“So you just stroll around getting women because of how big you are?” I asked. Although the idea sounded stupid and superficial, I was already well aware that most girls were superficial and sometimes stupid, and this could be the answer to one of the greatest mysteries I had yet to figure out… how my Dad got gorgeous woman after gorgeous woman. This year alone he’d dated a cheerleader from the Patriots, a model who was on the cover of lots of fashion magazines, and now a hot young bombshell who had more money than most movie stars.
“It’s sure not my witty personality,” he admitted, making a joke for once.
“That I can believe,” I agreed.
“Look, I know I’ve been a shitty father, but now we have something in common, which means that now I can finally give you some fatherly advice, and good advice even,” he said, looking excited about his son for the first time ever. Usually such excitement was reserved for the Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics or Bruins.
“About how to use a big cock?” I asked sardonically.
“Exactly,” he beamed. After a pause, he asked, “Are you still a virgin?”
My face suddenly burning red likely giving him his answer, as I didn’t say anything.
He chuckled, “No worries son, that is going to change very, very soon.”
He actually called me ‘son’! He never called me son. It was either Kevin or dumb-ass, but never son.
But I only answered with, “I doubt it.”
“My boy, everything has just changed. Now that I know you’re like me down there, the whole world is about to open up for you.”
“I don’t see how,” I said, still skeptical, but also becoming intrigued, “even if you’re right, which I’m not saying you are, it’s not like I can just announce at school: ‘Hey everybody, guess what I have.'”
“Actually you can,” he disagreed, before adding, “or wait for word of mouth to do the job once someone finds out.”
“Whatever,” I scoffed, still finding this conversation bizarre and trying to hide my own curiosity about his theory. Plus, even though I didn’t realize it until now, I did like discovering something in common… deep down I’d always wanted my Dad to see me as his son, not just as his sperm deposit mistake.
“I’ll prove how powerful a big, fat cock can be,” he said, at last putting his boring fishing rod away and cranking up the boat.
“How?” I asked, being drawn in by his confidence.
“It’ll be better if I show you,” he put me off, and headed the boat back to shore. I had no idea what he was thinking, but as the boat surged loudly across the water, it was no longer easy to carry on a conversation.
Once we were on the shore he ordered, “Leave the shit in the boat and come with me.”
Being relatively lazy myself (something else I had inherited from my father… LOL), and by now quite curious about my Dad’s promise of demonstrating his point to me, I followed him off the boat and back to the cabin… which, by the way, was twice the size of the house I currently lived in with my Mom.
Once we’d gone inside, Dad ordered his newest girlfriend, who by the way was dressed in a bikini top, a short skirt and some much-appreciated pantyhose (which made no sense at the lake, but which prompts a detour in my story). I appreciated her apparel because I have a massive nylon fetish. This is because of my hot Mom, who wore them every day of her life. She wore them when she was dressed for work, under her jeans, even under her robe in the morning or before bed, which was always something I never understood but nevertheless got off on looking at. My Mom’s legs and feet in nylons were one of my three biggest jerk off fantasies, the other two being our high school’s huge-busted but bitch of a principal; I often fantasized just shutting her up with my cock in her mouth or sodomizing her ass (I can’t explain it, but I am way more intrigued by anal sex than vaginal), and my third jerk off fantasy was to somehow turn my lesbian English teacher straight; she being such a feminist that I often imagined shutting her up with my dick, too.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, my Dad was ordering his girlfriend to “Go get our shit out of the boat.”
“Sure, honey,” she agreed, setting down her cocktail, sauntering over and giving him a kiss while my Dad mauled her ass, before heading out.
No please, no thank you, just ‘Go get our shit out of the boat,’ and it got done. I joked, “Nice manners, Dad. You’re a real gentleman.”
“Sluts don’t want manners, they want a man who’s in control and who has a big, fat cock.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, shaking my head at this ridiculous sexist philosophy… which I was sure he actually believed.
“You mock me now,” he said, “but wait and see. Women will do almost anything for a big, fat cock.”
“In the porn movies, sure,” I agreed, having watched a lot of porn on the internet and indeed noticing that I was bigger than almost every porn star, and that women seemed completely hypnotized by the size of their cocks… in porn the bigger the better seeming actually to be true.
“Trust me, it’s psychological,” he said.
Unable to help I myself, I taunted him, “Can you even spell that word?”
After a pause he shrugged, “Probably not, but I have done a lot of research to prove my point.”
“You should write your Master’s,” I joked.
“Funny you should say that,” he chuckled.
“What? Why?” I asked. No way my Dad would ever be academically qualified enough to get his Master’s, or a college degree of any kind… he admitted he’d only managed to get his high school diploma because of his athletics.
“Because I’m a Master to a lot of women,” he said.
“Of course you are,” I responded, making it clear I wasn’t buying any of his bullshit… I mean that’s what he did all the time… talk bullshit.
“You’ll see,” he said. “Why do you think a hot, wealthy girl like Portia is not only out here with me, but willingly doing menial tasks like getting our shit out of the boat?”