The Vacation House Ch. 04

The front door closes securely behind me, I make my way to the passenger door of dad's pick-up. Grabs the handle, opens my door, hops in, places the small cooler chest along with the wrinkled bag of clean cloths onto the floor. It hits me right away, it's cool in here, it's never cool. The air conditioning is set to high, blows wonderful, refreshing air out of every vent.

I look over at dad, this is just so out of character for him. Expecting the rancid smell of sweat mixed with stale cigar smoke, coupled with humid heat that comes along with the closed up cab. Instead of reaching for the handle to take down the passenger window, I turn a vent toward the ceiling, it's blowing a bit too hard at my face. My eyes dry out as the moisture is drawn from their surface.

What I see in dad's face causes great concern. His head is being held low, he fidgets with something in his hands. His attention is not being directed toward me or the exit from the driveway, we are still parked. The motor is running a little bit rough, the A/C blowing at full blast. Condensation develops on the lower part of the windshield. It must be 92 degree's outside, maybe no more than 65 inside pick-up. Dad's voice finally breaks the weird tension.

"Robbie, there is really no good or easy way to say this, so, I'm going to just get it out there in the open. First off, this has absolutely nothing to do with you or your sister, nothing that either of you could have done to prevent it, nothing at all. If anything, the two of you were the reason that things have gone on as long as it has."

Ominous, that is the only way I see this, it feels as if a shoe were just about to drop but how big of a shoe?

"Your mother and I have discussed this for some time, we have both come to the agreement that we are ready to move on in our lives and that we are going to get a divorce. We are parting as friends, we just can't live together any longer. Your mother has been offered a fantastic job as the head of nursing at the hospital, we know that that is something she,s has wanted her entire life. It will give her the security that she needs and deserves."

Stunned by the admission of what seems to be an amicable split between my parents. My entire life is to be dissolving into a pool of mud. Unable to see things clearly, my stomach dropped into my groin, my lunch rises up into my throat. Not sure if I'm going to hurl or pass out from dizziness. Leans against the passenger door, coolness of the glass presses against the burning in my cheek and the pounding in my head.

"Robbie, you are of the age that if you wish to move out on your own, we will be there for you. We will even pay for a place if that is what you want. Your schooling is our priority, this changes nothing about how we are here for you. Mom already spoke with Ashley about this earlier today, she was offered to stay with your mother here in Rhode Island or the opportunity to come and stay with me at the vacation house. Your sister chose to stay here, her friends are all here, she is still going to high school and she is going to be going to Salve Regina in Newport next fall. It makes sense for her to stay here."

What is he talking about, staying here instead of going to the vacation house? He's moving out? Had he just given me the option to get my own place or stay here in the house that I grew up in, with my friends close by? Wait, he just made a veiled suggestion that I might be able to move to Vermont with him? No, can't be, dad works here, has always worked here in Rhode Island, he doesn't have a job in Vermont.

"Robbie, you remember Mr. Trattorella, my boss, right?"

I turn my head to stared at him, my mouth is agape. Of course I knew Mr. Trattorella, he has been dad's boss my entire life, has even been like an Uncle to my Ashley and myself.

"Yeah Dad, I know Mr. Trattorella, does he know that you are quitting and moving to Vermont?"

Dad picks up his head, adjusts himself so that his body is facing toward me. He leans against the steering wheel with one arm, the other drapes along the back of the bench seat. I get a sick feeling in my stomach and for some odd reason I turn my gaze away from dad, looks at the front picture window. Mom stands in the window, tears run down her face. She raises her hand, places her palm against the glass. She nods her head, attempts to confirm and console. She backs away, the shear drapery cover moves to where my mom had stood, she fades into the background.

"Dad, what are you going to do about work?"

It is all I can think of at the moment, everything is running around in my head, jumbled and confused, my imagination runs rampant.

"Robbie, do you remember Lee? Lee Townsend? He worked with me as foreman for many years before he moved on to another business up north."

Trying to focus on the name, it's familiar, Lee Townsend? Yeah, he came to me. A bulk of a man Lee was. He had tried to make it in the NBA but was injured after just a short time in the pro's. He had some money saved up, came in to work with Mr Trattorella's building company only to become a partner in some venture that they had dreamed up, somewhere up north, New Hampshire or Maine if memory serves me correctly.

"Yep, wasn't he that big guy who was your foreman a few years back? Played pro B-ball or something like that but tore his ACL?"

"Good memory kiddo, that's him. Well, he and Mr. Trattorella went into partnership in a construction company in Keene, New Hampshire. I've been offered to be the foreman on Lee's, I mean Mr. Townsend's crew, what do you think about that?"

"WHOA! dad, does this mean that you are moving into the vacation house by yourself?"

"Robbie, that's up to you, you are a man now, the choice is yours and yours . You are more than welcome to come and live with me in Vermont when you are not in school. I have already secured a summer job for you with Mr. Townsend should you choose to come up north and live with me."

"What? there is just no question here dad, of course I want to live with you. Heck there is a rink just the next town over, I can even transfer my credits to Keene, go to school there!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there kiddo, I said nothing about you having to change Universities. We don't want to turn your entire world upside down just because your mom and I have grown apart."

"Dad, you know that it was my second choice of schools to begin with. They have an organized hockey program and I can see if I still qualify for the partial scholarship that they had offered me the first go round."

"If that's your choice Robbie, your mom and I will help you make the arrangements to change schools, that is if that is what YOU want, not that you are doing this as some sort of loyalty to me. You know what I mean, your sister with your Mom and you with me. I don't want you to think that you have to make a choice between either of us. This has to be because YOU want to do this, we will support you 100 % no matter what."

"Dad, can we swing by the rink before we go to the vacation house, I wish to let them know that I am moving, that I am going to have to give them short notice about leaving. Don't worry, I'm going to thank them a ton for the opportunity they have given me but I think that this is going to be the right choice for me, well all of us."

"Sure thing kiddo,, you know something, I am so proud of you, how you are taking all of this. I don't know if I would have been as reasonable about all of this had I been in your place."

The gear of the truck engages, motion causes what feels like an out of body experience. Was this all really happening and if it is, am I making the right choice? Well, I guess I'll find out soon enough.

I run out of the ice rink, heads back to the passenger side of the pick-up, dad turns to me.

"Well, how did it go Robbie?"

"Fine Dad, my boss understands, he let me know that he was proud of my decision. He also said that if things did not work out up north that a job would always be available for me here."

A proud smile crosses dad's face, it's probably the first sign of being in better spirits dad has shown since he dropped the bomb-shell.

"Hey Dad, what about my stuff? My cloths, my hockey gear, all of my furniture? I didn't bring enough stuff with me to last for more than a few days."

"Got that all worked out with Mr Trattorella. Your mom agreed to pack up your stuff if you decided to make the move. Mr. Trattorella is coming up to see Mr. Townsend next week, he agreed to bring your stuff up with him then. You can just keep washing what you have until then. It is not like we need to have too many changes of cloths anyway. Heck, a pair of boxers, a pair of sneakers and we are set for in house life. We are gonna have to get some things for the house though, maybe take the weekend off working on the house, stop at the IKEA in Brattleboro, hows that sound to you?"

"Sounds good to me Dad."

We head off down the road, we're on the turnpike in no time, head for what is home not the vacation house anymore. Dad reaches over with his right arm, places it around my shoulder. I feel him give me a reassuring squeeze, I respond by laying my head sideways onto his arm, feels light pressure as he tugs me toward him.

My head rests on his shoulder and partially on his chest. Dad's arm wraps around me, his hand drapes down, lightly pats my right peck. It's an odd feeling, like being a huge baby bird being guarded, held safely in the nest under the wing of my parent.

Burning tears fill my eyes, I closed my lids, sniffles, tries to be quiet as I can. Dad responds by squeezing my chest a little, I feel his scruffy chin brush the crew cut top of my head, he gently kisses my hair.

By our surroundings, I know it will be less than 15 minutes from where we are before we reach the log cabin rest center. I feel the pressure in my bladder becoming uncomfortable. I really have had a rough evening, then I thought to myself, heck, dad must be having an even worse time than me. I decide that I'm going to try and turn this rough time around, make it a time of bonding between the two of us. We are going to be an inseparable team, you know kinda like Batman and Robin, that is if Batman was Robins real father.

We take the familiar turn off the highway, day light has only started to fade. We come to a full stop in our regular parking space, I hop out, run to the rest room, dad follows me shortly.

Familiar sounds of the unbuckling of his belt, the slide of his heavy work pant fabric against his bulky, hairy thighs. I stand at the stall, let out a long stream of piss, then wash myself and cleaned the Thermos, heads back out to the truck.

It's still hot even though we were so many miles north of where we had started. Dad opens up his door, slides himself in behind the steering wheel. A quick turn of the key, a rev of the engine and off again toward our final destination.

Dad reaches over, embraced me, Draws me to his chest, security I find there. I hear his heart beating, he shuts off the air conditioning, rolls down his window, then reaches back, slides the rear window of the cab open. The rush of fresh air through the truck and the sudden rise in temperature made my head swim.

We continued our drive and the light became just a bit more orange on the horizon. Dad leans forward, removes his arm from around me. I hear him rustling objects he has accumulated on the dash board. The cap is popped off one of his White Owl Cigars casings. A quick flick of his metal Zippo Lighter. The aroma of cigar smoke fills my nostrils and my heart begins to race. Dad places his strong arm around my shoulders.

OK, I am going to do this, it might be wrong but I have to do it. My mind become lasers focused on my mission, I slide my head down off dad's shoulder, down his chest, rock hard stomach, my chin comes to rest on the top of his huge right thigh. Another puff on his cigar, dad runs his fingers back and forth through my short, cropped hair.

I rub the side of my cheek against the area where his pants zipper is concealed. Feels a mass underneath my face, it begins to grow, harden, become more substantial by the second. Dad readjusts his position, slides slightly forward in the seat. My head is pressing down, moving in a back and forth motion over. Using my teeth and tongue, I move the fabric over the zipper to the side, grabbed the metal tab of the zipper between my front teeth. I move my head toward the steering wheel until the zipper has been fully brought down.

Dad begins to massage the back of my neck, I turn my attention to the thick worn leather of the belt and buckle that wrapped around his waist. It takes some work, actually a great deal of effort but I get his belt undone. Now works on the large brass button that holds the top of Dad's work pants together. Once again my tongue and teeth do there trick, the button pops through the opening, reveals the dark hair hidden beneath the waistband.

Dad's breathing becomes labored, the bulge is growing at an alarming rate in his pants as it struggles to free itself. It's as if an angry Pit Bull was trying to escape through a screen door, the Pit Bull would ultimately win for sure! Dad raises himself slightly above his seat, with one hand pushes his work pants and his boxers down as far as he can. It's a struggle but one that I'm thrilled to assist him with.

With dad's cloths pushed down below his knees, his raging hard-on rises before my eyes, it springs upward, then falls forward against the steering wheel from it's own shear weight and size. I breath in deeply, open my mouth wide, extend my tongue as far as it will go. I gently touch the very tip of the obelisk of muscular flesh before me. I run my tongue in a circular motion over the area where the foreskin has receded and the angry head of dad's manhood forcefully stands proud. A little drool of clear fluid oozes from the large opening at the end of the monstrous helmet shaped head of his penis. Eagerly, I flick my tongue over it, smear the liquid all over the opening slit. I begin my decent downward towards the base of the rod. My chin buries in the rough bush of dark black course curly hair.

Dad spread his legs wide, accidentally hits the gas a little hard, the truck makes a sudden lurch forward. Dad recovers quickly, puts both hands on the steering wheel, his White Owl Cigar still firmly held between the fingers of his left hand. A sigh of relief, I feel the muscles in dad's legs relax. He must have clenched his ass cheeks so tightly that had there been anything between them, it would now be as thinly pressed as tissue paper.

A quick pull on his cigar, exhale of smoke, tantalizes my nostrils. I open my mouth almost unhinging my jaw, I raised my head about a foot above dad's pubic hairs. I engulf the head of his penis, slide my lips downward over the shaft until I gag, and then gag again. I refuse to give up. I breath in slowly through my nose, work my tongue from side to side around the shaft. I force myself to open my jaw a little further, my tongue slips out past my lips, slithers further down dad's steel hard shaft, right down to the very tips of his pubic hairs.

Dad stretches his right arm away from the steering wheel, I feel his rough calloused fingers slip under the waist band of my nylon shorts, then beneath the elastic top of my boxer-briefs. His fingers do not stop there. He leans to the right, his chest pushes down on the back of my head. My throat opens up. For the first time in my life, the head of his penis is guided all the way down my throat. I gag, dad tries to withdraw himself but my desire to drive my face down, to rub my nose against the hair covered groin is far too strong.

Dad's fingers are removed from underneath my shorts. I hear my him spit, then fingers moving toward my ass crack like a divining rod toward underground water. Spit covered fingers spread glop over my ass hole, rubs back and forth, then forcefully enters my hole. His index and middle fingers invade my hole without mercy. I honestly do not wish for mercy, I love the painful sensation shooting from my hole to my gut. Electric current lights the end of hard penis like a light bulb. Dad abruptly withdraws his fingers. I'm determined to continue my assault on the monster in my mouth, I'm not going to stop now.

Dad takes the empty plastic tube that once contained his White Owl cigar, west the end with spit, presses it against the opening of my ass hole and then it slips in. Brilliant lights flash before my eyes, I feel the hard plastic tube being roughly rammed to it's very end. It just barely hits my prostate but boy, it sure makes me arch my back like a Halloween cat! The cigar tube is withdrawn, then rammed back in, time and time again. After a few dozen forceful stabbings of my hole, the additional pressure of his fingers at my holes opening.

"Take it you little bitch!"

Two fingers are rammed along side the hard plastic cigar tube.

"Yeah, take it you, daddy's little fuck!"

He's talking dirty to me, I had not expected it but man it turns me on to no end. I begin to work his dick up and down. Pulling all the way out to the tip, then slam myself down until I feel the head of his dick stretching the walls of my gullet.

The hum of the trucks engine lessens as we approach our exit.

Dad withdraws his fingers quickly but leaves the cigar tube planted in my ass. Not wishing to stop my assault on his penis, I even quicken up my pace. I hear the gravel covered driveway crunching under the tires of the pick-up.