Your cock is beautiful – 25

“Wow, you really know your stuff.” Bob said approvingly.

“That’s what I’m always telling you!” Dad suddenly interjected. “Both of my kids have got experience with work, and it’ll serve them well in future!”

“Oh, here we go…” I said, while Stella rolled her eyes.

“You see,” he began “When Susan and I got out of college, we didn’t know the first thing about looking after ourselves…”

Stella suddenly stepped in, mimicking his voice,

“We didn’t know how to clean, how to cook…”

I joined in for the last line,

“Couldn’t even boil an egg!” we said, laughing.

“Alright, alright.” Mom said, “We know you know this story, but it’s important.”

We had heard this a lot. As I’ve said before, our parents always taught us that being independent and competent was important. We did our own laundry, learned to cook meals for ourselves, and were encouraged to work through the summer. This story was told to us in some form or another every time we complained about having so much responsibility, so yeah… we’d heard it a lot.

“I’ve never heard this.” Mia suddenly said from across the table.

“Well, why don’t you tell it to her then.” said Dad, looking at Stella and I.

I sighed.

“Basically, these two were both from fairly well-off families.” I started, wanting to get this over with, “They were coddled their whole lives, met in college and coasted through it. They graduated engaged, but had no idea how to get a job, look after a car, balance a checkbook…”

“Even when they got married they didn’t really know what they were doing.” Stella stepped in, “But when they decided to have us, they knew they had to get their shit together.”

She gasped suddenly,

“I mean… get their act together.” she corrected, although no one had chastised her for the slip.

“Anyway, long story short, we’re paying for their mistakes.” I finished.

“It’s not like that…” Dad said.

“We really had no idea what we were doing.” said Mom, “I mean, when we moved out here to have the kids, most of our stuff was still packed up from moving into our first apartment! We didn’t want to rely on our parents, but we couldn’t really look after ourselves either…”

“We promised each other that our kids would never turn out that way.” Dad said, “That they would know everything they needed to know before moving out. We always told them, grades are important, but learning how to hold down a job is more important.”

“Being independent is important.” Mom agreed. “For example, we gave them an allowance, but told them that if they wanted a car they’d have to earn the money themselves. They did, and now together they own that car. Despite how much money my Father makes, a car is more than I ever really owned at that age.”

There was a pensive silence.

“So… how many jobs have you had?” Mia asked me, I think speaking directly to me for the first time that night.

“Um… like a dozen, maybe?” I said, “Three or four, part-time, every summer since I was about 15…”

“Well, he overdoes it.” said Stella, “I usually have one or two every summer.”

“Wow… I’ve never even had one job…” she said, looking ashamed.

There was a slight, uncomfortable pause.

“Yeah, but, you’re going to be Valedictorian, right?” I asked. “I mean, you probably already know what you’re going to college for.”

“Yeah…” she said, “I’m going to be a lawyer.”

I smiled. That suited her perfectly, I thought. Spending all day aggressively and intelligently arguing with people? That was her all over.

“Well, there you go.” I said, “That takes more work than whatever I’ll probably end up doing. You can figure the other stuff out when you come to it.”

“Exactly.” Bob chimed in, “Being independent is important, sure, but my little girl’s going to the best school in the country to be a lawyer, isn’t that right honey?”

“Right.” she smiled, although she was still looking at me.

The parents debated their various teaching styles for another ten minutes before the conversation moved on.

Half an hour later I excused myself to go to the bathroom down the hall. I didn’t hear her following me, but Mia slipped in behind me and closed the door.

“Can I help you?” I asked, turning to her.