The sun streaming into my bedroom hits me in the face. There's no better alarm clock than having no curtains on your windows. It's something that Dad and I are going to get to soon, well that and a million other things that need tending too.
"Pat, pat, pat."
Dad's footfalls and a light shuffling sound out in the hallway cause me to grab my morning stiffened penis. Turning my head toward the door, I see it crack open just a bit. Dad looks in at me while I pretend to still be asleep. I hold my dick tight in my left hand, laying on my left side, fear inside of my stomach as I try to make no movement. Praying that he will not notice my excited member or that I am faking sleep.
My door slowly closes and the gentle shuffle of footsteps trails off as Dad heads into the kitchen. On my back now, I rub myself into a frenzy and an orgasm. Well, that didn't take too long. Reaching over the side of the bed, picking up the T-Shirt that was worn last night only to wipe up the mess that is made this morning.
Coffee, the fantastic smell of coffee filters in. Sitting up, my feet planted on the cool floorboards. My muscles in my arms flex as I push myself up from the mattress. Shuffling over to the dresser, grabbing a pair of jeans, boxer briefs and Rangers T from the drawers filled with clean cloths.
As I toss the cloths on the foot of my bed, grab the top sheet and pull it up to the pillows in an attempt to make the bed kinda look made, well, just.
Out into the hallway and just as quickly into the spare bathroom.
Click.
The door jam latches behind me. Turning the handle of the shower to the usual position, cascading streams of cold water covers my arm. Goose bumps pop up all over my nakedness. Grabs my semi-hard friend, a long stream of piss gushes out and splashes into the toilet.
Steam fogs the mirror over the toilet and vanity. Stepping into the hot water, the smell of Ivory soap fills my mind. Eyes closed, water pounding on my crew cut cropped head only to run in rivulets down my body and swirl into nothingness of the shower drain.
Cool air replaces the comforting hot water, my feet step out of the shower and are met by the deep plush shower mat.
The weight of my Terri-Cloth towel embraces my glistening nakedness. Quick rubbing, the friction of cloth against skin sends tingles of youthful physical emotions to every corner of my body.
Teeth brushed, face shaved, deodorant on, Nivea face cream smoothed over my face and neck. A quick handful of Shower to Shower padded between my butt cheeks and under my balls. My morning ritual is nearly complete.
Into the hallway once again, bedroom door closed behind me, I grab my clean pair of black boxer brief, lift one leg, place my foot into the opening, switch standing legs and repeat the process.
Walking out into the hallway and heading toward the kitchen, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee gets my senses to peak.
There was the opened Newspaper, two coffee cups, toasted English Muffins. No more Donuts for us. Were home now, so English Muffins and Olivio are the standard breakfast of champions these days.
The feel of my jeans covered backside sliding over the smooth wooden bench to my place at the table tingles me a little down there again. Not that I really need much to get me to tingle. Seems to happen at just about the touch of anything these days. Don't even get me going how it feels when I get checked into the boards during a hockey game or scrimmage. I have been left with a raging hard on at some of the most inappropriate times.
Wolfing down the English Muffin, gulp down my first cup of coffee. I reach over and grab the coffee pot and pour first Dad's cup full of nearly black brew and then top off my mug.
Not a word, not a sound, pretty much the norm.
Dad's left hand and then his arm slide toward me on the table. Something is obviously hidden under his huge paw cause I can hear the sound of something being slipped against the surface of the scrub wooden table-top.
His huge hand concealing something, the side of the newspaper folds itself toward the table without the hand to support it.
Looking up, looking directly at Dad's dark eyes as they gaze directly at his own paw.
My own eyes follow the direction of his gaze only to be met by his now upturned calloused hand.
Keys, a few keys on a key ring with a fob in the shape of a Hockey Stick and puck. I look back up at him and am met by a sheepish smile. Bright, devilish, playful, nearly kid like..
He pushed the keys toward me, nods his head up once urging me to take them.
My head tips slightly to the right, eyes shifting from Dad's expression of anticipation, then to the key's and back to that Cheshire Cat grin.
My fingers touch the cool key fob, closing over it and lifting the keys. I look carefully at them, recognize the age warn keys to Dad's Pick-Up, my house key and the keys to Mom's house in Rhode Island and the key to my locker at the rink.
I look up at Dad again, not fully comprehending what this was all about. Why had he given me a set of keys to his truck along with this great new key ring and fob?
"Robbie, I was hoping that you would be able to give me a ride into work today, couldja kiddo?"
"HUH"
"Yeah, well since you're the only one in the house at the moment that has a vehicle, I am hoping you could return the favor of all those years of my driving you here, there and everywhere on earth."
"But, why can't you drive me and I take the bus to practice like I always do?"
The silence between us was deafening. My face suddenly flushed, a shudder of excitement ran from the top of my head, right down to the tips of my toes.
"Dad, are you telling me that the truck is MINE now?"
