M4nl0v3r - M4NL0V3R

Dad comes to all of my games, usually just to watch. The one time I did pull a muscle, he insisted that I come lay down on the sidelines and let him work it out. He’s pretty good at it, since he used to coach a high school team.

As he kneaded my thigh with his fist, the game started to heat up. We both turned to watch, my injury momentarily forgotten. When my team narrowly missed scoring, Dad shouted in frustration, smacking his hand down full-force on my upturned butt.

I arched my back, overwhelmed by the unexpected sting. A few teammates looked over, bemused. “Dad, what was that for?!”

“Sorry, son,” he said sheepishly, jiggling the sore cheek. “Got caught up in the game. Just an instinct, I guess, with your butt in front of me.”

I shook my head. “Shit, Dad. Control yourself.”

“Hey!” He pinched my butt. Leaned in to whisper threateningly in my ear. “Lose the attitude, or you’re going to lose these boxers. Understand?”

I gritted my teeth. “Yes, sir.”