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

“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. “What are ya now, by the way?”

“Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

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

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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. He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower.

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Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap. “I’m am nearly 6 foot 2 inches tall, dad. I weigh 210 lbs. I think, dad. At least I was the last time we were weighed at football practice.” The son says. “Much bigger than you, I should say.”

“You lettin’ the beard grow on your face, I see, son?” His father asks him, as his head bumps up under the chin of his towering son. 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.

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Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol. Daddy was furious as I could hear his deep breath. He sat down on the bench by the door. I was looking down afraid he was going to kick my ass. He lifted my head from my chin using the tip of his loafer where I can smell that smelly sheer socks he has been worn all day. Just when our eyes met, a big stinky manly wad landed on my face. Then I felt a big rough hand rubbing the spit all over my face. I heard the daddy say, “ next time remember what I told you exactly, I don’t want this to happen again, you hear me? I paused and said, “ yeeee…”. Before I finished the sentence, another spit and a big slap on me. “ when I told you something you must say yes. There is no room for you to argue or think, understood?” He said in a deep and firm tone. “ yes sir”. Without missing a beep I said it. “good boy, your night is just about to start.”

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