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コメント > 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. Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.
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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. “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”

He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father. “Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”

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“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

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His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. “I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.”

“Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad. His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.

“I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words. “Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad.

“Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure. The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.

His father loosens his grip on the full balls of his son as he stands. He can see the spurts of hair that dot the chest of his son. And he can see the heaving and gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest, as he breathes, as his excitement builds. “What are you now, son?”

All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed. 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.

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. 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.

“What are you now, son?” 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.

“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?” “Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”

“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. “Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”

“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.” His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son.

“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad. The sound of the shower echoes throughout the empty house. The bathroom door is open. He knows he has privacy. He is alone. No older brother. No father. Or mother. It is just him.

“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. He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.

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“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks. “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”