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コメント > “Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.
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“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.

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

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

All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.

Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.

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.

He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap.

“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”

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

“Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly.

Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.

“Once you plant that cock of yours in some squirmy hole and empty those warm balls of yours into a moist wet hole. Then you are on your way to becoming a man, and only then will you, come-of-age. But it is only a step onto the winding pathway towards manhood. It is my job to teach you what it means to be a man.” His father stands as he finishes his sentence. Loosening his belt and pulling his shirt out from the tucked confines of his pants.

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

His father loosens his grip on the full balls of his son as he stands. He can see the spurts of hair that dot the chest of his son. And he can see the heaving and gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest, as he breathes, as his excitement builds.

He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

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

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.

He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.

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.