What a crazy and improbable night. So many ups and downs in both the metaphorical and literal sense. She came along at the perfect time. Well, I think she came. Of course, she did. Who could fake so well? And, let me tell you, I am good.
Very good considering that Kim, my girlfriend of three years, dumped me last week. Her only reason was she had things to do. Very good indeed if I say so myself. Stud like some people might say, though who am I to blow on my own horn.
Even my father could not do better. As terrible a thought that is, that is my thought. The macho bastard thinks he’s so great the way he’s always mocking me. A few hours ago my father is branding me a sissy. “Go get your fingers wet” he said to me. And I did. And much more. I am a man. I am THE man!
She interrupts my mental celebratory lap by informing me that I fuck nothing like my father. Perhaps not all the blood has returned to my head yet because she could not have said what I thought I heard. After all, how could she have the information necessary for a basis of comparison. Proximity is not the issue as we lay in bed together, her head on my shoulder. I even check for earwax.
I ask her to repeat what she said hoping I’d suddenly suffered from personal mondogreen like hearing Jimi Hendrix say he wants to kiss some guy rather than kiss the sky. That is not to be the case. She did, in fact, inform me that I fuck nothing like my father. This is not information I need to know. Who even wants to know their father is now, has been, or will be a sexual being beyond the fact that it is his sexual performance that helped create you.
She ponders if sexual technique is genetic. As if the x and y chromosome combination might predetermine how a persons sexual gymnastics manifest. Sexuality may be genetic. Sexual orientation may be genetic, too. I doubt whether smashing strawberries on someones ass with an oversize spatula relates to genetics. She is genuinely confused by my confused look which genuinely confuses me.
Turns out they have a regular thing. They meet on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and have breakfast on Saturday. Ask a question get an answer even if its hits you like a large polo mallet full of horse manure. That this goddess of a woman attaches herself to my father as his latest conquest amazes me to no end. The only logical conclusion is that penis size is not genetic either. Obviously, he is a bigger dick than me. Although, I regret using the word conquest. Girlfriend is a more diplomatic and polite term.
A fairly sadistic thought entered my mind with a little too much enthusiasm for my comfort level. The idea that this woman who volunteered with a high degree of enthusiasm to explore every inch of my body before permitting me to do likewise to her is, in fact, cheating on my father with me. As corrupt a thought as it is, there’s a certain validation to the act. She found me at the bar. She seduced me. She invited me back to her motel room. She threw the red dress with matching thong and bra to the floor. She chose, or rather demanded we give each other the gift of multiple orgasms. Our love making really brought the animal out in her. She is a lioness on the hunt. I am her lion king. Still, I smiled at the punch in the gut this would be to my dad if he found out I fucked his girlfriend.
She laughs at the word girlfriend. Laughs a few moments longer than is necessary I think. The look on my face must signal my discomfort because she kisses me on the neck, calls me a sexy mother fucker, then explains it is strictly sex with my father. Technically, no one is cheating on anyone since there is no established commitment between the consenting parties. Slightly disappointing I admit.
Still, three times a week mechanical, anonymous sex between her and my father. She describes his chatty nature after intercourse. Being chatty is the last thing I considered my father engaging in after a round of coitus with any woman. He seems more that thank you and see your way out type of person before heading to the shower to wash the smell of the affair from his wrinkled body.
I hear about the picture of me on his nightstand leading to a conversation about the entire breakup with Kim. Each detail of the breakup repeated in every humiliating, depressing detail. Why my father tells this woman about my personal life is beyond my comprehension. Luckily, the conversation was cut short when she reminds him that talk or no talk she had to return to work. The ending to this story is obvious – they fuck (her word).
To be continued …
Complete set available under the Emasculation category