I was 19 and off to college, if you call dorming half an hour away off to college, when my dad left my mom. I was devastated, for all the reasons you would expect me to be, plus another. Since my 18th birthday I had resolved to seduce my dad.
I don't know what made me decide I wanted him to fuck me, but it became a quest. Sort of. Since I am a complete wuss, it wasn't anything I ever had the courage to pursue with a lot of determination. If it had been, I probably could have made it happen. I'm on the smaller side, 5'5", 115 pounds, but I have nice, round tits, a very nice ass and my mom's pretty green eyes, round cheeks and full, pouty lips. And as we now know, dad wasn't exactly your most faithful, upstanding gentleman.
What did I do? Let's see. When we were alone I would hit him up for sex advice, asking him what guys liked, whether I was pretty and sexy enough, that kind of thing. He was such a trooper that he answered as best he could, blushing, without either getting mad or running off screaming. A couple times I grabbed his ass in a semi-friendly way to congratulate him for something. Likewise he brushed that off. Once I hugged him tight and grabbed his arms and put them around me, hands down near my rear end. I v-e-r-y slightly ground my pussy into his leg (he's taller than I am), but nothing came of that either.
The coup de grace came one night when I came home -- home home, not to the dorm -- drunk from a party. Mom was in bed and dad was up watching a late movie. I went over to him and straddled him across his lap in his easy chair, tousling his hair, playing the drunk card as much as I could so I could have a good excuse if things went wrong. Well, things went neither wrong nor right, because he just firmly insisted I get out of his way so he could watch his movie. I hugged him and even kissed his neck, but nothing. Losing my nerve, I got up and made a show of staggering around a little before rushing off to my room. I stayed in my room very late the next day and avoided all talk by exaggerating my hangover, but dad never mentioned it even later. It's like it never happened.
I know, this all sounds lame, especially for a year plus of work, but that's what I'm saying. I never really went for it, and so when he ran off, I was very upset.
I had even taken advantage of college life to start to practice giving blow jobs, which I didn't like but which I wanted to be able to do to my dad. Since I wanted him to fuck me in the ass, too, I practiced that -- on my own, with a dildo I bought just for that purpose. My roommate once barged in on me while I was on my knees on the bed, impaling myself up and down on the thing while finger fucking myself. (There's no doorknob signal for "I'm fucking myself up the ass with a toy.") Fortunately, she was so bombed I don't think she noticed.
I even bought a strap-on. I have a friend from school, Kayla -- not my roommate -- who I think would like to sleep with me. I've given it some thought but haven't done anything about it yet. But the idea was to have the strap-on handy for her to use on me. I wanted my dad's cock to be the first real one up there, but when I finally had that opportunity I didn't want to be an ass virgin.
Kayla and I never materialized, which is ok because -- this is embarrassing -- I lost the strap-on. I took it to a party for no good reason I could think of -- high hopes, maybe -- and while I'm almost sure I came home with it, it was shortly after that that I couldn't find it. It wasn't in my handbag a few days later when I thought it would be. I just hope whoever took it at the party was drunk or high enough not to remember who they stole it from.
But anyway, my dad. He and chickie-poo left the state altogether and he seemed scared to show his face again. I don't blame him, considering my mom can be delightful and funny and kind, but when she gets mad, watch out. I think I was just as upset to hear he probably wasn't coming back as I was to hear he'd left and wanted a divorce. After all, there was a bright side to the divorce. It might actually make it easier to bed him. If nothing else there was less a chance that mom would walk in on us or anything.
It was while I was feeling mopey about my seemingly lost opportunity to fuck my father that I realized that my mom was feeling morose, too. (And she probably had a good, legitimate reason not involving incest.) I was home for a weekend and mom was fixing something on the stove for us. Something drew my attention to her and I noticed she was sobbing, her back to me and toward the stove.
"Mom?" I called, kind of stupidly. "Are you ok?" She was, mostly, just as she explained kind of having a hard time adjusting to dad being gone. We talked about it for really the first time then. They had been having problems for a number of years, but had a sort of understanding that nothing would happen till I was out of the house.
"Please, Laura, don't think for a second this was somehow your fault," my mom was quick to explain. That seemed strange to me, and sometimes my internal edit function goes on the fritz. So I asked her what she meant. If they decided not to leave one another till I was away at college, why would I think it was my fault they split up? If anything, it would be my fault they stayed together longer than they should have.
She started sobbing again, and I felt awful for not just listening and being a good daughter. I got up and hugged her. "It's not your fault at all," my mom said, her voice shaking. "It's mine."
"No!" I said firmly, kneeling next to her chair in the kitchen. "No, mom, he ran off with some slut. I don't care what you think you did, or even what you did. You're still here, he's not. It's not your fault."
She smiled at me and sniffed. I got the distinct impression she thought I was naive. I hugged her again, and she hugged me back. Then she explained what had gone on. Throughout, I think my jaw dropped closer and closer to the floor.
"Laura, I wanted your father to sleep with you, and he refused. Don't look that way, it was painfully obvious to both of us you were trying to seduce him. I saw you hug him and basically hump his leg once. That time you came home drunk and threw yourself at him, I saw that, too. You made enough noise coming home to wake me. There were other signs.
"What made that awkward -- well, beyond the obvious -- was that in our sexplay he had sometimes pretended I was you. So I knew he wanted to do it. But presented with the opportunity -- with my blessing! -- he wouldn't do it. I think it got to the point he just couldn't live under what he thought were my expectations anymore.
"You're wondering why I wanted him to do it. It's because we were in trouble, our marriage was failing, and I knew he wanted it. I'll never know for sure but I think he figured that if I 'gave' him this, let him do what he wanted, with my approval, he wouldn't have the nerve to ever leave. And he wanted to leave, that I know, too. We just didn't work anymore.
"Near the end the issue came to a head. I told him if he didn't hurry up and sleep with you already I would. I told him I'd fuck you myself, and pretend to be him, and that he'd never be able to live up to that and would lose his chance. You'd never want the 'real thing' after me, I'd be so good." She snorted. "It was a terrible thing to threaten, not the least because it's you we were talking about, but that's how far gone we were. It wasn't long after that that he left.
"So, you see, it's my fault. And it's been killing me ever since, and I needed to get it off my chest. I'm so, so sorry."
My brain was moving more slowly through all that than the speed at which it had come out. By the time it got to the part where my mom had told dad she'd fuck me herself, I nearly fainted.
"I know this is a lot to take in, and if I were a good mother, I probably would have just kept it to myself. But Laura, your father doesn't deserve to be thought of as someone who just picked up and ran off with someone and left little old me here by myself, blameless. I drove him off, and I used you to do it. I'm the one you should hate, not him."
That snapped my out of it, a little. "Mom," I croaked, "I don't hate you..." She started sobbing again, and she got up from the chair and ran into the living room.
I was frozen, wide-eyed, for a little while longer, then I went into the living room after her. She was on the couch with her head buried in her hands, elbows on her lap. I didn't know what to do or say, because I didn't really know what I was feeling. I sat next to her.
"Mom... this is a lot... out of left field. I don't know what to make of any of this. But I don't hate you."
She smiled up at me, I think she'd run out of tears. "It's more than I deserve." I hugged her again.
