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  • My jock pa

    • Jockstraps have been special to me since I was a kid. My dad would strip down to his jock when he got home. It was all he wore round the house. After my folks split, I went with my old man. He said he was gonna raise me like boy should be. Rule one was to work out with him every day in the basement. Since I was just a kid, I had to wear gym shorts, but pa wore nothin but his jock. It had a cotton n rubber pouch that molded itself to his manhood, and bounced when he moved around. He said when I started to become a man, I could wear one too. I hated wearin shorts with no strap. Specially when doin stuff like squats my balls, and even the knob of my dick, would sometimes come hangin out. I would turn red, but my pa just laughed and would even swat my butt, which humiliated me even more. I loved my pa, and dreamed of the day when I could jock up with him.

    My dad believed that washing ruined a jockstrap, so after our workout he would just hang his sweaty jock on the bedroom doorknob to dry, and pull on another one of the jocks he had hangin there. He would spawl out on the bed to watch the football game or wrestlin, n I would fetch him his beer. I would kick back on the bed next to him. Sometimes he would let me have a swig of his beer. Because I was still a little kid, my pa said I had nothin to hide, so when not workin out, my pa felt it was better for me to go bareass. I didn't have much between my legs, but often after a few sips of beer, my little ol' pecker would start standin up, stiff n hard. My dad said it was ok to sport a boner. It just meant that someday I would be a big burly fucker like him. That made feel a sense of pride, cuz I was so proud of how big and developed his chest n arms n legs n all the rest of him was. I asked him if I would have a hairy chest n belly like him. He would always say, "You can fuckin' bet yer balls on it, lil' buddy." He would then put his big arm round my shoulders, give me a bear hug, and laugh, "Someday yer gonna be as big a mothafucker as yer ol' man."

    As I got bigger my dad and I became completely open with each other. My dad taught me all a young man can know about life, about buildin myself up, how to wear my clothes like a man, and how to handle myself in any sexual situation. We had no secrets. I gotta admit some of the sex shit I confessed to my pa embarassed the crap outta me, but I told him everything. In return, my pa gave me an education few boys ever get. Even though we always shared the same bed, pa would bring home his cunts n' fuck em on the bed right next to me. Times when he caught me watchin him plowin' away, he'd grin n' wink at me. My chest swelled with pride n' love for that big bad mothafucker. Cause I was still a boy, he didn't let me get in on it, but sometimes he let me lube up his slut's hole and his fuck pole, an' then let me guide his pecker right in. My favorite times were when he let me get between their spread legs, so I could see his big hairy butt pumpin' his fuck pole home. He taught me that when I heard him gruntin n' growlin' real loud, to shove a couple of my fingers up his butthole to help him blast off an extra big loada fuck juice.

    The only secret I ever kept from pa was when I tried on one of his old jockstraps before he got home. Naturally I was too small to fill his pouch and the leg straps just hung on me. But I stood in front of the mirror and dreamed of the day that I would reach my manhood and jock up with my dad for real. Then I did something that made me feel really dirty and ashamed. I rubbed pa' filthy ol' jockstrap in my face. I breathed as deep as I could trying to smell as much of my dad's crotch funk as I could. I shoved pa's pouch in my mouth tryin' to taste it. I felt like a scum suckin' pig. I don't know why I did it. Maybe I thought it would make me feel like a man. It made me feel like a scumbag. I wanted to confess to my dad what I did, and take my spankin' like I deserved, but I kept my humiliation to myself.

    I know my boyhood years living at close quarters with jockstrap wearin' dad, a man's man who taught me how to be as rough and rowdy a fucker as he is, made me the jockstrap lovin', jockstrap wearin' man I am today. And the respect for 24-7 strap wearin' my pa gave me, I learned when I began growin' hair round my dick, started for my dad when he was a boy, from my grandpa. Three generations of proud jock strapped men. But how when my dad found me sproutin' dick hair, and called in my grandpa to live with us, and help with my raisin' is another story.


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