Thank you for making my dad's PowerBook a piece of shit. First, the power supply failed, after two months. Easy, replace it.
Then the camera. Okay, a fluke, fix that easy, and free.
But the optical drive? How can you fuck up a laser? Dad was without his machine for three days, and had to use my little Acer netbook. I couldn't write for three days, Steve Jobs. I couldn't write porn FOR THREE DAYS. Fuck you.
Now, a bad memory stick? Yeah, I know it's a three-strike rule, and you said Dad gets a new machine now, but it's going to take a week to ship it? I suppose good things come to those who wait, but I can't be without my writing for that long.
Well, just so you know, the first couple of days went okay, switching off with Dad. I would take it to work, and he would have it in the evenings when I didn't absolutely need it.
But by the fourth day, it was getting old. We argued at dinner over who would get it if his replacement didn't come on time. He needed it for work. I needed it for fiction. Whose needs were greater? Well, I stormed out in a huff like a little kid, said he could have it for all I cared (which was a great deal, admittedly), and left him to spend the evening alone.
The bar wasn't so hot, anyway: a few old queens, a lot of twinks, and not enough hot daddy bears willing to have a nice blue-and-white boy go down on them. No fodder at all for porn. So I came home to a silent house.
Dad shouldn't have been asleep by then, but as I climbed the stairs, I could hear him snoring gently. My laptop wasn't in my room, so I had to retrieve it from his, and when I went in there, my heart just about melted. One paw on his belly, the other on his freshly-spooged sheath, and a fucking puddle dripping off the back of my precious machine.
But his face, Apple, his face was so sweet and so calm--he must have come only a few minutes before I came home--and he looked so cute there, legs spread, enticing in view and scent. Alas, I had emails to check. So, smiling, I lifted the laptop and cradled it (I would have to towel off extensively) back to my bedroom.
As I took it out of sleep-mode, I saw what he had been doing. Not XTube, not Livestream or anything like that, but the rough draft of an upcoming story, not even finished. Nonfiction, this time, because I hadn't been able to get it out of my head since last week, when I had offered to keep him busy while he did some telecommuting. You know, the old "son nurses on dad under the desk" thing. Boy, he had loved that! He had loved it all over my throat.
The fucker even had time to proof and edit some clumsy passages, though at the point of climax he had gripped the keyboard and typed "o]oojjihih" while he spasmed. Love him to death.
So, I guess I should thank you, Apple, for making shitty products.* After all, you just gave me ammo for another story to write! Which, I guess I just did. Win-win.
*Your results may vary, professional writer on a closed course.
\n\t\t\t\t\ttym's RL experience with his PowerBook is most likely a rarity. Fap at your own risk.Sébastien's sexy-ass daddy bod is \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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Super-awesome sketch art is
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