The only thing that seemed right was my easel on which stood my latest painting.I’d worked slowly on the oil painting. It wasn’t dry yet, but I ke...t a cloth over it, held away so it didn’t touch the wet paint. I wasn’t ready for my parents to accidentally walk in and see it. Still, I could see clearly in my mind’s eye what was on that canvas.I’d gone through my parents’ music collections and ripped all their Broadway musical CDs. Then I’d started on opera. I’d never been a great fan of opera,. When he finished, he reclined like he had been earlierand I laid down with my head on his thigh. I noticedthat his erection would not go away so I turned my headso that I was looking right at it. The head was purpleand his shaft was veined and must have been as bigaround as a coke bottle. His balls were the size oforanges. “Son, you’re hung like a racehorse!”He cleared his throat and tried to excuse himself tohis bedroom. I said, “I know what you’re going to do. More

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