Flying Dreams Prelude: a Dream I must have been twenty-six then, the last time I saw my father. I wonder if either one of us knew that we were actually saying good bye forever. Probably not. Neither of us were great on intuition. It doesn’t frighten me anymore at all. It doesn’t terrify me anymore to think of the details of our sojourn together and of what I grew to know as love. It used to frighten me, the memories, the triggers, as I used to sweep the moments, my life, out of my mind, forgetting that it happened to me, to us. I believed our story was better left unsaid, unexplained, untouched after the years of history and life paraded on settling it well into the past. Yet, in the end, as every good story does, as every good read moves forth, the story grabbed its own voice, and sprang to into verdant vital being, giving fresh, free and youthful sway to my ongoing life. As a matter of fact, as I finally discovered, the story of our love has been the root, the soil, the very earth of me and my sexual being, which has never failed me to this day. It all began with the dream I had just the other night. Unlike my dreams these days, it didn’t take place in an alternative place, weird and unfamiliar. I didn’t have that bizarre dream feeling. It was as if the dream took place in real time, in my own home and in my own bedroom. My home in those days was woody and open with windows that welcomed in the opaque Northwest light. The kitchen was adequate, but the exquisite the dining area and living room overlooked a deep emerald green, old growth forest, because it sat on a mountain side. On the other side of my home was my large, well-furnished bedroom, attractive and well decorated, though not overly feminine, in order to keep it on the masculine side for my many men friends. Though Yakacık escort not bright, the bedroom is nicely illumined by the two large windows at either end of it, and the skylight above the bed. It is a cloudy day, but not cold and there is an expansive view of the misty river from one window, and of the extensive flag stone patio on the other. I hear a knock at the door, and thinking it’s going to be a friend I begin to smile in warm anticipation of his presence. Instead, the person at the door is my father. I’m neither surprised or apathetic. Perhaps he was supposed to have been here, as if we had an appointment, which we didn’t. It had been years since our reunion one week before. Before that, the last time I saw Max was way back in ’94 when he needed me for a corporate event he was hosting. At the end, he had left without saying good bye or even “Thank you.” He had moved several times without leaving any address or email address. I went on with my life, came home to Oregon, and retreated to my crow’s nest of a home to write. I had just let him in the front door with a “Hi”, when he passed by me and disappeared into the bedroom, where he kicked off his shoes and lay down on my bed. We didn’t speak, because that’s not what we did in reality. It brought back memories of everything done in silence, and I don’t ever remember being spoken to before, during or after the love we shared. After all, in those days I had been relegated to being his slave, and slaves don’t speak. His fingers laced behind his head, he looked up at me expectantly, and I, out of habit looked at the floor. I obediently and silently began to take my clothes off. That’s the way it always was, me silently doing exactly what I was supposed to do, blushing, and him Atalar escort bayan watching with pleasure. I began with the buttons on my dress. There were six of them, as the dress unbuttoned down the front, I let it slide to the ground. I towered over him in my heals with my garters still attached to the black fish net stockings with the seems up the back. I never wore panties because for many years he forbad me to, and a bra was out of the question. I remembered bouncing so badly in high school that the counselor had to tell me to wear a brassiere or else I couldn’t come back to school. She told me that I looked like a whore and that I was distracting everybody. Shortly after that I dropped out of school. Then, I took off the tiny jeweled string I used as panties, as he never allowed me to wear panties. He wanted me always available to him. But lately I had learned to crochet pretty little undies with the lovely jewelry that clients had given me. The men loved the “panties” which were just skimpy little strings that ran in between my pussy lips, and around my hips. I untied the little bow in the back and the delicate string dangled to the floor, laying in sparkles at my feet. I could feel myself getting wet and big, and I could feel my clit beginning to protude from my pussy lips and dangle there. I stood nude before him with the exception of the stockings, garter belt and black heels. I turned around in a circle for his inspection and bent over and stretched towards the floor so he could see my ass and that I had shaved my pussy completely. It had all become a habit, and I didn’t even think about what I was doing really. My men friends loved this antic about me, and asked why I did it. I could never figure out why until recently. Escort Kadıköy My pendulous tits swung and bounced as I stood up and walked across the room to pull up the blinds and swing around the fire pole I had installed in the room years before. I pressed myself against it and my cunt juices glistened on the pole “No no Puss, don’t do that. I didn’t come for that today”. I stood in silence looking at him and stepped out of the heels. I looked down and saw my teats sticking straight out. Those had been my humiliation years ago. I couldn’t control what my body would do when he was around. “Haha Daddy.” Not even a titty fuck? Sure? S’up?” “Nah. Not this time. I just want to lay here beside you and hold you. Come ‘er.” I was twenty seven, and as I recollected, my father had not held me tenderly since that first night more than a decade before. I could only remember the fondling, pinching, clamping and being filled up with his cock inside me. Sometimes there had been his friends’ cocks inside me too. But never just laying there. Never just talking. I had been taught to get up and hustle. And that night I stood nude before him, wiggling back and forth, impatient for the party to begin, my pussy all pink, and scrupulously hairless, getting bigger by the second, and my teats stretched to their full two inches. Nudity was much more pleasant than wearing clothing by this time. It always turned me on. In the past years, I stopped wearing clothes for days at a time, often going outside to garden and hang with the neighbors in the nude. I once had a client who asked me to come to his office in the middle of the day to strip for him and anybody else who wanted to watch. He’d leave his office door open, and there I’d be, happy and free while everybody else was swallowed up in layers upon layers of heavy tight clothes. When I was nude, he’d ask me to walk around the office and “help out” the guys for the rest of the day. He called me his funny little bennie. Daddy looked at me expectantly but the thought of laying next to my father for anything other than sexy love revolted me.