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コメント > “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.” “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.
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“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.” “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

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

“I don’t wanna jack-off, dad.” He says flabbergasted to his dad as he turns off the tap to the hot and chilly water in the shower. “I don’t wanna jack-off, dad.” He says flabbergasted to his dad as he turns off the tap to the hot and chilly water in the shower.

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“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. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass. “Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”

“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

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“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “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.

“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 you are, son. You are busting at the seams with your youth and muscles. Rippled from those vigorous physical workouts and stroking sessions. I bet.” His dad says. “You are gonna hafta to take care of that or you are gonna be miserable. You know that son, doncha. You know, I am right.”

“I look forward to the day when you are a fully grown man, my son.” His father says. “I am anxious to see the fruit of my loins reach his fully-adorned manhood. Adulthood.” He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.

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“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. Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.

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