MissLabelled’s Sunday Story Time

[peekingone]

Oh you bet I will be sharing that one

If you don't mind I would love to read that. Nothing like a great erotic story now and again.

 

[LupineOne]

It’s New Year’s Eve, Dec 31, 2023 and I find myself at a private kink party. The home is beautiful, spacious, with many rooms where activities are happening, or will happen. I was properly tenderized moments before with a variety of implements from floggers to paddles to canes. Not wanting to remove myself from sub space just yet and really wanting to continue with sensation play, we transitioned to wax play.

I was being co-topped in the impact scene but when we moved to wax play, there were four people dripping wax all over me. I love wax, I find the feeling soothing and relaxing. The initial sting of the heat, to the calm cooling sensation. I was properly covered, a multitude of colourful drips tracing their way from my neck to my feet, leaving no skin in between unscathed. The beauty of wax is that it’s not only in the process of applying it that your senses are stimulated but also in the removal. All these hands and various scraping tools running along your tender skin!

And this night, after the wax was removed, my co-tops and I proceeded to shower together, as they weren’t ready to let me go just yet. They meticulously ensured all bits of wax was removed, paying particular attention to my breasts and nipples, to my inner thighs and pussy. I was putty in their hands! We toweled off, cuddled on the bed, and had one of the most wonderful threesomes I’ve ever had. They controlled each and every orgasm. My hands were purposefully kept from being able to touch them, to feel their skin, their warmth. I was their puppet, which was precisely where I wanted to be.

The aftercare was so tender and beautiful in this moment and I can still recall the feeling once I regained control of my senses. Bliss. What an incredible way to usher in the new year.

This photo only shows a fraction of the wax that covered me that night. Photos stopped happening once we were all fully invested. I also love the “Dexter” feeling here, with the tarp, giving it a sense of potential danger lol. I’m showing much more of myself here, please be gentle!

The sheer beauty, sensuality and vulnerability here is mesmerizing.
You’re gorgeous, and I love that you had an amazing night!

 

[MissLabelled]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

 

[BrendaD]

I understand.

 

[vagrantx]

Ignore this one

No.
Thank you, for sharing that.
Sending love

 

[GSDom]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

Can’t ignore it.
This…..wow.

 

[AuntieDisco]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

Can I please hug you?

 

[ck30101]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

I can't ignore it. This honestly had tears running down my face. As a father to a child that is going through something similar. It rips at my soul knowing that a father could take something so difficult and make it harder. I'm sending lots of love your way.

 

[AngelicaS1780]

Not gonna ignore it.
Gonna send hugs, if that’s okay, and wishes for peace and strength.

 

[Centauri1]

Can't ignore, I'll offer you my hugs and love, and wishes for peace your way.

 

[UnquietDreams]

As a father, I wish I could just hold you for a while. Quiet. Peacefully. Just hold you tight. And wish I could help.

You are an astonishing, terrifyingly brave woman. I know you will carefully, wisely process this, and decide what to do. Be safe and know you are loved.

 

[Dom70]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

He did the right thing. I am sorry it took so long...and that you had to play it all over again in your mind. Sometimes we Dad's screw up. We are not perfect..but...it doesn't mean we don't love our kids. Hang in there! He loves you....love him back! You'll never be wrong if you do the right thing!

 

[MischiefMakerAlways]

I can only say that I've had some terribly ugly times with my parents, and it still isn't good, but it's what we have.

I don't emotionally react to much, but this one cut me to my core. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your pain, your trauma, and the dump truck worth of baggage that just landed on you.

I admire you for being your authentic self and for standing up for yourself. And, despite a terrible situation, he stepped out and took the initiative to admit his error. I encourage you to consider that step towards something reconciliatory.

You clearly have a whole slew of people here wishing nothing but goodness for you. Thank you for sharing.

 

[Bry1313]

Not ignoring this one. This really tugged at my heartstrings and reminded me of that dad I want to be.

 

[Tigobitties98]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

I can't ignore it. I want to give you a big hug.

 

[dreamysub]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

I know it's easy for me to say, but forgive him, so you can both heal.

K.

 

[willlph]

I know it's easy for me to say, but forgive him, so you can both heal.

K.

Forgiveness isn’t easy . You will have to wake multiple mornings and have to forgive him all over again . Forgiving someone is rarely a one and done activity . It’s a work in progress that takes time .

 

[crazychemgirl]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

Definitely can’t ignore … sending you love and hugs!!

 

[MissLabelled]

You’re all so very damn kind and sweet and you’ve filled me so much love and strength! This fucking place is wild, you come here to flash your boobs and in the process end up in communion with some of the very best people

And then there is the beauty of compartmentalization. I will share a story today, I just need to go and write it.

 

[SalaciousMonkey22]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

The man of endless words is a bit speechless

Lot for you to process. We all, and I very specifically, think incredibly highly of you.

If you need a helpful pair of ears.

 

[UnquietDreams]

I add myself to this offer as well. I have wrestled with father issues my whole life. Not the same as yours, nor to the level of yours, but it is an area I have done some levels of work, both as a child and as a father.

If you want to talk, you know where I am.

 

[lavendersilk]

*** Ignore this one, I wasn’t going to post it here but since the thread exists, I took advantage. It’s not Sunday, it’s not sexy, and there is no photo. It’s just something that happened today and I needed to just release it from me. Now I’m going to go watch a movie and get back to my senses. ***


My father reached out to me today. Seeing his name written on my phone screen left me winded, like I was punched in the gut without warning. My mouth went dry and my limbs went weak because I feared something had happened to my mother. Why else would he be calling me, he who hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to me since I came out in 1999, who didn’t acknowledge I was even still alive. And those sentences were not kind, they cut deep to the bone and took residence there, living like a cancerous reminder of what I lost.

I answered, a tremble in my voice as I said, “Hello?”

“Hey son,” his voice said from the other end. Two words and we were already off to a terrible start. I could hear my mom in the background chastising him, but also encouraging him and urging him on. Hearing her, my body relaxed knowing she was fine but then why was he calling me? He sighed, paused, and corrected course: “Hi Serena.”

I was too stunned to speak and let the silence hang there, like the distance that has been between us for 25 years. My name, every last syllable of it, passed by his lips and now rung in my ears, bouncing against the walls of my mind. Involuntarily, tears ran down my cheeks. Warm, unlike the chill I could still hear in his voice.

“Hi dad,” I finally replied “can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to talk,” his voice softening, “is now a good time?”

It actually wasn’t a good time but I said it was. I desperately needed to know what was happening in this moment and I had missed hearing his voice so much, the deepness of it that felt like a weighted comforter on a cold night. But I also hated this voice, for what it had said to me all those years ago and for remaining silent during all the times I would have needed to hear it.

He continued, “How are you doing?”

The shock was wearing off, the tears had dried, and I felt a tinge of anger welling up in me. All I could respond was “I don’t think you have the right to ask me that.” To my surprise, he acknowledged that and said I was right, that it was unfair for him to presume I wanted to speak with him.

“If you don’t mind just listening for a bit, it’s all I ask. You don’t have to say anything to me. Would that be ok?”

“Yes, but if you tell me you can’t accept me, or that I am a sinner, or that it would have been easier if I died I’m hanging up.”

“I promise it’s not that.”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

He talked for no more than ten minutes. Often times repeating himself, I believe to impress onto me the sincerity of what he was saying.

You see, my dad called me to apologize and I now I have to sit with that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.

I really didn't want to "love" react that. And even though I am sitting here crying over my scrambled eggs, the "sad" react didn't feel appropriate either. But, of the two I wanted you to see the "love" rather than the "sad"-ness.

I hope this means closure for you in some small way. You deserve that. He doesn't in my opinion... but you do.

 

[Centauri1]

You’re all so very damn kind and sweet and you’ve filled me so much love and strength! This fucking place is wild, you come here to flash your boobs and in the process end up in communion with some of the very best people

And then there is the beauty of compartmentalization. I will share a story today, I just need to go and write it.

We are a family here. We are here for each other as needed, when needed.

 

[vagrantx]

You’re all so very damn kind and sweet and you’ve filled me so much love and strength! This fucking place is wild, you come here to flash your boobs and in the process end up in communion with some of the very best people

And then there is the beauty of compartmentalization. I will share a story today, I just need to go and write it.

It's almost silly, the closeness you create with people here. Haven't seen anything like it since 90's forums. It's wonderful!

We are a family here.

Uh, hmm. So... About all the cybering I've been doing...

 

[NightOfPassion2]

You’re all so very damn kind and sweet and you’ve filled me so much love and strength! This fucking place is wild, you come here to flash your boobs and in the process end up in communion with some of the very best people

And then there is the beauty of compartmentalization. I will share a story today, I just need to go and write it.

Lovely people here to boost each other on...even in the midst of beauty boob flashes..