Husband and Lover (Complete) Author: Nujia

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Author: Nujia
Word Count: 3953
Published: 2013/11/22 in: Springtime Courtyard

Dad, husband, and me. Who is my husband? Who is my lover?

My husband works far away. We only see each other about once a month.

I also work, and for convenience, I moved into my dad's house.

Dad's suite only has one bed. Dad said he couldn't let his daughter sleep on the sofa, and I couldn't have
his bed all to myself. Also, the wardrobe was in the bedroom, which was inconvenient. So, what if we slept together?

He wasn't worried about the inconvenience of father and daughter sleeping together. Dad also refused to accept rent and food. A married daughter and her father, to
save money, time, and for convenience, sleeping in the same bed—what a novel arrangement! I'm a practical person, and I
agreed immediately. We are both adults, so of course we understand what "sleeping together" means.

When I moved to his house, Dad happily carried my suitcase into the bedroom for me. I saw that he had cleaned it very
thoroughly and emptied the wardrobe to hang my clothes. The sheets were new, and there was a pair of new pillows. Before getting into
bed , we changed into our pajamas. His pajamas were new too, still in the plastic bag with the price tag on.
Dad threw off the double blanket, and we slept together.

We weren't strangers, but lying head-to-head in bed, neither of us was comfortable, and it took a long time for either of us
to fall asleep. Dad asked if I was tired. I said I was okay. Dad politely said, "You have to have a first time anyway. Can we do it on
the first night?" I said, "Whatever you want." He said, "If you don't want me to, I won't." I said,
"Come on." He turned over, hugged me, and was about to kiss me when I pulled away and took off my pajamas and underwear myself.
It was my first time making love with Dad, and I was a little flustered. I fumbled around for the clasp on my bra, but couldn't find it
. Dad unhooked it for me, saying, "Your breasts are always suffocating; you don't need to wear a bra when you're sleeping.

" With the bra loose, I covered my chest with my hands. Dad folded my underwear and bra and put them aside
before taking off his pajamas. As he took off his underwear, he asked if I wanted to wear a hat. I had bought a few packs and kept them by the bed. I said
no, I was taking birth control pills. Dad said, "Then I won't wear one." I trusted that Dad was clean and hadn't
been with a woman in a long time. I said, "I'm making a lot of noise during sex, will it disturb the neighbors?" He said, "Everyone should mind their own business
. Just keep making noise, let Dad know you're happy." So, we got into bed one after the other. Dad hugged
me and kissed me. Kissing Dad felt strange; I instinctively tried to pull away, but we ended up
kissing. Then I received Dad's caresses. I lay there frozen, letting Dad touch my entire body
. His hand reached down, teasing me with his fingers. My labia opened, and I was wet.
He probed deep inside with two fingers, digging around a bit, and then he touched me. "Mmm," I moaned. My father's skilled
hands pinched my nipples until they were hard and erect, then he straddled me and pressed down on me.

I waited for it to finish, but my father seemed a little nervous, pacing outside the door and fidgeting with my genitals. I
was impatient , and when I touched that swollen, wet thing, it was thicker and harder than I had imagined, like an iron pillar, which
surprised me. I lifted it and quickly inserted it. My father wrapped one arm around me and cupped my
buttocks , then lowered himself and thrust deeply, all the way in, without slipping out.
The friction against my vagina was unbearable, and I started moaning. He knew I was enjoying it, and he was enjoying it too,
so he continued, the bed frame creaking and groaning. I was afraid the neighbors and downstairs would hear
the sounds , so I told my father, "That's enough, that's enough." My father asked if I was coming. I said, "Come on, come on." After a few more deep thrusts
, Dad shuddered and then ejaculated, filling me with his semen. I pushed him away, and Dad
jumped out of bed, naked, and ran to the bathroom to get a towel. His shrunken member
dangled walked, and then
wiped mine as well. While Dad wiped the stains off the sheets, I quickly put my underwear back on and went to sleep. We spent the night in
silence ; this was our first time.

I never thought it would be so easy to get started; the first night set the tone for our future sex life. The second night,
Dad suggested sex, and I couldn't object. However, the back clasp of my bra wouldn't cooperate, and Dad
skillfully unhooked it for me. He said the same thing again: "We're sleeping; it's in the way." The intercourse was the same as the night before.
I tried to spread my legs wide and relax; Dad didn't need to help, and he easily penetrated me, completing the act.
As for
didn't reallykissing like his touching my whole body, or his probing of my genitals, although it felt strangely good, I'd rather he just penetrated me quickly. After we were done,
he handed me a pillowcase to wipe myself down. These preparatory steps, which are usually done by women, he did.
Because my dad hadn't smelled a woman's scent in a long time, his libido was very high. He also loved novelty, and for the next week,
he asked me every night if I wanted it. I let him have his way. To be honest, I didn't dislike having sex with my dad, but I had never thought
I could have this kind of relationship with someone so close, and I couldn't let anyone know. My husband only knew that I lived at my dad's
house, and when he talked about relationships with his colleagues, he attributed what happened with my dad to my husband. In short, it was awkward.
I tried think of sex with my dad as a business matter, for everyone's convenience. But my dad always managed to make me
feel very comfortable and give me orgasms, which made me feel a little guilty towards my husband who was alone away from home.

Actually, I never wear a bra to sleep, and I couldn't explain why I should wear one when sleeping with my dad. In
the days that followed , I only wore a bra and panties in the bedroom. I would unbutton them before getting into bed, and only let my father take them off during sex
. I would take off my panties myself. My father and my husband are both men, but they are different. My father
stared at my body curves with rapt attention, never missing a chance to see me naked. Was my naked body particularly
attractive to him? Even though we slept together, it would be embarrassing for him to stare at my breasts and buttocks with lust. As
time went on, I got used to it. In the cramped apartment, it was too much trouble to avoid looking while undressing. We were sleeping in the same bed,
and sex had become normal. What was there to hide from my father? So, I treated my father and me
like a married couple, undressing and dressing in front of him, letting him see as much as he wanted. I didn't hide or feel embarrassed when using the toilet, especially
in the mornings when I was rushing to work. We would squeeze into the bathroom, one of us showering while the other relieved himself, without any hesitation or avoidance.

At first, my father and I had frequent sex, but gradually we became more restrained, about
three times a week, like most newlywed couples. Making it four times, perhaps as an extra dish for the holiday, after a couple of glasses of liquor, makes one feel relaxed, so why not add a little something extra?
A bit of entertainment. In ordinary days, sex is part of daily life, one of the seven necessities of life, simply
because we both have sexual desires that need to be addressed; there's no romance or passion involved. Aside from the unavoidable
kissing , we don't do things like kissing, holding hands, or other intimate acts. Because in broad daylight or
under artificial light, it's impossible to do those things.

Intimate moments happen in the bedroom, in bed. It's not a matter of who initiates or who is passive. We do it when we need to. Want to make love?
Sometimes my dad will stroke my nipples, and I'll take off my underwear and let him have his way with me. Sometimes I'll intentionally or unintentionally
tease his penis; he wears loose-fitting boxer shorts, and every night he's like a tent, ready to climax at any moment.
Sometimes ask myself, what am I doing? I know my limits; I don't go too far, just enjoy myself. When I don't want to,
I turn my back to him or say I'm tired, and he doesn't force me. On the contrary, whenever I ask him, my dad never refuses.
The eve of my monthly reunion with my husband is my day of abstinence. It was that
lingering feeling , and I was trying to act sexually frustrated during sex with him.

For years now, the subtle feeling has been that I've had sex with my father more often than with my husband
. My father has become my de facto husband; we
live . My normal sex life is with my father; having sex with my husband once a month
feels like an affair. To avoid calling my husband "Dad" in bed, I call him
"husband" . My father hasn't said anything. He only calls me "daughter," and I guess he enjoys sex with his daughter more than with his wife.

Until one time, when I was home with my husband, my woman's sensitive nose detected another
woman's scent on the sheets, and I even found another woman's hair on the pillow. My husband vehemently denied
sleeping , and we had a huge fight. I kicked him out of the bedroom.

With a heavy heart, I returned to my father's place. He saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, not sleeping. He sat up, put his arms around
my neck, and asked what was wrong. I told him the truth.

Dad said, "You two are apart so often, you can't blame your husband. Men have sexual needs, just like me,
I need to find women to satisfy them. By kicking him off the bed, you're pushing him towards other women. You should come home more
often. Put yourself in his shoes, if I weren't there for you, and you felt lonely, and a man tried to seduce you, could you resist
?"

Hearing Dad's words, I cried sadly. It turned out that
Dad always thought of me first, but I never considered his feelings. I only cared about my own happiness, never realizing that my happiness came from Dad's
selfless giving, regardless of whether I was warm or cold towards him. I cried loudly, sobbing against his shoulder. Dad stroked
my back, comforting me. Then, involuntarily, I threw myself into his arms and
kissed . Dad used his fingers like a comb to brush away the hair covering my face, wiped away my tears, comforted me, and accepted
my French kiss.

He waited until I calmed down, then continued kissing me, gently removing my clothes one by one, completely exposing my
alluring figure to him. My father had touched and kissed many times, but seeing his daughter naked
in his arms under the lamplight was a first, especially seeing her so dependent on him, so demanding. He treated me like an
antique , gently caressing my breasts and buttocks. We offered ourselves completely. Then, my father and I truly
made love. I let him do as he pleased, kissing my entire body, teasing me until I was burning with desire, before slowly
penetrating him. I wrapped my legs around him, and he wasn't in a hurry to ejaculate, thrusting while caressing my breasts,
waiting for my moans to urge him on. I realized how skilled my father was in lovemaking; I hadn't had the patience to appreciate it, missing out on
pleasures no other man had ever given me. His final thrusts took me to a paradise. I clung
to him, squeezing out his last drop of semen, refusing to let him withdraw, wanting to
give him everything I should have given my husband.

After that incident, I was transformed, a completely different person. The following month, I brought back
the nightgown . After dinner, I went to the bedroom, while my father watched TV in the dining room. Usually, my
husband and I didn't make love on nights we spent together. I called him to come in quickly. Stepping into the room, he saw me lying on the bed, wearing a short, thin-strapped
nightgown , completely naked, waiting for him. He couldn't believe it was real, immediately took off his pants, and pounced on the bed.
We kissed deeply. My father didn't want to take off my nightgown because touching my body through the smooth fabric was
a feeling he had never experienced before. I whispered in my father's ear: "I will listen to you from now on and won't
wear a bra ." I didn't wear a bra, but my father didn't undress me completely. For the first time, I didn't let my father make love to me completely naked.

I still met with my nominal husband once a month, had sex once a month, a routine, maintaining the marital relationship.
On the rest of the days, I served my father like a gentle and considerate wife.
As has been incredibly respectful towards me. I live in his house and sleep in his bed, and he seems to owe me a debt.
He does all the housework, cooking, laundry, even washing and drying my clothes. He often reminds me that
he doesn't object to me calling him "husband" at home—it's part of the fun—but I mustn't let it slip to others.

I no longer keep track of how many times we have sex each week, though of course, every night is fine too. However, I've developed a demand for quality
sex . Now that I'm more open-minded, I want Dad to use his best skills. I'll stick my butt out and
engage in a full-on foreplay, and then his "old man doggy style" will come in, penetrating deeply, his large hands grabbing my
breasts and pushing and pushing. I've learned the "Guanyin sitting on a lotus," and with the Bodhisattva present, Dad can only kneel at my feet.
I remember riding on Dad's back as a child. Now, Dad lets me ride on his back again. In short, I want him
to make me sweat profusely and lose my senses to feel good about myself and my de facto husband.

The saying that father and daughter were lovers in a past life was false; it's true they're lovers in this life.

Wow, I absolutely love this understated, genuine feeling... Everything is vivid and lifelike, unpretentious, not overdone, quietly nourishing the heart—it truly touches the soul.
It's straightforward, exciting, and deeply moving.

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