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コメント > Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. 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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He reaches and lets his hand glide over his swelled cock. Tickling the head of his bulbous cock with his rough fingertips which sends electric sparks through him and down to his toes. He looks down. And then smiles at his dad.

“Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection. “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

His father unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the bathroom floor. Where his son is like the mythical David, cast in stone with blonde locks and cherubic face. The father is dark and with a day’s growth of stubble on his face. “Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.

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 steps into the shower, turning on the water. As he soaks and lathers himself up under the lukewarm stream of water, he fondles his cock and balls. His cock soon mimics that of his son.

Garrett can see what his father is doing, unconsciously his hands moves to his cock. He strokes the length of his tool with his left hand while he teases the blistering red crown with the fingertips of his right hand. The lightning of his cool fingertips sends sparks through every nerve in his body. “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?”

“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.” His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. 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 your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants.

“Damn it, son! Damn it! Damn it, you hit the mirror above the sink!” His father shouts as the bullets of cum shoot forth from his son’s cock and hits the adjacent mirror directly in front of the porcelain bathroom thrown. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.

“Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad. 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.

“Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure. “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.”

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“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 does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. “You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says.

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The pre-cum leaks, like a babbling brook, from the boy’s erect and pulsing cock, depositing its tiny droplets of juice onto the arm-hairs of his proud father. His father squeezes the nuts of his son, tighter and tighter, releasing more of the youthful essence. “Then, what is this, father.” He says as he wrestles his cock in a fierce grip and squeezes it like he is fighting against a serpent unleashed from its coil.

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He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” “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.”

“Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure. “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.