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コメント > His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass. “What are ya now, by the way?”
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“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.

His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead. 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.

“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?” 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.

“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 does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

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

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. “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.

“I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words. 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.

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters. “Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.

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

“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.” “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.

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

“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.

“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.” “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

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. “Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.

His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

“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.” Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

“What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters. Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

“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.” Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.