Date: Sun, 14 Dec 2003 02:12:16 EST
From: RandomThoughts46@aol.com
Subject: Exploring Grounds 4

What you are about to read are true events from my past.  They involve me
and my father.  What you wish to think about these events is solely up to
you, as in my opinion, what happened was educational and appreciated.  All
rules apply, if you do not wish to read the contents of this autobiography,
please turn away, although anything you will read here is not subject to
violations by law or nature.  I am proud to write an account of how I
became sexually responsible in life, due to my dad.  He is gone now, but
remembered with great kindness and affection.  I do not write these
accounts to make anyone horny or fanatical about family sexuality.  Just
enjoy what I have to this day think as my 'Exploring Grounds' of life.

I want to, in this installment, get to more educational things that I
learned in the years to come in my life, and to explain why I learned to be
responsible sexually, so I will briefly explain with all casualness some
things that lead up to the main part of my life when I was 15.

My sisters grew to resent me once they learned I would be staying with our
dad and they wouldn't.  Our mom was in a local treatment center for
alcoholism, and none of us saw her until she was released.  The first few
weeks being back at home with her wasn't pleasant at all.  My mom blamed it
all on me, and so did my sisters.  Mary, the friend next door, tried
telling our mom that she was the one who couldn't take seeing what was
going on, and that she called the authorities in.  It didn't matter.  I was
to be blamed.  It was only a temporary scar though on our lives.  Things
seemed quite normal after all of us were back to our daily lives, and mom
even started going out with our dad again.  As you will learn, my mom just
went back to drinking.  There were nights when dad would come home with her
and he'd spend the night.  He never paid any personal attention toward me
in these events, and he tried so much to be closer to my sisters, and have
fun with all of us.  Yet, our parents still ended up just fighting a lot,
and dad was pretty much back to not coming around much again by the time I
was 14.  I went through my puberty, my need to jack off, wanting my
privacy, and keeping it all to myself mostly.  I didn't get much of a
chance to connect with my dad until mom again went to treatment.  It was
just another of those situations when us kids were home alone, and being a
normal young boy, I had been a hell raiser.  We had a neighbor across the
street that none of us liked.  I went too far with making the guy angry,
and he called the police.  The cops came; we were hauled away, and again my
sisters ended up with uncle Scott and I begged my dad to let me stay with
him.  Pretty much the same as before, yet my dad was a lot more upset that
this was all happening again, and he was more distant.  He may actually
have blamed me this time for what happened to our mom.  I don't know, it's
all speculation.  Her second time in treatment was during the month of
August.  When we all came home in September, a lot of changes happened.
She did stop drinking a lot, but that would be short lived until the middle
of our school year.  It was then that she did something that I would hold
against her for all eternity.  I turned 15 the following November.  In
February of the next year, she said we were moving to the town next door.
It was only eight miles from my hometown, but it seemed like a million
miles from my dad, and my friends, and everything I knew.  It was a town
even smaller then what I was used to.  I refused to cooperate.  No one
could get me to go to school; I didn't even want to try.  I got restless
and demanded to go live with my dad, but even he wouldn't allow me that,
and my mom didn't want me living away from her.  It was all a mess.
Everyone involved tried to reason with me, but I was stubborn.  Aside from
any of this happening, I was thinking about boys too, and hearing that
faggots were bad, they were horrible people.  What I was hearing about all
this was exactly what I wanted about myself, and there was no comprehension
on my part that would allow me think anything realistically no matter what.
I spent the rest of that year fighting with my parents and not going to
school and not caring.  Not caring at all.  Yet my dad didn't give up on
me.  I don't think anyone gave up on me, they just stopped fighting with
me.  I think my mom started thinking that I would just be a high school
drop out.  I'm pretty sure my dad thought the same thing.  When spring
came, in April, I was with my dad at his house for the weekend.  We were
just having a casual day.  It was a Sunday.  Dad and I were trying to find
something to watch on the TV.  The Cosby show was popular then, and we
liked it.  Though my dad was prejudice about black people, he got enjoyment
out of the show.  Where I am from, prejudice about a lot of things was
common.  Dad and I were on the couch watching the show.  He had on a muscle
t-shirt and socks, nothing else.  I was used to it.  I was fully dressed.
I don't know what made me think to say what I would say out loud, but I
did.  I said, "Dad, I like boys."  He glanced at me quickly, and went back
to watching the TV.  Nothing more was said between us that night.  Dad
seemed sullen, withdrawn, and just...different.  Nothing was said the next
day either, and he drove me home without any comment or interest or
anything.  I didn't actually see him again until late that fall.  What
happened next would shock the entire country.  I was too oblivious and
ignorant to notice it myself.  The new school year started and my sisters
were back in school.  It was quite early in the school year when this
happened.  I'd come home from hiking around the woods of our area (I went
out hiking a lot because I couldn't stand being at home), and when I came
in the door, my mom was in the kitchen.  She said, "Your dad's here.  He
wants you to stay at his house tonight."  I went through the house to the
living room, where dad was half watching something on the TV.  When he saw
me, he turned his complete attention to me.  "Hey there kiddo.  Did you mom
tell you?"  "Yeah.  What's up?"  Dad was restless; I could notice that
about him.  "Is it alright?  Wanna come over? "Yeah, dad."  I'd do
anything to get out of the house I was living in.  It was almost late
afternoon.  One thing I will say about my dad is that he wasn't the
brightest guy on the block.  He wasn't stupid, he just seemed like a...like
a guy who didn't think too much.  I don't know how to explain it, just that
I knew it took my dad longer to comprehend things around him.  He was a
great looking guy, had that five o'clock shadow on his chops that women
loved, had a muscular body that made people horny, I'm sure.  And he was my
dad.  Once we were at his house, he made a quick pizza that only had to be
heated, we ate, and once in the living room, dad turned on the TV.  We were
both on the couch.  It was almost six o'clock and dad turned the channel to
the news.  When I noticed that he was going to watch the news, I made an
attempt to get up, as I hated watching the news.  But he forced me to sit
with him and watch.  Wow.  What I saw was alarming.  I learned about AIDS
and HIV, a terminal illness that at that time was considered only to affect
the homosexual community.  My dad just basically stared at my response as I
was listening.  It was headline news that would be talked and speculated
about for months.  At some point, I'd had enough.  I tried again to get up
and go to my room, but dad stopped me by grabbing my shoulder and pulling
me back down.  "Do you still want to be a faggot, Rick?"  He asked.  His
words were harsh and they hurt.  I was frustrated.  There wasn't any
response I could give that would tell my dad what I was feeling.  We sat
there for a few moments.  I tried to think, I tried to ask myself what I
was feeling.  Nothing at all came easy to me.  All I could say was, "Dad, I
like boys."  His frustration was right up there, and perhaps more so, then
mine.  He paced the living room floor a couple times, than went into the
kitchen.  Not knowing what to do, I got up and started going to my room.
He must have heard me stirring because I heard his loud footsteps behind
me, then I was forced around and he backed me against the hall wall.  He
grabbed the front of my shirt with both fists and pushed into me so hard,
his face so...lost, his eyes closed, and I felt my shirt slip out of my
jeans as he moved his clenched fists up my chest, until they were just
under my chin.  "Rick, I don't know what to do with you.  You're so smart
and yet you dropped out of school; you're such a nice kid but now you spend
a lot of time alone, and now THIS!  Rick!"  "I can't help it dad!"  I
started tearing in my eyes, I think mostly because I kind of felt scared.
Dad had never been so forceful with me physically like this, and the
pressure from his strong arms locking me to the wall was beginning to hurt.
"All right listen!"  He said with suddenness.  He let up on me and walked
into the living room, sitting back on the couch, not even finishing
anything he might have wanted to say.  The news was still on, and he seemed
to be half paying attention to it, and half thinking.  I went to my room.
About twenty minutes later, he joined me, sitting on my bed.  "Son, how can
I get you back into school?"  That was a loaded question if ever I'd heard
one.  I would already be held back because of quitting last year, so I
didn't want the humiliation I'd face from my friends for being a year
behind them, and living in a new town, I was mortified of starting after
the beginning of the school year.  There was no easy answer, so I said
nothing.  After a time, my dad changed the subject.  "Rick, look.  If you
try to do anything about these feelings you have right now, you'll set
yourself apart from everyone around you.  Our towns are so small here;
everyone knows everyone else.  I don't want you to make this mistake."
"You mean I'd make you and mom an embarrassment!"  I retorted.  Yes, I did
sound somewhat mean.  "Yes you would!"  He said harshly, with that big,
deep voice of his.  "You have no idea what you're doing to all of us!"
Saying nothing again, I felt the moments slide along.  One of us eventually
had to say something, and my dad did.  He turned his body and laid himself
heavily over my legs.  He clasped his hands together.
"Rick...don't...don't do anything about this yet.  Okay?  Please?  Wait
until you're eighteen.  Jack off all you want in the mean time, but PLEASE
don't try doing anything with guys.  I don't care how old they are.  With
this new...sickness..." He looked me square in the eyes, "son, I don't want
you getting this.  It could kill you."  None of us knew much about AIDS/HIV
then.  Hardly anything.  It was just too new and undeveloped educationally.
Yet I said, "Dad, I'm getting horny.  I like how boys look, and look at
them in the shower at gym class.  I get hard when I see them and have to
hide it."  I don't think he could really take hearing this, it wasn't in
his mentality, and he got up in resignation.  Standing, he said, "I need to
take a nap."  He left my room.  I was quite resigned too, not knowing what
to think.  I was confused but diligent in my feelings.  At the time, I
wasn't interested in any particular type of boy, I just had those feelings
of loving being around them, and seeing them naked if I could.  I thought
about my dad's words.  He was worried about me.  No matter what he didn't
like about any of this, we was worried.  I felt a tug at that.

I love how I am remembering all these things so clearly and with such level
headedness.  I must continue this particular evening next time since these
installments can only be so long, and this one has been perhaps the
lengthiest of all, and a pivotal point in my life.  I am enjoying hearing
your thoughts, comments, and revelations of yourselves as you enjoy my
past.  Your emails have been most welcome.  I've done my best to return
some comment to you, at least to those who do not treat my life as a horny,
need-to-get-off jacking situation.  It's not what I'm sharing this for.  If
you want to jack off, get off, to all of this, feel free to do so, yet
email me with respect and interest, not just about sex.  I am a respectable
man, with as much horniness as the rest of you, I would simply enjoy
sharing these truths of my life and not have them turned into a cum filled
orgy of what I consider extremely educational toward who I am today.
Please understand this.  And cheers to those of you who appreciate the
accounts of my past.  I take my hat off to you.  Email me at
RandomThoughts46@aol.com