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コメント > The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.
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“I ain’t a-talking ‘bout how big ya cock is, boy. I am talking ‘bout ya, weight. Your height.” His dad says. “I kinda figured on how big you are down there. That’s obvious. It makes me proud of you. My son. Of what I created, along with ya mother.”

“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.”

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

“My hard-on. Somewhat. But I have them all the time. You know that. You’ve made enough comments about me sportin’ boners in the morning when you see them at breakfast.”

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.

He does not say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more.

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

Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

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“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.

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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.

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

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

Garrett can see what his father is doing, unconsciously his hands moves to his cock. He strokes the length of his tool with his left hand while he teases the blistering red crown with the fingertips of his right hand. The lightning of his cool fingertips sends sparks through every nerve in his body.

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

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.