the loss of his wife, his one true love, he married his second wife, Carol, some years later, to cook, clean, do the laundry, and take care of me and the apartment, while he was working. A product of the forties and fifties, things were different back then and changed quickly during the tumultuous sixties and my Dad had a difficult time keeping up with the times.

By all the arguments he and Carol had, I don't think he ever loved her. I never saw my Dad hug her, hold her, or kiss her, even. He yelled at her and called her names a lot. Through all of the shit she put up with my Dad's foul temper, I never heard Carol raise her voice, until that Christmas, whentoo much temptation not to want to see what she looked like without her clothes.

"I'm not dressed," she said.

Was that a warning or an invitation? I took it as an invitation and turned the doorknob and opened the door.

There she stood with her arms by her side making no effort to cover herself and looking, as if she was showing herself to me. Immediately, my eyes fell to her breasts. She had beautiful breasts, high up, they were so round and so shapely.

My line of vision quickly traveled down to her pussy. I had seen tits before in Playboy magazine. My Dad kept them in his room on the shelf in his closet. This was the first pussy I had ever seen. I mean, I only saw the