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コメント > вывод из запоя с выездом ростов <a href=vyvod-iz-zapoya-rostov15.ru>вывод из запоя с выездом ростов</a> .
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“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?” “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.

“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. 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.

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“I don’t wanna jack-off, dad.” He says flabbergasted to his dad as he turns off the tap to the hot and chilly water in the shower. 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.

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. 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.

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“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.” “What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says.

“Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis. “What are you now, son?”

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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. 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.

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He does not say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more. His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “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.”

“Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice. “But you didn’t though, did you, 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.”