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 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.

Daddy was furious as I could hear his deep breath. He sat down on the bench by the door. I was looking down afraid he was going to kick my ass. He lifted my head from my chin using the tip of his loafer where I can smell that smelly sheer socks he has been worn all day. Just when our eyes met, a big stinky manly wad landed on my face. Then I felt a big rough hand rubbing the spit all over my face. I heard the daddy say, “ next time remember what I told you exactly, I don’t want this to happen again, you hear me? I paused and said, “ yeeee…”. Before I finished the sentence, another spit and a big slap on me. “ when I told you something you must say yes. There is no room for you to argue or think, understood?” He said in a deep and firm tone. “ yes sir”. Without missing a beep I said it. “good boy, your night is just about to start.” “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

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“What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face. After I serve daddy’s left one, I was about to move to the right foot. While He stopped me, stood up, and walked towards the couch, he said “Crawling right after me.” I followed daddy. My nose was where daddy’s ass was. I was staring at that crotch while I was crawling, and I didn’t realize daddy stopped one of a sudden in front of the bathroom. My nose is slightly right into that dreaming ass crack.

His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass. “I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words.

“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks. 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 does not go hog-wild on his tool. He caresses and adores it like one would an idol. His father steps into the shower, turning on the water. As he soaks and lathers himself up under the lukewarm stream of water, he fondles his cock and balls. His cock soon mimics that of his son.

Exactly a week after, daddy texted me with a different tone saying, “ get your ass ready tonight cause daddy is coming to your place tonight.” He was usually really sweet and nice, I was shot when I got the message. But automatically I said, “ yes daddy!” I guess I am a slutty whore for him right at the beginning as I knew my place where is always going to be inferior. The pre-cum leaks, like a babbling brook, from the boy’s erect and pulsing cock, depositing its tiny droplets of juice onto the arm-hairs of his proud father. His father squeezes the nuts of his son, tighter and tighter, releasing more of the youthful essence.

“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains. His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

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

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

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“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.

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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.” “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.

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

“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”

“Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice. “Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.

Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor. 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. “Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.

“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.” “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.”

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

He looks down. And then smiles at his dad. 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.”

The pre-cum leaks, like a babbling brook, from the boy’s erect and pulsing cock, depositing its tiny droplets of juice onto the arm-hairs of his proud father. His father squeezes the nuts of his son, tighter and tighter, releasing more of the youthful essence. “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.”

“You are grown. Yes. Physically. Yes, my son. But a full man. No! No!” His father, says, sharply. “You have much more to grow, to mature, before you are a man, before you can call yourself. A man.” “Back in the day, back before we turned into a modern society, a man would grab another man’s balls and swear an oath on them in his hand and state his words to be true. To be a friend” His father says. “Do you know what I mean, son?”

“What are you now, son?” “Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.

“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. His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.

I used my teeth to strip off daddy’s black sheer socks. I placed them in my mouth and washed them with my saliva. I swallowed every single sweat and stink from these socks. It takes so well. I rolled them into a ball and stuck them into my jockstrap where my small dick and balls were. “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.”

“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.” “Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”

“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.

“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.

His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.

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.

“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.