I send him a mixed message, eye him down, and hold a silence. He takes off his Abercrombie and Fitch while looking at me for approval. He accepts my c...mmand to kneel. My project in the basement moans. The kneeling juvenile ask about the sound. My crotch in his face intoxicates him. I want to show him the consequences of his masculinity in the basement. I want to give him his clothes and shepherd him to the right track. I also want his teenage balls a deep blue and to tell him to fuck off when. He wasn’t fat by any means, but didn’t have the body he’d had at one time.When I was growing up we had been a one-car-family with a two car garage. Dad had converted the other half of the garage into a workshop. He liked to build things. Since Dad was no longer around I parked my pick-up in the garage and had turned the other half into a “man-cave”. It had an old futon, a couple of leather, swivel office-chairs, a TV and a fridge. Nobody ever went in there.One Friday evening Taylor showed up. More

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