I love my daddy

Daddy’s home

I can still remember the day my dad left. I had just turned 10, and he had told me he was just going to the store to grab a six pack of beer. He had hugged me, opened the door and gently closed it. As he got into the car, he waved at me and gave me a flying kiss. I remember catching it, laughing and waving him of. My mother was in the kitchen, crying with a bottle of wine. I hadn’t understood at the time why.

When my dad didn’t come home later that night, I feared something had happened, but my mother had told me not to worry. After a month of waiting, my mom told me he wasn’t coming back. Distraught, I had run to my bedroom, jumped onto my bed and cried. I had nightmares and tantrums for almost a year before it stopped, leaving my mother in a better mood. I still received cards on my birthday and presents at Christmas, but I was 14 when I found out it was mom that bought them, wrapped them in and handed me them. She wanted me to think my father still cared for me.

But then, days before I turned 16, I got a phone call from an unknown number. I answered quite verily, not knowing who it was, and to my surprise, it was my dad. He told me he had finally found my number and that he wondered why I hadn’t called or written to him. I told him that I never received anything from him, and he had hung up. Tears had started flowing down my cheeks, and I had no idea it would still affect me the way it did.

Fast forward till today. My 16th birthday. I got out of bed early, running through the shower, putting on my pyjamas and running downstairs to greet my mom, grab my hot cocoa and open my gifts. I opened the one from “dad” when the doorbell rang. I ran to the hallway, thinking it was Lisa, my best friend, and ripped it open. “I thought you were going to the alps with your pare..” I trailed off when I saw who was truly standing on the other side of the door. My breath caught in my throat and tears swelled in my green eyes. On the other side stands a man I haven’t seen since I was ten, talked to once in all that time, and we share the same blood. His piercing, green eyes, his dark, chocolate hair, the dark stubble on his square jaw. Everything looks the way I remember my father. “D..dad?” I ask. My voice breaks and a lump forms in my throat. I can see tears swelling in his own eyes, and soon we are holding each other in a tight, tearful embrace. “My beautiful baby girl” he mumble in my ear as one hand come to my head to caress my blonde locks. I inherited my mother’s beauty. Her fair, creamy skin, her blonde hair, full lips, slim body, large breasts and voluptuous curves. “Honey? Who is it?” My mom enters the hallway, and I feel her tense. “Mark. Why are you here? It’s been six years and not a single call, no cards and no presents. I’ve had to make my own so she would think she still had a caring father” my mom says, gritting her teeth. I look at dad and can practically see lightning in his eyes. “Oh really? So when I’ve met you, begged you to let me see my own kid, brought her presents, cards and even tried calling, you call that not caring?” He counters back, shooting daggers at mom. I watch her eyes go wide as she try to think of a remark. “Stop! Dad’s here now. Let him stay” I say, looking challenging at my mom. “Fine. One hour, and he’s gone” she says, turn in her heal and walk away, back to the kitchen. I can hear her arguing with Paul, my stepdad, and I try to ignore it. I’ve been quite good at ignoring both their arguing, and their hours long “play sessions” when they think I’m asleep. I mean, it’s only so many “oh god, eat my cunts” I bear to hear before plunging my fingers inside my ears or knocking on the wall as I shout at them to shut up. I do kind of know why my mother scream so loud. I was curious once and snuck inside their bedroom once when they were going at it in the shower. I got a glimpse of his enormous manhood as he exited my mother, and we locked eyes for a moment, before he slowly penetrated her again with his eyes locked at me as he mouthed my name. I had run to my bedroom, hot, bothered and with a throbbing nether region that had to be quenched. I had thought of Paul as I had used one hand to rub my clit in fast circles as I used my free hand to plunge my fingers inside me, biting my lip as I came. “Baby?” My father’s voice brings me out of my wet daydream, and I blush. I feel my panties dampen and I accidentally look down towards the floor, getting a glimpse of my father’s manhood on the way, making me even wetter. “Sorry. What did you say?” I ask as I will my head to move back up and my eyes to meet dad’s. He chuckles, leaving my knees weak and wobbly. “I asked if you would like to come home with me for a while. Maybe a weekend or just a night. I have really missed you” he says as he stand up with me. I nod. “I would like that, but we have to ask mom” I say frowning, knowing she will never agree. I don’t know what happened between my parents, but my mom hates my dad. I walk to the kitchen, leading my dad by his hand, showing him the living room on the way where Paul sits, watching sports. I roll my eyes as we pass him, and show my dad the freshly renovated kitchen instead. The light grey panels look inviting to the eyes, and the white quart’s countertop reflects the light in the entire room. At the large island, there is four barstools with light grey cushions on black, steel legs, matching the hardware on the counters. I sit down on one of the chairs, motioning for my dad to sit next to me. “So, mom..” I start, not really knowing what to say. “What?” She snaps at me, clearly not pleased that her ex-husband is sitting on her chair. “I was wondering if I could spend the weekend at dad’s place” I say, grabbing my now cold, cocoa and start playing with the top of the mug. I look at a fleck of cinnamon still floating, and I allow my mind to wrap itself around the aspects of cinnamon. “No. Not a chance.” I can hear my mother sneering at my father. A look of confusion cross my eyes for a moment, before unwanted tears well up in my eyes again. “Mom, please. You have lied to me for six years, telling me he never cared, when you’re the one either throwing his cards away or re-wrapping his gifts, giving me cheap, crappy gifts, saying it’s from dad” I say. My voice almost breaks in the end, but I manage to pull through. I hear a slight sigh from my dad, and my mother slowly turns towards us, her blue eyes are cold as ice and I feel a chill going down my spine. “You need to leave” she says as she turn to look my father in the eyes, a look of remorse cross her eyes for a brief she had the same ice cold linger again. “I’m not going to give up on this. Just remember that we still have to decide a court date for us to decide who gets full custody of Amber. She is, after all, both of ours” he says as he stand up. He give my head a lingering kiss before walking through the living room, out in the hallway and then I feel the cold as he opens the door. I turn to mom. “I don’t believe you when you said he cheated. I think you did something to him. I want to go live with him for a weekend or maybe longer, because if they ask me where I want to live, I will say with dad” I snap, finish my now cold beverage and place the Minnie Mouse shaped mug back on the counter. My mom turns towards me and slap me hard across the cheek, breaking the skin and drawing a drop of blood. Tears fall freely down my face now as my hand goes up to touch the red, hot area where her fingers surely will leave a mark. “What the hell mom?” I yell. I push away from my chair and run outside in the cold, running down the street in just slippers and my pyjamas, hoping I’ll catch up with my dad somehow. I hear shouting coming from my mom somewhere behind me, but I don’t care. I run with tears freely falling, snow splattering over the bottom of my pants and cold caressing my bruised cheek. I slip behind a dumpster and hit my head. My vision gets blurry, and I see my dad. He gently lifts me up and look into my face. His f handsome face make him look like an angel, and the angel who saved me is the last thing I see before passing out cold.