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When Dad got out of prison
by Blucollar
Since we only needed one car and the house was modest but in a great neighborhood my Father was able to pay the 30 year mortgage in 10 years. I was twelve when we owned the house free and clear. It was 1972. This meant that my Mom could trade in her 8 year old Pontiac station wagon for something a little more modern. My parents decided on a Ford Torino. It was pretty cool for those days and would later be made famous in the TV series Starsky and Hutch. (I had the hots for Starsky, he reminded me of my Dad, from the moment the show came on the air...but that's another story). Dad also owned his family's home in Dayton, Texas. His parents left it to them when they died in a car crash in the mid-sixties. The house was on a 5 acre piece of property set off from the main road. There was a gas station/garage in front of it right on a main road. It had all been closed up once his parents were gone but Dad never had the heart to sell it.
My parents became pretty much like all parents did in the mid-seventies. They threw their Friday night cocktail parties in our finished basement. It had dark wood and a built in bar with a billards table. The theme was basically fake spanish. Or as I like to remember it "excess spanish". Complete with gold glass lamps and green crused velvet cushions on thick dark wood benches. And off to the side there was a guest bedroom complete with privacy and its own bathroom. Let's just say that the bedroom got used as much as the rest of the basement did during their cocktail parites. Usually by more than just two people. Yep, the seventies was a time to explore one's self, my parents seemed to be doing a lot of exploring.
The drinking was usually only contained to the social gatherings. My Dad had a beer or two while working on the yard but never really went beyond that.
The seventies brought something else along with it. Cocaine. And my parents were always the best hosts. Providing a little something extra at their parties was just polite. By 1975 beyond the booze and the sex there would always be a little bowl of powder at the end of the bar with the tinest little spoon. The bowl was usually empty by the next morning but the bedroom was full.
My parents tried to shield me from their parties as much as possible and would make sure I was in bed by 10 pm before things really got out of hand. Even at fifteen I would be faking sleep by ten. By midnight I would throw on a pair of shorts and go into the back yard and peek in the basement windows with the bushes as my cover. My favorite window was the bedroom window of course where I got to watch all the action going on. Fueled by drink and cocaine the party goers were getting it on with whomever decided to come through the bedroom door. And the action wasn't limited to opposite sex pairings. Three, four or even six people in a bunch on the bed exploring each other like it was their first time.
As far as I can tell Mom only entered that room very rarely and usually was paired off with one or two people. She wasn't much for the cocaine either. Explaining why her inhibitions were not as lowered as the rest of the guests. But Dad on the other hand. When he dove in he dove in the deep end. Men, Women, it didn't matter and he made a stop at the bowl at the end of the bar as much as anyone else did if not more. My old man would be up till six in the morning sometimes having sex with who ever wanted to till everyone was spent.
The next day things were always very quite around my house. Party attendees would always be gone by eight am and my parents would sleep the day away. My Mom always somehow made it up to their bedroom upstairs on the second floor but Dad never left the basement usually till Saturday evening after he woke up. He would usually just pass out naked wherever the last sexual encounter was. This, of course, gave me chances to satisfy my curiosity and check my Dad out pretty well. Once he was out there was no waking him for hours. Dad was about 5'10", 180 lbs with olive skin and muscular. He had a medium hairy chest with a treasue trail to his groin and hairy legs. His cock was full and thick with low hanging balls. I would gaze at him for a long time but never touch. I was too damn scared.
By 1976 or so the parties were winding down and were not as well attended as they had been in the past. But other things were changing too. My Mother was becoming very angry at my Father all the time and my Father seemed to be zoned out and nerveous most of the time when he was home. I found out later that the cocaine had become a bit of a habit with him. His drinking was very under control almost non-exsistant at this point. But the coke was another matter.
One night, fueled by coke, my Dad had enough of Mom being a bitch to him and he stormed out. He was pretty high but not drunk. The next morning we got a phone call from jail. Dad had had an accident and he caused another person in another car injury. The injury was not life threating but it would take a while for the person to heal. To make matters worse the cops found a baggie of cocaine on the seat next to my Dad.
In 1976 the war on drugs had not made its way into the mainstream yet but there was still stiff penalities for possession. My parents had enough money to get a good lawyer. Dad was looking at a 4 year sentence with 10,000 dollar fine. The lawyer got it reduced to a 2 year sentence with 2 years probation and 5000 dollar fine. His fee of course was about 5000 dollars.
So right after my 16th birthday, and soon after my Dad's 35th birthday, my father was sent to the state prison for his two year sentence. Six months later, not being able to "cope" with a husband in prison, my Mother filed for divorce. He did not contest it from jail. She got the house and the car and as soon as the divorce was final a new husband. A widower from down the street that used to come to the parties.
I was only able to write to my Dad as the prison was too far away and my Mother refused to make the trip. It was the worse two years of my life. And living with my mother, who had since become a devoted Christian, was becoming hell for a teenager. I counted the days till my Father's release.
When I was 17 I had a part time job and was able to scrap enough money together to buy a 1972 Pinto. It wasn't the best car around but it was cheap and it got me around. Mom pretty much controlled when I was able to drive it and where.
A few weeks after I turned 18 and about a month before I graduated I got a letter from my Dad that would change my life. He was being released in about a month. Right after my graduation and unfortunately he would miss it. He said he was going to go ahead and live at the Dayton house and try to open back up the gas station and work as a mechanic like his Dad did. He couldn't get back on at the railroad now so this seemed logical. He also asked me if I would come up and see him and maybe spend the summer with him. Dayton was about 65 miles away and I would have to leave when Mom wasn't around because I knew she wouldn't go for it. She didn't trust my Dad anymore but I wrote him back right away and said I would do my best to be with him over the summer. In four weeks I would be on my way to Dayton, Texas.
Con't
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"Well I love you too son. Thanks. I'll tell you what. I am gonna hit the hay and you sleep on it. I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable here. If you think you will then you may need to decide to go live with Brad and his family. I hope you don't but I will respect your decision." dad continued. "Well, ok dad, but I don't think you really have to worry. I don't think I will be
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Uncle's Home, Part 1
It was June 1976; I , Sean Brickman just finished my Senior year in high school in New York City, and now I was on my way to San Diego. I spent the past year on the varsity wrestling team and dating all the cheerleaders...and I mean all of them. I never really dated one girl for more than a couple weeks. The reason, of course, was that I got bored with girls easily. I was much happier hanging
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It was Saturday morning and I awoke with a start. You know, that foggy feeling of not knowing where you’re at right away, and then it all sort of comes back to you. I was in the bed in the guest room of my Uncle Carl's house. I was naked under a single sheet and I was very dehydrated. Otherwise I was no worse for ware. I didn't remember getting into bed much less naked. I stopped counting the
Uncle's Home, Part 3
The weekend was pretty much uneventful from there. After we went to the beach on Saturday we had steaks on the grill and turned in early. Then Sunday we drove up to Anaheim and went to Disneyland. It was only a two hour drive each way but it wore us out. We were both asleep before nine. Monday morning I heard Carl rustling and then he was at my door leaning on the door jamb totally naked and
Uncle's Home, Part 4
I was still swallowing cum when Frank took the seat across from me again. His coveralls were still bunched up around his feet and his semi hard cock was still seeping what was left of his orgasm. He seemed spent even though he still had that grin on his face. "That was nice Sean. I really appreciated that." Frank said. "Ah...yeah... no problem man." I was nervous. What if he told Carl about
Uncle's Home, Part 5
I sat up on the couch and put a pillow over my cock. I was embarrassed, confused and horny all at the same time. Next thing I knew Carl came out of the hallway naked with a beer in his hand. He went straight to the kitchen and got some hamburgers started for the grill. "Hey Sean, if your awake enough, why don't you go get the charcoal going and I'll make some macaroni and cheese to go along
Uncle's Home, Part 6
We sat outside and had burgers and beers. We kept the conversation pretty light and I was really feeling comfortable and relaxed. "Get us a couple more bud and I'll toss these paper plates in the trash out back here." Carl said as he got up. So I went in with the empty bottle and soon returned with some fresh ones. Carl was standing in the middle of the yard with his legs wide apart taking a
Uncle's Home, Part 7
I made a salad, corn on the cob and grilled some steaks. Frank and Carl finished everything. I barely was able to grab a steak for myself. Then I gathered up the plates while Frank and Carl gave each other shit. It wasn't long before Frank got dressed and took off. By that time I was dog tired and Carl was heading off to bed. So I finished cleaning up and headed to my bed. The next thing I
Uncle's Home, Part 8
Once Carl and I got into a routine the summer seemed to go by so fast. I decided to attend college right there in San Diego and Carl seemed happy about that. I didn't have to work since Mom and new hubby was paying my way as well as a nice monthly allowance. But the best part of all was the way I became use to Carl as the Daddy and I was his boy. He was right, I was a lot like him, and I love to
When Dad got out of prison
My early childhood was a pretty happy one. Mom, Janice, was a housewife and my Dad, Hank, worked on the Railroad as a conductor. We had a nice house in the suburbs of Houston, Richmond, and even though Dad was gone 3 - 4 days a week he always had time for me. My name is Bobby and I was their only child and yet I wasn't all that spoiled. I had chores to do and I took my role as
When Dad Got Out of Prison, Part 2: Dayton
A few weeks after I turned 18 and about a month before I graduated I got a letter from my Dad that would change my life. He was being released in about a month. Right after my graduation and unfortunately he would miss it. He said he was going to go ahead and live at the Dayton house and try to open back up the gas station and work as a mechanic like his Dad did. He couldn't get back on at the
When Dad Got Out of Prison, Part 3
I got in the passenger side after throwing some stuff in the back seat. As I was doing so I saw Dad get into the drivers seat. He was dressed to like me except without a tee shirt. His shorts were a bit tighter and shorter than mine as well. Since his shorts were so tight his box was well defined. You could see the head of his cock. His shorts seemed damp with sweat too. By the time I sat in
When Dad Got Out of Prison, Part 6
Tom moaned and then said,
When Dad Got Out of Prison, Part 7
I locked up the office and took my shoes and shirt but didn't put them back on. I drove to the station in front of the house. When I pulled up I saw Dad in one of the garage bays pulling stuff out of boxes. He was in his cutoffs and work boots. Nothing else. I parked the car and walked up to him. He was squatting down in front of the box with his legs spread a bit. The shorts were so short
When Dad Got Out of Prison: Part 8
That's when the door opened. I was bent over the stained couch naked with a man's cock up my ass and standing at the door was my Dad. Standing at the door with only his cutoffs on, sweaty from the heat, was my Dad. I was too far gone to react. I just looked into my Dad's eyes with question and with lust. I didn't know what to do. But I knew more that anything that the cock in my ass had to
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