The Man Jack Waters Chapter 4 - The Prize With Tyler Saint
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For perhaps the one thousandth time since I picked up the mysterious golden ticket off of that table, I wonder why I did it and what I was thinking. Of course I know the response to that, in 2 words, my father. Veteran, Purple Heart recipient, Congressional Medal of Honor winner, the national hero with 5 starlets glittering on his shoulders. His history in the military embarked with his superb great superb grandfather, who organized the 84th Illinois Volunteer regiment during the Civil War and obeyed as its commander. He was commissioned as Brevet Brigadier General of volunteers, near the close of the war for an activity of bravery. The Waters boys had served, and struggled in every war since that time. Like his ancestors, his illustrious family left him to sign up anonymously as a private and make his way on his own. My parent literally lifted himself by his own bootstraps. He hoped his sonnies to do the same, and his pride, joy, and eldest son, was well on his way. I on the other arm was the frustration in the family: bookish, shy, and not impatiently athletic. The senior dude would have heart misfortune if discovered that I was faggot as well. My father denies to pay for the education that the military would willingly provide for his sons. I don’t want to end up like him or my brother, or as hard, arrogant, and regimented as my uncles, either. I need a way out. With no cash for college, simply breaking away would mean that ending up on the street was the likely alternative. If I was going to end up selling my ass, I might as well make a pretty penny. Selling myself into fuck-fest slavery might seem extreme, but desperate times require desperate measures. So far, I sense like it could be far worse. I’ve traded my boyhood military cot for an actual bed. It’s a single couch in a ordinary room, but it‘s luxury compared to the way I grew up.
For perhaps the one thousandth time since I picked up the mysterious golden ticket off of that table, I wonder why I did it and what I was thinking. Of course I know the response to that, in 2 words, my father. Veteran, Purple Heart recipient, Congressional Medal of Honor winner, the national hero with 5 starlets glittering on his shoulders. His history in the military embarked with his superb great superb grandfather, who organized the 84th Illinois Volunteer regiment during the Civil War and obeyed as its commander. He was commissioned as Brevet Brigadier General of volunteers, near the close of the war for an activity of bravery. The Waters boys had served, and struggled in every war since that time. Like his ancestors, his illustrious family left him to sign up anonymously as a private and make his way on his own. My parent literally lifted himself by his own bootstraps. He hoped his sonnies to do the same, and his pride, joy, and eldest son, was well on his way. I on the other arm was the frustration in the family: bookish, shy, and not impatiently athletic. The senior dude would have heart misfortune if discovered that I was faggot as well. My father denies to pay for the education that the military would willingly provide for his sons. I don’t want to end up like him or my brother, or as hard, arrogant, and regimented as my uncles, either. I need a way out. With no cash for college, simply breaking away would mean that ending up on the street was the likely alternative. If I was going to end up selling my ass, I might as well make a pretty penny. Selling myself into fuck-fest slavery might seem extreme, but desperate times require desperate measures. So far, I sense like it could be far worse. I’ve traded my boyhood military cot for an actual bed. It’s a single couch in a ordinary room, but it‘s luxury compared to the way I grew up.
Added: 2024-07-02 • Views: 7 • Duration: 31:59
