The Wrong Type of Redemption

9 Tuesday


9: Tuesday

The next morning, Jerry woke scowling when he smelled bacon cooking. He quickly sat up and turned around to find his father at the stove. Did the man stay the night? Or did he come back that morning? And why didn’t Jerry sense him moving around? He was a heavy sleeper, but not that heavy.

Jerry grunted disapproval going to the bathroom. He quickly emptied his bladder than put in his hearing aids.

“Good Morning, Glitch,” His father smiled over his shoulder as Jerry glared and grumbled exiting into his room. “I tried to ask you last night if you wanted me to come this morning to fix breakfast, but you were already sleep. I borrowed your key and came back this morning to make you breakfast, I hope you don’t mind.”

Jerry minded. He grumped, approaching the guy who took the keys from his pocket and held them out so they dangled at the tips of his fingers.

“Sorry. I did ask… I didn’t make a copy, so no worries there…” He said, trying to hide the hurt that flickered for a second.

Jerry snatched the key and grabbed a plate of bacon and eggs… He was about to open his mouth to thank the guy for breakfast, but the burglar had taken liberties with his fucking space so…no.

Instead of gratitude he decided to be an asshole. “Philip, you being here in the morning messes up my routine… I usually rub one out before I get ready to go to school. So unless you want to help me out with that…” Taking a seat on the side of his mattress and dropping the plate on the surface, Jerry slid his long fingers down the front of his pajama pants and began to massage his balls with his free hand while he continued to feed bacon into his mouth with the other.

With his back turned, his father froze at the stove. Jerry moaned more from acting than from anything else. Though it did feel good it wasn’t moan worthy yet.

His father ran a hand over his head. “Geez, Glitch…last night wasn’t enough?”

“I’m a healthy man.” Jerry smirked. “If you can’t stand the heat…you know what to do.”

His father sighed and marched toward the door. Then he turned just before opening it. “I get it! You want to make my life hell, is that it?”

Jerry’s hand slid up the hardening pole now tenting his pants. The look of disappointment on his father’s face revved him up more. Licking his bottom lip, he said, “No, I want you to bring those lips over here so I can feel them on my-“

“I’m your father!”

“So, you want to role-play…” Jerry’s voice grew huskier as he imagined those lips circling the head of his cock. Fuck, what would that tongue feel like? “Come over so I can show you how I like it, daddy.”

His father threw up his hands as if to give up and marched out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jerry’s hands began to move faster at his father’s annoyance and the fire in those determined eyes. He wasn’t giving up. But neither was Jerry. He felt the precum as he remembered the look of shock and disappointment in his father’s face at seeing Jerry jack off to him last night. Jerry imagined the feel of that long muscular body plastered to him as water cascaded over both of them. Hot skin slicking across each other, hands roaming over defined lines of muscle…

His hand moved faster, creating just enough friction, heat building, and the veins in his cock pulsing as he prepared for his release. His hips jerked upward when the climax came, jolting the nerves down to his toes. Semen coated his fingers as he let out a soft moan of satisfaction. Then came the unsatisfied aftermath.

Groaning, he got to his feet and went to the sink to wash his hands. He finished his breakfast, showered, and left for school wishing he’d had more than his hand that morning.


That evening before practice, Jerry jogged around the field while the team gathered in the middle laughing and talking. He didn’t feel like waiting with them, so he just jogged trying to clear his mind. Thoughts of his father kept plaguing him. He felt exhilaration for the first time in years when he thought of fucking with the guy’s mind. Then there was pain from how his father abandoned him, leaving him with just his misery. Yet there was something else, something Jerry didn’t like and couldn’t name. All of it seemed to overwhelm him. And so, he ran…wanting to be free. Just…free.

Soon, some of the team joined him, taking laps.

He didn’t question it or care. But when he passed some of the group coming from the locker room, he heard, “Overachievers…” from the starting quarterback Dave and his loyal teammates who laughed pointedly at Bailey who ran with Jerry.

Dave equaled dickhead. He thought everyone was beneath him and resented Bailey’s talent because everyone was waiting for the younger QB to take over Dave’s spot.

Ignoring them, Jerry kept running until the coach blew his whistle, bringing them in. They circled the man who gave them their routine for the evening.

After the coach released them to start practice, they jogged onto the field.

“Bailey, what was that earlier on the field. Your attempt at follow-the-leader? Aren’t you too old for elementary school games?” Dave chided the rookie quarterback. 

Curly brown hair swept off his face, Bailey cocked one of his beautiful gold eyes, but said nothing.

“My name’s not Bailey.” Jerry turned to Dave who walked right behind him.

The man’s face fell. Clearly the insult was direct at Bailey, but Jerry wanted to make it clear who was doing the leading earlier.

“Yeah, it was Sixty we were following, not Bailey. Think you need your eyes checked, Dave?” Someone said as another chuckled. Sixty was the nickname they gave him because he looked like an old man with all the facial hair.

Dave just stared at Jerry with disgust. The two had never gotten along. Mostly because Dave was a jealous vindictive asshole and Jerry was just an asshole. Unlike most of the team, Dave came from money and for some reason that seemed to entitle him to be a jerk-off and the self-proclaimed king of the school. Most of the guys on the team steered clear of him because of it or just did what the guy said.

Not Jerry. He avoided Dave like he avoided everyone. And he didn’t do anything the man said because Jerry didn’t give a fuck.

“Sixty…playing the leader? I might have to laugh at that.”

“Laugh away.” Jerry just stared at him.

But Dave didn’t laugh, instead he snorted a disgusted sound and went to start his reps.

The team looked at Jerry cautiously. They all held some level of fear of him because he was the tallest and not a “team player” off the field. On the field, during a game, they could bet on him. Otherwise, no group shit.

After practice, Jerry went straight home and was shocked to find his father had returned, standing outside the apartment waiting as if he’d just arrived. Jerry growled inwardly at the part of him that was slightly happy to see the guy. Once inside his apartment, he slammed the door in the guy’s face. But he couldn’t bring himself to lock it. He stripped his clothes and went for a shower, not caring if the guy came in or not.

Towel wrapped around his waist Jerry exited the bathroom. Going for some clean clothes in the dresser where his TV sat he paused to see his father at the stove cooking. His back profile was strong, broad, and lean muscle down to a trim waist.

Cock waking eagerly, Jerry cursed. Couldn’t that damn thing behave just a moment? And while Jerry mostly tried to control the hungry member, around his father, he let it take over his thoughts. He found himself moving, admiring the ass covered in those relax fit jeans. Jerry stopped behind the hot body that stood his height. He leaned just close enough that the man could feel the heat from Jerry’s skin. Those muscles stiffened, making Jerry smirk. Then feeling even more mischievous, Jerry slowly rocked his pelvis forward until his throbbing cock lined up perfectly along the crack of his father’s hard ass, adding a thigh trembling pressure that begged for some rubbing action.

The man didn’t move as Jerry noticed the color draining from that creamy neck.

“Uh…Glitch? Son, you’re too close.”

Jerry chuckled leaning forward to whisper in that tempting ear. “Oh, but I thought you wanted to bond, daddy.”

“Son, let me finish cooking dinner. Then we can talk-“

Jerry licked the outer rim of his temptation.

“Fuck!” Philip jumped, pushing back, and darting away holding his ear.

Jerry laughed, cock pulsing painfully. He stepped up to the pan of chicken stir fry and began cooking where his father left off.

“That shit ain’t funny, Jerry.” His father growled somewhere behind him.


“Are you listening to me, Son? That ain’t right. What you keep playing at, just ain’t normal.”

Jerry reached for the towel around his waist and loosened it until it dropped to his ankles. He turned around to show his father his erection. “Who says I’m playing?”

Clenching his jaw and his fists, clearly trying not to get angry, his now red-faced father gritted out. “Jerry, can you please, just try, to…to…” “Be normal?” Jerry laughed bitterly, going back to the stove. “The first time I masturbated, guess who it was with. My first kiss? Guess. And if he was still alive…” Jerry moaned imagining what it would feel like. When he heard the door click shut he turned slightly to see the room was empty. His father fled. “Chicken.” Jerry chuckled finishing dinner.   


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