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コメント > “FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region. Exactly a week after, daddy texted me with a different tone saying, “ get your ass ready tonight cause daddy is coming to your place tonight.” He was usually really sweet and nice, I was shot when I got the message. But automatically I said, “ yes daddy!” I guess I am a slutty whore for him right at the beginning as I knew my place where is always going to be inferior.
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“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock. “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol. His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.

“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims. “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.

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

“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?” He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.

“I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words. “Once you plant that cock of yours in some squirmy hole and empty those warm balls of yours into a moist wet hole. Then you are on your way to becoming a man, and only then will you, come-of-age. But it is only a step onto the winding pathway towards manhood. It is my job to teach you what it means to be a man.” His father stands as he finishes his sentence. Loosening his belt and pulling his shirt out from the tucked confines of 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. All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”

That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.” “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

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.

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains.

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.”

“Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

ﾂ本ﾂ古ｪﾂつｪﾂ甘懃ｦ�
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“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “Once you plant that cock of yours in some squirmy hole and empty those warm balls of yours into a moist wet hole. Then you are on your way to becoming a man, and only then will you, come-of-age. But it is only a step onto the winding pathway towards manhood. It is my job to teach you what it means to be a man.” His father stands as he finishes his sentence. Loosening his belt and pulling his shirt out from the tucked confines of his pants.

“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.” Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap.

“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.” “Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.

“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

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. “Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly.