Hot Damsel From My College 8211 Part 1
- 2 years ago
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The day had definitely been a whirlwind. From meeting my wife at the airport after a year of separation, getting a fantastic blowjob from her as I drove down to my parents’ house, to one of the most honest discussions I’ve ever had with my father, the day had been one to remember. The last two events, in particular, had left me a bit numb, but also less inhibited than before. I was able to reconnect with my wife on a primal level and with my Dad on the level of man-to-man bonding. The night was still young, so I wondered what lay ahead. In particular, my mind wandered to thoughts of enjoying my wife without things like driving and seatbelts getting in the way. I also wondered where this conversation with Dad would lead. To be honest, I hoped it wouldn’t end.
“Let me grab you another beer, Charlie,” said Dad as he got up slowly from his rocking chair. “Same as the last?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “Just make sure it’s not as hot as that last one you gave me,” I teased as he moseyed over to the cooler. “Ya know, Dad, I’m really glad we’re finally able to talk like this. Honestly, I just wish we would have done it sooner.”
“Yeah, me too, Charlie. I think it’s mainly my fault for not being more open with you. While you were growing up, I was just a grumpy old mutherfucker, pardon my French. I really was. I was selfish and I didn’t feel comfortable talking to you about sex because my old man never talked to me about it. I just thought, ‘I’ll just creep him out. He’ll be OK talking with his friends about girls and stuff.’
“Looking back, do you wish Grampa Jack had talked with you about it?” I inquired.
As Dad twisted the top off the beer bottle and handed it to me, he stopped for a moment and thought about the question more deeply than I had anticipated. “Yeah, looking back, I do wish we could have had these kinds of man-to-man talks when I was your age or younger. I’m sure he had insights and could have passed along some useful advice. That son-of-a-bitch coulda saved me some heartache and confusion,” he laughed.
I had only known Grampa Jack for the first 10 years of my life before he passed away. There was so much about him that I had no clue about, so I made a mental note to find out more from Dad later.
“Well, I just want you to know that I couldn’t even get up the courage to talk with my friends about girls. I had zero action through school. There just wasn’t much to bring to the table, to be honest,” I confessed.
“I kinda got that sense from you, Charlie. You certainly weren’t bringing any girls home for us to meet, so either you were being really sneaky about it, you weren’t playing the field at all, or...”
“Or what?” I asked.
“Well, if we’re being honest, your mother and I wondered if you were playing with the boys instead,” Dad confided.
I took a hit from my beer and smiled a bit. I knew that my parents’ assumption was legit.
“Actually, there was nothing going on in that department either, Dad. At the time, I was just very naive and felt very insecure engaging anyone at that level ... girl or boy. Don’t get me wrong, I knew a lot about sex then, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do the things that I knew about.” Sensing an opportunity to take things to another level I got up the courage to blurt out, “Actually, you might be surprised to learn that I have you to thank, indirectly, for my sexual education up to that point.”
“Really? What did I do? Did you spy on your mother and me in the act or something? I hope it was one of my better performances,” he teased.
“No, nothing like that ... but I do remember one night when you guys were pretty vocal and I got a good idea of what was going on,” I admitted. “It made me realize that my parents weren’t that old.”
The old guy laughed, grabbed his crotch and shook it. “I don’t know if we’ll ever be too old for that, Charlie,” he said proudly.
“No, what I mean is that the bulk of what I knew about sex at the time came from my exploration of your secret stash.”
“OOhhh,” my Dad said as the lightbulb went off. “My nudey book collection, eh. Yeah, I have a pretty good one, if I do say so myself. When did you find them?”
“When I was pretty young I went hunting for some supplies for a game I was playing and stumbled upon more than I bargained for.”
“Actually, Charlie, I knew you were peeking at my stuff ... but it wasn’t until you were about 15 before I realized it,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess you got sloppy one time and didn’t put things back where they should have been.”
“You knew?!” I said with honest surprise. “I thought I was pretty careful about it. Did you ever tell Mom?”
“Don’t worry. Your Mom knows about my collection, but I didn’t let her know that another pair of eyes were enjoying it. It was a guy thing, so I didn’t think she needed to know.”
“Thanks,” I said, tipping my beer toward him.
“So, which books were your favorites?” he asked.
I was surprised by the question. Surprised that my Dad was pursuing this with me. I hesitated before replying, worried that my response would box me in and reveal to him what kinds of sexual perversions I harbored. Dad noticed my apprehensiveness and followed up his own question.
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