Ein leeres Zimmer nur zwei Möbel,
auf den ersten Blick nicht mehr als Trödel,
wissen beide ganz genau,
seit langem sind sie Mann und Frau.
Der Tisch, der runde und zarte, ist das Mädchen,
der Sessel, benutz von allerlei Geschlecht ist der Jüngling – der Harte.
Deshalb hart, weil aus massiven Metall,
beim Verrücken im leeren Zimmer ertönt melancholischer Schall,
und näher kamen sich beide schon oft,
träumten gemeinsame Bilder,
haben auf Ewigkeit gehofft.
Sie sind das ideale Paar,
dass war schon den Menschen klar,
welche von ihr gegessen
und auf ihm gesessen
und in bescheidenen Massen darüber
nachgedacht,
was man mit beiden wohl macht,
wenn das Haus nicht mehr wäre.
An ihrem dritten Jahrestag sollte es geschehen,
zwei Männer kamen, er mußte gehen.
So sehr sie auch weinte und flehte,
niemand hörte ihre Gebete.
Er kämpfte verzweifelt, mit all seiner Macht,
doch er war zu alt, ihm fehlte die Kraft.
Sein Metall wollte sich biegen, er drohte zu schreien, seine Liebste sah sein
verschwindendes Gesicht,
gesehen hat sie ihn seit jenen Tagen nicht.
Sein Leib wurde geschmolzen,
Teile von ihm wurden zu Bolzen,
nur sein Herz ist bei ihr,
dass konnten sie ihm nicht rauben
und wenn sie mir nicht glauben,
dann suchen sie das Zimmer,
dort steht sie noch immer,
zwar alt, morsch und grau,
jedoch nicht alleine, denn sein Herz ist bei dieser, bei seiner Frau.
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The now lukewarm water streams through the curls of his hair rinsing away the last vestiges of the soapy lather. It all goes down the drain in a swirl of bubbles. gay sex porn 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.
“Coach told us. To go beat off. Seeing all those tents in our shorts; he said we should have all been working out naked. Our shorts weren’t covering up, anything, as our cock’s periscoped out and over the elastic waistbands of our shorts.” He says to his dad as he steps from the shower. [url=https://arturzasada.pl/]free porn sex[/url] “But you didn’t though, did you, son?”
“What are ya now, by the way?” [url=https://arturzasada.pl/]free porn sex[/url] “Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad.
“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.” [url=https://arturzasada.pl/]porn sex[/url] He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.
“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!” “Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.
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. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”
“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. All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.
He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son. 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.
“Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure. “Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.
“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?” His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.
“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.” 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 thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom. “Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”
“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.” “Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.
“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” Garrett nods to his father.
“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.” “What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants.
“My hard-on. Somewhat. But I have them all the time. You know that. You’ve made enough comments about me sportin’ boners in the morning when you see them at breakfast.” “Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.
“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.
He runs the towel through his curl-filled hair, and down over his chest, where the early signs of his manhood sprout like an uneven crop of hairs across his chest that run down to his furry-pillowed crotch. Where the throbbing from his hard-on springs back as the damp towel whips his erection back and forth with each swipe of the now dampened towel.
His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.
The now lukewarm water streams through the curls of his hair rinsing away the last vestiges of the soapy lather. It all goes down the drain in a swirl of bubbles.
“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.
“What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.
“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.”
The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.
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