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“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. “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.”
“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock. “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.
The sound of the shower echoes throughout the empty house. The bathroom door is open. He knows he has privacy. He is alone. No older brother. No father. Or mother. It is just him. 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.”
Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks. “Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.
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His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead. He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.
He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them. “FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region.
He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son. His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.
He does not say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more. His father unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the bathroom floor. Where his son is like the mythical David, cast in stone with blonde locks and cherubic face. The father is dark and with a day’s growth of stubble on his face.
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Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. Garrett nods to his father.
“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. 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.
His bare ass melts to the lid of the toilet bowl. He sweats from the steam and the exertions from his continued pounding of the fierceness of his cock. He wiggles as his ass opens, squeaking on the plastic surface of the thrown lid, as he takes whiffs from the cum soaked pouch of the jock that covers his face. Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.
He dries himself but his throbbing cock continues to pulse as it grows harder because of his youth. The sensation intensifies. The feeling is wonderful. He can hear his cock throbbing in his ears. “You lettin’ the beard grow on your face, I see, son?” His father asks him, as his head bumps up under the chin of his towering son.
