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

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.

“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”

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

“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”

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

“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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“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

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“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!”

He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

His father unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the bathroom floor. Where his son is like the mythical David, cast in stone with blonde locks and cherubic face. The father is dark and with a day’s growth of stubble on his face.

“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.”

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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.