I touched his hand, and brushing away unexpected tears, I tucked into his coffin a letter I had written him years before, just before I ran away from home. Around it I had wrapped another letter written only the night before, my letter of letting go. ‘I’m forgiving you, Dad. I have to go on with my life now.’ There was nothing else to say. It was harder than I had ever imagined it would be to let go of that letter, to face the fear that without anger to hold me together, I wouldn’t know how to define myself. Anger at him, at them, had fueled me for so long, I was afraid I would disappear without it, as though its weight didn’t hold me back but kept me grounded in this world. I lingered for a moment, remembering all the night he had come in drunk, all the lies he had told my mother, all the times I had been hurt and afraid. But for the first time in years I also remembered how he had laughed when he was teaching me to ride a bike, and the clear summer night that we had spent on the. Towards the end of the night there were a few people heading off into the two bedrooms that we had been informed were for anybody's use if they needed a quiet place to go. We were both feeling horny due to the conversations we had had with others and the general atmosphere, and decided to head off into one of the rooms when it became vacant. When we got inside we slowly removed each other’s clothes in the semi darkness of the room. There was only one light, directly over the mattress in the middle of the room; the rest of the room was in shadows. I laid Lisa down on the mattress and began to lick her pussy while she played with my cock and balls. We were having a lovely time and were both very turned on, but just then the door opened a little and a man came in and stood near the closed door, in the shadows, said nothing and watched us. We were so turned on we did not stop what we were doing, with my hands holding Lisa's pussy lips open as I flicked my tongue over her clit and sucked.
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