Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Pulling up to the threshold was a little nerve racking. It had been how many years since I last saw my father? 2? 3? I knew my mother wouldn't be pleased that I was here, but honestly I could care less. I was 18 years old and she couldn't boss me around any longer. It may not have been such a problem if she wasn't such a hypocrite herself. Drinking, partying...the woman was 36 years old and she was being more of a teenager than I was. I could see why it was so appealing. I wasn't a total stick in the mud. I partied some, drank a little, hell I even smoked some pot over the last year, but ecstasy and cocaine just weren't that...great to me. To my mother? Well that was a different story. I couldn't do much for her after sending her to rehab...so here I was, standing in front of my father's house. For all I knew, he could have another family now. He could have another little girl to take care of and a beautiful wife who wasn't addicted to cocaine. I chewed my lip a little, remembering the last time I saw my father. I was 16...I had barely hit puberty and my green eyes still held that sparkle of innocence. I didn't know the drama my mother put my father through...or that the closeness he and I shared could be deemed 'unnatural'. All I knew was that he loved me and I loved him. And that mom was taking me away because she thought he was going to 'ruin' us.
Thinking back...I knew we were a little closer than a lot of my friends were with their fathers. At sixteen, they didn't sit on his lap or kiss each other on the lips anymore. My cheeks blushed thinking of the last time we kissed each other goodbye. I swore I could taste his tongue in my mouth and I felt my groin tingle slightly. Brushing the thought away, I tossed my backpack over my shoulder. That was wrong...wasn't it? I knew enough about life...about sex...about society to know, you didn't french kiss your father. And you definitely didn't get 'excited' about the thought of it. So pushing it all aside, I locked my car and headed to the front door of my childhood home. I hadn't told him I was coming. I hadn't told anyone. I just hoped he wouldn't turn me away.
Thinking back...I knew we were a little closer than a lot of my friends were with their fathers. At sixteen, they didn't sit on his lap or kiss each other on the lips anymore. My cheeks blushed thinking of the last time we kissed each other goodbye. I swore I could taste his tongue in my mouth and I felt my groin tingle slightly. Brushing the thought away, I tossed my backpack over my shoulder. That was wrong...wasn't it? I knew enough about life...about sex...about society to know, you didn't french kiss your father. And you definitely didn't get 'excited' about the thought of it. So pushing it all aside, I locked my car and headed to the front door of my childhood home. I hadn't told him I was coming. I hadn't told anyone. I just hoped he wouldn't turn me away.