How My Father Ruined My Life

My wife Harriet looked just like Sophia Loren. In case you don't know who that is then let me tell you she was (and still is perhaps) a very famous Italian actress and back in the day very beautiful and sexy with what I can only describe as erotic magnetism. They say that "beauty is only skin deep" well not in her case and that is what made her so special. If you don't believe me just "google" her and you'll see what I mean. She was certainly very majestic. She was tall with a tremendous figure fully rounded hips a wonderful bust and long legs. Her face was oval shaped with big dark eyes and a full mouth and a firm nose. Some thought that her mouth was perhaps a bit too wide and her nose a bit too long but I thought they were just perfect. Others thought her mediterreanen completion too dark. But I loved it all. I loved every bit of her. If she had imperfections then they worked perfectly together to create a woman of quite magical qualities. I Loved the way she walked; it was so graceful with a gentle swaying motion like a ballet dancer or a model on a catwalk. She had more sex appeal with her clothes on than many women have with their clothes off. When she came into a room you couldn't take your eyes off her. And I loved the sound of her voice which was deep and strong and gave her a very imposing presence a woman who knew her own worth and nobodies fool. My wife was just like that. And it wasn't just me who thought so everyone who met her thought so too.

When we announced our engagement everyone envied me my incredible good fortune. They couldn't believe it and nor could I. Nobody in real life married a woman who looked like a glamorous film star and certainly not blokes like me. I was young when we got married and looking back perhaps I was too young but I was besotted with her I couldn't see straight or think straight. I was dancing on air, I really was. Getting Harriet to the alter was a schoolboy fantasy come true. Every man who ever saw her fell in love with her and wanted her. But the only man she wanted and loved was me. Me!

Yet happy as I was there was also a nagging doubt in my head and a quiet fear in the back of my mind. I was scared that I would make her unhappy and so I was determined to prove to her that she hadn't made a mistake in marrying me and that I was worthy of her. I promised myself to provide for her and give her the kind of life a woman like her deserved. A beautiful woman like her needs a beautiful home and wear beautiful clothes and have beautiful things. She needed to be worshipped and shown off as the goddess and princess that she really was. So after we had returned from our honeymoon and settled into our new home I started to work all the hours that God sent me. I always came home very tired but I was always very happy.

And I enjoyed our love life too. We were both young on our wedding night and neither of us had had much experience when it came to sex and Harriet was very shy and reserved in bed. She always insisted that we have sex in our bed with the lights off. It was as if she felt guilty about wanting sex and shy about her body. But I didn't worry about the details. What did technique and experience matter when you were in bed with the woman you loved. Besides, experience and technique would come with time and make our loving making even better. But I also have to admit I found her shyness and sense of modesty assuring because it was proof of her virtue.

Then one evening there was a knock on our door. I wasn't expecting anyone and so when I opened the door I got the shock of my life. Because standing there was my father. I hadn't seen him for twenty years ever since he had walked out on my mother and me when I was twelve years old. I'll never forget the day when I had come home from school to see my mother sitting in the kitchen clutching a letter crying her eyes out. I knew that something terrible had happened but it was some time before my mother could bring herself to tell me that my dad had left and was never coming back. I was stunned and in a state of shock. Of-course I asked why and it was only later that I found out that he had run off with his secretary and in the process had left my mother and me high and dry. My mother felt hurt and angry and I was hurt and angry too. I wanted to know why he had done it but I never found out. I always hoped and dreamed that one day he would come back but he never did.

So you can imagine my surprise when I now actually saw him standing on my front doorstep with a big smile on his face acting like he'd just come back from the shops. Astonished as I was a quickly regained my composure.

"What the hell do you want?"

"To see you of-course my boy. To see you!"

"You've seen me. Goodbye."

My father laughed good naturedly. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"No."

"That's no way to speak to your father".

"But you don't get it. I don't want to speak to you."

But Harriet did. Wondering what on earth was keeping me she had come to the door to find out. I had to tell her who the stranger standing on our porch was. She seemed delighted to meet my father and held out her hand.

"I'm so pleased to meet you."

"And I'm even more pleased to meet you," he replied bending down to kiss her hand.

Harriet was thrilled by the chivalrous gesture and without thinking to ask me invited him in.

I followed them as she led him into the living room wondering what on earth was going on. Why had he come back and what did he want? I knew he had come for a reason and it wasn't to see me. Harriet on the other hand went out of her way to make him feel welcome He was given a tour of my house and there were endless gasps of admiration as he went from room to room.

"You've done well for yourself. I'm proud of you my boy?"

He examined the paintings on the wall as if he was a connoisseur and fiddled with the expensive ornaments that decorated the house as if he was some sort of expert on Art. And he examined my wine cellar as if he was an authority. He congratulated me on my good taste and he especially appreciated my good eye when it came to the ladies and nodding his head in Harriet's direction he asked, "where did you find her my boy? She is a fine young filly!" adding she's "a sight for sore eyes and no mistake" as he literally undressed her with his eyes. He gave me a hearty clap on the back and said, "it's good to see that the acorn hasn't fallen far from the tree" as if it was an achievement he could be proud of and take credit for. As if he thought it showed that I was worthy of him and had a right to be his son.

After that first surprise visit he was always coming round and Harriet always seemed pleased to see him and it didn't take him long to make himself right at home and he wasted no time in treating my house as if it was his. To my annoyance Harriet seemed to enjoy his visits and disapproved of my very cool attitude towards him and told me that I should show him a bit more respect and reminded me that "he is still your father" and that I should put the past behind me and forgive him and try to build a new relationship with him. To her his life was a woeful tale of tragedy and regret and took him at his word when he said he wanted to make it up to me. He regaled her with stories about his life and was quite open about walking out on my mother and me. His explanation was that he had married too early and found the responsibilities of caring for a wife and child too much "I couldn't handle it," he said "and I panicked and ran." But, he explained to Harriet, he was older and wiser now and wanted to make good the hurt he had caused. To me that was all bullshit. No one put a gun to his head did they? It was my dad who had decided to marry my mum. He was the one who had gone on bended knee and begged her to marry him and yet fifteen years later had changed his mind and had simply vanished.

His faults were obvious to me and it astonished me that she couldn't see them too when normally she was so astute in reading people because there were no flies on Harriet but when it came to my father she seemed to have a blind spot for some reason. But he didn't fool me for a minute. I knew him for what he was. He was morally slippery. He was full of shallow charm and bar room bonhemie. But to her he was a poor lonely old man who wanted to be given a chance to make up for the things he had done in his past and she told me off for being so hard on him.

Even worse I didn't like the way he was always buying presents for my wife and taking her out shopping even taking her to the theatre and restaurants when I was at work. But I felt powerless to do anything about it because Harriet made it clear that she was enjoying all the attention she was getting and my father merely said that he was keeping Harriet from being lonely and bored.

"It's a crime to keep this wonderful creature copped up at home," he chided me. That infuriated me. He was implying that I was neglecting her and it angered me that Harriet seemed to be taking his side when she knew how I felt about him.

Most of all though what worried me was that my father's presence was in danger of causing a rift between me and Harriet. She laughed at his jokes especially when they were at my expense. One day she mentioned that we were trying for a baby and my dad quipped, "Maybe you should try harder!".

Harriet laughed and then said, "he's doing his best." Then it was my father's turn to laugh, "That's my boy!" he said mockingly as he patted me on the shoulder.

And my dad would tell her endless stories about his love life and when Harriet asked him one day the best way to seduce a woman he gave her a wicked and said, "I put them over my knee and give her a good spanking!"

For some reason Harriet found that amusing, "Oh gosh!" she exclaimed trying to cover her blushes, "that's very wicked of you."

"I only give the ladies what they want."

"I don't think I would want that," said Harriet with a nervous laugh.

Turning to me he gave me a meaningful look, "personally I highly recommend it."

"Oh but it's so awful," cried Harriet starting to blush.

"It does women good."

"I don't believe that," insisted Harriet still blushing.

"You'd be surprised," my father told her giving her a knowing look.

"I'd be surprised as well," I snapped "I never knew that wife beating was part of foreplay!"

I was appalled but Harriet didn't seem to be. It infuriated me that she was being taken in by him like some soppy schoolgirl. But I didn't want to argue with her about him. So I kept silent and trusted that sooner or later the penny would drop and she would see him for what he really was.

Then one fateful day I came home rather later than usual. The house looked dark and I assumed that Harriet was already in bed as she always went to bed early when I wasn't home. When I let myself in I saw that the light in the living room at the back of the house was on so I assumed Harriet must still be up after all and went to greet her. The door was ajar and as I pushed it open slightly what I saw took my breath away and stopped my heart from beating. Because my father was sitting on the settee completely naked with a cigar in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. Harriet was also completely naked and on her knees in front of him with his gnarled old cock stuffed deep her throat. Her head was bobbing up and down on his thick shaft her cheeks hollowed out as she blew him. My father meanwhile was watching her with a cruel leer on his face.

"Ah yes, my dear" he grunted, "didn't I tell you; "practice makes perfect".' He puffed on his cigar looking immensely pleased with himself and then took a sip of whiskey adding "that's not bad, my dear. Not bad at all."

He put the cigar in his mouth and then using his free hand grabbed Harriet by the hair and forced her down further onto his cock, "come on my girl surely you can take more than that," he said with a wicked smirk on his face as he watched Harriet eagerly working hard to service him with energy and enthusiasm obviously very eager to please him. My father looked down at her gloating like a conquering hero looking down on a vanquished and humbled foe.

Then he dropped his cigar into the whiskey tumbler and without warning pushed Harriet forcefully away and getting to his feet stood over her and started to masturbate grunting furiously until all his cum exploded out of him all over her face. Harriet gave a squeal and covered her face with her hands which made my father laugh. Then he grabbed her hair and forced her head back and rammed his cock into her mouth and down her throat and began to fuck her mouth with a savage intensity that made her gag and choke until after what seemed like an eternity he cried out and his body gave a shudder as he emptied his balls down her throat. Then, with a roar of triumph he grabbed her and threw her face down on the settee and started to slap her beautiful bottom.

Harriet cried out as if in protest.

"Shut your mouth bitch! What did you expect?" he barked and started to slap her even harder, "you dirty little bitch. The minute I clapped eyes on you I knew you were a dirty little slag! Pure filth!"

"Oh Please! Please!" simpered Harriet

"I know what you need and by God I'm going to make sure you get it!"

Harriet just lay there and took it moaning softly, "I love you my darling. I love you."

"Yeah! Yeah!" snorted my father contemptuously.

She screamed with delight when he thrust his old cock between her wide open legs and started pounding her pussy with a vengeance.

"How's that? Is that good, Hm? Feeling better now are we?"

"Oh God yes! That is good. That is so good!" howled Harriet joyfully.

My dad chuckled gleefully as he rifled his rock hard cock into my beautiful young wife.

Then he pulled her from the settee and made her knee and started to push her backwards until her shoulders touched the floor behind her so that her body arched upwards like a bridge. Crouching in front of her between her spread legs he began to ram his nasty old cock into her again with as much fury as before crushing her lovely firm breasts with his hands as he did so and she just lay there and took it squealing with delight arching her body upwards to help him drive his nasty old cock even deeper into her young luscious body. He craven lust for sex her uncontrolled lust to be ravished and abused was humiliating and degrading.

Watching them was like rubber necking at a car crash on the motorway; It was horrible sight and it made me sick. But I couldn't take my eyes away. But in the end I could take no more. I went into my study and took my passport, cheque book and some other personal possessions and walked out of the house the sound of her happy screams of sexual liberation ringing in my ears. Why would she do this? With a man who carried nothing for her. Why would she throw everything away for a man who was using her. What happened to her honour her pride and self respect? My father treated her like a whore like a sex slave and she let him. I don't get it. What was she thinking? Is what women want? Do they want to be treated like whores?