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コメント > 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.
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“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.”

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

“But you didn’t though, did you, son?”

“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.”

ﾂ本ﾂ古ｪﾂつｪﾂ甘懃ｦ�
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His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.

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.

I was surprised He wasn’t angry. He said,” boy you wait here, I am going to the bathroom.” He closed the door. He must sit on the toilet with pants down because I heard him losing the belt but didn’t hear him peeing. After a while, he called my name,” get in here ass sniffing slut.” I opened the door and crawled to the side of daddy. Daddy was still sitting on the toilet. . Just when I was confused why he sat that and did nothing. He stood up and pulled his pants up. I did take a peep of daddy’s huge uncut Middle Eastern dick. Half hard like 7inches already. While he was doing that, he grabbed my hair pushed right into the toilet, and closed the lid. “ smell my ass from there boy when it is still fresh.” He paused and continued, “ Don’t move.”

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“Stoke it, boy! Stroke it! Stroke that beautiful cock!” His father demands as his own cock draws on the wet interior of the glass enclosure shower. “Pound it harder, boy! Pound it harder!”

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

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“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”

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.

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

“I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”

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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.