It had been a difficult day for all of us.
Mom, Dad and I were exhausted, still somewhat stunned at the death of my Uncle even though it had been just over a week.
The day's funeral ceremony had been moving in incredible ways for all of us. For my Dad, the loss of an only brother; for Mom and I, the loss of someone we both loved almost as much as Dad, someone who was often around and part of our lives. I saw him as a man that always glowed; much like my father, with a radiance of strength and passion for life -- but with a sweet and gentle side. He was well built physically and oozed sexuality, raw maleness.
I would miss him.
There were times of achingly heightened sexual tension for me when he was around, I was attracted to him. If only there could be an opportunity created, I would often wonder, what might happen if I we had time together alone.
Oh, my dreamy self! Hopeless, I thought! But I wouldn't change it for a minute.
Strangely, I had also been attracted to my father in similar ways -- he and my uncle were a pair, could be mistaken for twins. A pair I'd like to share I knew -- imagining being together in bed with both of them at once, both penetrating my intimate, tight spaces at the same time and drowning me in kisses and embraces from both sides.
Ohhhh.
My love for my father stirred up tension and confusion in me. Confusion; well maybe no, let's be honest and call it 'wanting thoughts' in conflict with 'shouldn't do that thoughts'. It would keep me awake at night, wishing I were cuddled close to him in sleep, like I did when I was much younger; but differently, our sleep punctuated with searching kisses, whispers of love and the stir of our bodies together, naked in the dark under the covers. Our smells combined, our groans of ecstasy and pleasure mingling, drifting through the house at night and perhaps out the window to make the neighbours envious.
Did that mean I was not normal, that I was mentally unwell and should seek help? The feeling is too delicious to be wrong, even though sitting uneasy at times as I grapple with morals I'm told I'm supposed to have.
I had always loved him so, and put it down to that need for deep connection we once had when I was a child but I somehow broke in my early teens. I treated Dad and Mom badly, always arguing, being stubborn, wanting to break out and be my own person way too soon. I was difficult, so self centred and obsessed with my own bitchy self-importance. My body was blooming, beautiful and hot as I blundered through my teenage years.
I could get any man's eye and attention -- and many women, similarly. I loved romping about in sexy underwear with my friends and scoring them systematically as I relished a discovery that I liked girls and knew quickly the right things to do to turn them on, get them into my bed, whether they were that way inclined or not.
But that's another story for another day!
My straight fantasy to be with my father - was it the simple desire to be loved wholly again by him, (and again and again) in every sense?
Maybe.
I just needed to be with him, desperately.
We almost fell out of the taxi in our fatigue and walked arm in arm, the three of us, with Dad in the middle, toward the house. Our drunken footsteps and slurred conversation punctuated by laughter at nothing testament to a wrung out, long and arduous drowning of sorrows in the literal sense. We must have been quite a sight, with Dad on leaning our shoulders, it must have looked like we were propping him up, like he was a wounded soldier.
Well, he was - emotionally.
He'd also had quite a bit to drink and needed some nursing. Oh yes, my excuse to hold him close and get my hands on his muscles and chest for lengthy periods.
Mmmmm.
And to kiss him in appearance of caring for him, but perhaps my lips being a bit heavy and lingering on his face and body.
We'd had to leave our car at the after-ceremony family gathering at my Uncle's house; none of us were sober enough to drive. My Unlcle's wife and son said they would drop it over the next morning. At the house, I turned the key and opened the door while Mom held to Dad. I let everyone in.
My parents looked all out on their feet.
"I think it's straight to bed for us," Mom murmured, holding to Dad's chest and arm. Dad was looking at me lovingly.
I melted.
Why weren't we alone, if only! He leaned over, clumsily, kissed me so close to my mouth by accident or intent that our lips made contact as I moved to meet his, and it became a like a sloppy first kiss of two drunken people at the bar. I think Mom overlooked that, but wow, it had actually been like a lover's kiss, albeit a bad one, not a proper father/daughter kiss.
Mom and Dad walked up the hallway arm in arm.
I followed in interest and because I simply had to.
In the master bedroom they kicked off their shoes and lay across the big bed together, fully dressed. Dad in his suit, Mom in her formal dress, short and black, similar to what I was wearing. Stockings and jewellery, makeup all still on. They were simply too exhausted to be bothered changing. I watched from just inside the door.
My heart was heavy, I felt so alone.
So alone.
Tears began to well in my eyes. "I don't want to be alone right now," I said. "Can I lie down with both of you?" I almost choked on my words, but my emotion, my feeling was real. I needed to hold on to my father, to be close to him at that time, more than I ever had. Not because of the kiss, but because I needed to feel his strength, his love and protection and his gentle, sweet calming side -- to know just by being close to him that everything would be alright.
I waited for Mom's approval as seconds ticked agonisingly slowly, till Dad finally lifted his head from the pillow and murmured, "Okay honey..." Mom mumbled, "Mmmm hmmm, okay then darling," as she drifted off instantly to sleep, with one arm across Dad's chest, and one leg across his leg as she lay, with her head on his shoulder.
Excitedly, I removed my shoes and rested my head on his other strong shoulder, draped my stockinged leg over his leg and placed my hand next to Mom's hand across his chest.
Though uncomfortable in my formal dress, nice underwear, jewellery and stockings, I soon fell asleep too against that wonderful man. Little wonder Mom was in paradise. It was blissful there. I had returned to the shoulder of strength, love and security I knew as a child.
We must have all slept through the remaining afternoon hours, for I woke in the dark, still where I was when I lay down with them. None of us had moved.
I wriggled in more closely to savour the feeling of holding Dad and kissed him on the shoulder, then the neck and stirred my hand across his chest -- simply could not help myself, I needed to. The kisses, I knew, were beyond kisses of simple care. They were about love, searching. I couldn't stop wanting another kiss, with the same desire but less clumsy than the previous one we shared.
He stirred, part awake. He lifted his head, kissed me in my hair, then on my forehead.
Mmmmm.
I continued to kiss his neck, then his cheek and raised my head to meet his kisses, till our lips were close. A slight pause, then I went for it, searching for his lips like this was okay and nothing was wrong here, all was natural.
I guess I was hoping that In the dark he wouldn't know if it was Mom or I that was kissing him.
And to my disbelief, he responded! Maybe he had thought I was Mom, was confused in the dark about who was on which shoulder? Or maybe he was still affected by drinking and not thinking right -- or maybe he was affected by the drinking and was thinking right, knew what we wanted!
Wow the kiss burned.
I was instantly wet in my private place and felt the scratch of my nipples, hardening against the lace of my bra.
