. Rich’s hand smacking the shit out of the back of my head wakes me. “Bob? Hello?”“Dick!” I smack him back. “What?”“Open it already.”In front of me is a box. Okay, I’m a complete jackass; I’ve ignored everyone the whole meal. I open the box. It’s a nice pair of golf gloves and four passes to Dad’s golf club. Which, I gotta admit, is pretty cool. “Bradford, you play?”“I little. I mostly ride in the cart and drink beer.”“Good. We can let Dad and Dick here vie for the Master’s.” I clear my throat. “Look, sorry I’ve been a bit distracted tonight...” Cindy and Franc both snicker at that one and now I know Franc somehow planned all of this. “ ... but thanks. I really appreciate it. Next year’s on me.” Which is Rich and my ‘traditional’ toast, since Dad won’t let us pay, anyway. I try to pay attention to the conversation as dessert arrives and the waiters are convinced to skip the singing, but the incessant throbbing of my dick is driving me crazy. I love these people but if this meal. Peter had decided to surprise his parents and took an extra day out of his busy schedule to arrive home the day before the party. It was to be a surprise, he greatly anticipated the joyful shock on his mother's face when he came home early.An more mature younger self had bounded up these stairs and thrown open the door seven years ago, shouting, "Mom, Dad. I'm home!" just as he had done as a kid. A clatter of china in the dining room drew his attention, he swiftly crossed the living room to he great French doors that separated the rooms. Then he stopped cold, speechless.His father was setting the table, not a terribly unusual activity. But his father was doing so in a long, red skirt and white blouse. He wore a fluffy white wig - it had to be a wig because the old man was bald - on his head and there was the outline of a brassiere clearly visible through the blouse. He had tits, obscene mounds standing out from his chest."No. God no!" The strangled cry was wrenched from Peter's soul.
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