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コメント > “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?”
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“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.”

He runs the towel through his curl-filled hair, and down over his chest, where the early signs of his manhood sprout like an uneven crop of hairs across his chest that run down to his furry-pillowed crotch. Where the throbbing from his hard-on springs back as the damp towel whips his erection back and forth with each swipe of the now dampened towel.

“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

“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!”

All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.”

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

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

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.

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“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.

“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.

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“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.

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

“Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure.

“You have not fucked, have you, my son? Have you?” His father asks, as he readjusts the cock covered and swelling in his khaki pants. “I thought as much.”