Acting as a mother

My 　　mother died of cancer in the spring of my third year of junior high school. Afterwards, relatives and friends actively urged my father, who was just over forty, to remarry. "If it's for Mariko's sake

, 　　that's fine. Everything should be based on Mariko's opinion. As for me, as long as the person I marry can cherish Mariko, I have no objections," 　　I clearly remember my father always saying. 　　My aunt specifically asked me to meet with her for a detailed discussion. 　　"Mariko! Tell the truth! Your words represent your father's feelings! What do 　　you say?" She was right; I was truly stumped. 　　For more than half a year after my mother's death, my father, a working professional, had to get up at seven every morning and leave at eight to be at work before nine. Besides making breakfast himself, he also had to wake me up. My father's meticulous care lessened my longing for my mother. 　　But whenever I saw my father clumsily doing housework in the kitchen, I felt a deep sense of loss. 　　"We definitely need a mother to take care of us." 　　Making dinner was my job, and when I hesitated about what to make, I would often call my dad's office to ask. 　　"What do you want to eat?" 　　Of course, I would also call his workplace for other small things. I shouldn't bother him at work like that, but I couldn't not ask, so I started asking in symbolic ways. 　　"How about A tonight?" This meant, "We'll have fish tonight." 　　Or, "I think B might be better than A, oh!" This meant, "Meat is better than fish." 　　Conversations like this eventually became popular at my dad's company, and some people even envied our close father-daughter relationship! 　　For me, I really didn't want anyone interfering in our close relationship, so when my aunt brought up that matter again, 　　I would always answer, 　　"Anyway, this kind of life is fine as it is. Let's talk about that after I graduate high school!" 　　My aunt always spoke from my dad's perspective, and she always expected me to say "okay!" 　　"Mariko! Your father is only forty-two years old. Besides, there are many things you wouldn't understand. A forty-two-year-old man needs a woman." " 　　That's why I'm in charge of cooking dinner. After coming home from school, I'm also responsible for cleaning the house and doing laundry! Aren't these things women should do?" 　　After answering her like this, my aunt smiled and said, "Mariko, a woman's job isn't just about laundry and cooking! A woman's body is also very important..." 　　"You mean her body?" 　　"Yes! I'm talking about her body. It's not good if your father has other women outside, or goes to brothels to do 'that kind of thing.' But asking him not to do it is a bit much for a normal forty-two-year-old southerner." 　　My aunt was almost at her wit's end, and all I could do was blush and listen. 　　This was the first time I understood a woman's special functions, but I thought my father probably didn't want to do "that kind of thing" with any woman other than my mother! 　　"But bringing other women into the house, I just can't stand it!" 　　"That's because you're still an innocent girl. You don't understand your father's needs at all. Why don't you try to see things from his perspective? Don't you think he's pitiful?" 　　"Stop talking! I still think things are fine as they are." 　　After strongly objecting to my aunt, I ran out of the house crying. I didn't know why I was so sad. Tears just kept flowing uncontrollably. 　　When I got home from a walk in the nearby park, I saw my father and aunt talking in the living room. 　　Knowing it was wrong, I still went around to the window and secretly listened. 　　"I told you! It's really unreasonable for you to talk to Mariko about this. If she could understand a man's perspective, then she'd be an adult. Besides, while it's true that a family without a woman is a bit inconvenient, how could she possibly understand those inconveniences!" 　　"This... I didn't expect..." 　　"Yes! She thinks that washing clothes and cooking are a woman's job, sigh! Actually, I really want to remarry, but I still prioritize Mariko's opinion. So I think it's probably not going to work out." 　　"What a pity! She was only married for six months when her husband passed away in a car accident. So she went back to her parents' home and helps out at the shop her family runs. She's such a beautiful woman, and she's easy to get along with." " 　　Yes! Just looking at her photos, you can tell she's a good person, but never mind! Please don't say anymore, I'm a little worried." 　　"Hey! Talk to Mariko again! If it's really necessary, just be frank! After all, she's still your daughter, she should understand. As for the reply, keep it for now! Think about it again and we'll talk later." 　　"Hmm... well... let's leave it at that!" 　　Then, we chatted about many unimportant things. 　　Judging from the content of the conversation, my aunt had brought photos and talked to my father while I was away. 　　So, I didn't go home immediately. I quickly moved away from under the window and wandered around the park area. I don't know how long it took before I slowly walked home. 　　The matter of remarriage was never mentioned again. My father didn't talk about it, and even my aunt, who often visited, never mentioned it again. 　　My aunt lived two stops away on the same tram line. It took about twenty minutes to get to my house by bicycle. She often cooked some delicious dishes and brought them to share with us. 　　Since my father felt that it was inconvenient without a woman in the house, I started to do what my mother used to do... pour beer for my father, or tidy up his clothes after he took a shower, etc. Of course, I didn't feel like I was serving my father at all, because it was what I should do. 　　When my aunt came again, my father kept praising me. 　　"I already have a new wife, and she does everything so well for me! Look! She even ironed my yukata so neatly." 　　"Oh! That's not easy!" 　　"And that's not all! She also makes sure to prepare beer for me every day, and changes my shirts every three days or so. A wife like that is hard to find even if you have money!" 　　Seeing my father so happy made me happy too, and it made me determined to make his life better and happier. 　　My aunt leaned close to my father's ear and said in a voice I could barely hear, "That's what she says, but she still can't sleep with you, can she?" 　　When I heard their laughter, my head felt like it had been electrocuted, and my mind went blank. They thought no one heard, but I overheard them.

At night, lying in bed, the words "staying overnight," "staying overnight" pierced my heart like arrows, making it impossible to fall asleep. Of course, I knew what "staying overnight" meant, and I also knew that for men, it was a rather pleasurable thing. But for women, whether it was really that pleasurable, I didn't know.
In television or movies, when a man forces himself on a woman, most women look very uneasy. I think that feeling must be extremely painful, and even at the moment of union, the woman's expression is one of pain. The furrows between her brows tell you that she is in excruciating pain, but she has to endure it to please the man.

However, I think if I could do what that woman did to make my father happy and stop mentioning remarriage, I would be willing to endure it.

On May 3rd, in the middle of the night, a storm relentlessly pounded against the window of my second-floor dormitory, emitting a constant, mournful howl.

There were two rooms on the second floor, one about three pings (approximately 1.3 square meters), and the other was my dormitory, about two pings (approximately 1.3 square meters).
Downstairs, there's a kitchen and a living room that doubles as a dining area. The living room has a sofa, and behind it is a three-square-meter bedroom and a Japanese-style room. The bedroom has a double bed for my parents; it's a rather quiet room, and my father is currently resting alone on that large double bed.

Before I could make my "staying overnight" plan a reality, I had to do some serious thinking. If I suddenly blurted out "staying overnight," my father would definitely be furious and say, "What nonsense are you talking about?"

But now, having already chosen my moment, and with the approaching storm, I'm even more determined to do it.
I'm wearing floral bikini-style underwear; of course, a bra is unnecessary. I'm famous in class for my large breasts; the boys call me "Big Boobs" behind my back because they all want to suckle my ample bosom.

"Dad! Are you asleep? Dad!"

I called out sweetly, knocking on my father's door.

It seems my father, who had been drinking outside and then had two bottles of beer, is already fast asleep.

(Hmph! Didn't he want a woman? How can he sleep?)

I couldn't help but feel annoyed.

It was the first floor and there were no windows, so I couldn't feel the storm's noise, but I was determined to wake my father.

"Hey! Dad, are you asleep? Or are you awake?"

"What's wrong, Mariko? What happened?"

"Yes! It's Mariko! Who else could it be?"

"What's wrong?"

"The second floor is too scary, I can't sleep."

"Oh! It's the storm! I didn't know anything about it, is the second floor alright?"

"That's why! It's not good at all, it's so scary, so scary that I can't sleep!"

"Is that so? Wait a minute!"

The door was locked from the inside; it couldn't be opened from the outside.

When the door opened, my father looked at me sleepily.

"Sleep with me!"

Before he could say another word, I quickly jumped past him and onto the double bed.
At that moment, I didn't know what expression my father had on his face, because as soon as I got into bed, I burrowed under the covers, even covering my head.

"So that's how it is. I really didn't know the wind was blowing so hard! It's completely silent in this bedroom. With a storm like this, how could anyone sleep?"

Dad muttered to himself.

He didn't say anything as I quickly slipped under the covers. But the "storm" seemed to imply permission for me to do so.

Perhaps he was a little drunk. After finishing his water, Dad smoked a cigarette alone in the darkness. He seemed to have thought of something; maybe this is what it means to be on the same wavelength! Perhaps Dad sensed what I wanted to do!

But he might be thinking, "I didn't know about the secret I shared with my aunt last time!" Could this high school freshman really be so bold?

This daughter is far more mature than he thought! Dad didn't seem to realize this. Because parents always treat their children like elementary school students.

After a long time, his judgment seemed to have fallen asleep. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes didn't seem so unpleasant anymore.

Dad finally went to bed, and I wanted to force myself to press my "mother-sized" breasts against his body, but I felt a little awkward. Finally, I did it, and watching Dad's hands fumble and bewilder, that feeling was incredibly pleasurable.

Am I a delinquent?

Am I the gentle and obedient daughter Dad idealized?

I did this simply to stop Dad from having any thoughts of remarriage, and also to repay his kindness.
My next action was a decision made after thoroughly observing Dad's reaction.

On that stormy night, Dad's behavior showed that he no longer saw me as his daughter; in his subconscious, I was just a real woman. With this realization, I planned my next step.

So, about four days later, one night, I made a decision as decisively as if I had jumped off a stage and went to Dad's bedroom.

"Dad! Are you asleep?"

I knocked on the door and called out loudly.

Dad wasn't asleep yet; he was probably reading. He opened the door immediately when I knocked.

I stood motionless in front of his door, my hands crossed over my stomach, watching him.

"What's wrong? Mariko, what's wrong?"

Dad put his arm around my shoulder, looking closely at my face.

"My stomach hurts... oh..."

"Oh! When did it start?"

"About an hour ago. I took some medicine, but it didn't work."

"Where does it hurt?"

"Um... there... oh... it's here! It's a dull ache. Dad! Rub it for me! Rubbing it might help..."

Determined to do it, I lay down on the bed without waiting for Dad's answer, and started moaning "oh... oh..."

Parents everywhere would never watch their daughter suffer without asking, so I boldly took action.

"Do you really want me to rub it?...?"

Dad really didn't want to rub it for me? Humph! What's with all the politeness? Suddenly I felt a little dissatisfied.
So Dad lay down next to me and put his hands near my stomach.

"Ouch... hurry... rub it!"

I cried out in a spoiled tone.

"What did you eat?"

"Nothing! I ate the same thing as Dad! Ah... I feel so comfortable..."

"Was it too cold? Did you catch a chill?"

"Hmm... I don't know..."

Tonight I wore a loose yukata, tied with a thin sash in the front, always making sure the knot was high up so Dad's hand was just below it.

"Put more pressure! Dad's weak rubbing won't work, you should use this..."

I pressed my hand down on Dad's, pushing it forcefully inside the yukata—part of my plan. The moment

Dad's hand touched my skin, he paused, but I pretended to be nonchalant and continued pushing his hand away, letting him continue stroking my skin.

As his hand continued to stroke, the yukata gradually loosened, completely exposing my lower abdomen.

"It hurts! Dad, can you put more pressure on me?"

At this point, I removed my hand, and Dad automatically continued stroking the skin around my stomach.
"Hmm...it doesn't seem to be there, it seems to be my whole abdomen! Let's check more thoroughly, because I can't pinpoint exactly where it hurts."

"Call a doctor or send an ambulance! If it's some strange pain, the consequences could be dire. If only your mother were here."

Dad looked helpless.

"Ugh! Why send an ambulance! It's not as serious as you think. Dad's hands are warm, just stroking like this is fine, move a little closer."

"Like this?"

Dad's eyes must have seen the white panties under my yukata. I deliberately lifted my leg, making the yukata looser, easily revealing my alluring white panties.

"Aren't you cold without any covers?"

As soon as Dad finished speaking, I crawled into the blankets. Dad felt my cold skin and also crawled into the blankets, lying down beside me.

I went all out, throwing myself into it without a care.

It didn't hurt at all, yet I lied and cried out, "It hurts...it hurts so much..." It was the first time in my life that a man's hand (my father was, after all, a man to me) had touched me like that, so I knew I was sweating with nervousness.

My father seemed to notice and asked me worriedly,

"Mariko's sweating from the pain."

"No...it's not like that, I feel much better now."

To make it easier for my father's hand, I rested my face against his chest, only my lower body, clad in underwear, was exposed.

My father used his left hand as a pillow, stroking my stomach with only his right hand. Me! What a daring daughter I am! But for my father, for me, I was determined to take my mother's place, so I didn't want to stop what I was doing.

"Dad, it doesn't seem to be the stomach area, try touching a little lower!"

When my father's hand slid to my navel, I inexplicably let out a sound, "Ah!"
"Hmm... a little lower! Maybe the lower abdomen? Perhaps the intestines, ah... yes, right there... feel it harder!"

Dad followed my prompting without stopping.

However, what I meant by "there" was the area below the navel, the entire lower abdomen, the hairy "dark forest"!

If Dad saw that area, he might stop, but thankfully, it was covered by the blanket and he couldn't see.

Dad must be able to smell the silk conditioner in my hair! A book says that men are attracted to the scent of this conditioner, and some say, "That's the scent of a woman."

I've spent a lot of time and effort on this plan. Now I'm not Mariko anymore, but a substitute for my deceased mother.

My aunt, who often comes to our house to persuade Dad to remarry, often says, "Really! Mariko is a spitting image of her mother! Not only her face, but even her voice and walking posture are exactly the same!" My

aunt says I'm so much like Mom, Dad must also want someone like Mom to accompany him!
"Hmm... Daddy... it seems to hurt a little lower down! Hmm... press harder here!"

To make Daddy go crazy sooner, and so I could take Mommy's place sooner, I used my hand to guide Daddy's hand to the "mysterious black forest" area.

Now Daddy's hand was indeed covering this paradise.

I could feel the wind blowing on these pubic hairs, a different sensation, both tense and exciting.

"It's here, press harder from below. Ah! No... Hmm... like this
... press harder... Oh... it's the intestines."

At this moment, Daddy wasn't very brave in exploring with his hand. From the warm breath he exhaled, I could feel that he was slowly starting to mistake me for Mommy.

"Yes! Now I'm not your daughter Mariko, but your intimate other half!"
Daddy's hand gradually invaded the pubic hair, and was slowly moving downwards step by step. At this moment, I withdrew my hand and naturally placed it on Daddy's waist, embracing him.

Wow! It feels so good! I finally realized that this feeling wasn't like the pain women experienced on TV; it was truly pleasurable.

I felt no remorse whatsoever.

At that moment, Dad wasn't holding Mariko, but rather my imagined mother. Thinking this way, why should I feel guilty? I didn't think I needed to at all.

"Ah...ah..."

I couldn't help but let out a sensual moan of pleasure.

Dad's fingers reached the thickest part of my pubic hair, as if I had fallen from a mountain into a deep valley, where clear water immediately gushed forth, and his fingers swam freely there.

I couldn't calm down anymore; an electric-like pleasure filled my lower body, and my waist trembled uncontrollably.

I don't know when, but Dad's fingers went from one to two, constantly twitching in the valley.
At this moment, Dad seemed to have clearly decided his course of action, so he withdrew his left hand from under my head and stroked my head and ears.

When his fingers entered my ear, the pleasurable sensation sent electric shocks through my entire body; I don't know why, but this feeling made me feel like I was floating on air.

The hand below was teasing the small hills at the bottom of the valley, and the pleasure from above and below surged through my body like an electric current.

"Oh... Daddy... Oh..."

I called out without thinking, then gripped my father's body tightly, as if I would fall apart if I didn't.

"Oh... Mariko..."

My father was also calling my name.

"Dad... Oh..."

"Mariko... Mariko... Oh..."

My father and I kept calling each other's names.

(From today onwards, Mariko will do everything in place of my mother.)

I thought this, but didn't say it aloud.

(So please don't try to bring a new mother into the house!)

Although I didn't say these words, even if I wanted to, I couldn't make the right sound; only moans came out.

"Mmm! So good! Really good... Daddy... Mariko is really enjoying it now! Oh... so good... faster... faster... faster..."

"Here? Is it here? Good girl, Mariko is so good... Oh... my lovely Mariko..."

"Dad... I... my tummy is all better... so you can do whatever you want! Mariko really loves Daddy, really, you can do whatever you want, Mariko will always be yours, always your wife."

"Mariko, you child..."

The moment Daddy pulled his fingers out and rolled over, I inexplicably became excited.
After Daddy rolled over and sat up, he lay down again, and moved his body back to my waist. Then he spread my legs and bent down to press his face close to there... my private parts.

My yukata wasn't fully on, so my chest, abdomen, and genitals were all exposed to my father's view. His right hand was caressing my large, proud breasts.

As he squeezed my enormous breasts, another surge of pleasure rushed up, and at the same time, his mouth was aimed directly at "that place."

"Ah...ah...Dad! What are you doing!...Dad! What are you doing!"

My father wasn't just trying to kiss them as I had imagined. In fact, he was vigorously manipulating and licking them.

Oh...his tongue gradually entered the bottom of the valley, licking and twitching back and forth in this bottomless pit. The beauty of that feeling was something I had never experienced since birth.

My father used his fingers to part the small mounds on the left and right sides, revealing that small lump of flesh. Although I couldn't see this action, I could imagine it.

My father would gently bite this hard lump of flesh with his teeth, then tease it with his tongue, and then suck on it.

I wanted to grab my father's body, but he was too far away; I couldn't reach him at all. I could only clench my fists to resist the constant, throbbing sensation of electricity. Oh! Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me; I was afraid I was going crazy.

I've forgotten whether I was holding a pillow or a blanket in my hands.

My father, panting heavily, repeated the same actions.

"What's wrong...what's wrong..."

What would happen next? What new pleasures would occur? I really didn't know, so I could only ask casually.

When my father pulled his mouth away and moved his body closer to mine...

(I'm going to be my father's wife soon!)

I thought to myself.

When my father inserted his penis into me, I was surprisingly calm.

He wasn't my father anymore, and I wondered how a woman addresses her husband after marriage.
And what would I call him after I became my father's wife? But I didn't call him anything.

Because I wasn't an ordinary bride, it seemed that my father didn't need any title.
Just having sex with him was enough.

(I'm sorry...) I don't want him to say things like that to me; I just want to stay silent.
Right now, I'm not just a wife and daughter, but also a high school student.

Since that night, I've had my dad hold me to sleep every night, and my desire for sex has grown stronger every day. Lately, I've been the one begging him to have sex with me.

"Okay? Don't you really have any homework?"

My dad always asks this, seeing me already in bed waiting.

To make my dad happy, and for my own desires... to have sex with my dad, I go straight home after school and don't go anywhere else. Then I quickly finish my homework, prepare dinner, and pour a beer while waiting for my dad to come home.
Lately, my dad hasn't been drinking outside or coming home late. He's already taken me to heart; to me, he's a really good husband and a good lover.

My dad even teaches me about intimacy and the secrets of sex, and I've decided to be his most charming and best wife.

As for getting married in the future, I haven't thought about it at all. I just want to happily be a high school student, a daughter, and a wife every day.

I love the pleasure of having sex with my dad; it's so great, so wonderful! ...

[The End]

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Acting as a mother

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