Date: Tue, 16 Dec 2003 03:45:22 EST
From: RandomThoughts46@aol.com
Subject: Exploring Grounds 5

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.

	This is what happened as the evening progressed since my last
installment...
	I left my room, thinking to return to the living room and watch TV.
I was thirsty though, and thought I'd go grab a pop from the fridge.  On
the way through the house, I saw my dad's bedroom door open.  That wasn't
unusual.  But I wanted to know if he was sleeping so as not to make too
much noise.  I stepped into the doorway.
	He was lying on his side, facing away from the doorway, on his bed,
in only his t-shirt and socks.  His ass was lightly hairy, his legs were
bent at the knees.  I just stood there, staring at him for a few moments.
I couldn't help it.  I started getting hard, and felt my cock through my
jeans as it grew.  A lot of conversation just occurred, and here I was
being turned on at my dad's nakedness.  Whatever made me do this, I do not
know, perhaps horniness, perhaps having had the familiarity of touching my
dad in the past, I don't know.
	I walked over to his bed and sat down.  I was nervous.  He didn't
stir at my motions, and I waited a moment before I let my hand touch the
ankle of his right foot, and move my fingers up his hairy leg.  Whether he
was fully asleep or not, I'm sure he felt my touch and he slowly rolled
onto his back, his right arm resting over his hairy chest.  His eyes didn't
open though.  My hand was at his upper leg when he turned, and as he rolled
over, my fingers went between his thighs, just above his ball sac.
	His cock was soft.  The flesh of his balls was much darker then the
rest of him.  I used my thumb to feel them, leaving my fingers between his
thighs.  He started to respond to the touch; I watched his shaft expand,
and grow hard, pointing to his belly button.  I really wanted to believe he
was asleep, because the rest of him didn't move again.
	The sudden need was there.  I didn't know anything about oral sex,
but the thought struck my mind like lightning.  I wanted to try.  I'd heard
the term `blow job' a few times in the past couple years, and thought I
knew what it meant.  It applied here, at that moment, with that meaning of
a penis being in my mouth.  I leaned toward my dad's crotch, and looked up
his torso to his still face.  His eyes were closed.  With the same hand, I
gripped his hard on and pointed it at my mouth, and clumsily put the head
of his dick in my mouth.
	Inexperienced, I just sat there, having a cock in my mouth.  My
tongue moved around the head of his cock.  I felt dad move then, just
slightly.  My eyes were closed as I felt the rush of unknown pleasure.
Then dad's body kind of jerked quickly and I felt the palm of his left hand
against my face.  "Rick," he said.  "No."
	It was a burst of wanting to do this that made me not want to stop.
I did feel the pressure of his hand trying to push my face away, but I
refused to move.  I heard dad breathing.  He said my name again, sort of
sounding...like he wanted to fight it yet he couldn't.  The entire time I
had him in my mouth, his hand was there on my cheek.  Just once, I opened
my eyes and looked up his torso, and our eyes met for a second before he
closed his again, and I closed mine.
	However inexperienced I was, I started stroking his cock while it
was inside my mouth.  Dad's legs were straight and stiff under me.  I'd say
it was maybe three minutes that I was doing this for the first time in my
life when dad jerked up, grabbed both sides of my head and pulled me
straight up.  He was powerful.  He brought me to his face, eye to eye, as
he shot his load between us.  I couldn't even look down as he was grunting,
yet I felt his sperm hitting my shirt.  His entire body was rumbling as he
was cumming, and eventually our foreheads were against each other, and he
closed his eyes.  Finally, he just sighed, and I felt the pressure of his
hands go soft on my face.
	I sat back and saw that dad's cock was still jerking from the
ejaculation.  His sperm was everywhere between us.  I saw the wet spots on
his t-shirt, and on my own light blue shirt.  And there was sperm trickling
down his quivering shaft.
	Away from being so close to him, he quickly jumped up and left the
room.  I was left sitting there to think about what I just enjoyed.  I was
there for several minutes, my cock still hard in my jeans but not doing
anything about it.  I heard dad doing something from somewhere in the
house, and I got up to find him.  He was in the kitchen, starting a pot of
coffee.
	He'd taken off his cum drenched t-shirt and was only in his white
socks.  When he saw me, he just sat at the kitchen table.  He was sullen.
I walked over to the fridge and opened the door.  I was reaching for a can
of coke as I heard him ask, "Rick, why did you do that?"
	Sometimes when one is in such a situation, one has absolutely no
idea what to say.  I was sort of timid to turn around and face him.  I had
to though.  I thought if I tried to duck away back to my room, he'd get
frustrated and leave me alone or he'd corner me to answer him.  I didn't
want to walk away from him anyway, I guess.  So I popped my can open and
turned, leaning against the fridge, looking down at the floor.  "I wanted
to, dad.
	He grimaced at that, rubbing his face with his hands.  I could hear
the brush of his palms over his five o'clock shadow.  I actually felt like
a trapped little boy having been caught doing something I shouldn't.  Dad
sighed heavily.  When I found the courage to look over to him, he was
eyeing me with a deep look in his green eyes.
	I did then one of the things that I knew would relax my dad.  It
had always worked in the past.  I said, "Dad," going back into the fridge
and grabbing a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and reaching out to give it to
him, "have a beer."  You see, with my dad, he had always been a serious
person...unless he was drinking.  Then he'd let go, be more outgoing and
cheerful.  I was hoping for that with all my might in those next few
seconds.
	Dad stared at the can in my hand a moment, then reached and took
it, popping the top and taking quite a long pull from the can.  Thinking
about it now, I'm sure what I did was so foreign to my dad sexually that he
was dazed and confused, but at the time, I didn't think much past having
given him a blow job, feeling a cock in my mouth, and really liking it.  He
shook his head, chuckling, stood up and went to the living room.  I
followed him a moment later.  He was on the couch, both his hands holding
the can of beer above his crotch, his legs resting on top of the coffee
table.
	"You know," he said, "your sisters don't talk to me much anymore,
Rick."  If he had grown sullen at what I just did to him, this subject had
escalated him more so.  I knew what he was talking about.  I didn't know
how brave to be, since my parents weren't talking much these days.  I was
hoping he'd want a few more beers to loosen him up.
	Deciding to be brave, yet not going anywhere near him, but staying
standing where I was, I said, "That's because mom's always saying things
about you, dad."
	He didn't even look up at me.  The look on his face was distant,
sad.  "What is she telling you kids?"
	The question sort of surprised me, coming from him.  I don't know
why it did.  It took me a moment to respond.  "She says your mean, dad.
That you've hit mom, never treated her good.  That you don't care about
us."
	At that dad about faced and stormed up straight, heading for the
kitchen, zipping past me so fast I felt a breeze.  I got nervous because
when dad is that angry, we stay out of his way.  I heard another can pop
from behind me, and I moved into the living room, sitting on the sofa. I
also knew that dad would drink beer for the rest of the night and get shit
faced drunk.
	He returned and sat stiffly beside me, all his muscles tense, his
facial features very serious.  "Rick."  He said my name in that tone of
voice he had that told me just to listen to him and not say anything.  He
got frustrated again and rocked his body in anger.  "I don't know what to
tell you.  You don't know at all why me and your mother divorced.  You
just...don't know!"
	Trying to be calm, yet seeing my dad so upset, and also knowing
that he'd never ever punished me so severely that I'd be afraid of physical
abuse, I asked, "Why did you?"
	"She cheated on me, Rick!"  He said so loudly, I thought the entire
neighborhood would here.  "She started sleeping with another guy.  A friend
of ours."  He turned his body, dropping the beer can on the table and
taking my shoulders and turning me to him.  "Remember just before I moved
out?  When I had a black eye?"  I nodded.  I was trembling.  "That's
because I got in a fight with him Rick!  When I found out...I went nuts!  I
love your mother so much but this...this made me crazy!"
	He crushed me to him then.  Holding me so tight, and we were both
trembling.  I was learning new information about my mom.  Dad wasn't good
at affection, and he didn't know his own strength.  He was holding me so
tightly I didn't know what to do.
	For the record, I will say here that I never met this guy dad was
talking about, nor would dad say his name.
	When dad finally let me loose enough, he put his face in the crook
of my right shoulder and neck, and said, "Son, I did hit your mother."  I
felt his breath coming in short spurts against my neck.  "When I found out,
I did.  I slapped her so hard she landed on the floor."
	I put my arms around him then, because he was trembling.  I knew he
was telling the truth.  And momentarily learning about all this, I felt a
tremor of empathy for him.  "It was only that once, Rick," he continued.
"I never hit her again.  I didn't."
	To this day, out of my past, I never saw my dad cry, and he didn't
then.  His body shook from...from whatever, but he didn't cry.  I don't
know what feelings he was going through, because in the events of the past
he had no idea why my sisters weren't communicating with him.  He did now,
and I'm sure he had some regret, yet I think in the end, he knew that our
mother made it more than what it seemed and that she didn't tell the whole
story behind everything.  It is what set my mother and I apart even more;
though I had my battle with her about it soon enough.
	Dad and I sort of just let it hang at that, the conversation
between us.  We sat apart on the couch; me with my new knowledge and he
getting something off his shoulders that had been bothering him for a long
time.
	As the night went on, my dad continued drinking, we turned the TV
on and watched a few programs.  During this time, I had built up a store of
ammunition against my mother while enjoying seeing my dad unwind, and be
happy, and laugh, as he got drunk.  We had a great time that night.  Then
dad was ready for bed, and he got serious again.
	When he announced that he had to turn in, he pulled me to his naked
body and said, "Rick..." Being drunk, his words were slurring but
understandable.  Looking back at it all now, I can honestly say that his
comprehension of my situation was there, was real, and active.  "I meant
what I said earlier."  I was trapped in his strong arms, his dopey grin
right in my face, smelling the beer on his breath as he told me this.  "I
don't want you making a...a fool of yourself."  He was cheerful, which is
always the way he was when he was drunk and nothing immediate was
pressuring him.
	Whatever he was thinking, it was cheerful, and he let me go, waving
his arms in the air.  "If you want to jack off together, that's...that's
fine.  Just don't," He was glum all of a sudden as he continued.  "Just
don't do something."  He looked me in the eyes drunkenly.  "Just
don't...suck my cock again.  Okay?"  He smiled such a big smile, I laughed.
	I didn't answer him as he drunkenly stood up and made his way to
his room.  I just watched him leave the living room, and smiled, feeling a
sense of euphoria at the contact the two of us shared.  It was at times
harsh and yet sentimental and sweet.  I love remembering this.  I must
admit to being hard while writing this installment.  How can I not?  It was
real, it was fare, and shared between us...

Once again, I am enjoying your comments.  They are most appreciated.  I
only have a few more installments to go before life without my dad.  I'm so
very glad that you're enjoying the account of my growing up.  It is true,
it happened, and I'm here on Nifty finally able to express the frustration
and enjoyment of my life.  As always, your comments are very welcome.