FYI – I am a female, in my 30s, mentally stable and physically healthy. I have lived through an ‘epiphany’ that corrected my thoughts, so any long term damages were accounted for and corrected.
As much as I wished that this ‘story’ didn’t have to appear on an erotica site, I think putting it here would hopefully cast some doubts on the realism of what I am about to recall.
On the day my mother stormed out of the house, was the very night my dad made his move on me. I am not his step-child, I am not adopted. I was born to a very young mother, and I knew that from the way she dressed and stayed out late.
My dad was, and still is one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. He raised me right, despite how my mom treated him. According to him, he was already in his mid-thirties when he met my mom. She was about twelve years younger than him, but it was exactly his maturity and stability and discipline that led her to him. Being way younger than him, she was as expected, wilder an hornier than him. So she wanted it more frequently than his body could handle.
Eventually, after about 2 years of dating, they started doing it raw, and that was how I came about. Within 3 months, they got married, and moved into a home without taking on too much debt. Soon, I was born, and she received the best care he could provide to get her physical and mental health back to normal. From getting married, to giving birth, my mom had this group of friends that never left her side. My dad didn’t give too much thoughts about them too, since it was only right for girls to have their own click.
Years then passed, until I turned 13 and my mom, 38. I was about that age when started questioning the way my mom dressed, in skirts and dresses, with full make up, hanging out till late. And my dad always had good reasons for her. The late nights soon turn into staying out, and I could tell how my dad needed her occasional presence when he had to work a different shift. Being raised by a thinking and analytical dad, we managed to do it without my mother.
One day, she was awake earlier than the both of us, and dad kept me in my room while they spoke. Less than an hour later, I was let out of my room, just in time to see my mom shut the main door behind her. For the first time, I saw tears rolling down his face while he kept smiling.
And throughout the entire day, tears kept rolling, and I kept wiping. This, was a lesson he had once told to me – anyone can leave anyone for no reason, in pursue of their own happiness, no matter how much it would hurt others. That day, I didn’t ask him any questions about mom, and just stayed by his side while he did the chores.
At night, we just sat on the sofa in front of the TV, but only I was watching. Then, he asked me, ‘xxx, can I kiss you?’, using my Christian name. I nodded, and held his cheeks as he kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, and then my lips. It was my first kiss, so I could remember how soft, and wet they felt. Tears were coming even harder, at the same time his lips parted mine to stick his tongue out.
Not knowing what else to do, I just did the same, and his hands started squeezing my legs gently. He parted them, and continued moving upwards until he reached my panties. Then, a finger pushed against my pussy, and began vibrating. It felt more weird than uncomfortable. Next, he pushed my panties aside and placed his finger directly on my slit, and moved up and down.
My vision started fading white, and I found myself panting. My dress was lifted above my chest, and his mouth went over my nipple. For some reason, they were more sensitive than I had ever felt. Soon, his finger went deeper, and deeper until I felt ‘filled’, and ‘happy’. There was no pain, nor blood, just bliss.
We kissed so much that night, and when he finally laid me down on the sofa, my eyes were full of that man who loved me way more than my mom did, and cared more than any teachers did. He took his shorts off, and I looked at my first sight of a penis. It was large, and red. I asked if he was going to put it inside me, and he asked if he could.
I think I nodded.
He then slid it inside me very, very slowly, with our fingers interlocked as my thighs muscles twitched. My next memory of us were fuzzy, but I knew how much my body was jerking against the sofa. On the cushions, his hands were on my hips pushing me back and forth. I was just heaving and covering my mouth to suppress any weird noises I was making.
After what felt like an overwhelming roller coaster ride, he finally slowed down, and leaned down for a hard hug – at the same time my pussy felt a jet of hot liquid getting pumped into me. He came, and came lots, but it wasn’t until a few minutes later when he carried me up (sitting on his lap), and lifted me off, to truly comprehend how much he had cummed inside me. It felt like incontinence, but there was no way I could ‘hold’ that load inside me.
‘I’m sorry xxx.’
I didn’t know why he apologised, but I knew it helped him feel better. That night, we took a shower together again (after many years), and slept in his bed. I still didn’t know what we had done, but I was ready to sooth him if he needed it. I reached into his boxers again, and touched that organ that went inside me. After a few minutes of massage, he asked again, ‘can i put it inside you again?’
I think I nodded.
He put me into doggystyle this time and I felt a different kind of ‘happy’. It was more intense, though a little achey when he went all the way. My head was just shrouded in bliss and love and happiness for those few minutes he was thrusting his dick into me. When he finally slowed down, I knew what was coming, and I just dropped my chest onto the bed out of exhaustion, letting him fill me up again – lesser this time.
A routine was then formed, from the next night when I moved into his bedroom. He started licking me, then fucking me. Kissing me, then fucking me. Rubbing me, then fucking me. Outside the bedroom, I would start rubbing him, then ride him, kissing him, then bending over for him, hugging him, then spreading my legs for him.
Two years of that later, a lesson on biology awakened me. It’s bad to have sex with a blood-related person, but not wrong to do it with someone I love. That afternoon after I finished school, I went home, and told him about that lesson.
That weekend, on my request, he brought me to a women’s clinic, and funded a check up, along with an IUD.
Decades have passed, things have changed, and he might never know this, but he is the only man I would give everything to.