Loving Pappy

I am writing this as a 42 year old woman. This is my past, what I went through, and what I am now. Think what you want of it. There's no gratuitous sex in it, nothing for you to use to fuel your next jerk off session, so feel free to push on if that's what you're looking for.

My mom and dad divorced when I was young and mom got custody of me. She was a heavy drug user and ended up moving us into a trailer with her drug dealer boyfriend who promptly starting molesting me on a daily basis. By the time I was 14 I was intimately familiar with things only a well worn prostitute should know how to do.

The police eventually raided the home and I ended up being sent to live with my father. My dad wasn't much better than my mother, but he did have a clean apartment, a job, and an old car to get around. He also didn't try to fuck me, although I expected it. I was 16 when he met Jenny. She was younger than him by 6-years, a good looking girl, but one that tended to use her body to get what she wanted rather than her brain. We got along ok, but it was clear to me that she really wasn't up to parenting a teen.

After they married we moved into a older 2-bedroom home, what most people would call a shotgun home. That's when I met Jenny's father, Oscar, who I have always called Pappy. Pappy was older, wrinkled, tanned, lean, and muscular. He smelled of oiled leather, salt water, bourbon, and pipe tobacco; the epitome of an old man and a grandfather.

I took to Pappy right away, although I was just 16, and a girl, he treated me like a peer. He spoke to me like an adult, expected me to carry a conversation, prodded me to participate and when he started helping with the remodel of the home insisted I help too. Pappy was kind, he was patient, he pushed me outside not only my comfort zone, but the definition of what a girl can or should do. I learned how to do framing, operate power tools, plaster walls, rough and fine carpentry, the basics of cabinet making. All skills I use today in running my own home flipping business.

I know you're all waiting for me to tell you I seduced him and used the skills my mother's husband had forced me to learn. I didn't. I loved him with all my heart, and would have gladly and lovingly done those things for him, had he wanted me that way, but he treated me with respect and love. He taught me a man can love a woman, a girl, without forcing her to be a sex object.

My Pappy died last week. He was 92 years old and had been active up to his last day. I was with him, at his bedside, holding his hand when he breathed his last breath. I was with him, and told him I loved him, told him how much he meant to me.

That's my confession. My mother was a druggie who ended up dead in prison from a heroin overdoes, her boyfriend my rapist is in for life on a 3-strikes policy after he robber a gas station for $60, dad does some light construction for me and Jenny handles the company's books both will be retiring soon and I will buy out their portion of the company.

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