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コメント > “Damn it, son! Damn it! Damn it, you hit the mirror above the sink!” His father shouts as the bullets of cum shoot forth from his son’s cock and hits the adjacent mirror directly in front of the porcelain bathroom thrown.
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“What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants.

“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.

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

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

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

“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.”

“Do it!” His dad orders.

“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.

“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’m am nearly 6 foot 2 inches tall, dad. I weigh 210 lbs. I think, dad. At least I was the last time we were weighed at football practice.” The son says. “Much bigger than you, I should say.”

“What are ya now, by the way?”

Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

ﾂ本ﾂ古ｪﾂつｪﾂ甘懃ｦ�
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“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”

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

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.

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.

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

“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?”

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.