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Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.

“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.” “Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis.

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“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows. “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters. “You are grown. Yes. Physically. Yes, my son. But a full man. No! No!” His father, says, sharply. “You have much more to grow, to mature, before you are a man, before you can call yourself. A man.”

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He runs the towel through his curl-filled hair, and down over his chest, where the early signs of his manhood sprout like an uneven crop of hairs across his chest that run down to his furry-pillowed crotch. Where the throbbing from his hard-on springs back as the damp towel whips his erection back and forth with each swipe of the now dampened towel. “I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”

He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. “Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly.

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“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?” That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.”

“This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock. Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.

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His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. He does not hear the slamming of the front door. Neither does he hear the footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway. The shower drowns away all this noise.