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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. “What are you now, son?”

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

“Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly. Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.

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. His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

“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 resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap.

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“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. “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead. His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.

Garrett nods to his father. “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

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He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.

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

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “But you didn’t though, did you, son?”

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