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“Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.” “Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.

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“I’m am nearly 6 foot 2 inches tall, dad. I weigh 210 lbs. I think, dad. At least I was the last time we were weighed at football practice.” The son says. “Much bigger than you, I should say.” He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

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“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.” “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.

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He dries himself but his throbbing cock continues to pulse as it grows harder because of his youth. The sensation intensifies. The feeling is wonderful. He can hear his cock throbbing in his ears. “What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks.

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters. His father’s words are what he hears when he erupts. His cum streaming like liquid threads from the pee-hole of his rigid cock.

“Do it!” His dad orders. “Yes, sir.” He says as he straightens up, standing erect as his member pulses to life between his legs, and in his father’s right hand, which are firmly locked on his balls. “Yes, sir, I do.”

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“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “My hard-on. Somewhat. But I have them all the time. You know that. You’ve made enough comments about me sportin’ boners in the morning when you see them at breakfast.”

“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. He looks down. And then smiles at his dad.

“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?” “What are ya now, by the way?”

“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 think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”

“I ain’t a-talking ‘bout how big ya cock is, boy. I am talking ‘bout ya, weight. Your height.” His dad says. “I kinda figured on how big you are down there. That’s obvious. It makes me proud of you. My son. Of what I created, along with ya mother.” His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.