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

His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.

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

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.

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

“I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom. 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.