Draft: Outline for a future story - Making Lemonad
A father, not havin* seen his “son” in years peeks through the blinds of his apartment to see this:
Shocked, he stumbles over to the local bar and proceeds to get drunk and to tell the bartender what he saw. The bartender shrugs and says “well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
The guy sitting on the stool next to him chuckled, but it wasn’t until he was staggering home that he thought, “well, fuck me! Make Lemonade. What a mother fucker!” He had to admit it was darkly funny though as he kept thinking about the scene - His son. A bitch. Not only a bitch, but a bit to a black man! Fuck! And yet, he couldn’t get those words out of his mind, “Make lemondade. Make lemonade.” He made his way to his motel room and kept repeating the phrase over and over to himself until he fell asleep with the word “lemondade” barely audible on his lips.
The next day, depressed and hungover, he sat on a park bench, as he thought back to the images he saw through the blinds and kept replaying the scene he saw in his head. His son on all fours. The huge black cock. The way his son yelped “ayyyyy!,” as the cock was thrust into the deepest recesses of his son’s rectum. The way he turned around, as if to give him a better view. “Make lemondade,” he said aloud, only to find himself snapped back into consciousness, surprised that he said those words himself.
It wasn’t until that moment that he suddenly became aware of what had also been lingering just below the threshold of his consciousness. Shifting slightly on the bench he felt the scratchy fabric of his pants rub against his undeniable erection. “Damn it. he thought, “I’m turned on by the thought of my son being fucked!” But he was confused. Was it the fucking? Was it the BBC that looked so huge compared to his own small dick?
It was too much to bear, and so he soon found himself returning to the bar and sitting on the same stool with another hard drink in his hand. “Would you like some lemonade with your whisky, senor.” The bartender asked. “Huh? Oh.... No” He replied, “I’m okay. The whisky is good.” The same man that had chuckled at his plight the night before was also there, and before long he took pity on the father and said “Hey amigo. Don’t fret too much. The world is all mixed up these days. My own grandson turned out to be a faggot.” He offered to buy the next round.
“Yeah, well the world can kiss my ass!” the father said. “Here here!” was the reply. “Still, things could be worse” said the stranger, “If I had a daughter as good looking as your son, well, I might...” he trailed off. “How did he know what my son looks like?,” he thought.
“What exactly do you mean, amigo?” he said with a huff, trying to hold onto what little was left of his pride. “I mean if I had a daughter, er, I mean, son as good looking as yours, I’d be tempted to fuck her myself,” the stranger unabashedly replied. “Look, your son is well known in these parts. There is even a nickname for him, ‘La limonada” because she’s refreshing after a hard day of work... All the men in the men in the neighborhood talk about needing to go get a ‘limonada’ and we all know what they mean,” he said. “She comes in here regularly,” he added, “we all love to buy Coronas for ‘la limonada.’ It’s sure to get her going and she laughs about how beers always go better with limon.”
“Wow,” the father muttered, letting the words sink in.
“Have you been with my son?,” he asked. “Do you really want to know?” was the reply. “Si. Si. I want to know if that faggot son of mine at least is worth a damn!,” he said. The stranger drank down a gulp of his drink, looked at his watch pensively, then said “she’s the best cocksucker I’ve ever known. She truly enjoys sucking cock. If she learned that from her mother, you’re a lucky man.” “No, no, she didn’t learn that from my wife,” the father said, “my wife is very pious and not sexual at all.”
“And that ass,” the stranger continued without being prompted, “that ass feels so good against my cock. I can’t hardly wait till payday to pay her a visit...” “Okay, that’s enough,” the father said, shaking his head in disgust.
Perhaps it was the tequila again taking its toll, but he asked “would you really fuck her, I mean if she was your son?” “I would never leave that ass!” was the enthusiastic reply,”Hell, I’d quit my job and let her bring in all the money she wanted to earn!”
Shocked, he stumbles over to the local bar and proceeds to get drunk and to tell the bartender what he saw. The bartender shrugs and says “well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
The guy sitting on the stool next to him chuckled, but it wasn’t until he was staggering home that he thought, “well, fuck me! Make Lemonade. What a mother fucker!” He had to admit it was darkly funny though as he kept thinking about the scene - His son. A bitch. Not only a bitch, but a bit to a black man! Fuck! And yet, he couldn’t get those words out of his mind, “Make lemondade. Make lemonade.” He made his way to his motel room and kept repeating the phrase over and over to himself until he fell asleep with the word “lemondade” barely audible on his lips.
The next day, depressed and hungover, he sat on a park bench, as he thought back to the images he saw through the blinds and kept replaying the scene he saw in his head. His son on all fours. The huge black cock. The way his son yelped “ayyyyy!,” as the cock was thrust into the deepest recesses of his son’s rectum. The way he turned around, as if to give him a better view. “Make lemondade,” he said aloud, only to find himself snapped back into consciousness, surprised that he said those words himself.
It wasn’t until that moment that he suddenly became aware of what had also been lingering just below the threshold of his consciousness. Shifting slightly on the bench he felt the scratchy fabric of his pants rub against his undeniable erection. “Damn it. he thought, “I’m turned on by the thought of my son being fucked!” But he was confused. Was it the fucking? Was it the BBC that looked so huge compared to his own small dick?
It was too much to bear, and so he soon found himself returning to the bar and sitting on the same stool with another hard drink in his hand. “Would you like some lemonade with your whisky, senor.” The bartender asked. “Huh? Oh.... No” He replied, “I’m okay. The whisky is good.” The same man that had chuckled at his plight the night before was also there, and before long he took pity on the father and said “Hey amigo. Don’t fret too much. The world is all mixed up these days. My own grandson turned out to be a faggot.” He offered to buy the next round.
“Yeah, well the world can kiss my ass!” the father said. “Here here!” was the reply. “Still, things could be worse” said the stranger, “If I had a daughter as good looking as your son, well, I might...” he trailed off. “How did he know what my son looks like?,” he thought.
“What exactly do you mean, amigo?” he said with a huff, trying to hold onto what little was left of his pride. “I mean if I had a daughter, er, I mean, son as good looking as yours, I’d be tempted to fuck her myself,” the stranger unabashedly replied. “Look, your son is well known in these parts. There is even a nickname for him, ‘La limonada” because she’s refreshing after a hard day of work... All the men in the men in the neighborhood talk about needing to go get a ‘limonada’ and we all know what they mean,” he said. “She comes in here regularly,” he added, “we all love to buy Coronas for ‘la limonada.’ It’s sure to get her going and she laughs about how beers always go better with limon.”
“Wow,” the father muttered, letting the words sink in.
“Have you been with my son?,” he asked. “Do you really want to know?” was the reply. “Si. Si. I want to know if that faggot son of mine at least is worth a damn!,” he said. The stranger drank down a gulp of his drink, looked at his watch pensively, then said “she’s the best cocksucker I’ve ever known. She truly enjoys sucking cock. If she learned that from her mother, you’re a lucky man.” “No, no, she didn’t learn that from my wife,” the father said, “my wife is very pious and not sexual at all.”
“And that ass,” the stranger continued without being prompted, “that ass feels so good against my cock. I can’t hardly wait till payday to pay her a visit...” “Okay, that’s enough,” the father said, shaking his head in disgust.
Perhaps it was the tequila again taking its toll, but he asked “would you really fuck her, I mean if she was your son?” “I would never leave that ass!” was the enthusiastic reply,”Hell, I’d quit my job and let her bring in all the money she wanted to earn!”
7 years ago
