A story by R.C.PeterGabriel.
All rights reserved.
"You can't possibly be serious!" exclaimed my apparently flabbergasted daughter Mila, from behind her closed bedroom door. I sighed to myself, having noticed an increasing number of arguments between her and her husband Rick.
I continued down the hall passing their room and headed for mine with the intention of ignoring the tiff as usual. Instead, I found myself pausing with my hand on my own door knob as she continued her rant. "Look, Ricky, I've put up with the fact that you can't keep a job that pays enough for us to move out of my parent's house. I've put up with your need to wear my panties and your humiliation fetishes. I even put up with your less-than-average-sized dick, but you're asking me to cheat on you, just so you can get off! Don't you think that's carrying your fetish a bit far?"
I continued into my room, not trying to soften the noise of my closing the door. (I might have closed it a tad sharply). I knew they were having problems and I knew 'Little Ricky' was a long way from being an alpha but I had no idea that Mila had compromised so completely when she married the man, uh ... boy. If they heard me and realized that I'd heard them, then maybe, just maybe, Mila would be willing to open a dialogue with her mother or myself. If she'd be willing to talk about their problems, we might be able to convince her to boot his panty-wearing ass to the curb.
Nichole, (that's Mila's Mom by the way) and I have had our share of disagreements concerning Rick (I refused to call him Ricky). I have always felt our daughter deserved way better, while Nichole has always felt that Rick was just "a sweet boy who needed some mothering". Nichole's mothering of 'Ricky' was something that seemed to be a mutually beneficial arrangement for everyone in the house but me. Enabling him, quite frankly annoyed the shit out of me. He was supposed to be a grown assed man after all! Not only doesn't he work a real job but he's never even offered to do his share around the house. I have to physically hand him the bin bag in order to get him to take out the trash. In my mind, he's a useless waste of air!
Anyway, one of our biggest fights came when I discovered several pairs of Mila's panties in the dryer that were obviously stretched out. That's when Nichole admitted that she knew Rick had been wearing Mila's panties. Fortunately, Nichole was the only one home at the time or I would have beaten the pansy to death with a bar of soap wrapped up in his borrowed underwear! She convinced me that going to jail wouldn't help Mila's marriage and I eventually agreed that a more subtle approach was needed to fix things.
Over the next several frustrating months, I discovered quite a few of the boy's shortcomings. His three-inch dick and desire to be spanked in order to cum were only a few. I laid out my arguments to all three separately in hopes that at least one of them would take the hint ... nope. I even threatened the pussy several times until I realized he seemed to get excited by it. What the fuck do you do with that?!? The only thing I could. I shut up and prayed Mila would see the light.
As I stripped down and pulled on a pair of shorts to mow the lawn, I figured that I at least had a tiny bit of hope that his suggestion of fucking other men might push her too far.
I had finished the front and was halfway through mowing the back when I noticed Mila watching me from the patio door. I smiled at her and continued working. Then for some strange reason, I began to get the feeling that she was admiring my sweaty physique. I had never had sexual thoughts of her prior to that moment and was chastising myself for them. Then I suddenly remembered the vision of Rick playfully pulling Mila's towel from her otherwise nude body as they ran across the hall from the bathroom to their bedroom. The flash was just that, a brief flash but as she twisted I was granted a view of her entire body, front, and back. I had dismissed it as a young couple playing at being in love, and I was quite sure that they didn't even realize that I was in my room observing them. At the time there wasn't a single sexual thought. Now I had to keep trying to force my thoughts away from the memory of her perfect body by telling myself that Mila wasn't admiring me and that I was her father after all. I had finally convinced myself of that fact as I finished mowing the last strip. However, the fact that she hadn't turned away until after I shut off the mower and was headed for the garage had me wondering why.
After showering and pulling on some lounge pants and a tee shirt, I padded towards the kitchen. I hoped Nichole would be home by then and be making dinner. We don't need her to earn an income but she volunteers at a local hospital four days a week. I work at home, where I ghostwrite for rich asswipes that think the world really gives a shit about their fake histories and overly inflated accomplishments. Although, I guess someone must because I get paid a shit-ton to do it.
By the way, eighty percent of the things written in memoirs are pure bull-shit; ninety-five percent if it's a politician providing the 'recollections'. Trust me I know.
Not that I'm anywhere as rich as those I write about but I certainly don't worry about my bills, and I never have to wear a tie ... or shoes for that matter. If it weren't for Rick, my life would be perfect. I get up when I want, I eat when I want, and I go to the gym because I want to and not because I've let myself go. I'm fit, healthy, and mostly happy. My wife and daughter are also both fit, healthy, and very sexy but unlike me, they seem to be in want of nothing. For my part, I just felt like something was missing.
As I turned the corner to the kitchen, I discovered that my wife was indeed home but wasn't engaged in preparing a meal. She and Mila were huddled together whispering. I was about to reverse course to allow them some privacy when they both motioned me over conspiratorially. Once I pointed out that they were apparently only excluding Rick from the conversation, I suggested we retire to my office. Once there I discovered that I had only been included because they had finally come to an understanding on how to proceed with fixing the 'little' problem.
I guess their efforts had been ongoing without my knowledge for quite a while. I later discovered that the dialog had started long before Rick and Mila had even married. Now it was finally time to employ the next stage of 'Ricky's training', or so they said. I'm not one hundred percent positive about the truth of their plan being Rick's training and not my own, but I spent the next twenty minutes having my two favorite women explain how imperative my part would be in the near future. It only took that long because, I, of course, had jumped up at the first utterance of 'extreme measures' being needed, so that I could run downstairs and kick the little douchebag out of my house. Once they had reduced my joviality to a level where I could pay attention to what they were attempting to convey as opposed to what I wanted to hear, they began my instruction.
The next two hours weren't needed to explain how I should act but to overcome my disbelief. My wife and daughter were expecting me to let my inner 'bull' out of the barn and that they would be agreeable to letting things go as far as it took. Mila then recapped Rick's fetishes and said that she didn't think he really wanted to go that far down the path but that by 'forcing him to live them' we could scare him into standing up for himself.
