A Fresh Man - Gauze 1 Even The Score - Cain Marko, Brody Fox
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I didn’t know what it would be like coming back home, much less what it would be like living with Dad again. He hadn’t exactly grown up poor, but he came up sans any particular advantages. He controlled to get into Yale with excellent grades and a football scholarship. He worked his donk off and made the most of it. He graduated with an MBA and he has always been proud of that degree and he should be. My entire life he reminded me that when I got to Yale, I would be a legacy. Not only that, I would have the name and currency to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with anybody there, and not fight for respect the way he did. Then I boned up and was basically compelled to enlist in the Army. When I told him that I was getting out of military life he rented me a basic apartment. Something that I could pay the rent on. With my record, going to Yale is most likely off the table. I guess I should be blessed he hasn’t disowned me all together but at least for now, I’ve got to make my own way. The last thing I expected to watch when I stepped into my living apartment was that tiny van on the window sill. It’s nothing much; kind of lame for a toy, really; a tiny van cut out of a block of wood. It was the first-ever plaything he bought me, though, when I was hardly two years old. He said he got it because it reminded him of a van he had when he was kid. Later, he got me almost anything I asked for, but even when I outgrew all of it, I kept the truck. It was on a shelf in my apartment along with my tiny league trophies, souvenirs from vacations, that kind of stuff. He’s a high powered biz executive, the major shareholder and CEO of a biz conglomerate. I don’t even know all of the different things that they have a stake in. Most kids with fathers like him get sent off to boarding school. Not me. He hired a childminder to take care of me, wherever he traveled to, we went with him. I had more stamps in my license by the time I was eight years senior than most people have in a lifetime but he made sure I had a childhood, too. When I was seven or eight, he embarked getting me comic books. I read about Batman and I determined that Dad must be a superhero because he was so fat and mighty and lived in a fat house. That’s truly why he would say, “I’d always rather be with my dude but there are lots of people depending on me,” when he had to go off, even if he didn’t want to. He said he wasn’t truly a superhero, but I thought that’s exactly what a superhero would say. People talk about the summons for kids in single-parent families, and lives of “poor tiny wealthy kids'' who have everything that currency can buy, except love. My parent was everything that I needed and I never missed having a mother. At least it was brilliant until I beat puberty and had my “sexual awakening,” as they call it. I realized that I didn’t care about gals at all. Being homosexual would not have been a fat deal. It wouldn’t have been superb but I could have dealt with it. There were a few homosexual men in my scout troop. The problem was that I wasn’t heterosexual or homosexual; I guess I was daddysexual. I dreamed my dad to penetrate me.
I didn’t know what it would be like coming back home, much less what it would be like living with Dad again. He hadn’t exactly grown up poor, but he came up sans any particular advantages. He controlled to get into Yale with excellent grades and a football scholarship. He worked his donk off and made the most of it. He graduated with an MBA and he has always been proud of that degree and he should be. My entire life he reminded me that when I got to Yale, I would be a legacy. Not only that, I would have the name and currency to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with anybody there, and not fight for respect the way he did. Then I boned up and was basically compelled to enlist in the Army. When I told him that I was getting out of military life he rented me a basic apartment. Something that I could pay the rent on. With my record, going to Yale is most likely off the table. I guess I should be blessed he hasn’t disowned me all together but at least for now, I’ve got to make my own way. The last thing I expected to watch when I stepped into my living apartment was that tiny van on the window sill. It’s nothing much; kind of lame for a toy, really; a tiny van cut out of a block of wood. It was the first-ever plaything he bought me, though, when I was hardly two years old. He said he got it because it reminded him of a van he had when he was kid. Later, he got me almost anything I asked for, but even when I outgrew all of it, I kept the truck. It was on a shelf in my apartment along with my tiny league trophies, souvenirs from vacations, that kind of stuff. He’s a high powered biz executive, the major shareholder and CEO of a biz conglomerate. I don’t even know all of the different things that they have a stake in. Most kids with fathers like him get sent off to boarding school. Not me. He hired a childminder to take care of me, wherever he traveled to, we went with him. I had more stamps in my license by the time I was eight years senior than most people have in a lifetime but he made sure I had a childhood, too. When I was seven or eight, he embarked getting me comic books. I read about Batman and I determined that Dad must be a superhero because he was so fat and mighty and lived in a fat house. That’s truly why he would say, “I’d always rather be with my dude but there are lots of people depending on me,” when he had to go off, even if he didn’t want to. He said he wasn’t truly a superhero, but I thought that’s exactly what a superhero would say. People talk about the summons for kids in single-parent families, and lives of “poor tiny wealthy kids'' who have everything that currency can buy, except love. My parent was everything that I needed and I never missed having a mother. At least it was brilliant until I beat puberty and had my “sexual awakening,” as they call it. I realized that I didn’t care about gals at all. Being homosexual would not have been a fat deal. It wouldn’t have been superb but I could have dealt with it. There were a few homosexual men in my scout troop. The problem was that I wasn’t heterosexual or homosexual; I guess I was daddysexual. I dreamed my dad to penetrate me.
Added: 2024-03-14 • Views: 19 • Duration: 25:06
