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“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock. “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.

“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.” His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.

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. “Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad.

“What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants. He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower.

“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.” Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.

He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them. His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

“Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad. “Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.

“I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?” “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

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His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass. Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.”

The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze. “I don’t wanna jack-off, dad.” He says flabbergasted to his dad as he turns off the tap to the hot and chilly water in the shower.

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. Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.

“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 did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.

I used my teeth to strip off daddy’s black sheer socks. I placed them in my mouth and washed them with my saliva. I swallowed every single sweat and stink from these socks. It takes so well. I rolled them into a ball and stuck them into my jockstrap where my small dick and balls were. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

Garrett can see what his father is doing, unconsciously his hands moves to his cock. He strokes the length of his tool with his left hand while he teases the blistering red crown with the fingertips of his right hand. The lightning of his cool fingertips sends sparks through every nerve in his body. 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.

“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 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.

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

Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. “Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.

“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.” I used my teeth to strip off daddy’s black sheer socks. I placed them in my mouth and washed them with my saliva. I swallowed every single sweat and stink from these socks. It takes so well. I rolled them into a ball and stuck them into my jockstrap where my small dick and balls were.

“Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body. “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.