** At the time of writing, I'm currently 48 years old and divorced for maybe 16 or 17 years. I cant quite remember. This is my attempt to string together some of my past experiences that rightly or wrongly have shaped who I am. I hope you enjoy reading this and please don't judge me. I'd love to receive comments from my readers too so feel free to say what you want. **
Uncle Pete and I continued to have sex. It didn't happen every weekend that I was there but more often than not. I'm not sure if Aunt Rita ever suspected anything but she started complaining about what I wore around the house and telling me about how good girls should behave.
It was kind of ironic as Uncle Pete would tell me stories about how horny Rita used to be when she was younger and how she wanted sex all the time. It suddenly dried up when she was 40 and started spending a lot of time in church.
Looking back, it was vanilla sex with Uncle Pete. Granted, at that age I didn't know too much but he was happy with missionary and didn't even want blowjobs. I never offered either, happy with just being fucked. He was a decent fuck but at the time it was the best I had seeing as all the other boys I was fucking around with would come really quicky.
Turned out he had been cheating on Rita for years, especially when he was away on business trips. So he always carried a condom with him "to be prepared for any eventuality," as he put it. He'd tell me about all the women he had fucked and he'd always say I was the best fuck he had ever had. It felt good to hear that but now I wonder if he was just saying that to keep getting at my pussy. After all, in my later years, I heard that phrase so many times.
About 6 months after Uncle Pete and I started fucking, things got a little complicated. Mom left home. She and Dad had been having problems for years and apparently she was screwing around. Dad was no angel either from what I pieced together and they both felt it was for the best and in many ways so did my two elder brothers and I. They stayed friends though and the breakup was very cordial.
Life was more peaceful at home now with no more fighting and tantrums. Dad didn't seem too fussed about Mom not being around anymore especially since I stepped up and basically took over running the household.
One night dad came home after a few drinks with his friends over Happy Hour. He wasn't drunk, just a little tipsy. When dad got tipsy, he became rather melancholic. My brothers were out and I had made dinner for Dad and me.
I went into his room to tell him dinner was ready and he was just sitting in bed with a faraway look in his eyes. He looked up when I walked in and smiled.
"You look just like your mother when she was young." He said, somewhat ruefully.
"That's what she used to say too." I smiled. "She said I was a mini her."
"She was so pretty. Always had men after her. Perhaps I didn't take good enough care of her." He said softly.
"You did your best dad. She cheated on you." I said, matter of factly.
"Ahhh.. who can blame her. I wasn't faithful either." He admitted.
I just nodded my head, showing that I knew.
"It's not easy you know. People come and go in your life. You take what you can." He said. I wasn't sure if he was offering advice or just trying to make himself feel better.
He looked at me again. "So pretty, just like your mother. Will you do something for me?"
"Sure Dad. What is it?"