Sins Of The Father free porn video

The sun caressed my skin as I sat there listening to their conversation. I had left the gym and done my three miles a few hours earlier. Zenning and being with friends was the plan for the rest of the day. If I wasn’t Division I, I would have considered lighting up.

“No, he’s a piece of shit. Seriously, I just don’t get your rainbows and puppies attitude. He abandoned his family. Look where they are living...” Ilse turned bright red as she realized what she almost said about my home.

The lawn guys had just left, and the aroma of fresh-cut grass mixed with chlorine promised BBQ’s, parties, swimming and a summer without end. We had one foot still firmly in childhood and the other in the frightening uncertainty of being adults. It was a heady time where we had the benefits of both.

With a small resigned smile, I leaned back in the chaise lounge. “It’s okay. You’re right. It’s small, in a sketchy neighborhood and we don’t have a lot of amenities, but it’s clean, everything runs and it’s warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Until the girls graduate, what more do we need?” It was just my mom, my sisters and me. The house wasn’t fancy, but it was fine.

I was stuck between my two best friends as we lay outside Arabelle’s pool in her parents’ backyard. Her father was great. He became like an uncle after my father abandoned us and before Ara and I started dating. He coached my little league team, always found things that needed doing around his house, paid me much more than the jobs were worth and spoke to me often about guy stuff.

The problem was that he was such a good man it was hard for Ara to understand that other fathers weren’t as fundamentally decent as hers.

She continued her argument with Ilse. They’d been like this since we were kids. Part of the privilege of being best friends was being able to debate without rancor. “Look, all I’m saying is that he shouldn’t be judged based on some mistakes. Sure, what he did was crappy, but maybe he had his reasons or maybe he regrets it or something.”

I put my earbuds in as Ilse responded. “Ugghh. He’s a reptile. Disgusting. Give him the benefit of the doubt if you want, that’s part of why everyone loves you, but you’re being naïve. You always think the best of everyone. There’s no best in him. There’s just a festering pool of bad.”

Turning up the volume, I lay there in the sun. To me, my father had just been Dad. You don’t think of your parents’ character traits when you’re a kid. From what Mom had said and from what I’ve gathered from other people, he was charming. That was what stood out about him. He knew what to say, how to say it and when to say it to get what he wanted. Until a 10-year-old son, eight and six-year-old daughters and a wife in her 30’s became a burden or less attractive, what he wanted was us.

And then one day he was just gone.

I don’t know what happened behind the scenes, but child support checks arrived regularly. There was no visitation, no phone calls, no birthday or Christmas gifts. My sisters and I woke up one day and we no longer had a dad. Ara remembered him as the guy at the neighborhood BBQ’s. He was always the life of the party. He’d trot her around on his shoulders or get into water-gun fights with us kids. He was the fun dad. She didn’t have to hear my mother crying at night or try to be more of a father than big brother to two little sisters.

Ilse and I lived next door to one another back then, and Ara lived three houses down. We were the best of friends. My family had to move soon after Dad left, but I was back often. Ara developed early and I was gobsmacked. To a 13-year-old boy, she was the feminine ideal, full of mystery and burgeoning curves. We didn’t call it dating until we were 15, but we clearly only had eyes for each other. Ilse was a short, thin redheaded girl with glasses and her nose always in a book. She was a late bloomer and was ignored by the guys until Mother Nature looked down on her daughters, lightly kissed Ilse on the forehead and said “voila.” Almost overnight, my other friend became smoking hot.

At that point, I was dating the best-looking girl in school and was the protective best friend of her only rival. We went through high school like that, often double-dating with whomever Ilse was seeing that week. She went through boys like fat kids go through donuts. They’d get a date, or two or three at the most, and then she was on to the next guy.

Ara was an All-State third baseman for our school’s softball team, and I lettered three years in wrestling. Whoever wasn’t competing was always in the stands with Ilse, cheering for the other. Thankfully, I was good enough to get a full-ride scholarship. We all went to different colleges, but we remained close and Ara and I were still a couple.

It was the start of spring break, and Ara was leaving that morning to spend a week with her grandmother. That sucked in one way, but worked out great in another. I was going to miss her and going without for a week was going to suck, but I had something I needed to take care of that she shouldn’t be involved in. She’d try to talk me out of it and wouldn’t understand.

We ate supper with Ara’s family and then left her to pack for her trip. Ilse drove me home and we talked during the drive. She was the one who had found him. My father, the glib charismatic lowlife was running for State Senator out of Fort Collins. All this time he had been less than three hours away. She was studying PoliSci and came across his campaign website while working with her study group. Ilse’s string of cursing almost got the group banned from the library.

She kept her eyes on the road as she drove. “So, do you know what you’re going to do when you get there?”

“No, not really. All I know is I’m not leaving without money for Barbara and Gail to go to college. Fuck him. I’ll bet his other son has a fully loaded college fund.

He had pictures of his beautiful wife and cute son on the site, and they looked like they came out of central casting for a politician’s family. They even had an Irish Setter. If he had a white picket fence I was going to puke.

“Okay. If things get ... hairy, call me. I can be there in under four hours. Don’t do anything crazy. He’s not worth getting in trouble for.”

“It’s cool. I don’t want to be around him a minute longer than I have to. As soon as I know the girls are taken care of, I’ll be back on the road.”

Ilse reached over and squeezed my arm.

I was on the road the next day by 9:00 AM. Without traffic, Pueblo to Fort Collins was about a three-hour trip. I saw a sign for a buffet at a Sheraton Suites outside of the cutoff to Boulder and stopped in for lunch. As a college student on a budget and on the wrestling team, if I could cheaply load-up on proteins, I would.

My overflowing second plate sat in front of me as I messed around with my phone. The double doors leading from the kitchen swung open and a guy carrying a steam-tray full of crab legs came out and headed towards the buffet. I thought that a third plate was doable and watched him as he made his way over. He put the tray into its slot and as he stepped away I saw the couple behind him who were following a woman with menus.

My father had his hand on Ara’s ass as they worked their way towards a booth behind the hostess.

A thudding heart and shallow breath scared the crap out of me, and I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself. I sat there stunned, watching as the hostess smiled, recited to them what was likely the specials and walked away. My appetite gone, I couldn’t make myself move or think. My fingers were hurting, and I looked down to realize that I was grabbing my phone hard enough to break it.

I guessed that I now knew why she was always defending him.

Loosening my grip, I scrolled down to her number and dialed Ara’s cell. I could hear it ring from my table. Her back was to me, but I saw her make some sort of gesture and saw my father laugh. She smacked his arm in mock severity and he made the “zipping my lips” gesture as she answered.

“Hey, honey. How are you doing? You with Ilse?”

I paused, not knowing if I could find my voice. “No. I ... No, I’m having lunch. Just wanted to check in and see if you made it to your grandmother’s okay.”

“Yup. She took me to lunch at a restaurant. We just sat down. Can I call you back?”

“No need. Have a great time. Hey, I never asked, where does your grandmother live?”

“Fort Collins.”

“Wow. Small world. What a strange coincidence.”

“Coincidence? Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just lucky to be so close, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Don’t bother. I’m sure you’ll be busy.”

“Well, all right. Love you.”

“Uh huh. Talk to you later.”

Trying not to be noticed, I made my way around to the buffet. I used it as cover as I took photo after photo of the two of them. They kept touching each other and eating off each other’s plates. It was sickening. I had to stop twice and walk away to collect myself, so I didn’t go snap his fucking neck.

Heading out to the lobby, I did what they do in almost every bad spy movie ever made. I bought a newspaper and used it to hide behind. Sitting on a couch, I kept an eye on the restaurant and waited. Half an hour later they came out with his arm around Ara’s shoulders. They walked directly to the elevator and went up to what I assumed was their room.

No photos this time, I got their unholy walk to the elevator on video.

*****

My father had run his first political campaign from his home. With five minutes of digging, Ilse had the address. She had printed it out for me, as well as a bunch of Google Earth photos. I was five minutes from the house when I pulled over to the side of the road. My knuckles were white, and my vision was blurred. I sort of blacked out for a moment and came-to seeing my fists repeatedly slamming down on the steering wheel.

Screaming wordlessly, I dissolved into tears. Why him? Why the fuck did she have to be with him? When I was able to pull myself together, I called Ilse. She answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, Adam? You get there yet?”

“I ... Ilse, she was with him ... I ... what the hell? How the hell is this happening?”

“Adam, you’re scaring me. Calm down, honey. Who was with who?”

“Ara. She’s fucking my father.”

“WHAT?”

So, I told her. Everything I had seen, everything I had heard and about the photos I took.

“And then you left? You’re at his house now?”

“No, I waited. My pickup would be too easily spotted, so I walked around the building until I saw her car. I found a place with a good line of vision from across the parking lot, sat and waited. They were down after about 90 minutes and they made out at her car. I threw up. I actually vomited. She just completely stabbed me in the back. I ... I loved her Ilse. I feel like dying. And him, what the fuck sort of politician is that blatant? Is he just an idiot?”

“Okay, did you get more photos?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you now?”

I looked around. “Side of the road. I had to pull over.”

“Okay, okay. That works. Just sit there for a few minutes and breath deep. This is some crazy shit, Adam. Can you send me the photos and videos?”

“Yeah.”

“You do that and I’m going to do some research. Don’t drive anywhere until you’re in control, okay? You know Ara is 18, right?”

“And?”

“It sounds like this isn’t the first time. I’m going to do some research on the age of consent. Send those photos. Call me back if ... well, I’m here. Call me anytime.”

“All right. Ilse?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I need ... I don’t know. Just, thanks for being there, I guess. This is so fucked up.”

“We’re always there, Adam. Always.”

It took me a few minutes to send over the photos and video and then I just stared at the traffic as I calmed down. When I felt like it was safe, I pulled back onto the road and was soon at my father’s house. There was no white picket fence.

No one answered the knocking at the door, and I assumed he was still at Dicks “R” Us, or wherever he worked. The door was locked, so I went around to the back of the house. Automatic sprinklers, flower gardens, manicured lawns and other signs of upper middle-class suburbia were everywhere.

The backdoor was unlocked. Within half an hour I had my truck loaded. Anything that I thought I could pawn was sitting in the bed of the pickup. I was standing in front of their fridge drinking from a bottle of water when I heard the voice.

“Who are you?”

I nearly had a heart attack. Turning around I had a feeling of déjà vu. It was as if I had experienced this before. I soon realized that it was memories of looking up at my dad when he was at the refrigerator grabbing a beer. The kid looked almost exactly like I did at his age, which I was guessing was about ten. It was spooky.

“Uhm, hey. I’m Adam. What’s your name?”

“Alex. Why are you in our house and where are you taking our stuff?”

Adam and Alex. Two sons with four-letter names starting with ‘A’. Creative, my father wasn’t.

“Alex, can I show you something? Grab a chair.”

I sat down at their kitchen table and took out my wallet. Pulling out a folded photo, I flattened it out and put it in front of him.

“See that? That’s me and my father. Look familiar?”

I studied that picture before every match. I was never just wrestling my opponent.

“Alex, I’m your big brother. You and I have the same dad. I’m going to college and I need some stuff for my room, so that’s what’s in the truck. Buddy, where’s your mom?”

He seemed oddly nonplussed.

“I dunno. Selling a house, I think.”

“Oh, okay. She’s a realtor? Do you have a babysitter or something?”

“No. Mrs. Goldsmith is next door if there’s a problem.”

Who the hell leaves a ten-year-old home alone? We sat and talked, and it was weird how he just accepted everything I said. He didn’t seem slow, just odd. I remembered Bad Santa, that Billy Bob Thornton movie that had the kid who was so desperate for a friend that he pretended to believe that Thornton was Santa so he wouldn’t leave.

It was a mix of sad and pathetic. Alex talked about his classes, his teacher, his dog and his comic books but didn’t mention our father or his mother a single time. When he asked if I wanted to go swimming, I thought why the hell not. The Irish Setter jumped into the water with us and paddled around. Even the dog was unquestioning.

Just like I had been less than 24 hours earlier, I was leaning back on a chaise lounge next to a pool when he walked into the backyard. Instead of two gorgeous women, this time I was next to my brother.

He called out for his son. Well, one of them. There was a tinge of panic in his voice, which humanized him a bit. He must have seen my truck.

“Alex!”

“Hey, Dad. You never told me I had a brother. He’s going to college! That’s pretty cool, right?”

Our father’s voice was shaky. “Yeah. Very cool. Alex, why don’t you come over here?”

I lightly placed my hand on Alex’s chest. “It’s cool, Dad. I can call you that, right? Alex is fine right here.”

He was in good shape for a desk-jockey who wanted to be a fulltime politician, but I was 6’1 and ripped from having to make weight every week. Looking from me to Alex, there was fear in his eyes, and I loved every second of it. I’d never hurt a child, let alone my own brother, but I was fine with our father being afraid.

“Hello, Adam. What are you doing here?”

“Well, that’s a hell of a greeting, Dad. I’m here to do what you should have done. I’m getting money for the girl’s college. You remember them, right? Alex, did I tell you that you also have two sisters?”

“Really? Can I meet them?”

“Sure. They’d love to meet you. That’s not a problem, right Dad?”

He looked at his other son and then back to me. “We’ll see, Alex. We’ll talk about it later. So, that was the plan for the stuff in the truck? Show up like a thief and what, sell the stuff?”

“Well, that was part of the plan. The rest was to have you write a damned check. I looked it up. Average tuition at a community college is about $3,500. That’s $7,000 per year for both girls. Two years is $14,000. Let’s round it off and call it $15 grand. Then another two years each for their Bachelors. Let’s bump it up to $40,000. Throw in books and crap, and an even $50,000 seems more than reasonable.”

“That’s ... I’m afraid that I’m not liquid right now. Maybe I’ll be able to swing something by the time they graduate high school.”

I stared at him for a moment before speaking. “You have until the end of the week to get me a check for $50,000. I strongly suggest you start a rainy-day fund in case they decide to go to a private school or go for their Masters.”

“And I suggest that you don’t push your luck and be grateful that I’m not calling the cops about what’s in your truck.”

“Really? You know, Senator, oh, sorry, is it too early to call you that? Anyway, you haven’t asked about me or what I’ve been up to. I’ve been dating a girl. It’s been years actually. I had planned on asking her to marry me when we graduated. You may remember her. She lived down the block from us.”

I got up from the lounge and reached for my phone.

“Her name is Ara. I have some photos. Let me show you.” I flipped through the photos of them at the hotel. “So, why don’t you go ahead and call the cops? I’ll wait right here with Alex. I’d love to explain to the cops, the judge and the media what I was doing.”

I leaned forward and whispered. “Or maybe I’ll just put you in that pool and hold your head under the water until the bubbles stop. What do ya’ say, you piece of shit?”

“I ... I’ll get the money.”

Pitching my voice lower, I continued. “Yeah, I thought you would. Friday, or I’ll be back, and I’ll bring more reporters than you can count. How long have you been fucking her? Was she underage when you started, Senator?”

I turned to my brother. “Alex, was anything in the truck yours?”

“The PS4 Pro.”

“Okay, let’s go get it and then I’ve got to go.”

I gave him back his game console and he hugged me around the waist. Holding back tears, I hugged him back. I felt an odd urge to take him with me. He deserved better than his parents.

Getting back to Pueblo took just under three hours. I went through a Wendy’s drive-through and some guy with a name tag that read “Mookie” told me they didn’t have Dr. Pepper. I had ordered a Diet Coke, so that was odd. Two double burgers without the buns filled me up and I tried to think of what to say when I got home. I decided to say nothing.

Storing all the gear in my room, I spent some time with Barbara and Gail, but didn’t mention my adventure. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. Falling asleep on the couch, I didn’t wake up until mid-morning. The memories of my nightmare slipped from my mind like grains of sand through a sieve, but they involved Ara. Someone was banging on the metal storm door. Loudly.

“Barbara! Get the door! Gail!” I pulled the pillow one of them must have given me over my head.

The banging continued. I stumbled towards the door, then went back to the couch, grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around my waist. The last thing that I wanted was to show off some morning wood for the mail lady.

It was Ilse, and she was pissed.

“When did you get back? Why didn’t you call me? Did you see him? What did he say? Did you tell him you know?”

Yawning, I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed the OJ from the fridge. She followed me shooting questions all the way.

“Eww. Don’t drink from the carton, that’s gross.”

I shook it, indicating there wasn’t much left. “Okay, what question do you want answered first?”

I explained how seeing my brother freaked me out and I wanted to spend time with Gail and Barbara. I apologized and she let me off the hook. I recapped everything and Ilse thought I handled it well. Days went by and I boxed up six years of memories and gifts from Ara. Ilse did the same.

“What are you doing? You weren’t together. She didn’t cheat on you.”

“Shut up, Adam. Don’t be an idiot. You think I can be friends with someone who did something like this?”

“I ... Thank you. I don’t want you to have to choose between us. I don’t expect that.”

“Seriously, how did you get into college? No one’s making me do anything. She’s a skank and there’s no way I’d have any sort of friendship with her.”

The nightmares continued and I found myself crying at random moments. I had known Ara all my life and couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t feel some sort of love for her. My sisters could tell something was wrong and made an effort to spend time with me.

My father called the house a number of times and hung up if the girls or Mom answered. When I picked it up, he said he’d meet me with the check. We met at the Wendy’s where I had gotten my meal from Mookie.

I watched him for a while. He got out of his Mercedes, looked around and walked into the building. A few minutes later he was back out and scanning the parking lot for me. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I think it was something that linked us.

The lack of emotion was surprising. I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t sad, and I certainly wasn’t happy to see him. Watching how he moved, I didn’t see any similarities. His movements were all tight and boxed up. He needed to exercise more. We clearly looked alike. Anyone seeing us would know he was my father, but that was surface.

Where it mattered, we were nothing alike.

I called his phone. “To your left. Front of the building. Just passed the flagpole. Same truck from your driveway.

He looked tired and angry when he walked over to the pickup. “This is it, right? I’m not going to hear any more about this? You’re not going to show up at my house again, you’re not going to try to come after me with juvenile attempts to ruin my life?”

The thought of spitting on him crossed my mind. “I hope to never see you again. You do what’s right by the girls and seeing me is the last thing you need to worry about.”

He handed me an envelope, turned around and walked away. It was the second time in my life that my father walked out on me and it was much easier to deal with than when I was a kid.

The girls wanted to see some country band playing on the grass outside the Pueblo Library. I’d rather swallow a bullet than voluntarily listen to country music, but they really wanted to go, so Ilse and I took them. To be honest, they could have easily gone without me. They were old enough and Barbara was dating. I’m sure some boy would have been happy to go in my place. I was feeling a little, I don’t know, clingy, and I wanted to spend time with them, so I went.

It was a father-daughter band and they played fiddles. My sisters kept talking about how hot the father was and all I could think about was a middle-aged guy and teenage girls. Visions of Ara and my father swam before my eyes and I barely made it to the bathroom before puking.

The pile of stuff I had taken from my father’s house still sat in a corner of my room. I’d probably never pawn it. It was more of a ‘fuck you’ to my father than any real plan. I enjoyed seeing the frustration on his face. He couldn’t stop me, and he couldn’t call the cops. Now it felt tawdry and cheap and like I had stolen something from a brother who was only a concept at the time, not a living, breathing kid.

I didn’t take Ara’s phone call that Sunday, but I listened to the message. She was back. I threw the two boxes in the truck and headed over to her house. She came running out and as she tried to embrace me, I turned and grabbed the first box.

“I missed you so much, baby. Let’s get out of here. Anyone home at your house? I want to show you exactly how much I missed you.”

“That’s a generous offer, Ara, but it’s not going to happen. If he’s been fucking you, he’s likely fucking other people. I have no idea where my father’s dick has been.” I was proud of how even I was able to keep my voice.

I tossed the box towards the grass on the side of the driveway as she staggered back. She looked as if I had punched her. I grabbed the second box and tossed it after the first.

I checked the time on my phone. “You have two hours and 42 minutes to tell everyone. At 6:00 PM they get emails with details and photos. I’d say go fuck yourself, but that’s clearly my father’s job. Don’t call, don’t write, don’t try to reach me in any way.”

She fell on her ass and let out this weird keening sound that started and stayed low but then grew louder. It was weird and freaked me out. I got in the truck, put it in reverse and pulled out to the street. I could hear her yelling my name as I drove off. I made it to the end of the block before I felt the tears.

*****

Sitting there with my Gmail account open, I stared at the screen trying to compose the email. I got three paragraphs in twice before deleting it and trying again. The third time was the charm.

Friends and Family,

You all know this, so bear with me. I was ten when my father walked out on us. It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever gone through. For years, literally years, I tried to figure out what I had done to make him leave. There were some anchors in my life that helped me get through the worst of it.

My sisters were eight and seven. Anytime I started feeling sorry for myself, I thought of them. It let me push some of the self-pity to the side and get on with things. They needed me. If there was an Olympics for mothering, my Mom would represent the US and take the gold. She’s the best person I know. Until recently, I’d put someone else on the same pedestal, but as you’ll see, things changed the last week.

Mr. Schmidt saw through my little act. I tried to put a brave face on things and pretend that I didn’t care that my father left, and I was fine. Mr. Schmidt knew what I needed better than I did. He coached my little league team, took me fishing, talked to me about girls (even after it became girl, singular, and that girl was his daughter), and made sure that I always had money in my pocket.

And then there was my salvation. My two best friends, the girls I grew up with. Arabelle and Ilse did more than anyone else to save me. I know that sounds melodramatic. I wasn’t starving on the streets or anything. I was just a kid that was convinced he had forced his father to leave his family. It was like they had some sort of ESP or something. If I was down, I’d find a cupcake in front of me in lunch or they’d convince their parents to take us all to the movies and wouldn’t let me pay for anything.

As we grew older, things changed, especially between Ara and I. We became a couple and we’ve been together since we were 13. More than five years. Throughout all that time, Ilse was a rock. She was a best friend to both of us. One of the things that both Ilse and I loved the most about Ara was her ability to always see the best in people.

That included my father.

Oddly, that never bothered me. I just chalked it up to Ara being Ara. I was able to compartmentalize my feelings towards him and I didn’t care what other people thought. I know that Gail still misses him and thinks we’re going to have some sort of Disney family reunion one day. That’s cool. People can think what they want.

For years I’ve been coaching at wrestling camps for kids. It defrayed the costs of going to the camps I attended and allowed me to make a few dollars. I spent money from what I earned there exactly once. When Barbara got her braces off, we went crazy. Carly’s Candies on 5th got about $40 of my money on candied apples, cracker jacks, caramel, salt-water taffy and anything else we could find.

Money for my truck, clothes, books and other stuff came from working at Risaldi Brothers, hauling stuff at construction sites. All the wrestling camp money is sitting in a fund in a separate account at the bank. Why? I’ll get back to that later.

I found out last week that things were a bit different than I had thought.

It turns out that Ara liked my father. Really, really liked my father. I was having lunch at a buffet in the restaurant in a Sheraton Suites outside Boulder when I saw some people I recognized. Ara and my father walked in. He had his hand glued to her ass. They enjoyed lunch, lots of touching and eating off each other’s plates. I guess they had to work off all those calories, as they then went up to a room for a little under two hours.

When they came back down, he walked her to her car where they macked for about five minutes.

I know this is hard to believe and sounds crazy. He lives in Fort Collins with his new family. So does Ara’s grandma. I guess they ran into each other there and things happened. I don’t expect you to believe what I’m writing. I wouldn’t if someone had said this to me.

That’s why I’m including photos and a video.

The first picture is of the ring I was saving up for in my ‘wrestling’ account. On the day that she graduated, I was going to ask Ara to marry me. If she crosses her fingers real hard and gets a bit of good luck, maybe Dad will be divorced again by then. He’s good at trading in used families. I wish them all the luck in the world. I’m sure it’d be easier for him to buy a nice ring than some idiot college kid who thought his girlfriend loved him.