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コメント > He does not hear the slamming of the front door. Neither does he hear the footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway. The shower drowns away all this noise. He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.
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Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat. “That you are, son. You are busting at the seams with your youth and muscles. Rippled from those vigorous physical workouts and stroking sessions. I bet.” His dad says. “You are gonna hafta to take care of that or you are gonna be miserable. You know that son, doncha. You know, I am right.”

He looks down. And then smiles at his dad. He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

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“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. “This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock.

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His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead. “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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He looks down. And then smiles at his dad. “I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”

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

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. The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.

Garrett nods to his father. “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.

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“What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

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. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.

Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol. “I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”

“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.” 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.