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コメント > 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. > [url=https://arturzasada.pl/]filmy porno[/url] > His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.
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Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.
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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.

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“Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.”
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Garrett nods to his father.

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

“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”
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“Back in the day, back before we turned into a modern society, a man would grab another man’s balls and swear an oath on them in his hand and state his words to be true. To be a friend” His father says. “Do you know what I mean, son?”

Garrett nods to his father.
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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.

“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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He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

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“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”
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“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.

“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.
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Garrett thinks to himself; he did not wear a jock home from practice. He was ‘going commando.” Is it his older brother’s jock? “Oh, well. “He mumbles to himself as he takes another whiff of the musky scented pouch of the jock.

“What are you now, son?”
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He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.

“You lettin’ the beard grow on your face, I see, son?” His father asks him, as his head bumps up under the chin of his towering son.
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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.

“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!”
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He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower.

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.
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“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”

Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.”
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“Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”

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

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“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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“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.”

“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”
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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.”

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