[Forgetting Age] [Author: Spinach Porridge]

page views:1 Publication date:2022-09-29

As I dragged my suitcase through the door, the first thing I saw was Yu Fei lying in the rocking chair.

"Dad..." I put the suitcase down by the door, turned around and closed it. "I'm back." I knew how tired my voice sounded. In fact, I didn't want to talk at all. I knew how worried Yu Fei was about me; otherwise, I would have run straight to my bedroom and cried my heart out.

"Go back to your room and rest first." Yu Fei was still lying in the rocking chair. His legs had become unresponsive two years ago, and he could only walk a few steps with the help of a cane. Although I had always wanted to hire a caregiver for him, every time I brought it up, this man in his sixties would just smile and shake his head at me.

I took off my high heels and didn't go back to my old bedroom. Instead, I moved a small stool and sat down next to Yu Fei, resting my head on his lap. My previously agitated heart gradually calmed down, like a small boat struggling in a storm finally returning to port.

"Yun'er..." Yu Fei stroked my hair with his rough hands. "It's okay, Dad's here..."

His voice had never changed over the years; it was always so peaceful.

Leaning against Yu Fei, I hugged his leg, tears streaming down my face. As a 28-year-old woman who had just experienced the failure of her second marriage, I truly didn't know what kind of courage I would have to face the future.

Fortunately, I still had Yu Fei, my father.

The first time I met Yu Fei, I was just an eight-year-old girl. I clearly remember it was a bright and sunny autumn afternoon. I timidly tugged at my mother's skirt and hid behind her. My mother put her arm around my small body and pointed to the tall, handsome man in front of her, saying, "This is Uncle Yu." Peeking out from behind my mother, I saw Yu Fei's eyes for the first time. His gentle gaze was filled with unspeakable love. I heard him ask my mother, "Is this Yun'er?" Not long after, Yu Fei married my mother. Two years after my biological father abandoned my mother and me, I still called Yu Fei "Uncle." As for when "Uncle" became "Dad," I can't remember. All I can remember is the bright smile that always appeared on my father's face whenever he saw me.

The family of three lived a simple and happy life. Unfortunately, my mother's mental state began to deteriorate. She would always find trivial reasons to argue with my father. During each argument, my father would silently watch my mother, as if he were the one who was truly at fault.

My father's tolerance did not help my mother. When I was twenty-one, my mother left us forever. Although she was my only blood relative, I was not overly saddened. In my opinion, death was perhaps a true relief for her.

However, I could not understand my father's reaction at the time—he did not cry at my mother's funeral. He just held my hand and kept comforting me, telling me not to be too sad. I think perhaps my mother's long-term unreasonable behavior had worn away the love between them.

After that, I lived with my father in the house I am now living in. Later, like other women, I married, and like many unhappy couples, I broke up with my first husband, then married again, and divorced.

I've thought more than once about why my marriages always fail, but I've never found a reason that truly convinces me. So I can only conclude that, at least so far, I haven't met a man like my mother, someone who can accept all my flaws.

My mother has Yu Fei, but I have nothing.

"Yun'er..." My father's voice woke me from my long reverie. "Go back to your room and rest. Get a good night's sleep, and everything will be alright when you wake up tomorrow."

These were words my father used to use to comfort me, but now they're useless. I stood up and wiped the tears from my face. "Dad, don't worry. What do you want to eat? I'll make it for you..." I went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and found only bags of frozen food. I found a piece of meat that had been frozen for who knows how long and placed it on the counter. When I lifted my hand, it was covered in a thick layer of dust, and my nose stung again. For the past two years, I've been so focused on my own unhappy life that I'd even forgotten when I stopped going home often and stopped chatting and eating with my father like before.

I made a simple meal of noodles with soybean paste—the ingredients at home were pitifully scarce. I ate with my father, and after tidying up, it was already evening. I helped my father into the bathroom and gave him a bath. While I was drying him, he kept trying to refuse, but his arms were no longer as strong as they used to be. In the end, he could only silently accept my meager filial piety.

I helped my father back to his bedroom, and just as he used to take care of me, I covered him with a blanket before returning to my own room. Everything in the room was unchanged, almost exactly as I remembered it when I was home. To my surprise, there wasn't a speck of dust in the room. How did my father, with his limited mobility, manage to do all this? Thinking of this, I cried again.

As I put the last few things from the suitcase into the closet, a box caught my attention. It wasn't my stuff, but something my mother had left behind. I sat on the bed and opened the box. Inside were all of my mother's belongings. I took them out one by one, looked at them, and put them back, until I picked up the envelope at the very bottom of the box.

The envelope bore my mother's elegant handwriting: "To Yu Fei." The date was written at the bottom. This letter was actually written to my father the night before my mother left.

Curious, I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. It was indeed my mother's handwriting, and it was definitely written to my father.

"My dearest husband: This may be the last time I call you that. Although the doctor says I might live a little longer, I feel like I don't have much time left. Please forgive my past mistreatment of you. I know you've always tolerated my tantrums. I don't want to lose my temper with you, but I just can't tolerate the man I love most loving another woman, and I can't stop your love for her. What makes me even more desperate is that I have no way to control the woman you love, so I can only lose my temper and yell at you again and again... I used to think you were willing to marry a divorced woman with a child because you loved me, but when you told me the truth that day, I realized that the person you've always loved is Yun'er. You said you fell in love with her the moment you saw her sweet face, and you married me to protect her. You said you'd be content as long as you could take good care of my daughter... You're so foolish, and so am I." "Foolish, even after you told me everything, I still couldn't bear to leave you... Now I have to go. I hope you can continue to protect our daughter as you said. In any case, I am very grateful for your companionship all these years, even if it wasn't for me... I will always love you..."

As I read the end, my arms fell limply to my sides, my mind almost blank. This was something I had never imagined. I always thought that my mother received more fatherly love than many children because she met a good man, but I never imagined that everything my father did was because of... Holding that letter, I walked blankly into my father's room. When I turned on the light, I heard him ask, "Not resting yet?"

I shook my head and held up the letter. My father didn't see it clearly at first, but when he realized what I was holding, he immediately froze, then a look of panic appeared on his face, and he stammered:

"Yun'er... how did you find it..."

"Dad..." I put the letter on the bedside table, climbed into bed, and hugged his shoulders. "Is everything written here true?"

Dad didn't speak. The room was eerily quiet. After a long while, he nodded gently. "I was planning to give you this letter later..."

"Dad!" I pressed my head against my father's chest. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" "Silly child." My father stroked my hair. "Why would I tell you? You're my daughter..." "So

what if you're my daughter?" I don't know why I said that, but in that instant, I seemed to understand something. I understood why I felt inexplicably irritated every time I saw my father and mother hugging, and why I was always so critical of my husband, just like my mother. It turned out that I had been trying to find my father's shadow in others.

"Dad, I will never leave you again." I lay on my father's body, clearly listening to his heartbeat.

"Silly girl, don't talk nonsense." My father was still trying to comfort me.

"Dad!" I sat up abruptly, ripping open my pajamas. My two full breasts immediately sprang out. Biting my lip, I said, "Dad, I..."

"Yun'er!" My father's face turned bright red, and he said angrily, "What are you doing?

You're my daughter!"

"What about being my daughter?" I grabbed my father's hand and pressed it against my breasts. "As long as we love each other, isn't that enough? Even if he's my biological father, it doesn't matter, right?"

My father tried to pull his hand away, but the old man's strength made it impossible for him to break free. I held my father's hand and stroked my breasts, closing my eyes and saying to him, "I should have belonged to you all along. Why didn't you tell me sooner..." "Yun'er..." My father finally gave up struggling, but his hand remained still. "I just wanted to take care of you. I never thought about..."

"No." I shook my head. "This is what I should have given you, and what I wanted..." I said, releasing my father's wrist, standing up in front of the bed, then rolling up the hem of my pajamas little by little, and throwing them over my head onto the floor.

As I undressed, my father sat up and reached for his cane, but I kicked it to the ground before he could. Then I started to pull down my underwear.

"Yun'er, you can't..." When my father turned his head away, I saw my naked body in the mirror opposite him, my still-perky buttocks, dark pubic hair, and the plump mons pubis of a mature woman.

"This is incest!" Unable to get out of bed, my father turned over, his back to me.

"So what if it's incest?" I muttered, spouting a twisted logic that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Dad clearly loves me, but he married Mom. Isn't that incest?"

As I climbed back into bed naked, I hesitated. After all, the man in bed was the man I'd called Dad for years. But as long as we loved each other, wasn't that enough?

I climbed onto the bed and pulled the blanket off Dad, almost roughly pulling his body flat on his back. Dad simply closed his eyes and stopped looking at me. Of course, he still wanted to push me away, but his fingers recoiled as soon as they touched my bare skin.

I straddled Dad, my bare back facing his face, and pulled down his underwear. Because my legs were difficult to move, this action didn't encounter any resistance. When Dad's penis sprang out of his underwear, I saw that it was already erect. This uncontrolled penis was clearly not as resistant to my approach as Dad thought.

My father's old penis, with its prominent veins, resembled a withered branch. When I kissed it, his body twitched, as if he were about to push me off again, but all I felt was his fingers brush against my buttocks before quickly moving away.

I began to suck on his penis, occasionally licking the glans with my tongue. My swaying breasts rubbed against his body with my movements, my nipples touching his stomach, creating a ticklish sensation. Although I knew I was doing something unethical, my anticipation was incredibly strong; I could even feel a sticky fluid slowly secreting between my legs.

As I caressed his penis in this position, my parted vulva was directly facing his head. At first, he kept saying things like "No" and "Get off," but after a few minutes of sucking, his hand finally landed on my slightly plump buttocks.

At first, Dad hesitated a bit, but after a while, he became much more natural. As he stroked my buttocks, my body became more sensitive, and my vagina began to itch. Especially when I felt Dad's lips touch my labia, I swayed my buttocks back and forth. Then, suddenly, Dad took my two tender labia into his mouth. His sparse beard prickled my mons pubis, causing a slight pain, but more than that, waves of pleasure surged from the center of my body.

When I got up to face Dad again, he no longer resisted my body. I squatted on top of him, looked into his eyes, held his penis with one hand, and with the other, spread my labia and slowly sat down, positioning the glans against my wet vaginal opening.

My father's penis slowly entered my body, parting the tender flesh around my vagina. When the mushroom-shaped glans pressed against the clitoris at the end of my vagina as I fell, the feeling of being completely stretched and filled made me feel like I had been waiting for this moment my whole life. I sat on my father's lap, looking into his eyes, which were still so clear, though there was a hint of unease in them.

I braced myself on the bed and began to move my body up and down. My father's rough penis began to move back and forth in my vagina, the pleasure from rubbing against the vaginal walls causing my juices to flow continuously, quickly soaking a large patch of the sheet beneath him.

"Dad..." I called out this name that I shouldn't have uttered at this moment, while quickening my movements, my round breasts bouncing up and down. I knew that my eyes were filled with expectation for my father, because I could see his hands slowly reaching towards me.

My father's hand finally touched my breast, and I immediately groaned loudly. As he carefully began to knead it, I kept saying to him, "Touch me, Dad, touch me harder! Touch..." Some say that women have sex because of love, and that couldn't be more true. Love is the best aphrodisiac in the world. Before, these few dozen thrusts wouldn't have been enough to bring me to orgasm, but now, as I sat down again, I suddenly felt something inside my body explode. I had no strength left to move. I looked down at my lower abdomen, which was churning in waves. The walls of my vagina convulsed like a taut spring suddenly released. I threw my head back and screamed "Ah!"

Before my voice had even stopped, my father's penis thrust twice inside me. Then I felt a surge of heat pour into my flower. I gripped my father's body tightly, slowly lying on top of him, holding him tightly with my arms, accepting everything he gave me with my body.

At that moment, my father and I belonged completely to each other. He was no longer my father, but my long-lost lover, and I was no longer the daughter he had cherished for so many years; I was my father's woman.

After that passionate night, I felt much younger, and so did my father. Under my care, his cane was placed in a storage cabinet two months later. Although my father and I both knew that what we had done was not allowed, what did it matter? What could be more important than a man and woman in love being together?

Of course, I'm not without my doubts, especially now as I sit by the window, stroking my growing belly. When this little life, soon to be born, learns to speak someday, how should I teach him/her to call me? Should he/she call me "Mommy"? Or "Sister"?

[End]

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[Forgetting Age] [Author: Spinach Porridge]

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