"Great. What a great holiday I'll be having," I muttered to myself as I boarded the ferry. Dad had just got together with a new girlfriend (his sixth after the divorce) and he must be really into this one, because he took the trouble to ship me off to our "country bumpkin" relatives for my one-week fall break.
I'm going on 20 this year, just getting to my final year in college. Not the best age for anyone, I assure you, especially for a guy who's living with his dad and always "in the way" when there's a new girl to bring home to screw.
Oh, I knew what he was up to. Hey, I've been reading his girlie magazines and stuff since I was 14 and once, I happened to come home early and walked in oin Dad and his girlfriend (number 4, was it, or maybe it was number 3?).
I skipped my late afternoon class for the day because I was bored and because I knew the lecturer wouldn't notice, made my way back to the flat, all prepared to continue my online game... and was stunned to see a very naked girl lying on the sofa in the living room, her legs spread wide. She didn't look much older than I was (Dad liked them young and petite), had a great bod, and a pretty, shaved beaver that was gaping almost as wide as my mouth was when I saw her.
Don't ask me where he finds them. Dad just somehow manages to find girlfriends who fit the caricatures you see drawn on the toilet walls. This one was no different -- huge jugs which, from her tanlines, looked very much like they had trouble staying covered. The white triangle around her pussy was even smaller, making me wonder if they really did make bikinis that small.
She was blindfolded, so she didn't know it was me when I walked in. Dad came into the living room just a few moments later and caught me staring at his girlfriend's naked body, glared at me, then put his finger to his lips. His other hand waved me away. It was a clear gesture for me to quietly get lost. I did so only after I gestured back that I should be paid for that 'favour'... which brought me another glare, but also four $50 notes that were hastily grabbed from his wallet. I left the flat, closing the door quietly behind me, but not before seeing the girl slide her finger into her wet cleft while she cooed Dad's name.
Fucking hell. Dad was getting more pussy than I was. Not that I was a virgin, of course. I just didn't have my own place, a car or the big bucks to make it with every hot girl I met on campus. Yeah, for what he was worth, Dad was real tight when it came to my allowance. "Thrift builds character," he said each time I complained about how he didn't give me enough money to live on. Right, Dad. Sounds more to me like you're refusing to admit you're a tightwad.
Worst part was, I was more than ready to move out and get my own place, but Dad would have none of it. "Don't think I don't know what you'd be up to if you were out there on your own, Chuck," he said to me once. "I'm not paying for you to party, and you're not getting your own place, at least, not till you're 21." No amount of pestering would change his mind too. The only concession he would make was "I'll consider it when you show some responsibility." He refused to define what he meant by me "showing responsibility", and only said that he "would know it when (he) saw it". Fuck.
Given those sorts of limits, I made do with what I could get, which was mostly what I'd call "girls with potential". Too bad the hot sluts were really available only to the highest bidders. I only managed to fuck two of the more bookish ones, although that second one was really a surprise package. She wore her hair straight and plain, but she was a wildcat in bed alright, right down to the way she wiggled her ass while I was bucking on top of her. That went on for quite a bit, and to be honest, I think I kind of became fond of her and her tiny little off-campus apartment, which was the scene of many of our epic sexual trysts. Then her parents had to move to another city and wanted her to go along with them.
I've never been a strong believer in long distance relationships, but Honey was really someone I think I would've considered having one with, if not for her insistence that we end it. It sucked big time not only because she was great in bed... for weeks afterwards I couldn't even masturbate to her memory because it was too painful. Was that was love was supposed to be? I don't know the answer to that one. All I know is that I occasionally think of her still... and get a boner when I do. Damn, my life is really fucked up.
Now I'm on the way to a small island far away from the apartment I call home, just because Dad wants some "quality time" with his latest piece of ass. OK, it wouldn't be the first time I visited the damned place - I was there what, some 10 years ago or something like that - but still... who do you know looks forward to an entire week without the Net? I can hardly remember the farm, or my aunt and uncle who live there, never mind what it looked like. All I know is that it's a small place and that it hadn't changed much since I was last there.
Naturally, my mood was foul by the time the ferry docked at the little pier. As I got my stuff together and stepped out, my nostrils were assailed by a pungent mix of rotting seafood, chickens, ducks, pigs and all manner of shit. I almost choked on my first breath of island air. What a rotten trick to pull, Dad.
I looked across the pier and saw a couple I did not recognise, holding up a ratty cardboard with my name on it. They didn't look like gentlemen farmers in the least, their clothes were more Walmart than they were Gap, so I knew I was in for a rough weekend. Aunty Lucy was Dad's step-cousin, and like him, she was tall and thin. Her husband was a brown, wizened little guy who seemed much smaller than I remembered. He sported a mustache that seemed too big for his face, which was always red from his usual diet of beer and more beer.