I like – okay, tolerate—returning home to visit my family during the holidays, but one thing in particular is driving me crazy: I can’t have sex. My parents are curious, they constantly ask me where I’m going, who I’m seeing and when I’m coming back. And even though they know I literally have a memoir called Slut, I still don’t feel comfortable looking my mom in the eye and saying, “I’m jumping on Domtop69 so I can rearrange my guts. What do I know of him, you ask? Well, he’s 42.8 inches tall, has a hairy belly, and his flaws include father/son roleplay.
Why not lie and say I’m seeing a friend? Well, meetings on Grindr last 25 minutes, and who hangs out with a friend for 25 minutes? Not to mention, guys flake hard. The one time I tried to coordinate something, the guy fell apart at the last minute. It was all this ordeal because my mom insisted I borrow her car, even though I insisted on calling an Uber. Then when I didn’t need his car after all, it became all the business it really was, really didn’t need to be. (Gotta love moms!)
All this to say that while I’m in my childhood home it’s usually easier to just simmer in my excitement and take long showers where I masturbate vigorously and try not to lose my mind when my mom asks for the umpteenth time “Aren” Aren’ Aren’t you worried about sharing your personal life online too much? (It’s like, mama, this boat has navigated!)
There are a few trips, however, my habit shower masturbation the routine did not cut it. If I hadn’t been diced by a flesh-and-blood penis, I would have perished – withered into a heap of sexually dissatisfied dust.
So early one night, when my mom was away with her friends and only my dad and I were home, I decided to invite a boy over for sex. It was risky, but it had to happen. I found a random cutie on Grindr, and after exchanging about 20 words (and several graphic photos), I invited her over. I let him know my dad would be home, so he just had to lie and say he was a friend from New York, also in town for the holidays. He accepted.
Thirty minutes later, I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door, kissed my guest on the lips, and prepared him for an influx of eye-rolling dad jokes. Now this guy may not have gotten a BFA from Tisch, but he fooled my dad. After the appropriate amount of chatter (two minutes), we headed to my room. The whole masquerade was surprisingly painless.
But then I noticed a slight obstacle that I had overlooked. My father was in the living room, right next to my bedroom. Knowing him, he wasn’t going to move any time soon – and if he did to move would be to come to my room to do his tight five (no more dad jokes). I already had enough to unpack in therapy, when my dad catching me face down with my ass up wasn’t an option.
Fortunately, I was struck by a stroke of genius: we were able to fuck near the outdoor hot tub. My dad uses a wheelchair and it took several steps to get to the hot tub. There was no way he could interrupt to recite his stand-up routine. He was also out of sight no matter where he was in the house. Perfection.
I told my new best friend to get naked and threw him a towel. “Let’s go outside,” I said. He undressed and I eyed his sex without chills. I was so close to falling to my knees right there, but snapped out of my trance when he asked, “Do you like what you see?”
“Yes,” I say. “Absolutely.”
We walked out naked, towels wrapped around our waists. I took a small bottle of travel lube in my hand.
“We’re going to the spa,” I told my father.
“What, are you trying to get away from me?” he joked.
My hookup and I laughed awkwardly. It was a bit too in the nose.
We walked up the stairs and around the yard to the hot tub. I dropped my towel and he dropped his. Wearing nothing but our birthday suits, we entered the hot tub. Once inside, we met our eyes. His lips curled into a mischievous smile and I almost had a heart attack.
I pressed my lips against his. It was a full-mouthed hungry kiss – a kiss from a man who had been without a dick for what felt like an eternity. I rode it, my light weight in the water. Our hands roamed freely over each other’s bodies and I felt it get hard under my ass.
It wasn’t my first rodeo, so I knew you couldn’t really fuck submerged in a body of water. You technically box, but it does not suit either party. I stood up on the spa step, exposing my buttocks but keeping everything below my knees in the water. He did the same. I grabbed the bottle of lube, applied it liberally, and it slowly entered me. I moaned much louder than I expected.
“Wait,” I said, stopping to turn on obnoxiously loud jets that made it sound like we were in the middle of a war zone.
“Okay, go ahead,” I said, and he gave me a fucking beating. It wasn’t necessarily good technically – our angles and rhythms were off – but I didn’t care. I was so suppressed and so turned on to be fucked outside by a stranger, knowing there was a risk of getting caught. He came inside me and I accidentally entered the hot tub. (Thank goodness for the chlorine.)
Once we were done, we headed back inside. My father was where we left him, none the wiser. My partner in crime left soon after, giving my dad a simple “Nice to meet you!” at its output. My father responded in kind. We did it. We pulled off the ultimate heist – or at least something that seemed adjacent to the heist.
“He seemed like a nice guy,” my dad said.
I nodded. “He is.”
Since that fateful evening, I’ve met someone every time I’ve visited my parents. No exception. As they say, “Where there is a will, there is a way”. And my will dictates that absolutely nothing—not even daddy blocking dick jokes—will stop me from getting dicked.