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コメント > “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom. “Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.”
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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 for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

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

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

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

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. “You guys jerk off together, these days?” His dad asks, “Back when I was in high school me and several of my friends would jerk-off in our trucks in the parking lot. We were so horny we could barely sit in our seats. You ever do that Garrett?”

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

“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.” 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.

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body.

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

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. “Damn it, son! Damn it! Damn it, you hit the mirror above the sink!” His father shouts as the bullets of cum shoot forth from his son’s cock and hits the adjacent mirror directly in front of the porcelain bathroom thrown.

“What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face. 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.

That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.” He looks down. And then smiles at 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.” 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.

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock. He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.

“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. 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.

“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?” 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.

His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead. “Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.

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

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“Once you plant that cock of yours in some squirmy hole and empty those warm balls of yours into a moist wet hole. Then you are on your way to becoming a man, and only then will you, come-of-age. But it is only a step onto the winding pathway towards manhood. It is my job to teach you what it means to be a man.” His father stands as he finishes his sentence. Loosening his belt and pulling his shirt out from the tucked confines of his pants. His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.