my dad fuked me
Introduction:
nicksingh on Facebook
And as always, I jerk awake, my face drenched in sweat. As always, I just sit by the edge of the bed and while waiting for the tears to stop, think about my past, what I had lost.
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I was 16 when I met my wife. It should have been nothing special, just a friend introducing her to me, but from the moment I met Jeanne, it just sort of clicked, no matter how corny it may sound. Jeanne was a pretty 5’5 brunette with brown eyes and a smile that could warm the coldest of days. Despite looking very ordinary, wearing jeans with a loose green top at the time, I found myself being more attracted to her than any of our college sluts who go around wearing tight tops and skirts that look more like belts. She was something different, something special.
We went to the same college, were chosen for the same university, most of my young adult years was spent with her, my closest friend. As we grew older, the line between friends/couple became increasingly strained, sideway glances turning into guilty smiles, guilty smiles turning into flirting, flirting turning into teasing, but neither of us took it any further. Too scared, too proud or the fear of rejection, I don’t know, but it looked like I would forever remain in the friend zone, which is the worst place for a guy to be. Fact.
That changed when Jeanne had invited me as her +1 for cousin’s wedding, both of us being 19 at the time. I had already been introduced to her parents, John and Nadine, and they seemed to like me, so it wasn’t awkward or out of the blue. Anyway, during the reception, I found myself dancing with one of the bride’s sisters, who was very…enthusiastic, let’s put it like that. Especially her hands, which were definitely rubbing against things they shouldn’t. Trying to pull away, and ignoring that sly look in her eyes, my eyes caught Jeanne, who was trying hard not to laugh at my discomfort. And yet, she seemed slightly bothered about it as well.
Managing to pull away, I sat down next to Jeanne, ignoring her jibes. Throughout the evening, the eager bridesmaid tried to catch my eye several times while I was talking to Jeanne, but I smiled back at her, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Of course, that only encouraged her and so, when I saw her approaching me, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I asked Jeanne to dance with me.
Spontaneous. Random. Out of the blue. Jeanne looked at me curiously, before glancing to the bridesmaid, and asked, “Any particular reason?”
“It’s a wedding. People are dancing. Do I really need a reason?”
The way she was staring at me, I half-expected her to decline. But to my surprise, Jean sighed, saying, “Come on, then.”
It was a slow song, and so, finding some space on the floor, I drew her in, placing my hand on her waist and did that classic dance that involved nothing but circling, made for people like me who had no idea how to dance. We moved slowly, just me and her. I had expected for it to feel awkward, having never danced, not even at my prom. But in reality, it was…nice. I found myself enjoying the closeness, the warmth shared between us. Looking down at her, and seeing the small smile on her face, I forgot every piece of restraint I had and kissed her. At the contact, every part of me shivered, and as Jeanne kissed me back, I failed to notice anything else. No idea how long it lasted, could have been years, before she pulled away, and it was only when she gave a sm Nick Singh @facebook.comIt starts the same way. Standing in my living room with the phone ringing. Around me, walls rip away, frames are sucked into the sky, the ground cracks, everything is chaos, and yet, there was no sound apart from that damn ringing. I try to stop myself, but as always, like every other time, I walk over, the dream refusing to end, refusing to let go. I pick up the phone, and hear the words, “Is this David Leonard? Sir, there’s been an accident…”
And as always, I jerk awake, my face drenched in sweat. As always, I just sit by the edge of the bed and while waiting for the tears to stop, think about my past, what I had lost.
********************************************************************************************************************
I was 16 when I met my wife. It should have been nothing special, just a friend introducing her to me, but from the moment I met Jeanne, it just sort of clicked, no matter how corny it may sound. Jeanne was a pretty 5’5 brunette with brown eyes and a smile that could warm the coldest of days. Despite looking very ordinary, wearing jeans with a loose green top at the time, I found myself being more attracted to her than any of our college sluts who go around wearing tight tops and skirts that look more like belts. She was something different, something special.
We went to the same college, were chosen for the same university, most of my young adult years was spent with her, my closest friend. As we grew older, the line between friends/couple became increasingly strained, sideway glances turning into guilty smiles, guilty smiles turning into flirting, flirting turning into teasing, but neither of us took it any further. Too scared, too proud or the fear of rejection, I don’t know, but it looked like I would forever remain in the friend zone, which is the worst place for a guy to be. Fact.
That changed when Jeanne had invited me as her +1 for cousin’s wedding, both of us being 19 at the time. I had already been introduced to her parents, John and Nadine, and they seemed to like me, so it wasn’t awkward or out of the blue. Anyway, during the reception, I found myself dancing with one of the bride’s sisters, who was very…enthusiastic, let’s put it like that. Especially her hands, which were definitely rubbing against things they shouldn’t. Trying to pull away, and ignoring that sly look in her eyes, my eyes caught Jeanne, who was trying hard not to laugh at my discomfort. And yet, she seemed slightly bothered about it as well.
Managing to pull away, I sat down next to Jeanne, ignoring her jibes. Throughout the evening, the eager bridesmaid tried to catch my eye several times while I was talking to Jeanne, but I smiled back at her, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Of course, that only encouraged her and so, when I saw her approaching me, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I asked Jeanne to dance with me.
Spontaneous. Random. Out of the blue. Jeanne looked at me curiously, before glancing to the bridesmaid, and asked, “Any particular reason?”
“It’s a wedding. People are dancing. Do I really need a reason?”
The way she was staring at me, I half-expected her to decline. But to my surprise, Jean sighed, saying, “Come on, then.”
It was a slow song, and so, finding some space on the floor, I drew her in, placing my hand on her waist and did that classic dance that involved nothing but circling, made for people like me who had no idea how to dance. We moved slowly, just me and her. I had expected for it to feel awkward, having never danced, not even at my prom. But in reality, it was…nice. I found myself enjoying the closeness, the warmth shared between us. Looking down at her, and seeing the small smile on her face, I forgot every piece of restraint I had and kissed her. At the contact, every part of me shivered, and as Jeanne kissed me back, I failed to notice anything else. No idea how long it lasted, could have been years, before she pulled away, and it was only when she gave a sm
