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コメント > “What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. “It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains.
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His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. His father’s words are what he hears when he erupts. His cum streaming like liquid threads from the pee-hole of his rigid cock.

“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.

“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?” “What are ya now, by the way?”

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.”

“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.” 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.

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. “I ain’t a-talking ‘bout how big ya cock is, boy. I am talking ‘bout ya, weight. Your height.” His dad says. “I kinda figured on how big you are down there. That’s obvious. It makes me proud of you. My son. Of what I created, along with ya mother.”

Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap. “I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”

“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows. Garrett nods to his father.

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

“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks. “What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.

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

His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son. Garrett nods to his father.

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

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock. “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.

“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son. Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap.

“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

“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.” 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.

Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

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