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コメント > Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.
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“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains. His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.

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. 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.

“Coach told us. To go beat off. Seeing all those tents in our shorts; he said we should have all been working out naked. Our shorts weren’t covering up, anything, as our cock’s periscoped out and over the elastic waistbands of our shorts.” He says to his dad as he steps from the shower. He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower.

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

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“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

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Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap. “Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.

“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.” “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.”

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He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

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

“Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

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

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Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.