It all started with Dad.

"Beauty is a curse," this should be a truism.
When I was little, my grandmother would always look at me with utter disgust and say this.
Everyone who knew me said I looked too much like my mother, even more beautiful.
My mother didn't use her beauty to gain more happiness; instead, she ruined her life.
At that time, my pregnant mother was raped by her boss at work. My father's usual silent suffering didn't bring her any comfort, so she took her boss to court.
But public opinion is powerful; most people thought that beautiful women like my mother usually seduce others, and the fault lay entirely with her.
It's like a flower attracting bees and flies with its fragrance; the fault is that the flower is too fragrant.
After giving birth to me, my mother committed suicide.
If we don't compare her to my mother, my father would definitely be a handsome man, both talented and good-looking.
After losing my mother, my father didn't remarry amidst the gossip, but he remained depressed and despondent.
When I was 16, I had blossomed into a stunningly beautiful woman for miles around.
Yes, stunningly beautiful. Grandma said all women can be beautiful, but my beauty was a kind of bewitching allure. Like the women on TV, my character was judged solely on my looks.
At that time, I had just entered a prestigious national high school. My father, with his vast knowledge and strict demands, ensured I consistently ranked at the top of my class.
Yes, I was at the top, and I was stunningly beautiful. Unfortunately, besides my looks and academic achievements, I had nothing else.
Back then, at least I had a good friend. A girl named Chongchong, with an ordinary appearance but an absolutely kind heart.
When the boy Chongchong had a crush on for four years confessed to me, I lost my only friendship.
That's when I began to understand that beauty can be a curse—it's a truth.
At school, my nickname was "Ice Queen." I never spoke more than a word to boys, and all love letters and gifts were thrown in the trash. Behind my back, they said, "Don't let my haughty exterior fool you; I'm definitely a slut and a whore inside. You can tell just by looking at me."
After graduating from high school, my father took me to the north to visit distant relatives.
It was summer vacation, very hot, and my father and I traveled for three days and two nights by train to reach our destination.
After finding a hotel, he told me to rest while he went to contact my relatives.
At that time, my understanding of sex was very limited, and I had no idea what it meant for a nearly 17-year-old like me to share a room with an adult man. Even though that man was my father.
When my father came back, I had just finished showering and came out wrapped in a towel, wearing nothing underneath.
I asked him how things were, my hair still wet, noticing his unusual expression.
I thought he was hot, so I told him to go take a shower
and handed him my underwear while he showered. When I opened the door, my father angrily yelled at me. He said I was a girl, how could I just open a man's door like that?
I think at that moment, my father was already ready to pounce.
After showering, my father was still wearing the sweaty clothes he had brought back, while I was still wrapped in a towel.
The hotel towel was white and not very wide; it barely covered part of my chest and just barely covered my buttocks. The way it was wrapped up made my cleavage very visible, and whenever I bent over, my private parts would be completely exposed. But at the time, I didn't care.
I went over to complain to my dad about wearing dirty clothes and started to take them off.
He was furious; I just wanted him to take off his outer garment so I could wash it for him.
In the struggle, we fell onto the bed. As I fell, my dad, still in a protective position, held me by the waist.
Lying on the bed, I was on top of him, his hand on my waist, my hands on his chest, but my towel had completely slipped off.
Out of girlish shyness, I tried to get up and cover myself with the towel.
But my dad's hand seemed unwilling to let go. His lower abdomen was hard; I initially thought it was his phone in his pocket.
I tried to prop myself up, and my two 36C breasts bounced right in front of him.
At that moment, the towel slipped down to the hand holding me.
My face flushed red; I felt so embarrassed.
Neither of us spoke. As I tried to get up, my dad took one of my nipples into his mouth.
A tingling sensation shot through my nipple, and my mind suddenly went blank.
I was half-naked, lying on top of my biological father, and he was calling out to my nipples.
No… I reflexively resisted and continued to push him away.
This relieved his other hand, which was being held down, and he grabbed my other breast.
A strange sensation surged through my body, but my reason made me keep pushing my father away, while his hand, which was holding me, slowly slipped under the towel and landed on my smooth buttocks. He squeezed and kneaded my firm buttocks, almost toying with them. Dad
… I pushed him frantically, don’t do this… I was about to cry.
He suddenly rolled over, pinning me down, straddling my waist, and in the process, he ripped off the towel around my waist and threw it on the ground. He silently and fiercely took off his shirt, and then lay down on top of me…
Dad… I was terrified. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew it was wrong. The word incest flashed through my mind, making me desperately want to break free.
My father captured my lips in his mouth, his tongue plunging deep inside. I tried to pull away, but I couldn't. His tongue skillfully teased my mouth, reaching deep into my throat, making it hard to breathe. His breath was heavy, his body heavy.
One hand kneaded one of my breasts, while the other unbuckled his belt.
"No!" I was terrified. Before this, I had never been within five centimeters of a boy, but now, my father… what he was about to do to me… was unthinkable…
I grabbed his hands, trying to unbuckle his belt, repeatedly saying, "Dad, I'll let you touch me, let you kiss me, but please… don't do that to me…"
He remained silent, using one hand to hold my hands above my head, while the other finally unbuckled his belt. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his throbbing, hard penis from his underwear. At that moment, the desire and stimulation of raping his suicidal daughter had driven him mad. Before him lay an alluring, naked virgin, like a Japanese AV actress, leaving him without a trace of humanity. Actually, it wasn't his fault. Really, if I hadn't had such an alluring body, why would my father have wanted to violate me?
I kept begging him, but he ignored me. I resisted more and more fiercely. I was terrified by his penis. I didn't know what he was going to do, but we were already completely naked. I was going to lose my virginity, though I didn't know the specifics of what would happen.
Dad tied my hands behind my back with a belt, and then he spoke. His voice was incredibly dry. He said, "Sweetie, relax, or it will hurt. Dad doesn't want you to hurt, I'll try to be gentle..."
"No!!" I screamed, biting my father's tongue as it penetrated my mouth. He had no choice but to stuff a corner of a towel into my mouth, turn me over so I was face down on the bed, and lift my buttocks. He moistened his finger with saliva and smeared it on my pink labia, then gently inserted his finger into my body.
One finger was already making me very uncomfortable, but the lubrication from the saliva temporarily eased the urge. He gently massaged my clitoris and the skin around my vulva, helping me relax. Looking back now, I realize that having sex with such an experienced and caring man for the first time would have been incredibly blissful, a million times better than those inexperienced young men who hurt themselves.
Although I was nervous, my primal desires were aroused by my father. His fingers slid more and more smoothly into my body, and the comfort from my vagina gradually calmed me down. My father, suppressing his throbbing penis, continued to caress my vagina and occasionally rubbed my breasts. My pink nipples gradually hardened under his teasing.
The love juices finally made my entire vulva glisten with moisture. Dad withdrew his fingers and used his hand to rub the head of his penis against my vaginal opening. My last remaining consciousness made me whimper, but it was too late to reverse the damage.
Dad's penis forced open my small vaginal opening. Although I was prepared beforehand, it still made me convulse with pain. The tearing sensation made me writhe uncontrollably. Dad controlled my waist and said breathlessly, "Sweetie, relax, just bear with it, it'll be over soon."
Is this what a father says to his daughter? He inserted his penis into his virgin daughter's vagina and told her to bear it. At that moment, all I could do was cry. In the end, I stopped resisting, listened to Dad, and relaxed my body. Since I couldn't resist anymore, I might as well try to minimize the pain.
Dad's huge penis slowly thrust in and out for a while before it was only a third of the way in. During this process, I began to feel a tingling pleasure. My body suddenly felt a huge emptiness, and I wanted Dad's penis to go all the way in and fill me up. I started to pant heavily. Dad pulled the towel out of my mouth. The towel, soaked with my saliva, was incredibly alluring, almost making him ejaculate.
He took a deep breath, held back his semen, and encouraged me, saying, "Good girl, just like that, Daddy's coming."
His glans had already touched my hymen, and all I could do was moan. "
Untie me, okay?" I begged him.
Dad untied my hands, turned me over, and entered me again in the missionary position. This time, there was more lubrication, and he touched my hymen immediately.
He said, "Good girl, it'll hurt a little now, just bear with it. If you can't, bite Daddy's shoulder. It'll be over soon."
I obediently nodded and hugged his neck. He leaned down and French kissed me. I swallowed Daddy's saliva. His chest rubbed against my breasts, and my vagina felt hot. I said, "Daddy, come on, I'm not afraid." As soon as
I finished speaking, Daddy thrust his hips and broke through my hymen, his entire penis entering me more than halfway.
Pain mingled with pleasure, making me dizzy. "Ah, um," I moaned.
Dad couldn't hold back any longer and began to thrust carefully, each thrust drawing out virgin blood and vaginal fluid. My body flushed redder and redder. In the throes of pleasure, I clamped my legs around Dad, enduring each thrust and the pleasure it brought. "Dad
, you're making me...it hurts so much..." I said unconsciously, lifting my head to kiss his lips, slipping my tongue into his mouth. "
You're quick to learn," Dad hummed, his mouth filled with my tongue. "
Quick, Dad...I..." I cried, almost reaching orgasm. Each thrust penetrated my uterus, easily conquering my untouched womb.
"No, my good daughter, I'll come first, then I'll give you more..." Dad said, then began to thrust wildly, each time almost reaching my uterus. My scalp tingled from the impact.
Finally, Dad thrust into my vagina with all his might, his glans slightly parting my cervix, and his scalding semen shot inside. With a low growl, he ejaculated for almost half a minute before collapsing, exhausted, onto my chest.
When Dad withdrew from my body, the sheets were stained with a milky white liquid mixed with streaks of blood. My genitals were somewhat red and swollen, and pinkish fluid was seeping from my vulva. Dad
used a towel to wipe his semi-erect penis, then wiped my genitals. I closed my legs in embarrassment, and he looked somewhat awkward.
He said, "Let Dad wash you."
"No, I'll wash myself." I tried to stand up, but the pain in my genitals prevented me from moving properly.
Dad lifted me up and placed me in the bathtub, turned on the water, and gently rinsed my engorged genitals with the showerhead. His slender fingers parted my labia, letting the warm water wash away the fluid inside. We were both silent as this happened. I just couldn't bear to think about it; I was afraid I would go crazy.
I had sex with Dad; it was incest.
My father's fingers cleaned between my labia, which aroused me again, even though I was a virgin. Maybe I'm just a born slut.
I finally couldn't help but moan softly. My father's fingers drew out lubricating fluid from between my labia. He said, "Want it again?"
He placed my hand on his penis, which throbbed gently in my hand, the veins bulging. After being with so many men, my father's penis was quite large.
I didn't speak, just carefully touched my father's penis. He also moved his fingers in and out of my vagina until I felt my clitoris swell up like a small bean, my vaginal fluid soaking his hand.
He picked me up and made me lie face down in front of the bathroom mirror. We were both naked in front of the mirror, my father behind me, lifting my buttocks, one hand guiding his penis towards my vagina. It
was so lewd. I looked at myself in the mirror, my hands supporting myself on the sink, my two huge breasts hanging in front of me, my buttocks raised, waiting for my father's penis. My father's somewhat relaxed body was still quite fit. My body blocked his penis, but I could feel his hot penis slowly penetrating my vagina.
I looked at my face, a look of lust on my face, and moaned, my vagina flowing with lustful fluid once again.
In the days that followed, I knew that my father preferred the rear-entry position, so that his hands could hold my breasts.
If in the bedroom my father was raping me, then in the bathroom, it could only be said that my father and I committed adultery. He brought me to orgasm again and again with his big penis, ejaculating inside me. He said, "Since I've already ejaculated once, let's do it a few more times today and then take the pill tomorrow."
I couldn't get pregnant, and I couldn't have my father's child.
I gave my virginity to my father during the summer vacation of my junior year of high school. It was at that time that my father opened the door to my sexual desire, and in the years that followed, I experienced the pleasures of lovemaking.
My father was my first man. After my mother died, he had a few lovers and visited prostitutes a few times, but then he had no sex life.
He had been celibate for four years before seeing my body.
Sometimes, when he was on top of me, he would say, "You're much more exciting than your mother."
That's how my father and I began our sex life.
During the week we spent up north, my father would always leave me covered in his semen, until my vagina was so swollen and I couldn't walk. I stayed in the hotel the whole time, without even wearing clothes. Whenever my father came back, he would make me shower with him and then have sex.
He liked to ask me during sex, "Who's fucking you?"
I would say, "Dad."
Him: Your biological father?
Me: Yes.
Him: Does it feel good to be penetrated by your biological father?
Me: It feels amazing.
Him: Do you like being penetrated by your biological father?
Me: Yes
. Asking and answering like this during sex always helps us reach orgasm faster. This perverse sex was taught to me by my father, and perhaps there's a genetic component.
After returning from the north, I rested for a whole week, and taking emergency contraception caused my period to come early. My father hasn't touched me since he came back.
Because of my grandmother.
My grandmother always looks at me with the eyes of someone looking at a wicked woman. And now, every time she looks at me, I feel guilty and dare not meet her gaze. She says I'm a scourge, with a lewd look on my face.
My grandmother is right, I slept with her son, my biological father.

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It all started with Dad.

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