My mind jumped back to Linda. I couldn’t help but picture her face as she came, first on my fingers and later on my dick. I wanted to say she was like a drug, but that was bullshit, not to mention a bad cliché. Truth was, she didn’t have a comedown when I was around her. There were no strung-out hours calling my dealer, trying to get a bump, and there was no headache and cold sweats. She smiled when she meant it and hit me when I was annoying her. She was so damn sexy, too; perfect body, ass like nothing I’d seen before, and she didn’t seem like she knew it. Maybe she did, but I had no idea. All I wanted was to plunge my hard cock into that incredible pussy of hers over and over, watch the beads of sweat roll slowly down her back, and feel her muscles tense.
I desperately needed to spend another night with her in my bed, talking about movies for hours. I had never met someone who cared as much about the work of John Hughes as I did. We disagreed about some things, but the way she argued, so passionately, as if everything we said to each other actually mattered in the greater scheme of things, made me feel important.
It was a weird feeling. I was used to being the center of attention, and desired for a bunch of reasons. But I had never met someone that listened to what I said and actually made me feel like I was worth talking to.
Which was all the more reason I loved it when she went down on me, slowly licking my cock like it was made of solid gold.
I sighed, feeling the erection begin to stir. That was the last thing I needed, a boner at my grandfather’s viewing. I gritted my teeth and pushed her out of my mind. It was bad enough I couldn’t stop thinking about her on normal days. I didn’t need the distraction when I was saying goodbye.
Steeled and boner-softened, I pushed open the door and climbed out. I crossed the parking lot, feeling like an ass in my old suit, and pushed open the door to the funeral home.
It was a dingy place, and I frowned. Old carpets and cheap decorations covered second hand tables and reeking flowers. It was what he wanted, though. It was the same place we used when he buried his wife ten years ago.
I moved into the main room, lined with chairs, and surveyed the gathered people. It hit me hard in the chest how many people I recognized, but hadn’t seen in years. Cousins, aunts and uncles, the entire side of my family that essentially disappeared when my mother passed. They hated my dad, and for good reason. They may have been related to him, but without my mother he was a useless prick. They knew it as well as I did.
As I stood there, working up the nerve to say my hellos and my last goodbye, somebody entered the room behind me.
“Well hello there, son,” came the gruff voice.
I turned around. “Good to see you showed up,” I said to him.
My dad was wearing an expensive suit and tie, clearly brand new, and his shoes were freshly polished. His dark hair was thinning, but still stylishly cut, and his glasses were thin framed and light on his face. He smiled at me, the picture of condescending wealth.
“Of course I did, idiot. He was my dad.”
I snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s say hello to the family.”
He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “I haven’t seen you in a while, son. Aren’t you going to hug your old man?”
I’d rather fuck a snake in the mouth. “Don’t start this shit.”
He grinned. “Start what? I can’t hug my own son?”
I balled my fists, the tension flowing down my arms. I wanted so badly to hit him, maybe break his nose, get some good blood flowing. But my grandfather would have hated that. He was always trying to get me to reconcile with his son, and I kept telling him I would, especially toward the end.
But that was a lie, one of many I’ve told in my life.
Slowly, I let my breath out, and relaxed. “No, you can’t.”
Dad shrugged, still grinning. “You still hold a grudge, that’s fine. Just don’t be a little prick when I bury my dad,” he said.
Before I could give him my witty retort, which would have been something along the lines of “go fuck yourself you ancient-balled cocksucker,” he moved passed me and began to glad-hand the family. If I had to say one good thing about my dad, it would be that he knew how to work a room.
I took a few more deep breaths, and then joined him, shaking hands and pretending like I gave a shit that I hadn’t seen half of them in years. Pretending like they didn’t abandon me to that asshole.
Pretending like the only decent person in our entire family wasn’t lying in the coffin.
As the funeral ended, the flowers placed on the casket, the casket lowered into the dirt, the prayers said, my father offered to take the family out to eat. It was the least he could do, he said, since everyone made the trip out there.