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コメント > “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. “I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”
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“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. “What are ya now, by the way?”

“Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice. “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.”

“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.” “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.

He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. “And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”

“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains. “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?”

“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows. His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.

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“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock. 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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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! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.

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. “You have not fucked, have you, my son? Have you?” His father asks, as he readjusts the cock covered and swelling in his khaki pants. “I thought as much.”

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His father loosens his grip on the full balls of his son as he stands. He can see the spurts of hair that dot the chest of his son. And he can see the heaving and gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest, as he breathes, as his excitement builds. “Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.

I used my teeth to strip off daddy’s black sheer socks. I placed them in my mouth and washed them with my saliva. I swallowed every single sweat and stink from these socks. It takes so well. I rolled them into a ball and stuck them into my jockstrap where my small dick and balls were. “You are grown. Yes. Physically. Yes, my son. But a full man. No! No!” His father, says, sharply. “You have much more to grow, to mature, before you are a man, before you can call yourself. A man.”

“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?” The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.

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