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コメント > He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son. > [url=https://arturzasada.pl/]gay sex porn[/url] > His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.
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He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.
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“I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”

“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains.
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All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.

“I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”
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“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.”

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.
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“Yes, sir.” He says as he straightens up, standing erect as his member pulses to life between his legs, and in his father’s right hand, which are firmly locked on his balls. “Yes, sir, I do.”

“I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?”
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The one shower after his workout and practice had been a good start. But the walk home had tired him. But the massaging jets of water caressing across his muscular frame takes the weariness from his bones from this stressful day.

Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.
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“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”

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.
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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.”

“But you didn’t though, did you, son?”
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His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.

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

“You have not fucked, have you, my son? Have you?” His father asks, as he readjusts the cock covered and swelling in his khaki pants. “I thought as much.”
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He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.

“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”
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His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.

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“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”
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“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 son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.
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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.

“I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?”
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“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.

“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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“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.

His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.
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“Do it!” His dad orders.

“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”
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After I serve daddy’s left one, I was about to move to the right foot. While He stopped me, stood up, and walked towards the couch, he said “Crawling right after me.” I followed daddy. My nose was where daddy’s ass was. I was staring at that crotch while I was crawling, and I didn’t realize daddy stopped one of a sudden in front of the bathroom. My nose is slightly right into that dreaming ass crack.

“Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad.
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“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.”

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says.
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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.