A Gift, of Sorts (sexual content)

In 1965 when I was 16 years old, I was living alone with my father who was very much a bachelor. He would have been 38 at that time and he was a car salesman who was successful in both his work and play. His male friends were kind of connected, if you know what I mean, and there were poker games where these goodfellas would play and drink and laugh quite a bit. In truth, they were a fun bunch, but there were always the dark secrets that came with these guys, and my father worked to stay on their good side. I’m not sure what his contribution was to this group but it probably had something to do with his work as a car salesman. He was more than a little interesting, my father, and his rough edges needed the kind of smoothing that would keep him away from the apartment for long periods at a time, and I was largely left to fend for myself. This was a lonely time in my life and I recall that I had made arrangements to visit my mother who was living in upstate New York. As the trip was approaching, my father told me to make sure I was home the following night as he had a “surprise” going away gift for me.

While I didn’t know for sure what was the surprise was going to be, I do recall thinking it was going to be most unusual, and my anticipation became quite intense as the day moved slowly into night. I was most excited when I heard the door open and my father coming up the stairs with someone else.

She was absolutely gorgeous, and her name was Ruth. Long blonde hair, 23 years old, and about 5 ft 4 inches. After a brief introduction, my father left the apartment and I was alone with Ruth. My heart was racing and my mind was numb when she started to kiss me. This kissing lasted for some time and she was very complimentary. Although I wasn’t a virgin (what can I say, call me lucky), I never imagined that I would be with a grown woman, and one this beautiful and sexy was beyond belief. After several minutes Ruth suggested that we move into my bedroom, and without any hesitation I stood to show her the way.

She undressed herself and then she undressed me. Her naked body was superb, and her breasts were perfect, arching slightly upward. I was so excited I could hardly breathe, and we were kissing when she climbed on top of me and guided my screaming penis inside of her. It lasted 6 seconds. Give or take 2 seconds. What, at 16 I should have known about restraint and timing? She was wonderful about it all and suggested that we wait a bit and try it again. I was kind of freaked at this point, having lost it so quickly and not really knowing what to do now. During the time that we spent in my bedroom, my father had returned and retreated to his bedroom, where he would wait for Ruth. She was very tender with me and very kind with her words. Right before she got dressed she kissed me for several minutes and told me she wanted to give me a piece of advice. “Always go down on a woman, you have fabulous lips”.

In the morning I peeked into my father’s room and saw them sleeping together. I wasn’t freaked out and wasn’t damaged. It was another era, a time when a misguided father might do something like that for his son. Today, of course, this would be considered way over the top. I never could arrange something like that for my son, and although he is a grown man now, when he was 16 he was, in my eyes, still a child.

My father didn’t know any better, and he just wanted to do something nice for his son. The gift was extended, accepted, consumed, and is forever a part of me.

Many years ago I was attending some State sponsored training for Social Case Workers, and I relayed this story during that training. It is fair to say that everyone was horrified that a father would do that to a boy of 16. I didn’t feel abused, but I also understood their outrage. My father was piece of work, and I still think about Ruth.

© 2013 Michael Fiveson

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35 thoughts on “A Gift, of Sorts (sexual content)

  1. So much to this story … I can imagine the shock when you shared that story with the Social Workers. Still … I had to laugh at Minute Rice and Slow Cooking Rice!! You and Joe 🙂

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  2. It’s so liberating and freeing to own one’s life. This story spoke to me mostly about your feelings as a young boy… and about Ruth, and what she left you with. What an exceptional young lady she was. So much of how we view sex as adults has to do with those first experiences. Your memory of Ruth is special and intriguing because she was an extraordinary woman with positive views about the pleasures of sex, and I think, a teacher of respectfulness and kindness. These are the experiences in our lives that have bearing on who we become.

    I enjoy these writings about your life. I love what you said above, “It is a very easy thing for me to be honest. Like breathing.” Well said all around, Mike.

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    • Yeah, I would like a mulligan with that whole experience. 6 seconds was cruel in the scheme of things. Yes Ruth was very sweet and a good woman. 23. Oh my.
      You are a good one Lori. Great and intelligent perspective. Wonderful comment….thank you.

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  3. At 23, Ruth was mature beyond her years. Ah, Ruth, what a sweetheart. I suspect you were something of a sweetheart yourself, Mike … rough edges and all. 🙂

    Dean’s “Ruth” was Ann. She died tragically when she was in her forties. She was the older sister of a friend of Dean’s. There was always a softness in his voice when he talked about her. Sweet boys, you two. 🙂

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  4. Great post and wonderfully written, I often sit back and think of the things we do and people we meet in are youth and how they make us into the people we are today, possibly your father had a moment of uncanny for site

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  5. I have a father who was never meant to be a parent, even though he’s been married 3 times and brought 5 kids into this world. My circumstance wit him isn’t like yours but instead deals with his easy willingness to deny having me as his son when it was convenient for him when he tried to impress certain business people who he wanted as friends.

    Like you, I totally get that his conduct is inexcusable but I’m not scarred by it.

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