Date: Fri, 08 Jul 2022 21:01:23 +0000
From: penisfancy <penisfancy@protonmail.com>
Subject: Dad Was a Drunk

Hi guys, this is my first time posting to nifty, so be kind.  I wrote this
story up on 4chan once a long time ago and I've been getting into reading
stuff here and thought I'd contribute so I changed it out of greentext
format and here it is.  I'm at penisfancy@protonmail.com if you have
thoughts or want to reach out.  Please donate to nifty at
https://donate.nifty.org (they do such amazing work and they deserve our
support)

All the usual disclaimers apply -- 18+, this is fiction (wink).  Thanks for
reading!

**************

I was an awkward, twinky boy, the kind of kid that can't really hide his
gayness even though he tries, and I got bullied a lot for it. I tried to
stick with the other weirdos, but nobody at my school really showed any
interest in me. I was a pretty unhappy kid.

My dad works at an oil refinery driving trucks.  He's solidly blue collar,
and he never really knew what to make of me.  He was kind of an alcoholic,
drank whisky most nights around dinner and was drunk by 9 or 10.

By day, we mostly avoided each other.  I smoked a lot of weed alone in my
room and listened to music and jerked off constantly.  When he was sober,
he was nice to me, and just kind of bewildered by me I think.  When he was
drunk, he could get angry and he'd bitch and moan about me smoking weed.  A
couple times he went through my stuff and threw out my stash and we'd yell
back and forth for a while.  At some point, the arguments got a little
physical.  He'd slap me when we were yelling, or he'd push me into my room
and slam the door, nothing too bad.

I know it's fucked up, and it sounds fake, but I loved those fights.  It
was the only time dad seemed like he cared about me really at all, and
getting him worked up made me feel less worthless.  And honestly, they
turned me on a little.  I would act more angry than I was to get him going,
and when he'd shove me I'd get a little hard.  Of course, the whole thing
made me insanely embarrassed and consumed with shame.

Something about the combination of having no real friends and spending all
my time in our little house with him made me lose perspective and it all
started to feel like a game.  I'd push things a little further bit by bit,
like when he'd go to shove me towards my room, I'd step towards him, and go
a little limp, so he'd have to grab me in a hug instead and carry me to my
room, or I'd pretend I was going to bed and then come out with just a
t-shirt on with my dick out and pick a fight so he'd yell at me and push me
around while my junk was out.

I barely ever saw dad totally naked.  At home he was mostly in boxers and
undershirts.  He was kind of fat-fit, and he was super hairy on his chest
and legs, but totally hairless on his back and ass.

I don't think I was ever really horny for my dad, I think I just got into a
weird headspace about it because he was basically the only person in my
life.  I was lonely and had just gone through puberty and I felt like I was
the only gay boy in the world.  I think dad was kind of in the same boat:
he had buddies at work, but he rarely saw them or anybody else at night,
and he was a drunk.  The flirty fighting was like a game where the prize
was human connection.  He never flirted back, just fought with me in his
drunken way.

I remember when things changed.  It was because I had a favorite teacher at
school.  He was an English teacher, the kind that made all the weirdo kids
feel like they were noticed, and I wrote a story for his class about being
lonely and in my stupid 9th grade way, I felt like I was bearing my soul to
him. But then the paper came back with a B on it, and no comments or notes,
and it was dumb but I felt completely devastated, like I had thought this
teacher was going to be a friend to me and now he wasn't.  And that night
my dad was already drinking when I got home, and we got into it right away
and kept picking at each other all night and he was pretty drunk.  At one
point he grabbed my wrist and turned it until it hurt bad, and later he
smacked the back of my head and it surprised me and hurt and I was getting
more pissy and started whining about his drinking.

I remember I yelled at him that he was a failure and he should drink
himself to death, and he pushed me up against the kitchen wall and grabbed
my throat and it was the scariest moment I'd had with him.  He looked at me
like he was disgusted and he was breathing hard and then he let go of my
throat and backed off and sat down.

He'd never seemed like he was really trying to hurt me when we'd fight, so
I was shocked and my heart was beating out of my fucking chest.  I remember
being weirdly in tune with my body.  Not exactly like I was horny, just
that clarity that comes sometimes in intense moments, and I felt very
alive.

I was wearing these old adidas jogging pants that rode up and were bunched
up in my ass crack, and I remember thinking about how the fabric felt
against my thighs.  Your mind does weird things in stressful moments.

I realized my dad was shaking like he was crying and I suddenly felt this
surge of guilt and sadness, for him and for me too I guess.  I went over to
the table where he was sitting and tried to give him a hug, kind of
awkwardly from the side.  I remember I suddenly felt exhausted, and I felt
like I needed to sit down or I might fall and the closest thing was a
stepping stool so I pulled it under me and sat down next to him.  He was
slumped forward and he looked defeated and hopeless and he was just staring
down at his lap.  The stool was lower than his chair, so I was hugging him
from the side and my left arm was behind the back of the chair and my right
arm was around his belly.  I had my face pressed against his chest, and I
felt like I was going to start sobbing so I was taking short little gasps.

I was looking down and I could see over my arm down to dad's shorts.  His
legs were spread and his boxers were stretched so there was a dark space
where his fly was pulled open and we stayed there for what seemed like five
minutes just breathing hard.  At some point he put his hand on my back, not
rubbing, just kind of laid it there, between my shoulders.

When he put his hand on me, I realized my head was kind of rocking up and
down and it was because my dad was breathing really hard so I turned my
head around so I was looking up at his face and he was looking down at me.
His eyes were red and wet but they were wide open and his mouth was a
little open so I could see the edges of his front teeth and I remember that
I could see a little spit vibrating on his lip as his breath went in and
out.

I don't know how to describe it except to say a stupid cliché- there
was this intense electricity in the air, both because my body was so on
edge -- I could feel every damn inch of it -- but also from his anger and
his sadness.  All of a sudden it felt like something broke, like I had
fallen through the ice, and I was moving really fast.  I moved my arm down
so my forearm pressed against his dick through his boxers.  I knew it was
going to be hard.  I dunno how I knew -- I couldn't see it when I was
facing his crotch -- but I fucking knew it and I was right.  It was hard
and it was pressed downward so my arm was against the top of his shaft.

I rubbed my arm along the top of his dick and pulled the stool towards him
with my other hand and then I was fumbling in the fly of his boxers and
then his dick was out of the fly and sticking up towards my face and we
were both looking down at it and then my hand was wrapped around it and I
was pumping.

I remember feeling like I was in a crowded subway train There was a rushing
sound in my ears and I felt like there was chaos all around me even though
we were alone in our grubby little kitchen. I was laser focused on his cock
and I was tugging at it and even though I wasn't touching myself I was rock
hard and I felt like I was stroking my own dick, like if I stroked it
enough I'd make myself cum.

I remember that my dad's hands were gripping the seat of the chair on
either side of him so hard that his knuckles were white and he was saying
`god damnit god damnit' over and over and I was moaning by accident, just
making an ahhhh noise each time I let a breath out.

It was fast, probably a minute, and all of a sudden he sat up straighter in
the chair and his dick slipped out of my hand and I thought he was trying
to stop me so I looked up and his eyes were clamped shut and when I looked
back down I realized his dick was jerking and the first spurt of cum was
already on his shorts, so I grabbed his dick again and I felt it pulse out
the rest of his nut and let it dribble down my fingers.

I felt like I might pass out.  My head was swimming and my skin felt hot
and then I was crying and there were tears streaming down my face and I got
up and ran up the stairs to my room and locked the door.  I lay down on my
bed on my back and shook and sobbed for a few minutes and then got quiet
and listened to see if my dad would come and try to talk to me, but he
didn't.  My boner was gone and I was completely drained and I ended up
feeling totally blank.  Not sad or happy or horny or angry, just blank, and
eventually I fell asleep.

After that incident in the kitchen, we went into kind of a bad period.  I
was intensely embarrassed and nervous that I had really damaged my
relationship (such that it was) with my dad. I felt totally sure that the
next time we spent any time together it would be revealed that he was
disgusted by me now, and I didn't want to find out so I avoided him. I
didn't have any friends to hang out with to keep me out of the house, so I
remember taking long walks around the neighborhood at night, and I resorted
to climbing in through my bedroom window so as not to run into dad in the
house.  He'd knock on my door and say goodnight sometimes, and I'd yell
good night through the closed door.

This went on for a couple weeks and I was honestly kind of a nervous
wreck. The problem was that I missed the fuck out of him. I felt lonelier
than I'd ever felt, and I had constant dreams where he was just hugging me.
All I wanted was some affection, and some confirmation that we were ok, but
I was sure he wouldn't give me any so I stayed away from him.  It got to
the point where I was crying myself to sleep.  Also, I stopped fantasizing
about anything else, and I started just thinking about dad when I jerked
off, which was a few times a day.

One night he was drunk and he banged on my door and said something like
`dude its time to talk come out' and I stayed quiet. I thought if he asked
about it later I could say I had my headphones on and didn't notice.  He
got mad and banged on the door a few times and cussed at me and then went
away for a while but maybe an hour later he slammed something against the
door so hard my desk shook and I jumped, and then I heard him stomping down
the hall and then a bottle smashed against my door and I could hear the
glass falling all over the hall.

I want to stop for a second and say that I'm worried that this story makes
my dad seem like a bad dad and I want you to know that he did raise me and
took care of me and I don't have hard feelings. Every parent is complicated
and he did his best.

Anyway, the morning after that I woke up early and I tiptoed out and
cleaned up the glass and then bolted out the door to school before he woke
up but I kept saying to myself that I had to talk to him or at least see
him because I missed him so god damn much, so after school I went home and
his car was in his space and I started shaking I was so nervous but I went
in the front door.  He was in the shower and I wanted to just go in my room
and lock myself in but I stayed out and I made a roast beef sandwich which
was his favorite and put it on the coffee table in front of the tv and
waited in there. I remember that kids show where ringo star played a tiny
train conductor was on the tv.

When he got out of the shower he knew I was home because the tv was on but
he went right into his room and was in there for a few minutes and when he
came out he was dressed.  He came in and paused in the doorway and looked
at me and at the sandwich and had a kind of serious look, and then he came
over to me and I stood up and started to tell him a story about being busy
at school and then he slapped me hard across the face.  It hurt like hell
and it surprised me and the first thing I thought to do was apologize more
but my face stung and I was mad so I stayed quiet and we just looked at
each other for a few seconds and then he said "son, don't you do that shit
again."

I wasn't sure if he meant stroking his dick or avoiding him or both, but I
thought that if he was telling me not to do it again then he was going to
give me another chance and I know it sounds stupid but I was so relieved
that he wasn't kicking me out that my face got all hot and I started
crying.  For a minute we just stood there with me shaking a little and
crying but trying to hold it in and him just looking at me, but then he
stepped forward and gave me kind of a stiff hug. he was still way taller
than me so my face went between his pecs and his arms went around my
shoulders.  I totally lost It and sobbed hard, just standing there with my
arms at my sides, but he kept hugging me. Not hard, and still standing
really stiff, but I was so lonely and it was some caring from him and it
felt like a big release.

Honestly, I've never been great at knowing when enough's enough.  Now that
the door was back open with him, I didn't want to lose him again, so the
whole rest of the afternoon I stayed right by him. We watched tv sitting
next to each other on the couch and I remember when he got up to get a
whisky in the kitchen I went with him and when he went to the bathroom I
went too, and pretended I needed to get something in my room and that's why
I was following him down the hall. I think he was a little irritated but a
little relieved too, and I was so glad to be back to some kind of
relationship with him that I felt like I was floating on air. I was careful
not to stare at him and not to touch him because I wanted to show him that
I wasn't a pervert except at one point I fell asleep next to him on the
couch and then woke up leaning against his arm and I immediately moved.

Later we moved the ottoman against the couch and spread out. It was one of
those L shaped sectionals with an ottoman that fits in the crook of the L
to make it so you can stretch out and we were watching an old twilight zone
marathon and I fell asleep again and when I woke up my dad was asleep
facing away from me. I didn't want to wake him up so I thought I should
just go to my room to sleep but I was so high from having such a nice
afternoon with him that I didn't want it to end so I just turned away from
him so we were back to back and fell asleep again.

When I woke up it was the morning, but early, and the tv was off so dad
must have woke up and turned it off and he'd thrown off his jeans too and
they were balled up on the floor.  He was asleep in his t-shirt and boxers
and he was spooning me. it felt amazing to be in his arms and I stayed like
that for probably 20 minutes while he slept. I would have traded anything
in the world to be not wearing pants, but I couldn't take them off without
waking him. Eventually he snorted and woke up and rolled away and then got
up and went into his bedroom.

I think it was his little gesture of deciding to stay and sleep with me on
the couch, but whatever it was I was happy all day for the first time in
weeks. I rushed home after school hoping he'd be home but he wasn't, so I
waited all afternoon and into the night. I think I cleaned up, probably
jerked off, passed the time like a teenager.  Eventually I got a worried
and I think I paced around and was generally stewing, but by the time he
stumbled in at midnight I'd fallen asleep on the couch.

I woke up when he came in and I guess it was the high from yesterday and
then the let down of tonight but I was pissed off. I started hassling him
about drinking and he started yelling and we were back at it.

He was drunk enough that he was slurring and I don't know why but I felt
like I was a little kid having a tantrum and I completely lost control and
screamed FUCK YOU over and over and then went to storm off but as I was
walking out he shoved me hard in my back and I fell forwards onto the floor
on my face and hit my forehead.

I'm sure he didn't mean for that to happen, and I got back up to my knees
and he knelt down behind me and hugged me from behind and all the anger
went out of me and I leaned back against him and I could feel that he was
hard in his jeans and then he stood up still hugging me so he picked me up
from behind and kind of pivoted to the right and put me down on my stomach
on the table so that I was bent over the table in front of him.

I was scared and excited and didn't know what to expect so I just lay there
with my eyes screwed shut and for a second I thought he'd left but then I
heard him whisper 'shit' and then his belt unbuckling and then he was
leaning against me and I could tell that his dick was pressed against the
back of my pants and then he lay down so that all of his weight was on me
and it took my breath out of me.

I was wearing sweatpants and I tried to reach back and pull them down but I
could only get them half way down my ass because of his body on me so that
only the top of my crack was out and I could feel the head of his dick
sliding up and down against it.  He was breathing hard and grunting in my
ear and each time he leaned in it forced the breath out of me so I gasped
in a breath when he pulled back and we were in a sort of rhythm.

It was quick again, probably 20 thrusts and then he leaned in and collapsed
on top of me and I could feel his dick jerking against the top of my crack
and then the warmth of his jizz against my lower back. My heart was beating
fast and I was panting and suddenly my nose was filled with the smell of
alcohol on his breath.  Also my cock was rock hard and was pressed against
the wood table and it hurt.  I took a few breaths and got a little scared
and then I realized that he was breathing more evenly and he'd fallen
asleep on top of me.

It took all my strength but I wriggled out from under him and backed away.
I remember thinking he looked funny and pathetic bent over the table with
his pants around his legs and his ass out and then I thought that that's
how he had me a minute ago and felt confused and a little nauseous but I
went to the bathroom and got in the shower and my dick was still stiff and
pointing up at the ceiling and I stroked off in the shower and then went to
bed. he must have woken up at some point in the kitchen and gotten himself
to bed and in the morning he slept through breakfast and I went to school.

I had a day at school and it was ok. I don't know why, but I wasn't freaked
out that day. I wondered what was going on with him, if he'd be happy or
weird, distant or warm, when I got home, but I didn't obsess about it. I
remember feeling a little less vulnerable to the other kids, a little less
lonely, like I had something going on that was bigger than the shit at
school.  I went right home after school and got there before dad was done
at work, so when he got home I was up in my room and he yelled up for me to
come down. He sounded a little harsh, or maybe a little nervous, and it
made me get scared, but I was still feeling kind of confident, so I went
down and smiled at him and said "what's up?"

I was trying to let him know that if he wanted to pretend that nothing
happened I was ok to do that, but he told me to sit down and then he
launched into a kind of circular lecture.  He wasn't drunk, and he was
calm, so the whole thing felt serious and landed on me hard. He didn't talk
about the stuff we'd done together, but he talked about women and how much
he missed having one in his life, and how hard it was to date when you have
a kid, and he said that sometimes he worried that I needed to see a shrink,
but he couldn't afford it.

When he was done, I felt like shit, and even remembering it now I still
feel kind of pissed that he wanted me to think that his messing around with
me was only because he was lonely and his loneliness was my fault. I know
he was confused and embarrassed and upset, but jeez, that wasn't a very
courageous approach to what was going on.

At the time I didn't have the tools to really understand what was up, and I
sure as hell didn't have the self-confidence to believe that it wasn't my
fault, so I just kind of crumpled and I remember mumbling that I was
sorry. I went up to my room, and I felt like I wanted to disappear.

I remember thinking that my dad was the only person who liked me and if I
was hurting him I had to go away, and I even thought that maybe I'd just
wander out into the woods so I didn't have to be around people, maybe
forage for food or whatever.

After a while I heard dad leave the house, and I remember thinking that I
couldn't leave without saying goodbye because then he wouldn't know why I'd
left and he'd be worried, so I ate dinner and watched TV and ended up
falling asleep on the couch.

I woke up when he came in and it was the middle of the night, and I was
groggy and a little disoriented but then I remembered the conversation from
earlier, and I remembered my plan and I felt this overwhelming surge of
dread like I couldn't count on anything in the world, and I almost started
crying but I got up and turned off the tv and before he said anything I
launched into this monologue about how I was going to go away and it was
going to be best for both of us and he shouldn't worry because I could take
care of myself. A few seconds in I realized that (of course) he'd just come
from the bar and he was drunk, but he was just staring at me and I'd
already started so I finished off my speech and then we stood there looking
at each other for a minute, and his mouth was a little open and his eyes
were wet and I couldn't tell if it was from tears or because he'd been
drinking.

I realized I hadn't thought about what he might say after I announced I was
going. I thought he was going to say goodbye, or maybe he was going to yell
at me, but he didn't say anything for a long time, long enough that I
started to feel awkward and I was going to say something else, and then I
saw that his lip was shaking and he started to say my name and his voice
broke and he closed his mouth, and I got a huge lump in my throat too, and
then he kind of mumbled really fast "please don't go"

And then we stood there looking at each other for another few beats, and
then he sort of took a half step towards me and stumbled a little and went
down to his knees so he was kneeling.  It was the most powerless I'd ever
seen him. I remember him kind of clasping his hands in front of himself and
kneeling on his knees on the floor and looking at me, and his eyes were red
and wet and he said it a couple more times.

And I knew if I said anything I was going to lose it and start sobbing so I
went over to him and hugged him. When he was on his knees he was about my
same height, and he hugged me back and then he tried to get up and he
stumbled again and I knew he was pretty drunk, so I turned around so we
were facing the same direction and put his arm over my shoulder and we
walked together up to his room and he sat on the edge of his bed and I sat
next to him and we just sat there breathing for a little bit and then I
looked at him and he looked at me and I could tell he loved me and he
didn't really think it would be better if I was gone, and I wanted to say
that I loved him, but we weren't talking and I was embarrassed so we just
sat there a little more, and then he kicked off his shoes and I took his
jacket and brought it downstairs to the coat rack and when I went back up
he had taken off his pants and was laying with his eyes closed in his
t-shirt and boxers and I was about to go to my room but I wanted so bad to
stay near him and be close to him so I went over and stood next to the bed
and he kind of opened a bleary eye and reached an arm out and I went closer
and he gave me a sort of side hug with the one arm, and then pulled me onto
the bed so that I was laying with him and he was hugging me.

I swear it wasn't sexual, it was just a hug and it was the kind of
closeness I needed so bad and I know he did too and we just lay there and
eventually he fell asleep.  He was spooning me and had his right arm over
me and I was sort of sitting right down against his lap and his head was
behind mine and I could feel his breath on the top of the back of my hair
and I just lay there feeling his breathing and eventually I guess I fell
asleep.

I woke up later, I think it was just starting to get light, not light
enough to really see anything, but you could tell it was about to be
morning, and for a minute I didn't know where I was. I don't think I'd ever
slept in my dad's bed before, and when I woke up I was looking at his
nightstand and all I could see was the back of his clock and for the
longest time I couldn't tell what it was.

But it all came back, and I realized it was his room and we hadn't moved at
all - he was still spooning me and breathing on my head and his arm was
around me and I could smell his sweat from his right pit which was near my
face and I felt sweaty and hot, the way you do when you've slept wedged up
against someone for a long time, and it felt great.  He was still asleep
and his arm, which was draped over me, was over my arm, so my arm was
pinned to my side and my hand was in my shorts cupping my junk.  I wasn't
jerking it, I just had my hand in there. I don't know if you guys do this,
but I sleep with a hand in my pants sometimes for the warmth and the
comfort of it.

So I started squeezing it a little, and I was still sort of half asleep,
and I felt safe and warm and I could feel dad behind me and pretty soon I
was hard as a rock.  I wasn't going to stroke myself because I didn't want
him to wake him up, but you know how it gets in the morning, and it felt
good to be holding it.  I couldn't feel him against my butt and I was
curled up with my knees bent, so I slowly straightened my legs and wiggled
back against him a little bit and then I felt that he was hard and it was
right against my upper thigh.

I had that feeling you get when you've just woke up where it feels like you
could slip back into a dream, and I definitely wasn't fully rational or I
wouldn't have done it, but I moved my hips up and managed to get my shorts
down a little so my dick was out in my hand and my ass was bare and then I
just lay there for a couple minutes, with his hardness in his shorts pushed
up against my bare thigh just below my butt.

And then he sniffled a little and he bent his left knee, the leg that was
on top, and pushed it forward which pushed my top knee forward and then we
were laying with him pushed up against me and I felt totally enveloped by
him and I realized that his dick was out of his fly

I'm almost sure, remembering this, that he really was asleep. I know it
sounds a little too coincidental, but I think that's really how it
happened.

He was out and I could feel it against my skin and it was pointing up so it
was flat against his belly and the bottom of it was pressed up against me
and it was against my right buttcheek so it was like I was sitting on it.
I started to get that almost nauseous feeling you get when you're too
turned on and I felt dizzy.  Everything was moving slowly and I was trying
to savor it and remember it for later.  Eventually I sort of carefully
bucked my hips forward for a second and let his dick fall to our left
towards the bed a couple inches and when I moved back it was right in my
crack.

I know it's not sexy, but I remember so clearly that I was worried I might
throw up. Not because I was sick but because the whole thing was so
overwhelming.

We were both sweaty but I was pretty much drenched in sweat from the nerves
and it made me kind of slippery and I started moving a little against him
and sliding against his dick, just a little bit, maybe a half inch either
way and I could feel the head of his dick hitting the bottom of my ass
crack and all I wanted was to push down and see if it would slide in far
enough to push up against my asshole, but I felt like if I put that kind of
pressure on it he would wake up for sure and I thought he'd probably get up
and he might be mad, so I screamed at myself in my head to cool it.

And then he squeezed me, almost like he was stretching, he tensed the
muscles in his arm and suddenly he was hugging me much harder and it pushed
me downward and at the same time he kind of did a crunch with his legs and
his belly and I thought his dick was going to slide up the outside of my
crack but the head was stuck on the little sort of opening at the bottom of
my crack so his dick slipped in between my cheeks instead.  It was wet from
the sweat and all of a sudden the head was in me.

I think I gasped and I'm sure it hurt but all that tension and the hormones
and I'd never done anything like this with anybody and I felt this rush and
I felt my dick jerk in my hand and I came on the sheet in front of me.

Right away I felt panicked. I remember thinking that there was no way I
could clean this up without him seeing it and he was going to be mad and
disappointed. And also after I came, his dick head in my ass hurt a lot
more and I was about to pull it out but then he sort of snorted and then he
moved his arm and I knew he'd waken up.

All I could think to do was to pretend I was asleep, so that's what I did.
It took him a moment, probably to get his bearings, and I tried to make my
breathing steady and hoped he'd think I was asleep and after a few seconds
he reached his hand down and felt around the base of his dick, I think just
to confirm that he really was inside me, and then he slowly pulled out and
scooted away from me but while he was doing that he brushed his hand across
the bed and then he stopped and I could tell he'd gotten his hand into my
puddle of jizz.

I almost freaked out and got up but I just stayed there breathing and after
a little pause he got up and went into the bathroom. I heard him brush his
teeth and get in the shower and then he came back in and I opened my eyes a
little and saw him get his work clothes on and then he left.

Since we didn't talk before he left, I had no idea what he was thinking,
and I remember feeling like I should be more worried, because he noticed my
cum, and he was probably pissed and confused and disappointed, but I wasn't
really worried that day.  I think I was relieved that he hadn't woken me up
right then and yelled at me, so I thought maybe he was ok with it and when
I got home I was kind of looking forward to seeing him and I think I did my
normal routine -- jerkoff, tv -- and waited for him.

But that night he didn't come home at all, which was the only time that had
ever happened.  Sometimes he'd stay out late drinking but he'd always come
home after, and I got more and more nervous through the night and didn't
sleep at all.

The next day I went to school and somehow made it through, but I was messed
up.  I got convinced that maybe he'd hurt himself and I remember imagining
that he'd been drunk and stumbled into the road and gotten hit by a car.
When I got home he still wasn't there, and I was psyching myself up to call
the police when I heard the gravel crunch under his tires.

I remember that when I heard his car parking in front and I had this
intense feeling of relief but also the whole idea that he'd been hurt had
collapsed and the alternative was that he just didn't come home and didn't
call and didn't care that I was going nuts from worrying about him, and I
was pissed. And I was still worried that he was going to be angry about the
other night so I was a mess when he came in.

I remember that I heard him come up to the front door and then he paused a
bit before he unlocked it and came in, and I thought maybe he was kind of
getting ready to see me, which scared me. He was in overalls, those tan
carhartts, which he only wore when he had to work outside during the day,
but he seemed clean. After the whole night and day being worried and angry
and a mess, I didn't know how to start talking to him, so I didn't say
anything and he came in and we made eye contact and then he kind of slowly
walked over to the kitchen table and sat down and looked at his hands.

This is not how our fights normally went.  Usually we'd snipe at each other
and start yelling or storm off into our bedrooms, but he was calm and kind
of subdued and eventually someone had to talk first so I went over to stand
across the table from him and leaned against the wall and said something
like "where were you last night?", which seemed bizarre for me, the son, to
say to him, the dad, but I was feeling that heat you get in your face when
you're upset and he was scaring me.

He sort of took a beat and then said quietly and evenly "I couldn't fucking
look at you."

I felt like he'd punched me in the face.

For a minute I couldn't say anything because I felt like I couldn't
breathe.

I'd been so worried and I was his kid and he blamed me for how things had
gotten at home and it hurt so bad.

And then I was yelling.

I can't remember what I said but I felt that kind of out of control anger
that I'd had when I was a little kid and was having a tantrum and I
remember screaming at him and him screaming at me and at some point he must
have stood up because at one point he was yelling at me that he'd given up
his whole god damn life for me and he was pointing his finger at the place
between my eyes, and at one point I threw a box of cheerios at him and it
busted open and then the floor was covered in little bits of cereal.

There was something about those moments where we were most angry and hurt
by each other, and at our most raw.  We both let ourselves get out of
control in those moments, and I wonder if it's something that runs in our
family.  Whatever it was, they were the times I felt most alive, and in a
weird -- kind of gross -- way, it was the closest I felt to my dad.  It was
the feeling of knowing that he cared enough to get worked up to the point
of losing his shit, it made me feel like I was important to him, even if it
was in a way that he didn't like.

Whatever it was, it was happening that night.  I can't remember the last
thing I said to him, but it was something over the line. I think it was
about him being a failure who was going to drink himself to death, and
after I said it I remember he stopped yelling and looked at me for a moment
with this disgusted look on his face, almost like he didn't recognize me
but he hated what he saw, and it was too much for me and I felt the guilt
rise up in my throat and I just wanted to get away from there before he
said anything else.

I turned to go up the stairs to my room but before I took a step he stepped
forward and put both hands right between my shoulder blades and shoved me
hard, straight forward, and I fell down, fast, on my chest on the floor.

Your mind goes to weird places in these moments.  I remember the first
thing I thought was that I'd smashed all the cheerios and it was going to
be harder to clean up.

Then I had this surge of adrenaline and I rolled over to get up and looked
up at him and he was standing over me looking down and he had dropped the
shoulders of his overalls so he was bare chested and I had two totally
conflicting thoughts at once, one half of my brain thought he was trying to
release himself from the constraints of his clothes so he could beat me up
and I remember that I clenched both of my fists and thought I might need to
start punching him, and the other half of my brain knew that in these
moments where he lost control, he got turned on.

I remember that his face was red and he was panting and there was a light
on in the stairs and the part of his chest where the light hit looked wet
with sweat and I was up on my elbows looking at him.

And then he sort of fell on me. It was like a single motion and he went
down on his knees and reached out with his right hand and his hand went
around my throat hard and for a second I thought he was going to choke me
out and I tried to gasp and my eyes closed and I fell back so I was laying
on my back on the floor.

And then he let go of my neck and grabbed my calves and jerked my legs up
so they were pointing at the ceiling and he grabbed my shorts and yanked
them up my legs and off my left foot so they were wrapped around my right
ankle and he threw my legs to the left side hard so I flipped onto my side
and he put his left hand on the side of my face and leaned into me so that
he was pushing my head into the floor and his other hand was grabbing my
ass cheek and his fingers were in my crack.

Then the tips of his fingers were at my hole and then inside and he was
rough and fast and his weight was on his hand on my face and I was scared
and my heart was beating out of my chest and I could feel that rush of
hormones or whatever it is that makes you lightheaded when you're suddenly
intensely turned on.

Then there was pain in my hole from his fingers which were pushing into me
and he was shoving them in and out and panting and then they were gone and
it was the head of his dick pushing in and his fingers were covering my
face but I could just see the corner of his face through the space between
his fingers and the vein in his forehead was pulsing and his eyes were
screwed shut.

And then he was all the way in and I was screaming and I tried to get my
left arm up to push against his chest to get him to slow down but I
couldn't bend it far enough that way and I closed my eyes and I saw stars
behind my eyelids and I could smell his deodorant.

His breathing sounded like I was getting run over by a train and I opened
my eyes again and looked across the floor and I it was the most pain I'd
ever felt but I could feel my whole body clenching and I fucking came.

I've never cum from pain before or since and I don't know why it happened
but one second I was looking across the floor at the dust under the stove
and the next second my vision went blurry and my whole body convulsed and I
felt the nut go from my balls all up across my taint and out my dick onto
the floor.

He was still pumping in me and then he took his hand off my face and reared
back and he must have raised his arm and then he brought it down and
slapped me hard across the back of my head and then he was cumming and I
swear I could feel his dick pulse and with each pulse I had a shooting pain
as it pushed my ass open a little more.

And for a few seconds I lay there and he propped himself up with a fist on
the floor on either side of my head and looked down at me and I didn't look
at him, I just kept looking across the floor, and then he pulled back and
out and hoisted his overalls back up and stood and then he bent down and
hooked a hand under my armpit and pulled me up so I was standing with my
shirt on and my shorts around my ankle.

He turned and walked out and slammed the door and I heard his truck start
and then heard him peeling out into the street and he was gone.