A story with my father (reprinted)

This is a story of passion between my father and me. Initially, I tried to portray the sexual acts in a lighthearted manner, deliberately trying to appear as a well-mannered lady, distinct from the typical promiscuous woman.
But as these memories were gradually put into words, my inner passion betrayed me. The primal, instinctive urges and the blood-soaked desires within me, like a seductive wind sweeping across the mountains, swirled like petals in the sunset of memory, making me unable to resist recounting the exquisite beauty and tremors of each time he entered my body or the depths of my being. My body and soul danced with him, and I realized that this was actually the grand stage of my innermost being.
Therefore, you can treat this article as an alternative erotic tale told by a promiscuous woman, because most of the time life needs to be direct and simple. If you are fortunate enough to feel the deep emotions beneath our passion, then please quietly savor the passion and love of life; of course, if I disgust you, then amidst your anger, you might as well be thankful, after all, people like me are very, very far removed from your life and extremely rare.
I've never thought there was anything wrong with my relationship with my father. I'm used to my personality and way of thinking often being different from others, and these haven't prevented me from having a happy family and being a good wife and mother. I'm so grateful to my father for not only allowing me to grow up healthy but also giving me more love than others; I love him deeply.
My father was a typical intellectual of that era, passionate about his profession but somewhat frustrated by his lack of recognition. Fortunately, he was an optimistic and carefree person. He had a lot of time to play with me. Often he was doing his "important things," and I could only watch from the sidelines, but I still thought it was great. Occasionally, I could lend a hand, which would make me happy for a long time.
My mother's workplace was far from home, so she usually didn't come home for lunch and sometimes even worked night shifts. Therefore, my father and I were especially close from a young age. I remember that most of the time he bathed me, and I loved the feeling of his strong, large hands touching my body. I
vaguely remember one day I suddenly barged into the bathroom and asked to bathe with him. Facing his naked body for the first time, I was a little flustered and just quietly looked at him. Naturally, the dark thing between his legs was my biggest source of curiosity.
He was quite embarrassed at the time. He scolded me, but couldn't get rid of me, so he took off my clothes and bathed me naked. That's when I first saw his big, hairy penis, sleepily stretching and finally standing proudly before my eyes. I was terribly shocked.
My father knew he couldn't control the situation, so he was quite open and uninhibited. When I timidly reached out my little hand and grasped his erect penis, he didn't refuse or say anything.
I curiously asked why it got bigger and harder. He said the caterpillar was angry. At that age, this joke suited my taste perfectly, and I became even more curious. While lathering him with soap, I couldn't resist rubbing it for him. It grew harder and harder in my little hands, standing straight up almost to the height of my head, its magnificent peak quite tall and imposing.
We played like this about seven or eight times. Sometimes my father wanted to refuse me, but each time he repeatedly told me not to tell anyone! Back then, the children in the yard always played together. I vaguely knew that in other people's eyes, intimacy between boys and girls was definitely a shameful act.
All of this ended in second or third grade, but I still liked being close to my father's body. He had a special scent that made me want to snuggle against his broad body. I also liked his warm and firm caresses. Whenever I was naughty, my father would pull down my pants and pat my little bottom. When my mother wasn't around, he would touch it for a while.
Sitting on my father's lap and acting spoiled, he would often hug me from behind. Occasionally, I would feel his slowly hardening thing pressing against me, making my heart race, but he would usually move me away quickly, and I didn't dare to ask for anything. In
the second year of junior high, I started to grow some pubic hair, and my breasts began to change. On the day I got my period, I squatted in the toilet screaming. My father rushed over, and I pointed to my genitals and showed him. Actually, I already knew what this was from a book; I just wanted to proudly announce to my father that I was now a woman.
My father grumbled, scolding me for making a fuss and being disrespectful, but at the same time comforting me, telling me to quickly wipe myself clean. I begged him to do it, and as always, he always listened to me in the end. Watching him carefully wipe my genitals, my heart started pounding, and I felt a little hot. That evening, my parents prepared a special meal to celebrate, and I was truly happy that day.
With such a good start, I no longer needed to worry about my secrets in front of my father. Sometimes, when my mother wasn't around, I would seriously discuss physiological issues with him, pulling up my clothes to let him see my breasts or genitals. My father would always scold me a bit, but I didn't care.
During that period, my father's body attracted me differently than before. In addition to the warmth, there was a lot of restlessness. I often rested my breasts against his arm, and every physical contact made my heart flutter.
It was around that time that I learned to masturbate. The object of my fantasies wasn't necessarily my father. Literature had only recently been unbanned, and the gentle kisses in those texts were enough to make this ignorant girl's heart flutter and keep her tossing and turning at night.
One day, our whole family went swimming at the beach. My mother seemed to have left about the towel. I said I wanted to practice kicking, and my father supported my chest and lower abdomen with his hands. His hands firmly gripped my breasts, and I immediately felt dizzy, my heart pounding, and my bones melting. Suddenly, we both fell silent.
My feet only symbolically kicked the water, and my father's hands occasionally kneaded my small breasts, while his other hand was almost touching my vulva. The heat flowing between us made me feel a hazy, passionate sensation.
When I wanted to rest because water got in my eyes, he put me down, but his hands didn't leave my breasts; instead, he hugged me from behind, his erect penis gently pressing against me through my swim trunks. My mother returned shortly after.
The next night, my mother worked the night shift. I sat on my father's lap, my heart pounding. We both knew what was about to happen. I pulled down my shirt collar, and my breasts were faintly visible, my nipples just beginning to bloom. I told my father it had grown bigger, and he said, "Really?" He reached out and stroked my breasts through my clothes, whispering in my ear,
"They're really big now, Daddy likes them!" My breathing quickened. Soon, my father undressed me, and his warm, large hands cupped my lotus-like breasts.
Then, right there on my bed, he leaned down and pressed his warm lips to my breasts, taking the pink, delicate nipples into his mouth. I was both shy and timid; I hadn't expected my father to do this. This was the most shy I'd ever been in front of him, but at that moment, I was already aroused and overwhelmed by boundless pleasure.
My father had somehow stripped me completely naked and kissed my virgin body, which was like a flower bud just beginning to bloom, fragrant and dewy. His lips gently pressed against mine, as if melting my thin, fragrant lips instantly. My father was a wonderful teacher. He gently pried open my mouth with the tip of his tongue, skillfully teasing my tender little tongue, leading me into the city of desire. We danced in the first, blazing bonfire, merging my first kiss into a sea of passionate fervor.
By this time, my body was already flowing with spring water. My father's hand swiftly moved towards my secluded paradise, his fingers like a gentle April breeze caressing the budding peach blossoms. I gasped softly, my waist swaying like a willow in the wind. Soon, a massive climax surged forth. My father, holding me like a mountain, made my climax linger.
With his warm, soft body in his arms, his passion still lingering, he naturally couldn't bear to let go, continuing to caress my body. I, too, was filled with irrepressible desire, and reached out my slender hand to grasp his hard, hot penis.
My father grabbed my hand and taught me to slowly stroke it up and down. I could tell he was enjoying it. His thing was getting bigger and bigger in my hand, as if it was trying to pry open my little hand that was wrapped around it. I was powerless to control this horny worm, so I had to use my other hand to help.
My father's hand was still caressing me. Although I was also wildly aroused and confused, I didn't seem to have any intention of letting him penetrate me at that moment, perhaps because he was already making me feel very comfortable.
After a while, my father suddenly told me to push harder, and then simply grabbed my hand tightly, vigorously stroking his large penis up and down. His breathing began to become rapid. I didn't understand what a male orgasm was, and I couldn't help but feel a little scared. After all, my father was always so kind in front of me. Seeing my father so crazy and out of
control for the first time still frightened me. With his deep, lion-like roar, I felt something splash onto my face. Looking down, I saw streams of semen gushing out like a fountain from my father's purplish-red glans, a spectacular sight, landing on various parts of my body.
My father lay down, panting. I was bewildered by the semen splattered on my body. He quickly noticed and took out some tissues to wipe it clean. Seeing him back to his usual self, still loving and caring for me, my earlier fear vanished instantly, replaced by a joy at having glimpsed my father's final secret.
Afterwards, he inevitably reminded me not to tell my mother. By then, I was much more mature, so I behaved very well in front of her. After this incident, my father seemed a little anxious. He bought me many books, often took my mother and me out, and paid significantly more attention to my grades. I knew he was afraid this incident would make me addicted and unable to extricate myself.
I just secretly found it amusing. My life didn't change much. I didn't think much about these things; I only knew that my father would give it to me at the right time, a feeling that stayed with me for many years. However, my father's good intentions made those years very happy and fulfilling.
We played like that from then on, and slowly I started to feel the urge for my father to penetrate me, but I never dared to. My father's large penis, as beautiful as in European porn films, always carefully avoided my vulva, never getting close easily.
One day, my father suddenly told me to lick his big little worm. Of course, I only felt affection for this cute little brother, so I met it with my tongue and lips, experiencing an unprecedented intimacy.
The worm became erect, which might have been too powerful for a 13-year-old girl, but seeing its glans with its little mouth open and drooling, I felt it was like a little bird waiting to be fed. So I couldn't help but slightly open my lips and gently take the glans into my mouth. My father sighed and gently pressed his penis against my front teeth. Afraid that my teeth would hurt it, I quickly opened my mouth wide, and the thing took the opportunity to pry open my mouth and slide in between my tightly closed lips.
This abrupt intrusion made my tongue feel somewhat embarrassed, so I had to stick it out a little. My little tongue became slightly more at ease and then, like a master, diligently intertwined with it.
The penis was making a passionate thrusting motion between my lips and teeth. The large glans and shaft stretched my little mouth so much that I had to exhale to catch my breath. My father held his bright red penis and rubbed it back and forth against my mouth with a somewhat triumphant air. I couldn't help but grab it again, swallowing and licking it like I was teasing a beloved pet.
Before long, my father guided my hand and made me masturbate faster and faster. The penis, as hard as a stick, suddenly bulged with veins and changed color. Thick streams of semen gushed out, like white ribbons flying through the air and hitting my mouth and face heavily. One of them shot into my mouth!
The strong taste of semen and the sudden impact made my face pale. I cried out in a spoiled manner. My father, not having time to savor the blissful pleasure, quickly cleaned me up. Looking back, it was actually quite fun.
Later, my father started licking my vulva again. His thick, warm, and soft tongue gently brushed around my labia, then swept over my moist, luscious opening, sending my body into a frenzy. One of his hands didn't miss my two small, white breasts, and soon I was completely smitten.
After starting work, I watched an adult film with a female companion. Half of us were married, and half were single. It was basically the first time for most of us. The oral sex scenes in the film made most people scream and cover their faces, but I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Actually, the only thing that felt a little strange in my relationship with my father was oral sex, and now I could finally enjoy it openly.
My father often held this warm, soft woman in his arms, watching the spring water trickle by the grassy bank. I imagine it wasn't easy for him to keep his eager member in check, so he had to find other ways to comfort his little brother.
At first, he made me bend over on a blanket with my buttocks sticking out, and he thrust his penis back and forth between my buttocks. Later, as my breasts became fuller, he straddled me, placed his penis between my breasts, and then squeezed them together to form peaks, while his penis moved back and forth between these soft valleys until he was exhausted.
Until I graduated from high school, I never had real sexual intercourse with my father. It wasn't that I thought it was wrong to have sex with my father; it was just that, like any other well-behaved girl, I thought it was something that could only be done when I grew up. I always thought that what I had with my father was merely an intimacy beyond the norm, a rather passionate physical intimacy, an unreserved expression of true feelings between father and daughter.
Despite having a secret with my father, I was quite at peace with myself. I just thought I was different in some way. I consider myself a person with principles. I know that this kind of thinking is somewhat like "stealing books isn't stealing," but excluding reproduction, incest itself is just a psychological issue, while stealing books is a practical one.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my father had wanted to make love to me back then? I don't know, but I'm sure that not being able to go all the way would have been torture for someone like him who's been through it all. But thankfully, I had my mother.
Perhaps because of my relationship with my father, my mother is more like an older sister to me. No matter how open I am about my relationship with my father, I still feel guilty towards my mother, at least because my father and I kept this secret from her. So I always try my best to make up for it, to the point that people say I treat my mother better than my father.
I've never seen my parents make love, and I'm often curious. I once asked my father how I compared to my mother, and he scolded me for talking nonsense. Of course, he wasn't angry, but I haven't dared to say anything about it since. I've never been jealous of my mother. I love her, no matter what others think. I know she's an inseparable part of my father. Without my mother, I wouldn't have such a loving father. I often feel that half of my father's love for me comes from my mother, so I'm full of gratitude towards her. I secretly believe that my father is a great gift my mother gave me.
Despite the loving family atmosphere, I knew my world was far bigger than theirs, and I knew I would eventually leave them to find my own new home. So I longed to see the world. For my college entrance exam, I chose a university in another province. My father was very supportive, but my mother was worried. However, considering how difficult it was to get into a prestigious university, she didn't say anything. On the eve of starting university, I wanted to have sex with my father, but he refused, saying I should save it for the person who would marry me.
So I went to university in another city. Before I left, my parents naturally told me not to miss home too much, and my father was especially earnest. At university, I often missed my parents and the time I spent with my father, but this longing wasn't always related to lust.
In my second year of university, I started dating. My first love had a very romantic beginning, but after a year, we broke up. Perhaps my family's love made me the kind of person who wanted to get married as soon as I started dating, but after a year of passionate love, I realized that marriage was too far away. There was too much uncertainty ahead, and the promises we made seemed so pale. I couldn't bear this kind of love. I thought love was at its most radiant when it first blossomed, but without the care of a family, it could only wither away slowly in the storms of life.
Back then, college students weren't like they are now; we didn't have many opportunities to make love. At most, we could only caress each other's private parts in the darkest corners of the campus.
After my breakup, I found a different kind of peace. I felt I had matured a lot, and since starting a relationship, I'd paid more attention to my appearance and even changed my hairstyle. When I returned home during winter break in third grade, my father said I had truly become a young woman. It was then that I realized I was fortunate enough to have inherited almost all the best qualities from my parents, blossoming into a sexy and beautiful young woman.
One afternoon during that winter break, after my period had just ended, my father finally couldn't resist the allure of my mature body and suddenly pinned me down (he rarely did this before). In his passionate kisses, I felt his intense possessiveness. His penis pressed against my vulva, and his rapid breathing, carrying a man's desire, overwhelmed me. I was like an undefended fortress; the wildness within me suddenly ignited like a wildfire.
I clung to him tightly, rubbing my hips against him, and whispered in his ear, "Put it in!"
Without hesitation, he spread my legs, his erect penis pressing against my wet vulva. The firm, smooth glans filled me with anticipation, but before I could even savor it, his penis, like a ferocious chariot, stormed into the city gates, followed by a sharp pain! I screamed in agony!
Actually, my father's movements were relatively gentle; he stopped immediately and waited for me to recover before slowly beginning to thrust. Although I had imagined this to be a grand ceremony, like a girl in a novel giving away her virginity for the first time, to achieve a sublimation in my life, slowly letting excitement replace pain,
unfortunately, at that moment I still felt too much pain. Despite being excited, I chose to whine in front of my father, so he had to stop, like when he gave me an injection, coaxing me that it would be over soon. Thinking about it now, it's really ridiculous.
I cried and said I didn't want to do it anymore. He immediately tried to stop, but I didn't want him to pull out. So we continued like this, intermittently. I felt a little better, and finally, after a few difficult thrusts, his large penis was inside my vagina. Only at that moment did I truly forget the pain and hug my father tightly.
Although I was a little disappointed the first time, I didn't feel too much regret at the time. In the following days, I began to experience the true pleasure of intercourse. During that holiday, we tried to find every possible opportunity to make love, to the point that my mother kept nagging my father to take care of his health. She must have sensed my father's physical limitations.
The biggest problem at the time was contraception. Back then, it seemed that you had to show your marriage certificate to buy condoms. People buying condoms at the counter were very conspicuous. But we were lucky. A man who had been favored by my father in the countryside was selling condoms at the pharmacy. My father had gotten some from him for a young man at his workplace, so this time, my father's use of a fake marriage certificate didn't attract his attention. This proved that many people secretly asked him for help back then; it was a pretty lucrative profession.
The memories of sex during that period weren't very deep, perhaps because they seemed too mundane compared to the frenzy that followed.
My feelings for my father after returning to school were different; the sexual element was stronger. However, the thought of having two holidays each year reassured me. After that, my father visited me at school twice, taking advantage of business trips.
The first time was before that summer vacation. My father was staying at a newly opened hotel not far from the school. That afternoon, we had dinner together and went to his room. In the lobby, we saw a couple of couples walking past us intimately. Suddenly, I felt an unprecedented impulse. In the corridor leading to the room, I took my father's arm and gently rested my head on the shoulder of the man who had brought me to the room.
It was one of the best newly built hotels at the time. The room was quiet, dimly lit, and cozy. Being in such an environment with my father for the first time, I could no longer see myself as a daughter, but as a woman, a complete woman.
I imagined what a mature woman would look like, arousing my father's desire. Then, I gently undressed him, letting my allure and desire slowly unfold before his eyes and between his hands. He admired my beautiful body, his lips gently kissing upwards from my thighs, then stopping at my full, firm breasts. I proudly savored my father's caresses as I removed his clothes, reaching for his penis.
His penis was fully erect, throbbing vibrantly in my hand. My father pulled me down, assuming a 69 position, and passionately licked my luscious vulva. My mouth was busy—my front was filled with his penis, while my lower mouth happily kissed his lips and tongue.
The foreplay was brief due to the rapid onslaught of passion. My father quickly flipped me over, straddling me, and brandished his penis, pointing directly at my vulva.
My lust was like a prisoner in a city, while his penis, like a mighty war god, smashed open the city gates and charged in, thrusting repeatedly with deafening roars. Passion surged within me like a raging river, flowers dancing and butterflies fluttering everywhere. His thrusts continued like a raging flood, wave after wave, as lust was released from the crumbling walls, resulting in a series of climaxes.
By this time, I was beyond succumbing to my desire. After catching my breath, I immediately rolled over and pinned him beneath me, swaying my slender waist as his firm, thick penis pounded into every possible corner. The room was filled with the fragrance of the bed and the soft moans of a nightingale.
My father, also infected by my passion, got up, lifted me up, turned my buttocks, and thrust into my vagina from behind. The sounds of his penis pounding against my buttocks were incessant. I reached back with one hand, feeling the speed of his thrusts, while soothing my two testicles that were hanging outside, unable to find their way in.
When he pressed me down again, thrusting deep into my core with passionate abandon, I was already overwhelmed by his madness. He couldn't hold on much longer either. With a deep moan like distant thunder, the enormous thing inside me throbbed explosively, then surged towards my womb like a thousand horses charging in. In an instant, I felt as if a mountain had collapsed and water had run dry, and I was on the verge of death!
That night, we made love four times, until we were completely exhausted. The second time, he was frantically stirring the pool of spring water beneath me, when suddenly he withdrew, lifted me up, and placed his fragrant, dewy jade pillar into my mouth. I licked my own love juices, completely intoxicated. This paradise was like a fairyland; the sensation seemed otherworldly.
The penis in my hand was vibrant and full of life, its veins bulging. I knew the nectar inside was about to spill out, so I licked and played with it even more frantically. The dragon suddenly raised its head, shooting out streaks of white fluid. My fragrant lips and jade tongue couldn't resist, so I forcefully met it, letting the nectar pour into my mouth.
My father was satisfied, sighing deeply. I licked and savored the mouthful of nectar, the rich flavor intoxicating me. I closed my lips and swallowed it all.
My father saw this clearly and immediately embraced me, kissing my lips, still smeared with semen, passionately. Our tongues swirled and intertwined, the long kiss, tinged with the taste of semen, is unforgettable.
Later, my father came to see me again, but this time someone was sharing his room, making it inconvenient. That afternoon I skipped class and took my father to my dormitory. As soon as we entered, we kissed passionately. Because of fear, we didn't dare do it on the bed or take off our clothes, remaining vigilant by the door, constantly watching for any movement outside.
My father pulled up a chair, unzipped his pants, and there was his large member, already eagerly awaiting, its mouth agape, drooling. I quickly met his gaze with my own lips, and he lifted my skirt, reaching his hand between my thick pubic hair, exploring my hidden paradise.
Like a peach blossom that needs no words to attract attention, my wet, inviting opening couldn't withstand his caresses. I quickly got up, straddled his lap, and swallowed his penis whole.
The unusual environment also excited my father. The old tree's entwined roots could no longer satisfy his passion. He gently pulled me out of his penis, turned around and pressed me onto the neatly folded quilt on the bed next to him, spread my legs, and thrust his penis into my wet and flowing vagina. Then he leaned over and pressed me down, reaching out to take my tender white breasts.
His penis, like a dragon diving into a spring pool, roamed freely, oblivious to my ecstasy. I was overwhelmed with excitement but dared not moan aloud, clinging tightly to the blanket, experiencing two orgasms. His untamed dragon finally satisfied, gushing forth in that spring pool.
Whenever I lay quietly alone in my dormitory, I would recall how I had made love with my father in that very place, my clothes disheveled, and a surge of heat would rise from my lower body.
After graduating from university, I returned to my parents' side. My relationship with my father remained the same; I had a single dormitory room at work, where we often made love. But my new life at that time gave me too many things to do, so we didn't do it often, roughly once every two weeks, sometimes once every one or two months.
Later, I met my current husband, and I started dating again. My husband showed me the future I had always dreamed of. I nestled in his arms like a little bird all day, seeing my father much less often, and he no longer wanted to bother me. I knew he was genuinely happy for me; his greatest wish was to see his daughter grow up happily and marry a good man.
Although I had sex with my father during our passionate relationship, and it was very exciting, the new world my boyfriend brought me completely captivated me. I only occasionally missed my father. I remember one afternoon, before my boyfriend went on a business trip,
we had a quick, intimate moment. Afterwards, I felt a little lonely, so I called my father to come see me. We spent the afternoon together. My tender heart was ravaged by two men I loved in one day—it was incredibly exciting! When I married my husband, I had a crazy fantasy: to have my father have sex with me on our wedding day. I even imagined myself wearing a wedding dress. However, I was too busy with the wedding to indulge in that fantasy. Later, I regretted it a little.
I know very well that my relationship with my father is just another part of my life, completely unrelated to my husband and me. Therefore, I have never felt guilty towards my husband because of my father. We both got everything we wanted from each other. My husband is very open about sex; once, when we were both very passionate, I almost revealed this secret to him. Luckily, I held back, but sometimes we still skirted the line, which we both found very exciting.
After marriage, I didn't have sex with my father very often; the occasional time we did was all the more exciting. As I slowly became a wife and mother, I gradually felt that to my father, his daughter was completely becoming another man's woman. I felt an unbreakable attachment to him, and I understood why I had that impulsive thought when I got married.
During my pregnancy, I would touch the little life inside me, and often think of the deep, inseparable love between my father and me. One day, I couldn't resist taking off my clothes in front of him, wanting him to witness life blossoming within me, to let him fully experience the spring and autumn of a woman's life.
He gently kissed my entire body, caressing my enlarged breasts and round belly. I took out his large, thriving penis from its cage; it stood proudly before me, allowing me to play with it. The feeling of holding it in my hand was incredibly satisfying.
While kissing my belly, he played with my breasts with one hand, and with the other, he caressed my genitals, which had become exceptionally lush and full due to pregnancy, making them irresistible to him.
His actions had already set me in a frenzy, and I whispered sweetly, "I want it!" while kissing his earlobe. Then I rolled over and lay face down on the bed, my buttocks high and my vulva wide open.
He asked, "Is it okay?" I said it would be fine for the next two or three months, and that I had just been with my husband two days ago, so I just needed to be careful.
He then took his big thing and slowly inserted it into my hole, gently thrusting in and out. The tenderness was so full and satisfying, each thrust felt like a fish in water, like spring flowers blooming.
Later, I couldn't resist and let him lie down, carefully straddling him. His erect penis pressed against my core, making me feel like a jade lotus in full bloom, my fragrant buttocks swaying uncontrollably. Before long, I reached my climax amidst sweet moans and gasps.
Because he dared not move too much, my father remained erect. After pushing hard into my body for a while, he pulled his penis out and began masturbating towards my stomach. I gently stroked my stomach with one hand and teased his glans with the other. Soon, he ejaculated a lot of semen onto my stomach, which I smeared with my hand.
My frenzy was just to let my father know that even after I became someone else's woman, the bond between us remained unchanged.
When my child was almost weaned, one day the nanny and my husband were not home, and my father came. I had just finished feeding the child, and with my clothes unbuttoned, I leaned against my father and chatted with him. My soft, full breasts, exuding a milky fragrance, were half-hidden under my thin shirt.
My father reached out and embraced my waist, unable to resist the allure of my embrace. He kissed me while his hand cupped my full breasts. My breasts, swollen and heavy from breastfeeding, were glistening with milk from his touch, like nectar dripping from purple grapes. He lowered his head, hesitated for a moment, then carefully took my nipple into his mouth. I gently stroked his head and said, "Suck."
Waves of tingling pleasure washed over my breasts, and milk flowed freely. Compared to breastfeeding a child, besides the feeling of happiness, this tingling sensation was warmer and more alluring, a warm current slowly flowing down my body.
I held my father's head; his hair was now streaked with gray. I felt a lump in my throat. This father, who had always been like a mountain to me, was beginning to grow old, while I had completely grown up, becoming a woman through and through. Today, I could comfort my father in a motherly way. I didn't know whether to feel sadness or relief at that moment.
The overwhelming lust ultimately overwhelmed my brief moment of emotion. We quickly stripped off our clothes and became naked and entangled. Having not done it for a long time, we were both very excited. There was a blanket on the wooden floor, so my father pressed me down and thrust his long penis into my vulva with practiced ease. The fullness brought by his robust penis made me gasp for breath.
He thrust on me for a while, then told me to change positions so he could penetrate me from behind. I turned around, knelt down, and raised my buttocks, which were fuller than before. His penis quickly penetrated between my wet, parted labia, then cupped my swaying breasts like a fire being kindled.
He played with my breasts, his penis churning inside my vagina, making me feel weak and trembling. After he had played with my breasts enough, he stroked my buttocks and began to thrust powerfully like a strong piston.
I was enjoying the pleasure coming from behind my father when I suddenly saw my child sleeping peacefully, their adorable little face facing us. A wave of shame washed over me, and I gasped to my father that the baby was watching us. He hummed in response and suddenly increased the force of his thrusts. The despair of being unable to hide my shame only intensified my excitement. The illicit affair between a naked mother and her husband, stirring up a scene of passion in the room, what a picture of lust it must have been! I indulged my desires without restraint, no longer caring about my child. My moans grew louder and louder, and finally, in a state of confusion and madness, I reached orgasm with my father. In the days that followed, because I devoted all my energy to my husband and child, I had less passion with my father and even my husband. It wasn't until my child was old enough to understand that I realized my life seemed to need these things.
During that time, my husband and I rekindled our passion. He always came up with new and exciting sexual techniques, adding a lot of romance to our otherwise mundane marriage. While the saying that women are like wolves in their thirties and tigers in their forties is an exaggeration, sex is indeed essential for women with healthy minds and bodies.
During that period, my husband and I started experimenting with sex. After a few attempts, he finally took my place at one of my three sensitive spots.
One day, not long after, I visited my father. My mother wasn't home, so we naturally made love. My father has a similar habit to my husband: he likes to touch my anus while we're having sex, which often leaves me feeling itchy all over but unable to relieve the urge.
That day, he brought me to the brink of ecstasy from behind. When he caressed my anus again, I couldn't help but gasp and say to him, "Daddy, can you fuck my ass?" My father thought he misheard and asked again. I cried out again, "Fuck my ass with your cock!" In moments of passion, my father and I always used such lewd words.
My father pulled out his indestructible penis and pressed the huge glans against my anus. Waves of tingling sensations slowly spread from below, causing my anus to slowly bloom in this intoxicating fragrance. The glans then slid in, exploring along the secluded path behind my anus.
At that moment, I felt my anus overflowing, my whole body going limp, moaning and whimpering as my father did as he pleased. After a while, he began to gently thrust, the intense pleasure both thrilling and ecstatic. It was his first time experiencing this, and naturally, he was incredibly excited. His penis spurted inside me in no time, the throbbing, engorged member instantly igniting me. The extraordinary orgasm felt like it had lifted me to the clouds and then brought me crashing down; the weightless sensation amidst the intense pleasure made me scream.
For a while afterward, my father seemed very interested in my anus, always wanting to explore its depths. I always laughed at his premature urges. Fortunately, like my husband, he was still very gentle and considerate, even in the heat of passion.
Actually, since getting married, opportunities to have a truly passionate encounter with my father haven't been many. Most of the time, we could only steal moments of pleasure under the watchful eyes of my mother or husband. While my family was busy on the other side of the house, we would have quick, short encounters in the living room. Sometimes it was just mutual touching; sometimes, in the summer, if the situation allowed, I would lift my skirt and let him penetrate me. That feeling of stealing pleasure was tense and exciting, and we would reach orgasm in a short time.
Later, my child grew up happily, and the pace of life was no longer as rushed as before. In addition, my mother had some activities after retirement, so I had some leisure time to spend with my father. However, his energy was not as vigorous as before, especially after he had surgery three years ago. Although he recovered well, he was clearly not as virile as he used to be. My father preferred to touch me more.
Our last time having sex was half a year ago. My mother went to Beijing with a tour group organized by her work unit. That day, when she went to see my father, she found him lying in bed saying he felt a little uncomfortable. I sat on the edge of the bed and chatted with him. He said he wanted to touch me, so I took off my clothes and let him slowly caress my still full breasts.
I was puzzled as to why he was in such high spirits despite feeling unwell. He said he didn't know. Curious, I reached under the covers and found his penis was still limp. So I started playing with it, and surprisingly, it hardened in my hand. I took off my skirt, straddled my father, and inserted his penis into my vagina, moving it up and down. After a while, I stopped, and we lay down together, chatting. His penis remained inside me, occasionally twitching.
Actually, we've been making love this way since his surgery, until his penis completely softens inside me. It's a very peaceful way to make love. You might not reach orgasm, but there's a constant sense of satisfaction, slowly immersing you in desire, everything relaxed and readily available. I think only making love with an older man can give you this feeling, because I tried it with my husband, and it didn't work. What we needed was a different kind of passion.
The funny thing is, the subtle desire I feel with my father transforms into a raging fire when I'm with my husband, making me determined to have a passionate encounter with him. He always smugly remarks, "Women are truly like wolves in their thirties and tigers in their forties!"
Now, my relationship with my father is just a normal, intimate one, which often reminds me of my childhood. I know the passion between us is gradually fading, returning to the tranquility of childhood. Actually, I really like that; that simple feeling is like when my father held my little hand and we strolled in the afterglow of the setting sun—quiet, warm, and peaceful.

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A story with my father (reprinted)

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