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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. “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.

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“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad. He looks down. And then smiles at his dad.

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock.

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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 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.

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“What are you now, son?” “Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.

“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks. “Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”

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

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“Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.” 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.

“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.” “What are ya now, by the way?”

Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. “What are you now, 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.

“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.” “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?”