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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. 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.

“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 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.”

“Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection. “Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly.

His father steps into the shower, turning on the water. As he soaks and lathers himself up under the lukewarm stream of water, he fondles his cock and balls. His cock soon mimics that of his son. “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.

“Do it!” His dad orders. 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.

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

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

“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.” “You have not fucked, have you, my son? Have you?” His father asks, as he readjusts the cock covered and swelling in his khaki pants. “I thought as much.”

His father loosens his grip on the full balls of his son as he stands. He can see the spurts of hair that dot the chest of his son. And he can see the heaving and gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest, as he breathes, as his excitement builds. “What are you now, son?”

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

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. “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.

“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” 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.

“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad. Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.”

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

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. “I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters. 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.

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“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.” 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.

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. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.