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

“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. Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.”

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“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.” “Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.

He does not hear the slamming of the front door. Neither does he hear the footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway. The shower drowns away all this noise. “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 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.” “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.

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

Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.

“What are you now, son?” Garrett nods to his father.

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

“Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.

His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son. His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. “Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad.

The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze. “Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.

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

“What are you now, son?” “Do it!” His dad orders.

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