mitchman515
Forum Newcomer
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2010
- Messages
- 16
- Location
- Seattle, WA
Tyler woke up with raging morning wood. It was only five and half inches, on a good day, but you take what you can get. He'd had a couple girls laugh at him. But then again, he'd had a couple girls that didn't seem to give a shit, and he'd railed the fuck out of them. Pulling back the covers, he went to work on himself. His morning cigarette would have to wait.
Tyler's dad was in the next room pulling on his boots, about to leave for work, when he heard the gentle frap-frap-frap. Fucking paper-thin walls. Boys will be boys, but maybe if he spent less time masturbating and more time looking for work, they wouldn't have to be roommates anymore. Tyler was 21-- well past the age where you should be out on your own.
Tyler suppressed a moan as his back arced and his jizz shot up into the air and landed on his neck. He wiped it off with the first thing his hand could find, a white t-shirt. Time for that morning cig. Put on the white t-shirt, not really caring that he could feel the spot wet with his cum. Went to look for pants, and realized he'd come home last night and thrown everything in the washing machine and passed out before he could dry it. Fuck it. Went out to the patio with nothing but his cum stained shirt on and lit up. If anyone was looking, let 'em watch.
Tyler's dad was walking out the door when he caught sight of his half-naked son on the side-porch. Gave Tyler a quizzical look, Tyler just shrugged in response. Tyler's dad shook his head. Long past the point of caring about shit like this. Hell, long past the point of caring about baby-dick Tyler.
Tyler's dad brought a friend home after work. They sat and talked on the patio.
Over a beer or eight, with a cigarette in hand, the topic of conversation somehow came to murder. "What would it take for you to kill a man?" the fried asked.
"Depends on the guy. Some people I couldn't give two shits about really. Hell, Tyler? 50 bucks. I'll do it right here."
"Your boy?" The friend gestured with his thumb to open door to the living room, where Tyler was playing a video game. "Bullshit." The friend pulled out his wallet, slapped a Grant on the table. Didn't at all expect what was coming next. Too drunk to care enough to stop it.
"Tyler, get in here!" Tyler's dad yelled. The video game went silent. Tyler appeared a moment later. Tyler's dad stood up, handed his son his cigarette. "Finish this for me. Talk to my friend. I'll be right back."
Tyler obeyed.
"If today were your last day on Earth, what would you do with it?" the friend asked Tyler, suddenly morbidly curious.
"I dunno," Exhaling smoke. "Fuck a lot of bitches?"
Tyler's dad was coming back, crept up behind his son, showing off a long serrated butcher's knife to his friend. It glinted in the sunlight. Tyler's neck looked like no match for it.
"I don't think that's going to happen." the friend said with a grin.
Tyler's dad grabbed his son's hair. Brought the knife around to the front of his neck. Made three quick, vicious saws to the front of his throat. Didn't let go of his kid's hair. Used his free hand to try to keep Tyler's hands pinned at his side. Blood spraying everywhere. Tyler coughed and gurgled. Tyler's dad jerked the head back hard. Blood flooded from the gaping wound down the front of the body. The friend watched, giddy with excitement, splattered with blood.
Tyler made strange and funny sounds, music to his dad's ears. Convulsions wracked Tyler's body. HIs dad held on tight.
The struggles subsided. The body went limp. Tyler's dad dropped the corpse to the floor, and daintily plucked the $50 off the coffee table. "Rock paper scissors for clean-up duty?" He asked.
---
My Other Stories: Bad Dad | Trial Run
Tyler's dad was in the next room pulling on his boots, about to leave for work, when he heard the gentle frap-frap-frap. Fucking paper-thin walls. Boys will be boys, but maybe if he spent less time masturbating and more time looking for work, they wouldn't have to be roommates anymore. Tyler was 21-- well past the age where you should be out on your own.
Tyler suppressed a moan as his back arced and his jizz shot up into the air and landed on his neck. He wiped it off with the first thing his hand could find, a white t-shirt. Time for that morning cig. Put on the white t-shirt, not really caring that he could feel the spot wet with his cum. Went to look for pants, and realized he'd come home last night and thrown everything in the washing machine and passed out before he could dry it. Fuck it. Went out to the patio with nothing but his cum stained shirt on and lit up. If anyone was looking, let 'em watch.
Tyler's dad was walking out the door when he caught sight of his half-naked son on the side-porch. Gave Tyler a quizzical look, Tyler just shrugged in response. Tyler's dad shook his head. Long past the point of caring about shit like this. Hell, long past the point of caring about baby-dick Tyler.
Tyler's dad brought a friend home after work. They sat and talked on the patio.
Over a beer or eight, with a cigarette in hand, the topic of conversation somehow came to murder. "What would it take for you to kill a man?" the fried asked.
"Depends on the guy. Some people I couldn't give two shits about really. Hell, Tyler? 50 bucks. I'll do it right here."
"Your boy?" The friend gestured with his thumb to open door to the living room, where Tyler was playing a video game. "Bullshit." The friend pulled out his wallet, slapped a Grant on the table. Didn't at all expect what was coming next. Too drunk to care enough to stop it.
"Tyler, get in here!" Tyler's dad yelled. The video game went silent. Tyler appeared a moment later. Tyler's dad stood up, handed his son his cigarette. "Finish this for me. Talk to my friend. I'll be right back."
Tyler obeyed.
"If today were your last day on Earth, what would you do with it?" the friend asked Tyler, suddenly morbidly curious.
"I dunno," Exhaling smoke. "Fuck a lot of bitches?"
Tyler's dad was coming back, crept up behind his son, showing off a long serrated butcher's knife to his friend. It glinted in the sunlight. Tyler's neck looked like no match for it.
"I don't think that's going to happen." the friend said with a grin.
Tyler's dad grabbed his son's hair. Brought the knife around to the front of his neck. Made three quick, vicious saws to the front of his throat. Didn't let go of his kid's hair. Used his free hand to try to keep Tyler's hands pinned at his side. Blood spraying everywhere. Tyler coughed and gurgled. Tyler's dad jerked the head back hard. Blood flooded from the gaping wound down the front of the body. The friend watched, giddy with excitement, splattered with blood.
Tyler made strange and funny sounds, music to his dad's ears. Convulsions wracked Tyler's body. HIs dad held on tight.
The struggles subsided. The body went limp. Tyler's dad dropped the corpse to the floor, and daintily plucked the $50 off the coffee table. "Rock paper scissors for clean-up duty?" He asked.
---
My Other Stories: Bad Dad | Trial Run
