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コメント > That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.”
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“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.”

“What are you now, son?”

“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.

Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.

“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.

“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 does not say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more.

“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”

“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 dries himself but his throbbing cock continues to pulse as it grows harder because of his youth. The sensation intensifies. The feeling is wonderful. He can hear his cock throbbing in his ears.

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.

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

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

“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.

Garrett thinks to himself; he did not wear a jock home from practice. He was ‘going commando.” Is it his older brother’s jock? “Oh, well. “He mumbles to himself as he takes another whiff of the musky scented pouch of the jock.

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

“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.