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

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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.”

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“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”

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“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”

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

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

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

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“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.”

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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.

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“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?”