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His father’s words are what he hears when he erupts. His cum streaming like liquid threads from the pee-hole of his rigid 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.

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.

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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.

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

“Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.

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

Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.

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.”

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

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“You are grown. Yes. Physically. Yes, my son. But a full man. No! No!” His father, says, sharply. “You have much more to grow, to mature, before you are a man, before you can call yourself. A man.”

“I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words.

“What are you now, son?”

“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.

“Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad.

“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

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