Birthday Suit

Birthday Suit

Whitey Tightie UnderwearOne Thursday evening, I brought my then-love interest Amy home to dine with my parents in Southlake. Because they were early-rising farm folk, my mom and dad both went to bed soon after dinner, leaving Amy and I to our own devices.

The two of us retreated to the den and sat in front of the boob tube. Fortunately it was far from “must-see-TV” that night, so we turned our attention to one another instead. Copious amounts of making-out ensued.

It’s important to note our positions. We both sat on the floor in the middle of the living room. I faced the large opening between this room and the main hallway connecting all the others in the house. Amy faced the other way, towards the back wall.

As we were macking down, I spied my father walking down the hallway. He was heading towards the kitchen — completely naked.

For as long as I could remember, my dad has slept in his birthday suit. And since we were mere peasants in the house for which he is king, it’s my guess that he didn’t feel a need to slap on some trunks before strolling around his realm. Dad must have been tired, because he lumbered past, scratching himself and lightly groaning without acknowledging our presence.

Unfortunately, it was at this point we were hitting the sexual equivalent of the 12-minute pause in conversation. Amy pulled back to relax, stare dreamily into my eyes, or something. A light noise emanated from the kitchen, and she turned her head to investigate.

Desperate to avoid the horror of having to tell people that we broke up because my nature-boy of a father, I jumped to action without hesitation. Reaching up with both my hands, I forcibly turned her head to face me and proceeded to lock lips once again. The last thing I saw before unleashing my romantic fury were her eyes grow as big as saucers. With tongue, suction, and all, I was determined to keep her attention completely on me for as long as it took for my father to vamoose.

Three freakin’ minutes later, complete with rooting for whatever midnight snack he was driven to consume, dad eventually returned to his bedroom and Amy was eventually able to breathe. As we resumed enough of a distance that we could actually see one another, it was obvious that Amy was stunned. She stared at me, slack-jawed, one eyebrow arched in disbelief, her expression unbroken by the slow rise of her hand to wipe the drool dribbling from her mouth.