The earliest I can remember - I was probably about 16 (as was my girlfriend at the time). My parents would never let me have people over, regardless of gender, when they weren't home, but NEVER my girlfriend. They hated her and her bi-polar ways. My folks were out for the day, so she came over. We did our thing and were just getting cleaned up and such. All of a sudden, I hear my dog barking and my parent’s car pull in. Fucking great. So, what did I decide to do? I hid my girlfriend under my bed! Yeah, I rock. Three hours later, her dad calls, wondering where she is. He came and picked her up, and I got a three hour lecture.
Best line from a father - "I've got a shotgun and a shovel. I doubt anyone would miss you."
Around age 12, I discovered the mysterious "fap." At almost the same time that I discovered this thing, my mother just busts into the bathroom while I am taking my shower to get something out of a cabinet or whatever. We had one of those smoked glass doors on the shower, so it wasn't exactly hard to see what was going on.
Being the quick-thinking lad I was, I blurted out "I'M JUST MAKING SURE I GET REALLY CLEAN!" Way to be smooth, me. Anyway, nothing was said about it, and she never busted into the room while I was taking a shower again.
I was in the car with my grandmother (father's mother) one day, and she strikes up an awkward conversation by asking, out of the blue:
Her: "So, what's your dad been smoking?" Me: "Uh... what?" Her: "Your dad, what's he been smoking lately?" Me: "I.. uh..." Her: "He must have been smoking something."
Here I am sitting in the car trying to think of what to say. The thing is, I have evidence that my dad (her son) does smoke pot occasionally, and I was mortified that my grandmother was trying to pump me for information about my father's "hobbies". Then came...
Her: "You know, ribs, chicken... he just got that new smoker for his birthday. Has he even used it yet?" Me: "OHHHHH! Smoking, I get it. Phew."
She definitely had no idea.
The summer after my Junior year in high school my g/f and I spent a lot of time "hanging out" at my step-dad's house while he was at work. This included many escapades in the shower, on the couch, and in what I’m sure included every bed. Anyways, not knowing any better, I was flushing the condoms down the toilet. Being out in the country, we had a septic tank instead of being connected to the city sewers. After a rather hard rain towards the end of the summer, an odd thing happened. One of the concrete covers over the septic tank collapsed exposing the contents. What else was floating on top than a few used condoms. After being confronted by my dad (really step-dad) I proceeded to blame it on his girlfriend’s rather wild son who had already been in plenty of trouble. Needless to say he seemed to accept this, though I’m sure he wasn't totally sure because I’m a terrible liar.
Back when I was a kid and my mom or both parents were out of the house for some reason, I'd often take the opportunity to watch a soft core porn tape on our TV and VCR and, of course, being an adolescent male, jack off to it. The TV was in our living room, but it had a direct line of sight to the door leading to the garage, whence my parents would always return. This was a potential problem, but since I could hear the garage door opening, it gave me enough time to stop whatever I was doing and retreat to another part of the house. I did this frequently, and never had any problems.
Except once. Mom had left a little while earlier and I was fapping away contentedly, with nary a care in the world, when all of a sudden she comes back through the door leading to the garage: I hadn't expected her back early and hadn't heard the garage. My heart stopped, because I was kneeling on the floor and clearly not just watching TV, and before it had a chance to restart, Mom had announced that she'd forgotten something, grabbed whatever it was, said good-bye again, and walked back out the door.
When I managed to breathe again, it was all over and to this day I have no idea if she simply didn't see anything or chose not to see anything. I'm happier not knowing.
When we first started messing around, my girlfriend loved to leave hickeys on me. Especially my back. When we were done, my back would look like I'd just gotten worked over by Tyler Durden. Combine this with the fact that I tend to walk around my house shirtless. One morning, I walked into my kitchen, completely oblivious of the fact that I have scratches and hickeys all over my back, to get a glass of OJ. My dad calmly walks up behind me and goes "Hey, do you think you could wear a shirt around the house? Your stepmother is kinda freaking out here."
At one point, my stepmother knocked on the door and asked us to keep the noise down. Kinda killed the mood. She used to tell me that I couldn't keep the door locked while I had my girlfriend over. I told her that I would stop locking it as soon as she stopped barging in.
Case in point: Once, after we had finished our activities and were just kind of lounging around my room naked, my stepmother knocked on the door. "Just a minute!", I called out. So, of course, she went ahead and opened the door as I was dashing across the room naked. I didn't quite know what to do, as I had absolutely nothing to cover myself up with. So I just kind of crouched and put my hands over my junk, while telling her to get the fuck out.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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