I didn't expect much for graduating from college, but my present was definitely unforgettable if you get my drift.
The day started with waking up at my dad's apartment and having lunch at my favorite Tex-Mex restaurant. He gave me a card, some money, and after finishing my fish tacos, he drove me across town to my mom's and step-father's mansion in the hills. Two years after the divorce and you could still see the hurt on his face when he pulled up in front of that white stucco mansion with palm trees and a flat roof. My step-dad had a flair of throwing big cookout celebrations (not to mention the schmuck wooing mom away from my father) and that was something dad could never keep up with.
After a solemn handshake, I left my father's beamer and went on to join the party.
The party was pretty much a routine affair for my step-dad. It definitely paid to be a CEO of one of the most successful yacht and speedboat companies along the Jacksonville-St. Augustine coast. Work colleagues and customers wealthy enough to live a life of luxury littered the backyard, getting drunk on sangria, as Jimmy Buffet-esque music belted from a stereo system. My step-dad stood behind the grill in his goofy chef's hat and smock, giving me an exuberant wave with his tongs. You could say I was less enthusiastic about returning the gesture. Like most parties, I was the oddball out in the crowd of mid-life crises yuppies and bitchy spoiled housewives. The only tolerable two were mom's longtime friend's Nancy Hoskins and Trisha Cruz-Beatty, who lounged out by the pool in their swimming suits.
Nancy and Trisha were like surrogate sisters to my mom. They were all friends since the eighties, taking part in both high school soccer and varsity cheerleading. The years since then have been alright with them. They honestly weren't bad for being in their early forties. Nancy and Trisha weren't necessarily chubby, but there was a "soccer mom bod" thickness to their thighs, stomach, and hips that naturally came with age and having kids. But even through their rolls and vague cellulite, they still possessed the athletic frames for their youth — just with more to grab. The one thing that did stand out between the both of them were their tits, which spoke nothing but volume and mass from under their bathing suits.
Nancy was the alpha of the two and being thick, domineering, and an inch or two taller than me, you could understand why. She also was the one who fully ignored her age, wearing a pink and yellow spaghetti string two top. The outline of her heavy cleavage pressed up against each other in her tiny bikini and her long curly blonde came down over her left shoulder. Trisha was shorter, with small feet, wide hips, and longer tits that were held up her navy blue one piece. Her mocha skin made the white pearls she wore stand out and the golden hoop earrings gleamed under from her wavy raven hair. And where Nancy's domineering personality flourished, it still was no match for that Puerto Rican allure that Trisha had.
It was obvious they were dressed to impress. Trisha and Nancy, according to overhearing mom's past conversations, were insatiable when they wanted to be. I didn't know how much truth there was to that, but their husbands were nowhere in sight, not even their kids were there that day. Maybe it was dad's turn to entertain the kids, while mom enjoyed her weekend. The attention they were trying to attract, however, went ignored by most of the older guys there — too much money and that youthful gold digger pussy clogged their brains.
Then again, maybe I just had respect for the classic, instead of the new. Dad said it best: never take a sleek, eco-friendly sedan for a cruise, if you can still burn rubber in a '76 Camaro.
It didn't take much for mom to spot my arrival, and she greeted me in her typical long sundress and bug-eyed sunglasses. After giving me a big hug and congratulating me, she then began to lead me around the party and introduce me to my step dad's business partners, loyal customers, and co-workers. Most were vapid, ego-driven men who were insecure about their middle age and could only hold a conversation about money. Some even eyed me down as competition, holding their trophy wives at bay.
I don't blame them, really. Not to break the fourth wall or anything, but I am pretty much the living caricature of the "Latin Lover" depicted in any smut novel. To put it simply: I'm built for fucking. I'm half-Cuban, half-Sicilian; my body is lanky yet muscular; and from past girlfriends, my penis can only be described as "long and girthy". (How's that for tooting your own horn?) That's probably why most of those WASPy assholes saw me as a threat. All the money in the world couldn't stop their girlfriends or second and third wives from desiring a good romp, even if it was for just a quickie — just ask my old neighbor, Mr. Lennard.
As I was paraded around by my mom, I was eventually led to Nancy and Trisha. Even behind their sunglasses, I could see they were eyeing me up and down. It was a little awkward, to be honest. I've been acquainted with these two since I was a kid, yet here they were eyeing me the same way my neighbor's trophy wife did when I'd take my shirt off (man, I miss those thighs of hers!)
"And I'm sure you know who this handsome fellow," mom said them both.
"Yep!" Trisha said with excitement.
"We sure do," Nancy added.
I smiled, giving into my childhood shyness, and waved.
"So Mike, a little birdy told me you just graduated," Trisha said.
"I did."
"Really? Congratulations!" Nancy said. "What did you graduate in?"
"Business marketing."
My mom's friends looked at each other and nodded in approval. Looking back to my mom, I could see her eyes narrow in suspicion, until my step-dad called her over. After patting me on the shoulder and giving me a look as if to say, "watch yourself", she left me with her friends.
The two drank their daiquiris as they continued to eyefuck me from head to toe.
"So," Nancy began, "you graduated with a girlfriend?"
"No, not really."
"Really?" Trisha said. "Cute, college grad like you? I find that hard to believe."
I shrugged my shoulders and said, "just been unlucky I guess."
Pausing, I wondered if that could be perceived as flirting or just a joke.
"Well, maybe you'll find one or two here," Nancy added, "just keep your eyes open."
Putting my mouth into a smiling, crooked grin, I nodded and said sure.
