Page 40 of Mountain Daddy

The name, Joe’s Custom Furniture, is lame, but accurate. And Dad’s managed to take some great photos of his finished pieces, so I have a surprising amount to work with.

Considering it’s Friday night and I’ve only been at it for one week, I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job.

The video continues, demonstrating how to use the automated tracking software for shipping orders, and by the time the tutorial is done, I accept I’ll need to watch it again on Monday. Because my mind has strayed.

Strayed to the one topic that keeps pulling my attention.

Luther.

I can’t stop thinking about him.

And I can’t stop wondering if it’s a good or terrible idea to try to sneak away to the Inn this weekend.

Closing my laptop, I push back from the desk.

I turn the lights off as I exit the room, then head down the hall to my bedroom.

Dad’s bedroom, with an attached bathroom, is on the opposite side of the house. With the combined kitchen, living, and dining room between us.

My side of the house has a short hall with the office first, then the guest bathroom, a.k.a. my bathroom, then my bedroom. So basically, I have my own wing of the house.

It’s about as ideal a layout as I could ask for.

I wasn’t lying. I did set my alarm for tomorrow morning, but I’m not thrilled about it.

Which makes me feel like an asshole, because Dad has been nothing but accommodating.

But I’m not interested in getting up early to have breakfast with him and his old man bestie before they go out fishing for the day.

I want to sleep in.

I want to spend my Saturday rotting in bed.

But I’ll get up, and I’ll make the pancakes, because I know it’s important to my dad.

And it’ll be fine. I’m great at first impressions and can small talk with the best of them.

Fingers crossed this Rocky guy isn’t a bore.

Chapter 18

Luther

I shovemy truck door closed, then place my hands on my lower back and stretch.

Per usual, I didn’t get a great night’s sleep. But this time, it was possibly more of my own doing than Mother Nature’s. I just can’t stop thinking aboutthat night.

Can’t stop thinking aboutthat girl.

Can’t stop thinking about the image ofherwith her tits squished around my dick and her lips around my tip.

Can’t stop myself from jerking off to the memory of her.

And when I lay in bed last night, another hour going by with sleep eluding me, I jerked off again.

None of that was helped by my old ass waking up at six.

I was half tempted to rub one out again this morning, but with my luck, I’d actually pass out and miss breakfast with Joe.