It was late in the afternoon when I pulled up to my father’s house. It had been almost ten years since I last saw him.

My name is Joey White. I’m 21, just graduated with an Engineering degree, and I have lived a life up to this point that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

My parents got a divorce when I was Eight and I had to live with my mom. It was a slow agonizing and torturous decline that took their love, and a quick brutal blow that ended the marriage. Mom sank into a deep, deep depression afterward.

She had found out about him having an affair. And not just some whimsical fling. No, that would have maybe been easier for her to perhaps forgive. This affair had been going on since two years after my birth.

You see, mom had a really rough time delivering me. She was a petite little thing, and only 15 at the time, so let’s just say pushing out a 12 pound baby had a negative effect on her ‘lady parts’.

I never considered it when I was younger, and didn’t care much when I got older, but found it kind of interesting that my dad was 10 years older than mom. I often wanted to ask, but knew that at the mention of him she would either have one of her tantrums, or become violent towards me.

Yes, she slapped me around pretty often, told me she wished I’d never been born, and outright blamed my existence for her ruined body and my father leaving. I was told continually, over and over, from the time he moved out until she died ... how my dad’s impregnation of her had first ruined her life, and then how I had ruined her body. How my ‘huge water head’ had caused nerve damage and made her unable to feel any normal sensations during sex, just numb pressure.

But the worst part was that she had utterly rejected me, neglecting to care for me at all. And as far as my dad went, she ignored him completely. Even striking out at him violently when he tried to show her any affection at all. Even non-sexual loving.

He had denied her mental condition as she healed up after my birth, while he took care of me almost 24/7. He only left us to go to work, and had even hired the neighbor’s 16-year-old daughter, Susan, to be my ‘nanny’ and watch after my severely depressed mother.

I knew my dad loved me, and we had a great relationship. He spent hours with me, likely since mom cared for neither of us, and we were as close as any father and son could be.

He tried to be what he thought he should be at home. He worked his ass off for us. Long hours. Mom didn’t care. She barely acknowledged our existence.

By the time I was five or six, dad had moved up in his company. He was some kind of sales and marketing executive in a commercial real estate firm. Not houses or stores, but huge properties. Factories and industrial stuff.

Eight years later, the brutal truth came out. Mom got a letter in the mail from Susan that included the entire story and even pictures of them ‘doing things’. He and Susan had been having a sexual affair for the past six years. The validity of her claim couldn’t be denied. Nor could the meaning of that one picture of Susan, standing before my kneeling father, him on his knees kissing her belly. Her HUGE and swollen PREGNANT belly.

Mom attacked dad like a wild woman. Smashing household items on whatever part of his body that she could hit. Even after he had escaped the house and drove away, leaving a trail of blood on the steps and walkway, she continued her violent tirade. As I hid, locked in my room, she wrecked almost everything in the house.

Three months later, they were divorced. And to my dad’s credit, he gave her a generous settlement which included the hose and $2500 alimony. And an additional $1000 per month for my care and maintenance. For the next 8 years, I had no contact with him. Only birthday and Christmas cards with a few hundred bucks thrown into them.

The truth was, mom had issues with not only him and me, but also herself. She blamed herself, and cried when she was what I called ‘super drunk’. I never knew why, but she almost mourned my father’s leaving, almost as if he had died. Often acting as if he were her one and only love, never to be replaced. Other times she would spew the most vile and horrible curses about him.

She drank heavily for the entire eight years I lived alone with her. She was prone to bitterness fueled rants at me about how my dad and I had left her sexually crippled and useless. Several times, while I was in high school, she had even gone as far as to intentionally torpedo my relationships with girls by telling them horrible fabricated things about my personal habits and activities.

She even told my senior prom date, (when Judy had insisted on meet her the night of the prom) that she was glad I had met such a sexy and sexually experienced looking girl. Mom told her that she hoped she would start fucking me regularly because then maybe I’d stop jerking off into her dirty panties every night and peeking at her when she tried to change clothes. Judy was appalled and scandalized at mom’s words. (She was the local Baptist preachers daughter, and I was her first date, ever.) We left in a hurry after that. Or more accurately, I chased Judy out to the car. Judy cried and I was almost ready to just take her home, but she demanded we go on to the dance. That didn’t mean we had our ‘date’ though. She joined a group of girls and let me know I wasn’t welcome at their table. I spent the rest of the night alone at the dance.

After I got home, I asked my mom why she told Judy all that stuff and lied about me using her underwear. She just laughed at me and told me that if she couldn’t enjoy sex because of me, then I shouldn’t be able to enjoy it because of her.

Things never improved as time went on.

The closer I got to graduating high school, the worse things got. Mom had added long sessions of begging and pleading me not to leave her. She even professed that she loved me and couldn’t live without me. Then the next thing I knew she’d be berating me about how horrible and ungrateful I was.

On the third time she threatened to kill herself if I left home, I managed to nip it in the bud. Six days in the hospital psyche ward under ‘suicide watch’ seemed to put an end to that shit. Or so I thought.

I had been sorely tempted to cave to her threats and begging and just stay at home instead of attending college. Maybe just continue working at the phone accessories shop.

But then in late June I got the delivery. At work. By a special courier surprisingly. Inside the flat parcel was a letter from an attorney. My father had arranged for my college to be paid for 100%. Classes, books, dorm, meals, and even a $100 per week ‘allowance’. And he had even bought me a car, and was going to pay the insurance and everything. It was waiting at the local dealership for me to pick it up.

I waited until the end of July to say anything to my mom. It still didn’t go well. She had a hissy fit. First she threatened. Then she begged. Then she tried the suicide threats again ... until I picked up the phone. She backed off that quickly and just cried and sobbed.

For the next 3 weeks she continued to try and get me to stay at home. Then, on the evening I was packing my car up to leave for college the next morning, she completely went over the edge.

At 11 PM she called out for me. When I walked into her room, I gasped. What I saw both repulsed and angered me. Mom was kneeling on her bed, looking at me in the doorway over her shoulder. She was naked. Her back arched and her naked ass and cunt on display.

“If you’ll stay with me, you can have me any time you want. Pussy, ass, mouth ... whatever you desire, son.” She slurred.

Yep ... She was drunk again.

I walked to her and slowly lowered her to the bed on her back, then concealed her nakedness with the covers. “Mom, stop this.” I told her. “I’m going to school so I can get a good job and make a decent living.”

She grasped me and tried to pull me into a kiss. “Please Joey, I’ll fuck you so good you’ll never regret staying with me. My pussy is so tight I almost can’t get my finger in it. My ass is almost cherry.” She looked at me with wild desperation, “I can suck your cock like no other woman on the planet. I’ll swallow you any time you want me to.”

I just pushed her down gently and just shook my head. “Please mom? Get some sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

She tried to pull my hand from her face to her pert and firm tits. “Please Joey? I’ll do whatever it takes. Just don’t abandon me.” And she began to cry.

Feeling like shit again, I lay down beside her. On top of the covers. I just hugged her while she cried until she finally slept.

The truth of it was that mom wasn’t an ugly woman to look at. In fact, she had an absolute killer body. She looked like my poster of the young Britney Spears from ‘Hit Me’. (yeah, her ass was just that round and firm) No, I didn’t perv on her, as she had claimed. But I had been required to clean and wash, or move and dress, her naked and unconscious body on way too regular occasions. And her gorgeous nude form was actually a lot closer to what I preferred in a girl than I cared to admit.

Not wanting to face her the next morning, or deal with her any more, I eased from the bed and finished loading my car. After a shower, I put on clean clothes and stuffed my dirty ones in a plastic grocery sack. Then, after locking the house up, I walked to my car, got in, and drove away.

I drove all night, napped in my car in the college parking lot until 8 AM, then went into the registration office.

When I called her a few days later, mom was subdued and didn’t even sound drunk. The only thing she said about my leaving was to apologize for her ‘bad behavior’ the night I left, and say she didn’t blame me for leaving the way I did.

School went great. I thoroughly enjoyed my classes. Even dated a couple girls. One in particular, Sarah, and I started dating. We actually ‘lost it’ together. I really enjoyed the things she did to me with her body, and within a couple months we had managed to have sex in every imaginable way and position I had ever heard of. We were insatiable.

I was planning to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with her and her family, and had even considered us maybe moving in with each other next semester. But as often happens, she got bored I guess.

My classes were a bit heavier than her ‘liberal arts’ load, and while I studied for a big mid-term exam one Thursday night, she attended a party with her room mate. The ‘wild video’ was all over campus the next day. When I saw her taking three cocks at once, with four different sets of guys, that was the end of us. No. I didn’t even consider not dumping her. Not after seeing twelve guys cum in her very willing body. Sluts aren’t worth my time, or my effort.

I spent Thanksgiving alone on campus.

I went home to mom’s house for Christmas. She seemed less manic and even drank less. But on New Years Eve things took a turn for the worse.

She was drunk again, and when she made her play to convince me not to return to school it was an all out and no holds barred effort. This time, when she told me without emotion that if I went back she’d kill herself, not even threatening to call the police and EMS on her again was able to deter her.

I had no choice, and I was almost devastated. No matter what anyone ever tells you, having your mother locked up in a mental ward will do things to your mind and heart that can’t be described. Even if she is an abusive and neglectful woman.

I arrived back on campus Three days late for the new semester.

The next 3 years kinda flew by. Since I couldn’t bear to go home for that long, I attended the summer session classes and got a big jump on my credits, which put graduation a year sooner than I originally planned.

It wasn’t all work and ‘nose to the grindstone’ though. I had a lot of fun, fucked a lot of girls, made some friends, and did all the things college guys usually do. I was just a normal college guy. Except for one thing. I don’t imagine most of these college guys spent their holidays with their mom, after checking her out of a mental hospital. And unfortunately, Mom wasn’t getting any better.

The last time I saw her was the first week of January when I went back to finish my final semester. She seemed better about me leaving this time. I figured it was because she knew I was going to be done with school in a few months and was hoping I would come home. In fact, I saw more of a general improvement. I spoke with her doctors on the phone at the end of January and they were very convinced they had finally landed on the right combination and dosages of medications. They were talking about letting her go home and just have outpatient sessions with a shrink.

She got out in February. We talked often by phone afterward, and she indeed seemed a lot better. More upbeat and happier. She even told me she was gardening again and her roses were about ready to bloom if the warm weather continued.

It was at the Valentines dance. I was there with my girlfriend of Three weeks, Connie. A cute little brunette that made me laugh and seemed to almost crave my attention. She looked at me like I had always hungered for a girl to look at me, and we shared the hottest and most passionate sex that I had ever even read about so far in my life.

I figured it was either a prank on us, or maybe we were dancing a little to risque, when campus security approached us on the dance floor. We were asked to step outside.

The expectant smirk on my face disappeared quickly when instead of being told to stop groping my date or that my car had been covered with condoms or some such nonsense, I was informed that there was an emergency and I needed to call the police in my hometown.

My heart sank. I knew before I even made the call that my mom had carried through on her threats.

The next afternoon we arrived and went directly to the police station. Connie, bless her heart, made the drive with me. She even stayed for the entire week, missing her classes, until after the funeral.

I sat and listened as the detective explained, as delicately as he could, what they had found when they entered the house.

Mom had evidently gone to great lengths to prepare a special romantic Valentines day scenario. The kitchen table was set for two, with champagne and roses, and my dad’s favorite meal. Rose petals trailed up to the bedroom. On the bed, atop red satin sheets, they found my mom. Dressed in a red bra, panties, garter, and stockings. Makeup perfect. An envelope in her left hand, and a .357 in her right. A single bullet hole in her chest, straight into her heart, had ended her life.

The letter was two part. One to me, and one to my father. The cop gave me Two sealed envelopes, each containing a photocopy of the originals that they held in evidence.

Back at the hotel, I cried as I read the letter mom had written to me. It was a long and extensive apology for all these years. It ended with her stating that she hoped I found love and all the happiness I deserved, and that the bank accounts, house, and her car were mine. Then she ended it with, “I love you son, Mom.”

The letter to my dad was similar in that it contained apologies for her many failings. It then turned to recounting their relationship. I was surprised to find out that they had evidently known each other for many years before my birth. Like from when she was very young. One event she mentioned was clearly when she was in elementary school. She said she never forgot the time when my dad took her to the swimming pool and then out for ice cream when a mean little classmate had uninvited her to a birthday party.

I also realized that dad was in the picture when she was 13 and her mom and dad, my grandparents, were killed in a car crash. And that their deaths had been some sort of catalyst in her and dad’s becoming a couple, then marrying.

The next morning, I went to the funeral home and made the arrangements. Or at least I tried to. To my absolute astonishment, everything was already taken care of. Surprisingly, the funeral director informed me that my dad had already come in earlier that morning and taken care of it all. But if he was in town, why hadn’t he even tried to contact me?

The whole week went badly. I just was feeling so damned guilty. Not just because I had left mom alone, but also because I wasn’t as devastated as I thought I should be. My sadness and loss were mixed heavily with feelings of relief. Relief that the oppressive and constant worry were over. Relief that I wouldn’t be demeaned and berated any more.

The night before the funeral, Connie and I had a fairly serious falling out. All my fault of course. And I say that seriously.

It was just after we had finished with a very energetic session of sex. Looking back, I now know that I had been venting all my frustration, and anger, and hurt, and emotions, onto her. But not verbally. When we had sex, which was every night since we arrived at the hotel, I had been literally ‘hate fucking’ her. On this night, she squealed and kicked her feet as I made my final rough thrusts and buried myself as deep as possible in her ass while I came. She looked at me over her shoulder when I was done, with tears in her eyes, and asked me if I really cared about her and actually loved her. As we lay there, with her still underneath me, my dick slowly wilting in her ass, I broke her heart.

I kissed her shoulder and told her honestly, “Yes. Of course. I care about you very much.”

She wiggled until I popped free, then rolled out from under me. As we lay there looking at each other, she asked me the fatal question, “But do you LOVE me?”

I couldn’t answer her. I knew the answer, but didn’t want to speak it out loud. She just nodded, got up, and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she lay down again. I could feel the change in the air. I had no doubts that this was the end of our relationship.

She did stick with me until we got back to the college, and she even remained friendly when we saw each other around campus, but ‘we’ were over. She met a senior during spring break, started dating him, and I heard through mutual friends a couple years later that they got married after graduation.

The truth? I didn’t know how to love anyone. I had no reference. With the way my mother had fucked me up, I wondered if I’d ever be able to feel proper love for a woman.

Anyway, The next day, at 10 AM, I buried my mom. Connie still stood by my side and held my arm as I cried. It was a small ceremony, attended by less than a dozen people. One stood out prominently.

My father stood as the preacher spoke with tears running down his face as he sobbed. Two men were standing to each side of him. As they lowered the casket into the ground, the men suddenly grabbed his arms and held him upright as his body went limp. They shuffled him to a seat. He remained there for a long time after the service was over. Even after everyone else was gone.

I know. Because I stood there and watched him. Alone. I had given Connie the keys so she could sit in the car and run the air conditioning.

I was confused and shocked. This man seemed to be absolutely heartbroken. To anyone who didn’t know the history, he would have looked like a grieving husband and lover. It was then that it hit me. That was exactly what he was. A man who had just buried the love of his life.

But then why had he left us? What made him descend to cheating on mom?

I guess I was lost in my thoughts, because the man who touched my shoulder startled the hell out of me. An absolutely HUGE black man. Huge as in muscular and formidable. He was one of the men with my dad, one of the two that had stood beside him.

“Excuse me Mister Joseph,” He said. with a lot more kindness and compassion than his size would lead you to expect. “Would you be willing to speak to your father? I know he would love to speak to you.”

I looked back over at my dad, who was still sitting there with his face in his hands. Crying. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m more sure of that than I am of anything else today.” He replied.

I walked over, nervously. Dad stood and looked at me. His eyes seemed to be pleading, or searching for something. I stepped to him and opened my arms. The hug was more than I remembered ever feeling before. We both wept and hugged each other for a long while.

We finally broke apart and he spoke. “Thank you son. I know you likely hate me for leaving you, and I know I didn’t deserve that, but that was real kind of you.” He added sincerely, “I always loved you. No matter what.”

“What are you taking about dad? I don’t hate you. I love you. Always have.” I told him. “I know how bad mom was. I remember how hard you tried.” “I’m not at all sure how it all went so wrong, but I know she loved you, and I know you loved her.”

“Yes.” His voice broke. He sobbed as he said, “I love her so much. Always have, and always will. I just can’t believe she’s gone now.” He looked at me with tears streaming down his face. “She’s the only one I ever loved, Son. We were born for each other.”

“I don’t understand, dad.” I said to him.

He hugged me again and said, “I’ll explain it all so that you do understand. If you’ll let me. I promise.” Breaking the hug he added, “Can you come to my home? Maybe spend spring break with me? We can talk then. Maybe even reconnect a bit.”

Not having any plans, and now no girlfriend it seemed, I nodded, “Sure dad. That would be really nice.”

He hugged me again and we walked to the cars. He told me he loved me again, and then dropped a bomb, of sorts. “Maybe you can even finally meet your sister. She’s asked a gozillion questions about you, since forever.”

“I have a sister?” I asked him. Shocked.

“Yes.” He told me. “Beth is 14, 15 next month. She attends a boarding school up East because I have to travel so much, otherwise she’d have come and been here today.”

“I never knew.” I told him. “Nobody ever told me. What’s she like? You say she’s gonna be 15 next month? You think she’ll like me?”

He gave a little smile. “I know you’ll get along. Just wait and see.”

He gave me his card with phone numbers and address. I promised to call.

I did call my dad. And we talked, a lot. I hadn’t spoken or communicated with him since my parents divorced. I hadn’t seen or heard from him. It wasn’t that I hated him, or that he didn’t want to be in my life. I found out that it was all my mom’s doing. I found out that he had tried. On countless occasions. And she had refused to let him.

We talked about what I wanted to do after graduation. I told him I wasn’t sure yet because I hadn’t heard from any of the companies I had sent my resume to. He never faltered or paused. He just told me matter of factly that I had a job at his company if I wanted it. I did. And I jumped at the chance. I didn’t want to go back to my old town. Too many bad memories.

He didn’t disagree when I told him I had thought about selling the house and moving away. When I asked him about trying to find a place, he told me that I could move in with him and my sister. He said that Beth was very disappointed that our spring breaks were a week apart. She had wanted to stay and just miss a week of school, but dad said no. Summer wasn’t that far away.

Spring break arrived. After a bit of a drive, I pulled up to my father’s house. He lived a bit outside the suburbs of the city in a nice looking two story house. It looked like he would have plenty of room for me.

As I put the car in park, the front door opened and a very handsome older man walked outside. He smiled and waved at me. My father, Joseph White senior, had the same dark black hair and build as me. I had shown some of my friends his pictures and all of them said I looked just like him. As I walked up to him I could see a tiny bit of gray hair forming. The closer I got to him the little bit of memories I had of him when I was younger came flooding in. I had to hold back tears as he opened his arms up for a hug.

“Good to see you. I’m glad you came.” He said. I could see in his eyes he was about to start crying himself. We gave each other a big hug for a bit. He gave me a bit of a pat on the back as he took a step back to look at me again.

We spent a great week together. We reconnected easily. I found out my dad was actually a junior vice-president in the company. He dealt with a lot of huge land acquisitions where he negotiated with the landowners and often had to compete with other potential development company buyers.

But sometimes his business successes weren’t taken well by rivals. Not long ago, some real life mobsters had tried to do him harm over some land that they wanted to leverage and then make a killing on when the project started. Dad got the owner of the property to sell to his company at a generous and fair price, and the wiseguys tried to put a hit on dad. That’s why he always traveled everywhere with the two guys he called ‘associates’. But I knew they were actually bodyguards.

He told me about Susan’s tragic death. It was a simple trip to the grocery store for ice cream. She was on the way home and got t-boned by a drunk driver. The drunk had driven his SUV straight through a stop sign and into the driver’s side door of her Antique MG at 100+ miles an hour. She died instantly. Beth was only 4-years-old.

We even managed to talk about why he and mom divorced. Rather than just tell me, he showed me the great big box of letters she wrote to him. And even the ones she wrote prior to his leaving. I learned a lot about what happened with him and mom from those letters. How she had actually been the one to convince dad that he needed to find someone else to fulfill his needs. How she had worked on Susan. Convincing her that their divorce was imminent, and that my dad was a really good man and a great catch for any girl who wound up with him. Even talking up his sexual prowess to the girl until she was almost ready to rape my dad. Then finally offering her blessing for the girl to become dad’s girlfriend. But Susan was only supposed to be dad’s ‘side chick’. A willing hole for him to use in place of mom’s broken one.

Dad had often confided in mom that he would rather be in a sexless marriage with the woman he adored, than to be in a loveless marriage with a woman he sexed. But mom was too broken to even try.

Then Susan had managed to catch the 0.01% chance that dad’s vasectomy might NOT prevent pregnancy. Beth was the result of that miracle.

I learned how it was mom who had insisted they split up so he could marry Susan and not get in any legal trouble. She had literally demanded that he be a good father to Beth, and a proper husband to Susan.

Dad assured me he truly cared for Susan, even loved her to some extent. But admitted freely that he always loved mom more than anything or anyone else. Even to the point of going along with her crazy scheme.

The letters helped me understand that mom had kept me with her because she needed my companionship so badly. Even though her mind was so twisted that she couldn’t love me like she should have. She even confessed to dad that she hated herself passionately because she couldn’t love me properly, and then even more when she treated me badly because of her guilt. She had refused to give me contact with dad over her fears that I might leave her to live with him.

I also found out that dad had literally begged mom to seek some mental help, both before and after they spit up. But she refused.

We ended my week with me having a lot more information and understanding of my parents. And with him and I being a lot closer. Also with promises that we would continue to be close.

I donated most of the stuff in my mom’s house to goodwill, sold the house, and had all the remaining worldly goods moved to a storage facility near where dad lived since it had less crime and he could check on it occasionally. I banked what the sale of the house brought for whatever I decided in the future. I also sold her car, then mine, and bought a newer used Dodge Durango for myself.

The semester finally ended, and graduation day arrived. Dad sat and smiled proudly as I walked across the stage and received my diploma. I was officially a college graduate.

Beth had begged, even cried, to come with him. But she was still a week from finishing her own school term and the logistics wouldn’t allow it without her missing important exams. But I would meet her soon. In a week to be precise.

I rented a ‘daily rate’ moving truck and moved most of my things to the storage locker near dad’s house. I returned the truck and drove back again in my Durango, piled full of almost everything useful that I owned.

I pulled down the drive and stopped in front of the house. Dad opened the door just as I walked up the steps.

He hugged me, lifting me off my feet. “Welcome Home.” He said happily. “I’m so glad you decided to stay with us Joey. And Beth has been pacing the floors since she got home yesterday.” He spoke in a low voice, “Don’t let her manipulate you now, she has a way of doing things to get what she wants.” He said with a laugh.