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コメント > The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.
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“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”

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

“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!”

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“What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.

“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?”

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

“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.

“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks.

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.

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

Garrett nods to his father.

“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.

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.

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

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

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

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