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コメント > He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. “What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks.
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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. “Do it!” His dad orders.

“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. 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.

“Yes, sir.” He says as he straightens up, standing erect as his member pulses to life between his legs, and in his father’s right hand, which are firmly locked on his balls. “Yes, sir, I do.” “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. “And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”

“Stoke it, boy! Stroke it! Stroke that beautiful cock!” His father demands as his own cock draws on the wet interior of the glass enclosure shower. “Pound it harder, boy! Pound it harder!” “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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“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?” Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.

“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.

All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed. “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.

He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock. 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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“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “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.”

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“What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face. He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower.

Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. “Yes, sir.” He says as he straightens up, standing erect as his member pulses to life between his legs, and in his father’s right hand, which are firmly locked on his balls. “Yes, sir, I do.”

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 dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.

He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. “What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks.