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“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.” “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

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“I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words. His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.

Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. “What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.

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I didn’t move and I didn’t want to move because the smell in there is so toxic. I can smell daddy’s unwashed ass in there. I was also so happy as daddy sat on the toilet to released his scent just for me to sniff. Just when The scent faded away I heard the daddy say, “Come here, boy.” I saw daddy sitting on my couch with nothing but a white brief on. The bulge was staring at me. I knew I was going to be having a wonderful night. “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.

His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass. 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.”

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters. “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. Garrett nods to his father.

“Stoke it, boy! Stroke it! Stroke that beautiful cock!” His father demands as his own cock draws on the wet interior of the glass enclosure shower. “Pound it harder, boy! Pound it harder!” “Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.

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.

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

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

I used my teeth to strip off daddy’s black sheer socks. I placed them in my mouth and washed them with my saliva. I swallowed every single sweat and stink from these socks. It takes so well. I rolled them into a ball and stuck them into my jockstrap where my small dick and balls were. 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.

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He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

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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. 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.

“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.” “I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words.

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