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コメント > “I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?”
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“Do it!” His dad orders.

His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.

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

“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.

“I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words.

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

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

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“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.

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

“Coach told us. To go beat off. Seeing all those tents in our shorts; he said we should have all been working out naked. Our shorts weren’t covering up, anything, as our cock’s periscoped out and over the elastic waistbands of our shorts.” He says to his dad as he steps from the shower.

“I’m am nearly 6 foot 2 inches tall, dad. I weigh 210 lbs. I think, dad. At least I was the last time we were weighed at football practice.” The son says. “Much bigger than you, I should say.”

“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”

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

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.

“I look forward to the day when you are a fully grown man, my son.” His father says. “I am anxious to see the fruit of my loins reach his fully-adorned manhood. Adulthood.”

“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”

Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.”

“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.