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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. “Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.”
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His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. “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 picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. “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.”

He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son. “Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.

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

“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad. His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. “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.”

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

“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.

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

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. “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.”

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.” 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.

The now lukewarm water streams through the curls of his hair rinsing away the last vestiges of the soapy lather. It all goes down the drain in a swirl of bubbles. “What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.

“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. “Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis.

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

“What are you now, 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.

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

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”