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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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“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.

“You guys jerk off together, these days?” His dad asks, “Back when I was in high school me and several of my friends would jerk-off in our trucks in the parking lot. We were so horny we could barely sit in our seats. You ever do that Garrett?”

“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 didn’t move and I didn’t want to move because the smell in there is so toxic. I can smell daddy’s unwashed ass in there. I was also so happy as daddy sat on the toilet to released his scent just for me to sniff. Just when The scent faded away I heard the daddy say, “Come here, boy.” I saw daddy sitting on my couch with nothing but a white brief on. The bulge was staring at me. I knew I was going to be having a wonderful night.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.

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

“That you are, son. You are busting at the seams with your youth and muscles. Rippled from those vigorous physical workouts and stroking sessions. I bet.” His dad says. “You are gonna hafta to take care of that or you are gonna be miserable. You know that son, doncha. You know, I am right.”

He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.

“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.”

“What are ya now, by the way?”

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

He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

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

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He does not hear the slamming of the front door. Neither does he hear the footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway. The shower drowns away all this noise.