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“Coach told us. To go beat off. Seeing all those tents in our shorts; he said we should have all been working out naked. Our shorts weren’t covering up, anything, as our cock’s periscoped out and over the elastic waistbands of our shorts.” He says to his dad as he steps from the shower. The one shower after his workout and practice had been a good start. But the walk home had tired him. But the massaging jets of water caressing across his muscular frame takes the weariness from his bones from this stressful day.

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Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap. I was surprised He wasn’t angry. He said,” boy you wait here, I am going to the bathroom.” He closed the door. He must sit on the toilet with pants down because I heard him losing the belt but didn’t hear him peeing. After a while, he called my name,” get in here ass sniffing slut.” I opened the door and crawled to the side of daddy. Daddy was still sitting on the toilet. . Just when I was confused why he sat that and did nothing. He stood up and pulled his pants up. I did take a peep of daddy’s huge uncut Middle Eastern dick. Half hard like 7inches already. While he was doing that, he grabbed my hair pushed right into the toilet, and closed the lid. “ smell my ass from there boy when it is still fresh.” He paused and continued, “ Don’t move.”

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“You lettin’ the beard grow on your face, I see, son?” His father asks him, as his head bumps up under the chin of his towering son. “I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.”

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“You guys jerk off together, these days?” His dad asks, “Back when I was in high school me and several of my friends would jerk-off in our trucks in the parking lot. We were so horny we could barely sit in our seats. You ever do that Garrett?” “What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.” After I serve daddy’s left one, I was about to move to the right foot. While He stopped me, stood up, and walked towards the couch, he said “Crawling right after me.” I followed daddy. My nose was where daddy’s ass was. I was staring at that crotch while I was crawling, and I didn’t realize daddy stopped one of a sudden in front of the bathroom. My nose is slightly right into that dreaming ass crack.

“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.” “You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says.

Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat. “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.

“I look forward to the day when you are a fully grown man, my son.” His father says. “I am anxious to see the fruit of my loins reach his fully-adorned manhood. Adulthood.” “Do it!” His dad orders.

“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. “I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”

“That you are, son. You are busting at the seams with your youth and muscles. Rippled from those vigorous physical workouts and stroking sessions. I bet.” His dad says. “You are gonna hafta to take care of that or you are gonna be miserable. You know that son, doncha. You know, I am right.” “It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains.

“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims. “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.”

“FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region. “Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly.

He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son. “You lettin’ the beard grow on your face, I see, son?” His father asks him, as his head bumps up under the chin of his towering son.