Me: Thanks all the same. No, it’s been two days since Father’s Day and I’m having trouble thinking up a story snippet for this picture.
Dad: Yeah, you showed me that after you gave me my card. And then you fucked me like that.
Me: Yeah, well, I told my friends I would, so I can’t renege on a promise. They wanted video.
Dad: Did they like it?
Me: Of course they did! A few of them want to meet you.
Dad: An old fart like me?
Me: An old fart with a killer dad bod and a thick leaky dick...
Dad: (takes his out and waggles it)
Me: Yes, it’s lovely, thank you. You can put it in me later, after I post this thing.
Dad: How come you’re having trouble? You just write from life, right?
Me: (rolls eyes) Only when we fool around, Dad.
Dad: Well, that’s a lie. I remember reading a few stories where I could swear--
Me: Okay, I get it.
Dad: Why don’t you just write about Sunday night?
Me: Really. How I had to take some ibuprofen to get rid of a headache, we ordered pizza that came cold, and how you had to go do an enema because...reasons?
Dad: It’s a butt! They’re not always compliant. Remember that time you thought you were clean and---
Me: LALALALAAAAAA NOT HEARING IT
Dad: (chuckling) You see how it feels, eh?
Me. *sigh*
Dad: You don’t have to include all that shit. Er, sorry. Still, you don’t.
Me: So, just start with what...after the cold pizza, I made you brush your teeth so we could make out, then you had a thigh cramp getting onto your side for the SECOND time because reasons, and then five minutes of jerking off to get hard enough to get in.
Dad: What do you want from me? I’m sixty-two years old! You can’t exactly to marathon orgasms like you used to, either.
Me: Yeah, but it’s not sexy. Nobody wants to read about that.
Dad: I get the feeling that, if it’s you and me, they won’t care about the nitty-gritty.
Me: I guess you’re right. They’re there for the incest, so I gotta have faith in my readers.
Dad: That’s my boy. Now suck this fat dick.
Me: I’m not putting THAT in the story. We’re not a porno, we’re family with benefits.
Dad: I never was a good actor. Well, get to writing. I’ll be in the bedroom, edging, for when you finish.
Me: Actually, I think I’m done.
Dad: You’re done?
Me: Yeah, I’ll just post this elucidating conversation and let the readers figure out if I’m making this shit up or if I’m just cribbing from real life.
Dad: This conversation? Nobody’ll believe it.
Me: Thankfully some people know how we are, and they’ll know.
Dad: Yeah, the ones with whom I spitroast you. Oh, also, is Tym coming over soon? We have an Eiffel Tower to build. (waggles dick again)
Me: Christ. Now no one will believe me. Thanks, Dad.
Dad: Oh, stop being melodramatic. Either you’re gonna write something, or you’re gonna suck my dick. Sooner or later.
Me: Fine. I’m saving this and you’ll regret it later.
Dad: Don’t bet on it. (walks close)
Me: (sighs and presses CTRL+S before nomming some dick)
Dad: Much better.
Me: (muffled grumbling)
***
Hector and Sebastien (my dad!) are \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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