Chapter 2

After what Jasper coined 'Mastur-Gate 2013', there was a week plus of harassment. Yeah, my brother's an asshole. First thing the next morning he waltzed into my room asking if I had any lotion he could borrow. Hilarious. Then came the not-so-funny self-love jokes spread randomly throughout the week.

During breakfast: "Edward, have you ever wondered how masturbation and procrastination are similar? It's all fun and games until you realized you're only fucking yourself." I really could have done without his snort and knee slap.

Driving to school: "Hey, do you know how Pinocchio discovered he was made of wood? His right hand caught on fire."

Even I could admit that was funny, but I just glared at him.

At the dinner table: "I've often wondered, if you're right-handed but one day masturbate with your left, is it considered cheating?"

Jake followed that with "What's 'masturbate'?" Mom quickly changed the subject with a disapproving look for Jasper. He merely shrugged and told Jake he'd understand in a couple years.

Jasper was kind enough to tell me I should name my dick Lance after Lance ARMstrong. Hardy har har. I informed him that his name was actually Big Man or BM for short, thank you very much. When he finally stopped laughing he explained that BM was short for bowel movement. Naturally I thought he was shitting me (no pun intended) but nope, Dad confirmed it. Great, more ammunition for Jasper to use against me.

The last straw happened when we were driving home with both Rosalie and Bella in the car.

"Edward, what do you call a girl who likes a guy with a small dick? Your girlfriend."

Can you say 'mortified'? When we got home, I sucker punched him in the gut for that one.

"Enough with the jokes, ass-wipe. What's it going to take to get you to shut the fuck up about it already?"

"Fifty bucks."

"Nice try, asshole."

"Have I told you the story of the guy who masturbated so much—"

"Okay, okay! Fine!"

I paid Jasper his fifty bucks (pretty much all the money to my name) and hoped the incident would soon be forgotten.

Unfortunately, it wasn't. I swear if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all!

After dinner one night, I was blindsided by my own father. Well, stepfather, but you know what I mean.

"Edward, can I see you in my study?"

My mom skillfully avoided my eyes, while Jasper, Rosalie and Jake all immaturely 'ooh'ed'. Can't say I blame them – I totally would have done the same thing if it was someone else being called into the study. We all knew from experience that any discussions in there were uncomfortable at best.

Like when Jasper was ten and I was nine - he called me a loser and I told him to blow me. Mom overheard and demanded to know what I'd said. Of course I repeated it. I shrugged when she asked me if I knew what it meant. I didn't but I certainly did after ten minutes in the study with Dad. Funny how at the time I thought it was disgusting. Idiot.

Any time one of us kids were in trouble, our punishment and subsequent groundings were given in the study. Nothing good comes from being alone with Dad in there, trust me. There are times Mom's come out of there looking disheveled even. I suspected tonight would be no different so I started to BS my way out of it.

"It's, uh, my turn to clean up."

"I don't mind doing it again, bro." Jasper was so kind to volunteer. Fucker.

"I was going to ask Rosalie to help me with my math homework."

Considering she was sort of a numbers genius it was plausible.

"I can help you later, Edward, no worries." Fuck you very much, Rose.

"Actually, Dad, I promised Jake I'd shoot hoops after dinner."

"No you didn't."

"It was a surprise." I smiled at him sweetly but Dad wasn't buying it.

"Edward, now please."

You can't argue with that fatherly voice – believe me, I've tried. With a heavy sigh I followed him down the hallway.

"Please shut the door."

Ugh.

He sat down behind his desk and I eased myself into the chair opposite him. The leather creaked and was cold on my backside as I settled into it. I put my arms on the armrest first but that wasn't comfortable because they were too high for me. So I put my hands in my lap and folded them but that felt like I was praying. Finally, I wiped the sweat from my palms onto my jeans and looked up at Dad.

And he just stared back at me. He didn't say anything for a bit, just looked at me like he was studying me or trying to read my mind or something. It was freaking me out.

I drummed my fingers on my thighs and raised my eyebrows at him.

"Do you know why I called you in here?"

"I have no idea."

He leaned forward, fingers laced together on the desktop in front of him.

"It's about the other night."

I groaned. "Don't go there, please. I'm begging you."

"You said you're interested in girls. I believe you said you liked breasts and pornography."

I scrubbed my hands over my face. Although I appreciated him not saying boobs and porn, hearing either of those words from his mouth wasn't any better.

"And yet, you were clearly masturbating to pictures of the male reproductive system."

Oh fuck me.

"I wasn't!"

"Please, let me finish. This isn't easy for me either, son."

Despite my protests, he continued. I couldn't look at him. Instead, I focused on the Persian rug on the ground. The pattern swirled in circle after circle, blending red with gold and burgundy. As the circles were never ending, so was his lecture.

"I wasn't going to say anything but I can't get the image of you doing...that... while looking at a flaccid penis."

Confirmed: I was going to die a slow and tortured death.

"Edward, I truly believe people who are gay are born that way. Your mom and I always suspected you might be…different. You were always off in your own world, liked to play with Rosalie's dolls and Barbies."

And I did but that's because Barbie's hot. Long blonde hair, tiny waist, and big, perky boobs. Please tell me you can appreciate where I'm coming from because otherwise this is a tad awkward.

"And that's okay. We are okay with you being gay. In some states, Washington included, you will even be able to marry."

Seriously, I was preparing myself for him to break out one of those multicolored gay pride banners. Instead Dad kept talking. He went so far as to let me know my future husband and I could even look into surrogacy or adoption should we wish for children one day. For fucks sake, I'm fifteen. I don't want fucking kids. I want to get laid, sure, but I don't want to even think about having a baby – with a chick or a dude.

I shook my head because I had no words. Dad's mouth kept moving, as he droned on and on. I continued my assessment of the rug. It really was beautiful and I'm sure cost a fortune.

"You told us you aren't having sex but I'm sure, one day soon, the time will come. There are some things you should know before that happens."

From his desk drawer he pulled out props. Fucking props! I can't make this shit up, people. And not just any kind of props, though - he was equipped with a fully erect, condom clad penis and an ass. No, I don't mean a donkey. An actual ass. I wish I was shitting you - no pun intended. Dad turned it so the asshole was facing me. I dropped my eyes back to the rug, praying those never-ending circles could swallow me up.

"Now, son, I have some concerns and, as a doctor, I wouldn't feel right not addressing them. Before you engage in full-on anal intercourse, I would encourage you to try other pleasurable sexual acts involving the anus. First and foremost, lubricate to avoid risking a tear. Personally, I'd recommend KY or something similar."

The fact that he said 'personally' really disturbed me. Like, I'm going to need therapy, disturbing.

"Contrary to some reports out there butter, margarine, and olive oil are not good ideas either, even in a pinch."

I admit, for a brief moment I wondered why not and when I looked up to ask why, the asshole – not my Dad but the actual asshole – was staring right at me. I dropped my eyes back down.

"Just remember that - no food products for lubrication. Trust me."

'Trust me'? Gag me!

"Anyway, there are other fun things you can participate in before you go all the way. Pegging, anilingus, butt plugs, fingering and object insertion."

He brought out a pen and I thought he was going to write something down for me but instead he went to demonstrate 'object insertion.'

Remember that expensive Persian rug? Well, it was suddenly covered in vomit. My vomit. So much for Mom's amazing dinner of lasagna, garlic bread, and Caesar salad. What a waste of a great meal.

I retched and retched; projectile vomiting over the entire rug. Dad was by my side, comforting hand on my back, until I was left dry-heaving. Sure, now he gives a shit.

"Edward! Are you okay?"

"I told you I wasn't gay! That shit's nasty! Who does that? And what the hell is pegging? Never mind, I don't want to know. God!"

"I'm sorry. Honest, after seeing you with the biology book open to...that page...and touching yourself, your mom and I thought you were playing for the other team."

"I was jerking off to thoughts of Bella's tits and ass, not some guy's dick, okay? The book was a cover up."

"Not a good one."

"Thanks. That makes me feel tonnes better."

"So, you're really not gay?"

"Really? Gah!"

"Okay! I believe you, I'm sorry. Here." Dad passed me a glass of water and I downed it in a few gulps. He opened the window to let the stench out, then smirked at me.

"So, Bella huh?"

I held up my hand. "Don't you think I've been through enough tonight? Can I just go to my room?"

"I guess you're right. You can go."

"Thank you."

"Can you ask your mom to bring in the steam cleaner?"

"Uh huh."

"One more thing before you go, son."

I was fully expecting a heartfelt apology. Something along the lines of "I'm really sorry I've traumatized you for life."

I was wrong.

"What I was saying about anal play, it applies in heterosexual couples as well. Always lubricate and –"

I was trying hard to suppress the bile that was threatening to spew again.

"Yeah, never mind. We'll have this talk again in a few years." His grin was sickening and his wink downright disgusting.

"No, we won't. You will never mention anal sex, or anilingus, or pegging, or any of that other nasty shit again. Ever! Promise me right now!"

Dad rolled his eyes. "It's human nature to be curious about things. You may find you like –"

I plugged my fingers into my ears. "Shut up! Just shut up!"

I stomped down the hall, mumbled to Mom that Dad needed the steam cleaner and shut myself in my room for the remainder of the night. I had a feeling my college fund was going to be spent on psychologists and medication.

Sprawled on my bed, I grabbed a pen and wrote in my journal.

What started out as Mastur-Gate 2013

And included many jokes about my peen

Got worse when my parents thought I was gay

And then Dad went on to explain all about ass play.

I puked all over their Persian rug

When he mentioned a butt plug.

I have no idea what pegging is

But I bet it wouldn't make me jizz.

My ass will always be uncharted territory

End of fucking story!

Thanks for reading. I hope you'll leave a review. They make this tired momma smile.