THE LUSTFUL TALE

My Dad and I never got along. Partly because he divorced my Mother after cheating on her with not only her best friend, but also with her sister and her mother... yes that's right, my father f****d my aunt and grandmother... I would later learn he'd done it often and sometimes at the same time. Partly because he was a lazy slob that did f**k all, and yet he always had some well-off hot woman giving him her favours and money. I guess you could call him a gigolo, except the arrangements were never formal... he just demanded and got things... and gigolos are supposed to be suave and sophisticated, where he just had the manners of an entitled dickhead. Partly because he was an athlete, or used to be before the beer gut, where I am no more than a lowly scholar with the athletic ability of a turtle. Brilliant but shy. Partly because he still treated my Mother like s**t, and my Mother let him. I hated watching my pretty, sweet, smart (she was a prominent attorney), normally strong-willed Mother getting treated like s**t by him, even after their divorce. Partly because he was an asshole and had always spent almost no time with me. He was a social butterfly, I was a loner. Then this past summer, suddenly he wanted to hang out. I rejected his offers for summer camping trips, but in October, a couple months into my senior year at high school (I was already eighteen because I'd originally started school a year late) my Mother reminded me I only had one father. I pointed out that what I had was only one sperm donor so no biggie, which just made her sigh. So to please my Mom, who urged me strongly to give my Dad a chance after he had stopped by, looking flustered with her cheeks red, I assumed they'd had another all-out yell fight like usually happened when he came over. They talked, they disappeared, they yelled, Mom looked flustered and upset, and the cycle continued. So alas, I found myself at a lake, a mosquito-filled lake of course, in mid-October of all times, with my father and his ridiculously pretty girlfriend, who was only three years older than I and whose daddy owned many hotels, when my Dad and I discovered the greatest secret ever. I was on the boat with him fishing... which was without a doubt the most boring thing I'd ever done in my life, when I told him, "I've got to pee." Dad, a beer in one hand and his fishing rod in the other, said, "So? Piss off the edge of the boat." "Seriously?" I asked. "Sure, what other option do you have?" He asked. "We could be civilised and go back to shore," I suggested. "Not yet," he refused. "We haven't caught our quota." "I'm not pissing off the edge of any boat, there are other people on the lake," I argued. He shrugged, not caring what I wanted as usual, "Then hold it." And I did... for twenty more minutes... but when I again pleaded to return to shore and he again refused my request, I sighed, glaring at him, "f**k it!" I then stood at the edge of the boat, pulled down my shorts and started pissing. It felt so good to finally release it, because of having such a full bladder almost as good as my orgasms when I jerked off (which I did at least twice a day), when I was startled by my Dad exclaiming, "Holy s**t, you at least inherited one good thing from me!" "What?" I asked, even as I kept pissing and looking at my father, who was staring at my c**k while I pissed. It was f*****g weird. "You have a big, fat d**k too, my boy," he approved, looking proud of me for the first time ever. "Why are you perving on my pissing?" I asked, as I continued the longest piss in world history. "I'm not perving," he denied, "I'm just glad to see that my son has indeed become a man." "Well, stop staring, it's creepy," I objected, as my marathon urination began trickling to an end. "Nothing wrong with admiring what my son is packing," he told me. "This is so weird," I complained, finally putting my d**k away. "You have no idea what a blessing it is for you to have a d**k that large," he pontificated, as he stood up and pulled down his sweats. "Dad, what are you doing?" I objected as I looked away. "Showing you that we at last have something in common," he explained, seeming to be excited about it. "We both have d***s; wow, thanks Dad," I dismissed sarcastically. He sighed, like he always did when he was disappointed in me, which was often, "Kevin, stop being a wuss. Seeing another guy's d**k isn't a big deal." He then added, roaring with laughter at his own version of wit, "Except this time it is a big deal. Now check me out." "I'm good," I said, looking away, grossed out by this entire conversation. "Now!" he ordered, using the authoritarian tone he used when he was pissed off and demanding to be listened to. "Fine," I agreed reluctantly, hoping the sooner I looked at his d**k, the sooner this stupid conversation would be over. I looked over and saw that his d**k was almost identical to mine. "See? You inherited my d**k," he said, "and then some," waving his big c**k around with no shame. He was right, his was almost as big as mine. "Does that mean I also inherit your ability to be a d**k all the time?" I asked sarcastically. My father ignored my sarcasm as he answered, "Actually, it does." "Really?" I asked, even as he put his d**k away, which was admittedly quite big, although not quite as big as mine, and tossed out his line to try for another fish. "You know how the girl with the biggest t**s, the nicest ass or the prettiest face gets all the attention from the guys?" he asked as we sat there with our lines in the water doing nothing. "Yeah," I nodded, knowing all too well the hierarchy that was high school. "The same thing can happen to you once the sluts know what you're packing down below," he explained. "Yeah, sure," I laughed, knowing how ignored I was by the cheerleaders, the athletes and, well, almost every girl around, truth be told. I was also disgusted by his disrespect for women by using the term 'sluts' instead of 'girls' or 'women', or even the not much better 'babes'. "I'm serious," he said. "How do you think I get all the hot chicks?" "Blackmail or cash," I speculated, only somewhat joking. Actually, I'd always wondered about the answer to that exact question. I mean my Dad used to be an athlete and in shape, but he was hardly a catch now... not to mention he always behaved like a sexist asshole. He laughed, "You're not the first one to assume that. Nope, it's all about d**k size." "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 c**k?" 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 c**k 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 s**t 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.