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“Coach told us. To go beat off. Seeing all those tents in our shorts; he said we should have all been working out naked. Our shorts weren’t covering up, anything, as our cock’s periscoped out and over the elastic waistbands of our shorts.” He says to his dad as he steps from the shower. “I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words.

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”

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. “Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly.

“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” “Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body.

His father’s words are what he hears when he erupts. His cum streaming like liquid threads from the pee-hole of his rigid cock. “But you didn’t though, did you, son?”

Garrett nods to his father. His bare ass melts to the lid of the toilet bowl. He sweats from the steam and the exertions from his continued pounding of the fierceness of his cock. He wiggles as his ass opens, squeaking on the plastic surface of the thrown lid, as he takes whiffs from the cum soaked pouch of the jock that covers his face.

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. “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.

“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.”