took the kid, house,

everything,” Al said. I wondered why I didn’t know any of this. I

chatted with Frank a lot. “Took him years to get back on his feet

and get his life back together,” Al noted.

Handjobs Magazine - Dad's BedTime Tales Vol. 14.pdf

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