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コメント > “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.
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“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.”

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.

After I serve daddy’s left one, I was about to move to the right foot. While He stopped me, stood up, and walked towards the couch, he said “Crawling right after me.” I followed daddy. My nose was where daddy’s ass was. I was staring at that crotch while I was crawling, and I didn’t realize daddy stopped one of a sudden in front of the bathroom. My nose is slightly right into that dreaming ass crack.

Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.

“My hard-on. Somewhat. But I have them all the time. You know that. You’ve made enough comments about me sportin’ boners in the morning when you see them at breakfast.”

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.

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.

“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.

He reaches and lets his hand glide over his swelled cock. Tickling the head of his bulbous cock with his rough fingertips which sends electric sparks through him and down to his toes.

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

“I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”

“Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body.

Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.

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Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap.

“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.

“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.

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