The Vacation House Ch. 04

The front door closed securely behind me as I made my way to the passenger door of Dad's pick-up. I grabbed the handle and opened up my door and hopped right in, placed the small cooler chest and the wrinkled bag of clean cloths onto the floor by my feet.

It hit me right away, it was cool in the truck. It was never cool in here. The air conditioning had been set to high and was blowing that wonderful refreshing air out of every vent on the dash and the floor.

I looked over at Dad, this was just so out of character. I had just expected the rancid smell of sweat mixed with stale cigar smoke and the humid heat that came along with the closed up cab of the truck. Instead of reaching for the handle to take down the passenger window, I was now turning a vent toward the ceiling as it was blowing just a bit too hard at my face. My eyes starting to dry out a bit as the moisture was being drawn from their surface.

What I saw in Dad's face caused me extreme concern. His head was being held low and he was fidgeting with something in his hands. His attention was not being directed toward me or the exit from the driveway we were still parked in.

The motor is running a little bit rough and the A/C blowing at full blast. A bit of condensation began to develop on the lower part of the windshield. It must have been 92 degree's outside and maybe no more than 65 inside the cab of the pick-up.

Dad's voice finally broke the weird tension that we found ourselve's surrounded by.

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

Ominous, that is the only way I could put it. It felt as if the shoe were just about to drop but how big of a shoe?

"Your mother and I have talked about this for some time and 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 but we just can't live together any longer."

"Your mother has been offered a fantastic job as the head of nursing at the hospital and we know that that is something that she has wanted her entire life. It will give her the security that she deserves."

I sat stunned by the admission of what seemed to be an amicable split between my parents. My entire life seemed to be dissolving into a pool of mud.

I was not able to see things clearly, my stomach dropped into my groin and my lunch seemed to rise up into my throat. Not sure if I were going to barf or pass out from dizziness. I just leaned up against the passenger door as the coolness of the glass pressed against the burning in my cheek and pounding temple.

"Robbie, Mom and I know that you are already 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 wish for. Your schooling is still our priority and this changes nothing about how we are here for that. Mom had spoken with your sister earlier today and she was offered to stay with your mother here in Rhode Island or the opportunity to come and stay with me in the Vacation House. She of course 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 just all makes sense for her to stay here yeah know?"

What was he talking about, staying here instead of going to the Vacation House. Was he saying that he was moving out? Had he just given me the option to get my own place or to stay here in the house that I grew up in, with my friends close by and with my Mom? OR, did he just make a veiled suggestion that I might wish to move to the Vacation House with him? But Dad works here, has always worked here in Rhode Island, he doesn't even have a job in Vermont!

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

I turned my head a bit to the side and just stared at Dad, my mouth slightly agape. Of course I knew Mr. Trattorella, he has been Dad's boss my entire life and has even been somewhat like an Uncle to my sister and myself.

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

Dad picked up his head a little and adjusted himself so that his body was now facing toward me. He leaned against the steering wheel with one arm and his other arm was placed along the back of the bench seats head-rest.

I got a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach and for some odd reason I just turned my gaze away from Dad and looked at the front picture window of home.

I saw my Mom in the window. She clearly had tears running down her face. She raised her hand and placed her palm against the window. Her head nodding in an affirmative attempt to console my confusion. She then backed away from the window and the shear drapery that covered the window from the sunlight, moved back to where my Mom had stood. Her figure partially obscured now fading into the background.

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

It is all I could think of at the moment. Things were just running around in my head in jumbles and confusion seemed to run 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."

I sat there and tried to focus on the query presented to me. Lee Townsend? Yeah, he came to me very quickly. 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 and 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 of 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 an ACL and his Achilles tendon all in the same year?"

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

"WHOA! Dad, does that mean that you are moving into the Vacation House by yourself?"

"Robbie, that is all up to you I guess. You are a man now and the choice is yours and yours alone. If you wish, Mom and I will pay for a small place of your own when you are not in school, or you can stay in Rhode Island and I would completely understand that decision, after-all, your friends, your hockey buddies and your job at the rink. Or and let me be completely clear with you, 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 real question here Dad, of course I want to come and live with you in Vermont. Heck there is a rink just the next town over and I can even transfer my credits and my scholarship to Keene and 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 to go to school up there to begin with. They have an organized Hockey program and I could actually see if I can get that partial scholarship funding that they had offered me the first go round, you know before I chose URI."

"If that is your choice Robbie, your Mom and I will help you make the arrangements to change schools, that is if that is what YOU want and 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 one or the other of us. It has to be because YOU want to do this but we will support you 100 % no matter what you choose."

"Dad, can we swing by the rink before we go to the Vacation House? I wish to let them know that I am moving and that I am going to have to give them short notice about leaving. Don't worry, I am 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 and how you are taking all of this. I don't know if I would have been as grown up and reasonable about all of this had I been in your place."

The gear of the truck engaged and the motion caused an almost out of body experience feeling. Was this all really happening and if it was, was I making the right choice? Well, I guess we will find out soon enough.

As I hopped back into the passenger side of the pick-up Dad turned to me. "Well, how did it go Robbie?"

"Fine Dad, my boss understood completely and he actually 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 smile could not be kept from crossing my face. It was probably the first sign of being in better spirits then I had shown since Dad had dropped the bomb-shell on me.

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

"Got that all worked out between Mom and Mr Trattorella. Mom agreed to pack up your stuff if you decided to make the move and 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 your stuff until then. It is not like we need to have too many changes of cloths anyway. Heck, a pair of boxers and a pair of sneakers and we would both be 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 and stop down at the Ikea that they have in Brattleboro. Hows that sound to you?"

"Sounds good to me Dad." My smile still on my face and my stomach finally calming down to the point that I felt I was not going to have the yips any second.

We headed down the road and were on the turnpike in no time, headed for what was to become home now and not just the Vacation House.

Dad reached over with his outstretched right arm and placed it and his hand around my shoulders. I could feel him give me an reassuring squeeze. I responded by laying my head sideways onto his arm. I felt the light pressure as he tugged me toward him.

My head now resting partially on his shoulder and partially on his chest. Dad's arm wrapped around my shoulder and his hand draped down and was lightly patting my right peck. It was kind of an odd feeling, like being a huge baby bird being guarded and held safely in the nest under the wing of my parent bird.

Burning sensation of tears filled my eyes. I closed my lids and sniffled just a bit. I tried to be quiet as I did not wish for it to seem as if I were a wuss or something. Dad responded by squeezing my chest a little and I could feel his scruffy chin brush the crew cut top of my head as he gently kissed my hair.

The familiar green pines began to change the scenery as we came closer and closer to our normal stop at the Log Cabin styled Welcome Center.

I knew it would be less than 15 minutes from where we were right then. I could feel the pressure in my bladder begin to press and become just a bit uncomfortable. The thought that we were close to our rest stop was welcoming and highly anticipated.

I really have had a rough evening so far and then I thought to myself, heck, Dad must be having an even worse time than me. I decided that I was going to try and turn this rough time around and make it a time of bonding between father and son. That we were going to be an inseparable team, you know kinda like Batman and Robin. That is if Batman were Robins real Dad.

The truck took the familiar turn off the highway as the light had only started to fade. Once we came to a full stop in our regular parking space, I hopped out and ran to the rest room, followed by Dad.

The familiar sound of the unbuckling of his belt and then the slide of the heavy work pant fabric against his bulky and hairy thighs. I stood at the stall and let out a long stream of piss. I then washed up myself and cleaned the Thermos, headed back out to the truck.

It was still hot even though we were so many miles north of where we had started out from.

Dad opened up his door and slid himself into his seat behind the steering wheel. A quick turn of the key, a rev of the engine and off again toward our final destination.

Dad reached out and embraced me. Drawing me to his chest and the security I found there. I could hear his heart beating as he shut off the Air Conditioning and brought down his window, then reached back and slid 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 leaned forward and removed his arm from around me. I could hear him rustling with some discards and objects he had accumulated on the dash board. I heard the cap being popped of one of his White Owl Cigars covering and then the quick flick of his metal Zippo Lighter.

The aroma of cigar smoke filled my nostrils and my own heart began to race. Dad once again placed his strong arm around my shoulders and took a firm grasp of my right chest muscle.

OK, I am going to do this, it might be wrong but I just have to do it. My mind became laser focused on my mission as I slid my head down off Dad's shoulder, down his chest, rock hard stomach only to find my chin on the top of his huge right thigh.

Another puff on his cigar and Dad began to run the fingers of his right hand back and forth through my short, cropped hair.

I began to rub the side of my cheek against the area where the pants zipper was concealed beneath a flap of the thick fabric. I could feel a mass underneath my face as it began to harden and become more substantial by the second.

Dad readjusted his position, sliding slightly forward in the seat. My head was pressing downward and moving in a back and forth slow motion over his lap.

Using my teeth and tongue, I moved the fabric over the zipper to the side and grabbed the metal tab of the zipper between my front teeth. I moved my head toward the steering wheel until the zipper had been fully brought down.

Dad began to massage the back of my neck as I turned my attention to the thick worn leather of the belt and buckle that wrapped around his waist.

It took some work, actually a great deal of effort but I had that belt undone and I was now working on the large brass button that held the top of Dad's work pants together. Once again my tongue and teeth did there trick and the button popped through the opening to reveal the dark furrow beneath the waistband.

Dad's breathing become a bit more labored and the bulge that was growing at an alarming rate in his pants struggled to free itself as if an angry Pit Bull were trying to escape through a screen door. That Pit Bull would ultimately win for sure!

Dad raised himself slightly above his seat and with one hand pushed his work pants and his boxers down as far as he could. It was a struggle but one that I was thrilled to assist him with.

With Dad's cloths now pushed down below his knees, his raging hard-on rose before my nose and eyes as it sprung upward and then fell forward against the steering wheel.

I breathed in deeply through my nostrils and opened my mouth wide. I extended my tongue as far as it could go and gently touched the very tip of the obelisk of muscular flesh before my face.

I ran my tongue in a circular motion over the area where the foreskin had receded and the angry head of Dad's manhood forcefully stood proud.

A little drool of clear fluid oozed from the large opening at the end of the monstrous helmet shaped head of his penis.

I eagerly flicked my tongue over it, smearing the liquid all over the opening slit and then I began my decent downward towards the base of the rod. My chin buried in a rough bush of dark black course curly hair.

Dad spread his legs as wide as he could, accidentally hitting the gas a little hard as the truck made a sudden lurch forward with speed. Dad recovered quickly and put both hands on the steering wheel, his White Owl Cigar still firmly held between the fingers of his left hand.

An audible sigh of relief could be heard and I felt the muscles in Dad's legs relax a little. 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 and the exhaling of smoke again tantalized my nostrils. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, almost unhinging my own jaw as I raised my head about a foot above Dad's pubic hairs and then I engulfed the head of his penis into my mouth and slid my lips downward over the shaft as far as I could until I felt my self gag, and then gag again.

I refused to give up. I breathed in slowly through my nose, worked my tongue from side to side around the shaft that was in my mouth. I forced myself to open my jaw a little further and my tongue slipped out past my lips and slithered farther down Dad's steel hard shaft, just coming to the very tips of his pubic hairs.

Dad stretched his right arm away from the steering wheel, and I could now feel his rough calloused fingers slipping under the waist band of my nylon shorts and beneath the elastic around the top of my boxer-briefs. His fingers did not stop there.

Dad leaned a little to the right, his chest now pushing downward on the back of my head. My throat opened up and I for the very first time in my life allowed Dad's head of his penis to be guided all the way down my throat.

I gagged once and Dad tried to withdraw himself a bit but my desire to drive my face downward and to rub my nose against the hair covered groin that I was heading for was far too strong.

Dad's fingers were removed from underneath my shorts. I could hear my him spit and then his fingers were back and moving toward my ass crack like a divining rod toward some underground water.

I felt the spit covered fingers spreading the glop over my ass hole. Rubbing back and forth and then forcefully entering my hole.

Dad's index and middle finger were invading my hole with no mercy and I honestly did not wish for mercy. I loved the painful sensation that shot from my hole, to my gut and then an electric current lit the end of my own hard penis head up like a light bulb.

Dad withdrew his fingers abruptly. I was so determined to continue my assault on the monster in my mouth that I was not going to stop now, even if I had become a bit confused by what was going on back there.

Then I felt it, Dad had taken the empty plastic tube that once contained his White Owl Cigar and wet the end with some more spit. It was now pressing against the opening of my ass hole and then it was in. Brilliant lights flashed before my eyes as I felt the hard plastic tube being roughly rammed to it's very end. It just barely hit my prostate but boy did that make me arch my back like a Halloween Cat!

The Cigar tube was withdrawn and then rammed back in time and time again. After a few dozen forceful stabbings of my hole, I felt the additional pressure of his fingers at my holes opening.

"Take it you little bitch!"

Three fingers were now rammed along side the hard plastic Cigar Tube.

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