I should probably start by telling you a little about my background. My parents split up when I was around three. I was raised by my mom and later step-dad and led a pretty normal life. When I was 13, my dad moved back to the area (well, about 5 hours away rather than 5 states away) and I started visiting him a few times a year. The visits were awesome, and I loved the town he lived in. So when I was 16, and after much debating with my mother, I moved in with my dad. For the sake of properly picturing the happy family, I guess I should describe everyone. I am kinda short, and haven't really grown much since I was a teen so I probably still look about the same. I am about 5'4" with shoulder-length auburn hair and green eyes. I am fit, but not athletic looking. I have been told I have a nice ass, and for those that care I wear a C-cup. My dad is taller than me, but not exactly tall. He's about 5'10 and has short hair of the same color, but has these wickedly piercing light-blue eyes. He's always been very into martial arts so he has stayed fit without being skinny or bulky. I can certainly understand why my mom was attracted to him back in the day, and why he has never had problems with the ladies even twenty years later.
Okay, back to the story. Where was I? That's right, I had moved in with dad. It was pretty awesome living there. Since we hadn't really spent my formative years with him as a parental figure, it felt like that authoritative barrier wasn't there. It often felt more like hanging out with an older friend. I still had chores that I was expected to do, and he cared about how I did in school, but in retrospect I can now say that it more had the aura of a roommate that was also a caring friend. Discipline was always more like encouragement and not wanting to disappoint. So we had a really good relationship. The only times that it was slightly annoying was that he never liked the idea of me having boyfriends, and certainly not having a boy in the house. He always seemed to get in a bad mood if a guy came to see me, but it was just the opposite if I had any of my female friends over. He would get super friendly, and actually quite flirty. Several of my friends had huge crushes on him too and probably would have jumped his bones at the snap of a finger if the opportunity had ever presented itself!
This sort of behavior continued the entire time I lived there. And I lived there for quite a while. Even after turning 18, and subsequently graduating high school, I continued to live there so I could attend a jr college in the area without having to worry about rent. I worked off my room and board with the same sorts of household chores that I had already been used to doing in high school. So nothing really changed except I was now an adult.
Well, my dad had several girlfriends over the years that I was living there. When I had first moved in he always seemed to feel awkward if he had one over. I wasn't sure if it was because he worried that they would find him less attractive if he had a kid, or maybe that my age would make him look older. Or maybe it was my what I would think that worried him, again because of age. They usually ranged between 25 and 30, which really put some closer in age to me than him; but I always felt that if he looked good enough at 40 to attract them than more power to him! When that finally came up in conversation I could tell he got more relaxed about it all.
I guess this story really begins the summer after high school. It was during that summer that I was introduced to the old wacky tobacky... if you know what I mean. I think my dad knew that I was getting into that sort of thing... the black light posters, black light itself, and sounds of Jim Morrison coming from my stereo had to have been a clue. But I guess we sort of had an unspoken arrangement. I wouldn't flaunt it, and he wouldn't pry. So to live up to my end of the bargain, I would sneak outside to smoke it; which is also where I hid my stash.
So one fateful, warm, weekend evening that summer I snuck out and lit up. I was really getting into the grove when I started hearing a strange sound. At first I thought it was in the smoke, if you know what I mean, but I drifted around the dark and secluded back yard in search of it anyway. As I eventually drifted closer (turns out it was an epic journey of about ten feet) the sound began to get clearer and I quickly realized what it was. My dad had Tina, his then current girlfriend, over for the night... and they were having sex. The window was closed, so the sound was muffled, but it was clear enough to hear the heated sounds of two bodies entwined. I've heard of friends being shocked and disgusted when they discovered that their parents, god forbid, actually have sex... but I admit that those were not the emotions that crept into me. First, it was humor, then my heart began to race and I realized that I was actually getting excited by it. Unfortunately, just I came to terms with my excitement, it peaked and then stopped.
I up most of that night as I thought about what I had heard, and even more so what my reaction was. These thoughts drifted back and forth for a few days as I wrestled with how I felt about it. Before too long, the excitement of it overpowered the guilt and I decided I was going to listen again. Only next time I wanted to hear it a little better. More that that... as bad is it sounded (and I had to push aside my conscience more than once) I wanted to see it too.
Well, I now had a new summer hobby. I barely slept that week as I made my plans. As soon as I had the house to myself, which was the next day as it turned out, I set to work in executing that plan. While dad was off at work I snuck into his bedroom and over to the window I had listened at just a few days before. The plan was two-fold. Make it easier to hear... and even more exciting, make it so I could see as well. Fortunately, there wasn't any furniture or anything in front of the window that would block the view of the bed. So I started with raising the blinds so I could get to the window. I thought about the sound issue a lot, and what I came up with was to crack the window slightly and stick a pencil, laying flat under it and close it again. This should allow just enough of a space to hear better, but not allow so much of an air flow that it would be easily noticed... especially since the windows weren't the best anyway. Next I lowered the blinds again. Sadly, it was too obvious to leave the blinds high enough to allow a view in, so I decided to jam a few of the slats together to allow a slit of visibility instead. This took some time of checking the view outside and adjusting inside until I found the perfect arrangement. Then I just hoped that it wasn't as noticeable as it appeared to be.
Time seemed to drag on in slow motion as I waited for the next night that his girlfriend came over. In the meantime, I was constantly checking my new view-port to make sure it hadn't been discovered and fixed. Finally, the next weekend came; dad and Tina went out for drinks and would be back "late". Again, the seconds ticked painfully by as I waited for them to get home. When they finally did, I feigned sleep long enough for dad to check on me and go about his business. As soon as the door closed and the footsteps went away I snuck out my window into the backyard, grabbed my stash, cooled my frazzled nerves, and moved over to my new favorite spot at the back of the house. I was not disappointed. I now had a clear view of the bed and the sound was almost perfect. Now let me reach back in faded memory and try to describe the scene as I saw it play out, no doubt embellished to fill in the blanks!