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Daddy was furious as I could hear his deep breath. He sat down on the bench by the door. I was looking down afraid he was going to kick my ass. He lifted my head from my chin using the tip of his loafer where I can smell that smelly sheer socks he has been worn all day. Just when our eyes met, a big stinky manly wad landed on my face. Then I felt a big rough hand rubbing the spit all over my face. I heard the daddy say, “ next time remember what I told you exactly, I don’t want this to happen again, you hear me? I paused and said, “ yeeee…”. Before I finished the sentence, another spit and a big slap on me. “ when I told you something you must say yes. There is no room for you to argue or think, understood?” He said in a deep and firm tone. “ yes sir”. Without missing a beep I said it. “good boy, your night is just about to start.” “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.

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Garrett nods to his father. Garrett nods to his father.

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Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat. “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.”

“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad. “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.

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“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.” 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.

The now lukewarm water streams through the curls of his hair rinsing away the last vestiges of the soapy lather. It all goes down the drain in a swirl of bubbles. “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.”

His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. His bare ass melts to the lid of the toilet bowl. He sweats from the steam and the exertions from his continued pounding of the fierceness of his cock. He wiggles as his ass opens, squeaking on the plastic surface of the thrown lid, as he takes whiffs from the cum soaked pouch of the jock that covers his face.

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