Birds and the bees

The kid is going over to a friends house today after school, where they’ll both be joined by their respective partners. This leaves me with some trepidation because there has been some talk of playing “7 Minutes in Heaven.” So, naturally, we had to have the talk with him last night. Wow, that was really not awesome at all. We met some friends for drinks afterwards and drowned our anxieties with pints of Yards Pynk, which if you haven’t tried, I highly recommend. It’s a bit tart, so it’s not for everyone; it goes down so smooth that you almost forget how much it sucks to be a parent sometimes. I know how I was at 13, and my wife knows how she was at 13, so you can imagine how terrified I am at this very moment. When I was his age, I wanted to be picked up on the road by an older woman and seduced.


That’s no joke, either. I literally wanted to be sexually molested by a lonely housewife. I am sure I wasn’t the only one, either. I discovered the pleasure of the orgasm in 5th grade by accident, so I was pretty determined to find someone to practice on. By accident, I mean that I just decided that I was going to keep going to see if anything happened. It did. It was awesome.

I don’t really think much of anything is going to happen at the gathering tonight. We made sure there was going to be adult supervision; my wife talked to the friend’s father last night. It’s just frightening because, we were 13 once, too, you know? God help us. I was all about tits and ass at his age; I had already had my dick handled by hands other than my own. It was awesome. Is it any wonder I am so unnerved?

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Just a guy writing about how depression sucks.

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