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コメント > “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. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.
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He looks down. And then smiles at his dad. He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.

Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap. “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

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

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

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”

Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.

“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.” 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.

“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!” “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

“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. 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.

“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows. “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.

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. He dries himself but his throbbing cock continues to pulse as it grows harder because of his youth. The sensation intensifies. The feeling is wonderful. He can hear his cock throbbing in his ears.

“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” “Do it!” His dad orders.

He reaches and lets his hand glide over his swelled cock. Tickling the head of his bulbous cock with his rough fingertips which sends electric sparks through him and down to his toes. “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

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He looks down. And then smiles at his dad. “Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.

“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims. The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.

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. All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.

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. “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.”