A New Dude - Gauze 1 Even The Score (St Patrick's Day) - 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 daddy again. He hadn’t exactly grown up poor, but he came up sans any particular advantages. He managed to get into Yale with supreme grades and a football scholarship. He worked his bum 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 struggle for respect the way he did. Then I porked up and was basically obliged 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 very 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 hoped to witness when I stepped into my living apartment was that tiny camper on the window sill. It’s nothing much; kind of lame for a toy, really; a tiny camper cut out of a block of wood. It was the very first fucktoy he bought me, though, when I was slightly 2 years old. He said he got it because it reminded him of a camper he had when he was kid. Later, he got me nearly 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 babysitter to take care of me, wherever he traveled to, we went with him. I had more stamps in my id 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 daddy must be a superhero because he was so fat and intense and lived in a fat house. That’s indeed why he would say, “I’d always rather be with my stud 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 indeed a superhero, but I thought that’s exactly what a superhero would say. People chat 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 ideal until I hammer puberty and had my “sexual awakening,” as they call it. I realized that I didn’t care about dolls at all. Being faggot would not have been a fat deal. It wouldn’t have been fine but I could have dealt with it. There were a few faggot fellows in my scout troop. The problem was that I wasn’t gay-for-pay or homosexual; I guess I was daddysexual. I wished my daddy to fuck me.
I didn’t know what it would be like coming back home, much less what it would be like living with daddy again. He hadn’t exactly grown up poor, but he came up sans any particular advantages. He managed to get into Yale with supreme grades and a football scholarship. He worked his bum 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 struggle for respect the way he did. Then I porked up and was basically obliged 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 very 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 hoped to witness when I stepped into my living apartment was that tiny camper on the window sill. It’s nothing much; kind of lame for a toy, really; a tiny camper cut out of a block of wood. It was the very first fucktoy he bought me, though, when I was slightly 2 years old. He said he got it because it reminded him of a camper he had when he was kid. Later, he got me nearly 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 babysitter to take care of me, wherever he traveled to, we went with him. I had more stamps in my id 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 daddy must be a superhero because he was so fat and intense and lived in a fat house. That’s indeed why he would say, “I’d always rather be with my stud 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 indeed a superhero, but I thought that’s exactly what a superhero would say. People chat 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 ideal until I hammer puberty and had my “sexual awakening,” as they call it. I realized that I didn’t care about dolls at all. Being faggot would not have been a fat deal. It wouldn’t have been fine but I could have dealt with it. There were a few faggot fellows in my scout troop. The problem was that I wasn’t gay-for-pay or homosexual; I guess I was daddysexual. I wished my daddy to fuck me.
Added: 2024-03-15 • Views: 8 • Duration: 25:06