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コメント > “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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“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.

Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.”

“Do it!” His dad orders.

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

The one shower after his workout and practice had been a good start. But the walk home had tired him. But the massaging jets of water caressing across his muscular frame takes the weariness from his bones from this stressful day.

“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.