It wasn’t so much that we bonded before. A majority of the time since puberty my father, who had largely ignored me in favor of whatever whore he was cheating on my mother that week, was spent clashing against everything about him - his demeanor, his morals and especially how he treated my mother after she finally left him the year before. The custody, demanding that I spend two weekends a month with him, left us with a series of awkward and bitter exchanges. Apparently the stream from which he picked up women had dried up (pardon me if I don’t cry a river) so to counteract this he would spend all of his time when home undressed either playing with himself or passed out from playing with himself. The behavior had long since gone from being embarrassing to annoying. If our relationship had been different until then I’d feel bad for him, but even the fact that he could get it up seemed like too much of a reward for him.
Still, having to see him naked became irritating, hand always on his dick and watching who knows what. Eventually, one weekend when I was 17, I’d finally had enough and had to at least comment instead of silently seethe in my room at his place.
“JESUS, man! How much does do you need to play with your dick? You can put it away when I’m over at least.”
My father wasn’t one to yell or ever even raise his voice, something I also found infuriating about him amongst the mountain of things, but instead responded in his usual crass demeanor.
“In my house, where you’re stuck for at least one more day, I can and will play with my self as often as I want. And there’s nothing. you. can do about it.”
Even then he refused to acknowledge me which just made me angrier. I then remember stalking over to him and glaring angrily while his eyes and expression met mine in a silent challenge. He was daring me to do something about it or to shut up for good. I tended to think that while I mostly inherited my mother’s demeanor, and thankfully her looks, that the stubbornness was all from him. This theory was deteriorating fast with each passing second though, as the longer he stared in my eyes the more calm he became and the more confused I was. What was he expecting?
Eventually he began to pump himself again and something in me snapped. I still am not sure what led me to the conclusion I reached but I somehow ended up on my knees before him. I expected to finally confuse him or at least make him truly angry but when I did start in on him there was silence. I felt his eyes bore into my skull but refused to acknowledge him until I flicked my tongue over his head.
Our eyes met and there was an odd sense of….. I’m not sure, but it certainly wasn’t the contempt from before. His hands found my head and ran through the hair I’d grown long to spite him and I continued diligently and silent. Something about all of this felt entirely too comfortable for my liking, like resolving this was what our real problem had been the whole time but the longer I did it the more that feeling dissipated.
He didn’t last long, but certainly longer than I would’ve imagined of him to be able to as several streams hit my bare chest and began to dribble south. Afterward, having cleaned myself up with a paper towel, I was ambushed (in a way) by him when I was making my way to the bedroom kept for me in his house. It wasn’t something I needed at the moment - how exactly does one process what I’d just decided to do, to my sleazy father of all people - but I couldn’t back down from the appreciative gaze that I was under. There was silence and a lot of loud breathing between both of us before the gap was closed and we were kissing. Who moved in first is impossible to remember but it was definitely his hand that dug my thickening shaft out of the mesh shorts I’d had on and rubbed our erections together.
When he came again, with my following soon after, the kiss was broken and he brought his pumping hand to his lips. He sucked the middle two fingers into his mouth before wiping the remainder onto my lips & walking back to the living room. Left there confused, I glanced in his direction before continuing to my original destination. The rest of the weekend was passed in similar understanding and I found myself doing things like walking around naked myself or masturbating where I knew he’d see me with neither of us saying a word about it.
All of this was last weekend and as my mother makes idle chat with me on the way back to his place, once we’ve turned down the block and I can see him waiting for us, for me, to arrive I am overcome with an odd mixture of both anticipation & slight disgust with a little, a lot of, confusion there as well. Mom kisses me goodbye and waves me off as she drives down the block while I wonder and worry what this sexual situation weekend will bring and try not to analyze the confusing & conflicting feelings battling inside my mind as I walk up the steps and close the door behind me.
(Source: baddogs, via daddydepot)
