Chapter 8

Dennis stood outside and directed the girls to hurry their asses along and pick up the balls while squirting them with the crimped water hose like it was a powerful water gun. The Wagner women dutifully scurried about on their hands and knees and picked up tennis balls with their mouths. Crawled over and delivered them to the toolbox where the bazooka was kept. The only thanks they received for cleaning up after their performance was a blast to the face or ass with the hose from Dennis.

“You look like a drowned rat, Doris!” he joked. His wife’s sweet smile returned, but she really did look silly with her hair soaked as she crawled around for his amusement. I wondered why she debased herself like that for him and why it turned me on to see it.

I felt sorry for her, and yet she seemed to wallow in it. Doris lovingly looked right up at her husband sometimes and smiled so that he could hit her with a shot directly to the face. She’d even laugh flirtatiously and wiggle her ass like she loved to be teased this way.

When I returned to the other side of the yard, I stood around with my hands in my pockets. I had to jiggle my balls a little because my dick was so hard that it was starting to get sore. My zipper was cutting into the tip of my penis even through my underwear. I watched their naked, wet asses dash about on the grass.

The girls complained of grass itch on their knees, and sore stretched out pussies. Doris teased her daughters that she had the perfect outfits for them to wear to the game.

“Hey, I know you are playing pocket pool over there, but can you come here for a second? I wanted to talk to you,” Dennis politely invited me over to where he and Mr. Johnson were standing by the tools. I was hoping they weren’t going to ask me about the Super Bowl because I knew nothing about professional sports.

“Yes, Mr. Wagner? I mean Dennis,” it had felt strange to address Doris by her first name. It felt simply wrong on every level to address Rachel’s father as his first name.

“What did you think about the cunt run?” he asked.

“It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” I admitted.

“It’s going to get weirder, much weirder,” he warned me. I could tell he wasn’t joking around, and by his tone, he wasn’t testing me or trying to intimidate me. He had something he wanted to ask me. “My family grew up around these kinds of events, but they are not everyone’s cup of tea. I wasn’t willing to compromise MY weekend to accommodate you. I am still not willing to do that. I work hard, and I plan these little weekends out weeks in advance.”

I thought he was just making up the rules to his game as he went.

“Johnson here says he can talk to his wife about you staying at their house for the weekend. You desperately need an education in tying knots and how to adjust your dick, so you don’t look like you are walking around with a huge boner,” he noticed the bulge in my pants with disdain. “How would you like that? They’ve got Cable and MTV.”

“Stay with a stranger?” I asked. In the 1980s, McGruff the crime dog was on every TV program around 4pm telling kids about stranger danger and never to talk to anyone you don’t know. It was programmed into me.

“Until an hour ago, I was a stranger,” Dennis chuckled.

Mr. Johnson looked at me and waited for me to say something.

“If at all possible, I’d like to stay,” I spoke up.

“You are about as easy to get rid of as Lori’s poop on my shoe,” he wiped his sneakers as if he had stepped in it once before and was trying to get rid of it. “My son doesn’t know we’ll be at the game. It’s not going to be that wild or interesting. It won’t be anything like what you just saw. You don’t seem much of a sports guy. Are you sure? They will probably cook dinner and all I can promise you tonight is a hot dog and a coke for dinner at the game.”

“I’d really like to stay,” I insisted.

Dennis and Mr. Johnson probably thought I was a pervert and wanted to stay for the nudity. That was probably 100% correct if I am being perfectly honest. Mr. Johnson told me that there was no hard feelings and shook Dennis’s hand to thank him for letting him participate before disappearing back into his house.

“You probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it over there anyway. He’s got a foreign exchange student from Sweden staying with him. She has MASSIVE tits, and loves to sunbathe topless,” he emphasized just how round her boobs were. I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not but he didn’t change my mind.

Once the girls were finished cleaning up the yard, he made them wash down their stools and told them to shower together and clean up. “You’ve got precisely ten minutes to be dressed APPROPRIATELY for a family weekend. We are going out in PUBLIC where there will be other FAMILIES and you cunts are a REFLECTION upon me. You will run behind the jeep through Naples Manor to and from the game if you disappoint me.”

“Yes Daddy,” Rachel and Lori shrugged and followed their mother upstairs. I watched their pretty asses glide up the stairs.

Dennis cued up some Ronny Milsap songs on an 8-track cartridge with his home stereo. He had one of those 8-tracks that also played records and cassettes. He let the girls know that the songs were precisely 10 minutes long and that when Ronnie finished “Any Day Now” he was going to whip “Any Cunt Now!”

The Wagners loved raunchy wordplay and puns. I was bashful and didn’t want to say anything to him. I was also intimidated to be alone with him.

“My wife tells me you like photography?” he asked as we killed time. I was admiring his photographs and this wooden object shaped like an X he had in his home. I don’t know when he could have spoken to her about me. She’d been busy that entire time.

“I did tell her I liked photography. I was just saying that to seem interesting. I really don’t know anything about it,” I admitted truthfully. I wasn’t sure if that was the right strategy or not.

“You really seem to be worried about what other people think about you, don’t you, Son?”

“Yeah, of course!” I assumed everyone cared.

“You can’t please everybody, especially if you are too busy trying to be what they want you to be instead of what you want to be,” he offered sagely. “You care what I think about you?”

“Yes!”

“What if I told you I think you are a naïve little pocket-pool playing, know-it-all snot-nosed punk. Your mommy and daddy sheltered you so badly that you see one pair of lopsided titties and a cunt lip longer than the other and think found the one and are in love?”

That was harsh. I felt a burning sensation down my spine. I had been embarrassed before (obviously). This wasn’t quite the same feeling, but it was similar. It felt like shame combined with a head-ache combined with humiliation because I would say he was pretty spot on.”

“Truth hurts worse than a tennis ball to the dick, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.

“What do you REALLY think of me, Brian?”

“You are a nice guy,” I didn’t know what to say.

“Bullshit,” Dennis said he was going to update his description of me to include that I was a terrible liar and a coward because I couldn’t tell him the truth. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think of me?”

“You are a mean man that makes your daughters and wife do all sorts of humiliating things just to please you and no matter how hard they try to keep calling them names.”

He laughed. “Well, that’s a start. Anything else?”

“You have a fat belly!”

His belly jiggled with jolly laughter. Dennis may have been quick to anger but he was quick to laugh as well. He put his hand on my shoulder. “The good news about being a little prick is that you can grow out of it. You won’t always be who you are today. I told my son something a long time ago. It was something my father told me and it has always stuck with me. Be the person you want to be. I know that sounds pretty generic, but to do that you have to be willing to define who that person really is and what they value. You need to take steps every day to be that person. You can’t just accomplish it and then stop. You have to live it. If you find that this person is ever who you do not want to be then you need to have the courage to stop, quit, and change it.”

It was intensely profound and almost life-changing to hear him say that to me. I don’t know if it was just the advice. It seems logical to decide who you want to be and do that. It seems logical to have the courage to change if you no longer want to be them.

What made those words so important to me was that Dennis took the time to actually give me some advice that his father shared with him. It was advice so important he remembered it, carried it around with him, applied it to his own life and shared it with his son. The fact that he took the time to share it with me made me feel special.

“I am sorry for saying you are a mean man,” I said.

“Don’t apologize for telling me the truth. You should apologize for that breath. Are you wearing some fucking high karate?” he sniffed me. “God damned son. Did you put that garbage cologne on thinking it would help you get laid?”

I had slapped on a little. He took me into his bathroom downstairs and let me wash it off with soap.

When I returned, his wife had sent Rachel downstairs first because she was ready to have her outfit inspected by her father.

Rachel’s hair was dry, she had put her glasses back on and applied some make-up. It made her look a little slutty and trampy. She didn’t look mature like Doris. She looked like a teenage girl that was trying to look like a slut.

Girls had all these bases, shades and powders and they could work magic if they wanted to do it. There was something so appealing about blue mascara, trampy blush and shiny cherry lipstick! It screamed sex to me.