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コメント > “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.”
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Garrett does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol.

“Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”

“That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”

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

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

“Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.

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

“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.”

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

“Yes, sir.” He says as he straightens up, standing erect as his member pulses to life between his legs, and in his father’s right hand, which are firmly locked on his balls. “Yes, sir, I do.”

“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.

“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.

Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.”

“Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body.

“Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad.

“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains.

He reaches and lets his hand glide over his swelled cock. Tickling the head of his bulbous cock with his rough fingertips which sends electric sparks through him and down to his toes.

“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.

“What are ya now, by the way?”