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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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“FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region.

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

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

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.

“Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”

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

“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.

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

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“Do it!” His dad orders.

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

“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.”

That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.”