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コメント > “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
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“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

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

“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.”

“You lettin’ the beard grow on your face, I see, son?” His father asks him, as his head bumps up under the chin of his towering son.

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

His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

“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.

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

“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.

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Garrett nods to his father.

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

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

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

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

“What are you now, son?”

“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.

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.

His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.