Love the One You're With Even When Taboo

My dad often sang the line, “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.” Even as a child, I knew he followed that edict, not only loving, but having sex with many women. He always loved my mother and me. About the same time I started liking boys, he started loving me differently than before.
 
I felt sad, but not scared, when my father’s silhouette appeared in front of my bedroom window in the early morning hours. I felt sad for my mother but never told her he came to my room.

I smelled liquor on my father’s lips when he kissed me. He never said anything and I sometimes wondered if he knew who I was. I could usually anticipate when he would place my hand over his cock. He always moved my hand up and back as if I didn’t remember from before.

When he was ready, he’d caress my face gently and whisper. His only words were, “Thank you,” as if he were saying thank you for cleansing me of my past.

I bent down to him. The smell of another woman always lingered there and I wondered what she was like, imagining her with my father as I felt his remaining cum squirt against my lips.

Today when I fuck, I always think of my father even though he’s been dead for years. When I hear the words, “love the one you’re with,” I still smell the scent of other women.