Last night my father and stepmother came over for dinner and I was reminded of yet another time when my siblings and I laughed uncontrollably at my dad’s expense. When my dad was in college, he was the pool manager at a country club. Apparently, he had a thing for a girl he worked with and had asked her to go horseback riding with him. They agreed to meet up the next day. My dad, AKA “Dave” or “Loin Beast”, put on a pair of his biggest bell bottoms, combed his sideburns, unbuttoned half of his collared shirt allowing a healthy mound of chest hair to protrude, put on his white patent leather boots and poured half a bottle of cologne on his crotch. I am quite certain he made finger guns and pointed them at himself in the mirror right before he left. With REO Speedwagon blaring from his light green Ford Pinto he went to meet up with his date. Clearly, my father was planning on getting himself some 70’s disco bush that day.
As they climbed onto their horses, my dad complimented his date’s perfectly feathered hair and hoped she noticed how the sunlight danced upon his chest pubes, making them seem longer and even more luxurious. Even though his junk was becoming chafed due to the saddle and his tight fitting pants, he was truly dazzling. The pungent smell of pheromones amidst the horse shit was simply intoxicating. Amazed at her cunning restraint, my father knew it was only a matter of time before his sexual prowess would bring this girl to a culminating frenzy. My God he was beautiful.
My dad decided that it was time to bring his date to a near climax by showing off his brilliant equestrian skills. He dug his heeled boots into his steed and pulled hard on the reins. Immediately, his horse took off running with my dad’s side burns slapping him across the face and a trace of his cologne left lingering in his dust. Unfortunately, neither the “stallion” nor the horse could anticipate the giant puddle that was before them. Before he knew what was happening, the horse fell and my dad landed in a pile of logs, covered in mud. My poor, poor dad, all that manscaping for nothing! No man has ever gotten a piece of ass wearing torn sequined jeans. Or so I thought……
Fast forward to the later years when the new rage was to trim excessive body hair and not listen to lame music; we were on one of our many family road trips to California. My teenage siblings and I were staring out the windows of the minivan, farting and periodically hitting one another when my dad decided to tell this story. He got to the very end and in an animated, feverish gusto described how “suddenly out of nowhere his horse went down on him!” Annnnnnnnnnnd once again, my siblings and I disintegrated into a state of hysterical laughter that lasted through all of Arizona and part of Nevada. The day wasn’t a total loss after all; my dad was such a fucking stud, the horse wanted him. XO