Dad guides my open palm, curved fingers back and forth over the length of his erection. It seems to me that I simply never realized just how large a man he actually is. His hard dick is more than double the width of my hand, even though I try, there is just no way I can get my fingers to wrap all the way around his shaft.

Our hands continued to stroke back and forth, forces them against the base of his penis. We push into his pelvis only to be rudely withdrawn, then pulls all the way back to the very tip of the cloaked head of his penis. The hood of skin drapes over the angry head, a drip of soapy water falls from it.

I feel dad using the ends of his fingers clean between apple shaped dick head and the depths of the lining of his foreskin. He pinches the fleshy cloak, pulls as far as it will stretch. Taking this dare, I run two of my soapy fingers inside the fleshy tube, play with the angry head of his engorged penis. It is massive and burns with heat to the touch.

Quick as a flash, dad turns around, kneels before me, my penis, just an inch from his full Italian his lips. His eyes gaze up, water streams over his head, down his kneeling body.

"Ssh, just go with it."