Incestuous relationship between father and daughter

This is a story about the erotic love between my father and me. At first, I tried to describe the sex scenes in a lighter way and deliberately portrayed myself as a well-mannered lady, different from the typical promiscuous woman.

But as these memories gradually became written down, the passion in my heart betrayed me. The primal instincts and blood-bound desires in my heart were like a long, enchanting wind blowing across the mountains, swirling up petals in the sunset of memory. I couldn't help but recount the beauty and tremor of each time he entered my body or the depths of my life, my body and mind dancing along. Only then did I realize that this was actually the grand stage of my innermost heart.

So you can treat this article as an alternative love story 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 in your anger, you might as well be glad, after all, people like me are very, very far removed from your life and extremely rare.

I have never thought there was anything wrong with my relationship with my father. I am used to my personality and way of thinking often being different from ordinary people, and these have not prevented me from having my own happy family and being a good wife and mother. I am so grateful to my father for allowing me to grow up healthily and for 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 busy with his "important things," while I could only watch from the sidelines. But I still thought it was great; occasionally being able to lend a hand would make me happy for half a day.

My mother's workplace was far from home, so she usually didn't come home at noon and sometimes even worked night shifts. Therefore, I was especially close to my father from a young age. I remember that he usually 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. It was the first time I had faced his naked body, and I was a little flustered. I just quietly looked at him, and naturally, the dark mass between his legs was my biggest source of curiosity.

He was quite embarrassed at the time, and scolded me, but couldn't get rid of me. He finally took off my clothes and bathed me naked. That's when I first saw his big, hairy penis, sleepily stretching and turning, finally standing proudly before me. I was utterly astonished.

Knowing he couldn't control the situation, my father was quite uninhibited. When I timidly reached out and grasped his erect penis, he neither refused nor said anything.

I curiously asked why it had become so big and hard. He said the caterpillar was angry. At that age, this joke suited my taste perfectly, and I became even more curious about it. While lathering with soap, I couldn't resist rubbing it for him. It grew harder and harder in my little hands, standing erect almost as high as my head, its magnificent peaks towering majestically.

I played like this about seven or eight times. Sometimes my father wanted to refuse me, but each time he repeatedly warned me not to tell anyone! At that time, the children in the yard still played together all the time, and I vaguely knew that in other people's eyes, intimacy between men and women was absolutely a shameful act.

All of this ended in second or third grade, but I still loved being close to my father's body. He had a special scent that made me want to snuggle against his broad body like a little bird. I also loved 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 cute, 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 my period started, I squatted in the bathroom screaming at noon. My father rushed over, and I pointed to my genitals for him to see. Actually, I already knew what this meant from a book; I just wanted to proudly declare to him that I was now a woman. My

father grumbled, scolding me for making a fuss and being disrespectful, but at the same time, he comforted me, telling me to quickly wipe myself clean. I begged him to do it, and as always, he eventually listened to me. Watching him carefully wipe my genitals, my heart started pounding, and I felt a little hot. That evening, my parents prepared extra dishes 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 earnestly discuss some 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 was more attractive to me 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 also 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 awake at night.

One day, our whole family went swimming at the beach. My mother seemed to have left because of a towel issue. I said I wanted to practice kicking my legs, and my father supported my chest and lower abdomen with his hands. His hands firmly grasped my breasts, and I immediately felt dizzy, my heart pounding like a deer, and my bones melting. Suddenly, we both fell silent.

My legs only kicked the water symbolically, and my father's hands occasionally squeezed my small breasts, while his other hand was almost touching my vulva. The heat flowing down below made me feel a hazy, passionate desire.

When I wanted to rest because water got in my eyes, he put me down, but his hands didn't leave my chest. Instead, he hugged me from behind, his erect penis gently pressing against me through my swim trunks. My mother came home 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, revealing glimpses of my breasts, the buds just beginning to emerge. I told my father they were bigger again. He said, "Really?" and reached out to caress my breasts through my clothes, whispering in my ear,

"They're really big now, Daddy likes them!" My breathing became rapid. Soon, my father unbuttoned my clothes, and a pair of warm, large hands cupped my lotus-like breasts.

Then, right there on my little bed, he leaned down and pressed his warm lips to my breasts, taking the pink and delicate nipples into his mouth. I was both shy and timid, never expecting my father to do this. This was the shyest I ever felt in front of him, but at that moment, I was already aroused and overwhelmed by boundless pleasure.

My father had stripped me naked, kissing 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 his tongue, skillfully teasing my tender little tongue, leading me into the city of desire, dancing in the newly lit bonfire, merging my first kiss into a sea of passionate fervor.

By this time, my body was already brimming 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, half-open and half-closed. I gasped softly, my waist swaying like a willow in the wind. Soon, a tremendous climax surged forth. My father, holding me like a mountain, made my climax linger for a long time.

With my father's warm and soft body in his arms, his passion still lingering, he naturally couldn't bear to let go, continuing to caress my body. Being a first-timer, I was also filled with desire, and reached out my slender hand to grasp his hard and 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 penis swelled up and down in my hand, as if 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 in a frenzy of lust and passion, I didn't seem to have any intention of letting him penetrate me at the time, 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 and vigorously moved 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 a deep, lion-like growl, I felt something splash onto my face. Looking down, I saw streams of semen gushing from my father's purplish-red glans, a spectacular sight, landing on various parts of my body.

My father lay down, panting heavily. I was bewildered by the semen splattered on my body, but my father quickly noticed and hurriedly took out tissues to wipe me clean. Seeing that my father had returned to his usual self, still loving and caring for me as much as before, my earlier fear vanished instantly, replaced by a joy of having discovered my father's last secret.

Afterwards, my father inevitably reminded me not to tell my mother. By then, I understood many things, so I behaved very well in front of my mother. After this incident, my father seemed a little anxious. He bought me many books, often took my mother and me out to play, and his attention to my grades noticeably increased. I knew he was afraid that this incident would make me lose sight of my studies and become obsessed.

I just secretly found it amusing. My life didn't change much. I didn't think about these things much. I only knew that my father would definitely give it to me at the right time, and this feeling 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 in the end

I didn't dare. My father's big, beautiful penis, like something out of a European porn film, always carefully avoided my vulva, never getting close easily. One day, my father suddenly asked me to lick his big little thing. Of course, I only felt fondness for this cute little brother, so I met it with my tongue and lips, experiencing an intimacy I had never felt before.

The worm, quite perceptively, became erect. Although it might have seemed too imposing for a 13-year-old girl, the sight of its glans, its little mouth agape and drooling, made it look like a hungry baby bird. So, I couldn't help but part my lips slightly and gently take its glans into my mouth. My father gave a long kiss and gently pressed his penis against my front teeth. Afraid of hurting it, I quickly opened my mouth wide, and the worm seized the opportunity to pry open my lips and slide inside between my tightly closed lips.

This abrupt intrusion made my tongue feel somewhat embarrassed. I could only spit it out a little, and my little tongue, now slightly more at ease, eagerly intertwined with it.

The penis was throbbing passionately between my lips and teeth, its enormous glans and shaft straining my mouth so much that I had to exhale to catch my breath. My father, holding his bright red penis, rubbed it back and forth against my lips with a touch of swagger. I couldn't resist grabbing it again, sucking and licking it like I was teasing a beloved pet.

Soon, my father guided my hand, making me thrust faster and faster. In an instant, the penis, hard as a stick, bulged with veins and changed color. Thick fluid gushed out, like white ribbons flying through the air and hitting my face, one of which shot deep into my mouth!

The strong smell of semen and the sudden impact made me pale, and I cried out in a spoiled tone. My father, not even having time to savor the ecstasy, quickly cleaned me up. Looking back, it was actually quite fun.

Later, my father started licking my vulva. His thick tongue was warm and soft, gently brushing around the two petals of my vagina, then sweeping over my moist and delicious clitoris, making my whole body go wild. One of his hands didn't miss my two white and jade-like breasts, and soon I was completely limp from his ministrations.

After starting work, I watched an adult film with a female companion. Half of us were married, and the other half were single; it was basically the first time for most of us. The oral sex scene in the film made most people scream and cover their faces, but I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Actually, in my relationship with my father, the only thing that felt a little strange was oral sex, and now I could finally enjoy it openly.

My father often held this warm, soft woman in his arms, watching the gentle flow of spring water by the edge of the grassy bank. I imagine it wasn't easy for him to keep his eager member from throbbing beneath him, so he had to come up with 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 squeezed them together to form peaks, while his penis moved back and forth between these soft valleys until he ejaculated and was exhausted.

Until I graduated from high school, I never had sex with my father in the true sense of the word. It wasn't that I thought it was wrong to have sex with my father, but in this respect, like any other good girl, I thought it was something I could only do when I grew up. I always believed that my relationship with my father was merely an extraordinary intimacy, a somewhat frenzied physical closeness, an unreserved expression of true affection between father and daughter.

Despite the secrets I shared with him, I felt at peace with myself; I simply considered myself different in some way. I consider myself a person with principles, and I know this thinking has a hint of "stealing books isn't stealing," but setting aside reproduction, incest is essentially a psychological issue, while stealing books is a practical one.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my father had wanted to sleep with me back then? I don't know, but I'm certain that not being able to directly engage in sexual activity would have been torturous for someone like him, but thankfully, there was still my mother.

Perhaps it's because of my relationship with my father, but in my eyes, my mother is more like an older sister. 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 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, regardless of what others think. I know she's an inseparable part of my father. Without her, I wouldn't have a father who loves me so much. I often feel that half of my father's love for me comes from my mother, so I'm filled with gratitude towards her. I secretly believe that my father is a great gift from my mother.

Although there's a lot of love and affection at home, I know my world is far bigger than that. I know I'll eventually leave them to find my own new home, so I really want to go out and see the world. When I took the 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 is to get into a prestigious university, she didn't say anything. On the eve of starting university, I wanted to make love 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, my father especially speaking with deep concern. 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 wants to get married as soon as I start dating, but after a year of passionate love, I realized that marriage was too far away, and there was too much uncertainty ahead. The uncertain future made our promises seem pale, and 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 slowly wither away in the wind and rain.

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 new kind of peace of mind. I felt much more mature, and since I started dating, I've paid more attention to my appearance and even got a new hairstyle. When I returned home during winter break in third grade, my dad said I had truly become a young woman. Only then did I realize that I had fortunately inherited almost all the best qualities from my parents and had blossomed into a sexy and beautiful young woman.

One afternoon during that winter break, when my period had just ended, my father finally couldn't resist the temptation of such a mature body and suddenly pinned me down (he rarely did this before). In his passionate kisses, I felt his intense possessive desire. His penis pressed against my vulva, and his rapid breathing, carrying the overwhelming desire of a man, assaulted me. I was an undefended city, and the wildness within me suddenly ignited like a wildfire in spring.

I held him tightly, wiggling my hips as I rubbed against him, whispering in his ear, "Put it in!"

Without hesitation, he spread my legs, thrusting his penis against my wet little hole. The firm, smooth glans filled me with anticipation. Before I could even savor it, his penis had already stormed into the city gate like a fierce chariot, followed by a sharp pain! I screamed in agony!

Actually, my father's movements were relatively gentle. He immediately stopped, waiting for me to recover slightly before slowly beginning to thrust. Although I had imagined it would be a grand ceremony, like the young girls in novels giving away their virginity for the first time, a sublimation of my life, where excitement could slowly replace the pain,

I still felt too much pain at the time. Despite being excited, I chose to whine in front of my father, who had no choice but to stop, just like when I needed injections, and coax me, saying it would be fine after a while. Thinking about it now, it's really funny.

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 ejaculated into 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, you seemed to need a marriage certificate to buy condoms, and people buying condoms at the counter were very conspicuous. However, we were lucky. A man who had received favors from 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 identity didn't attract his attention. This proves that many people secretly asked him for favors back then; it was a pretty lucrative profession.

My memories of sex during that period aren't very deep, perhaps because compared to the later frenzy, it seemed too mundane.

Back at school, my feelings for my father were different; the sexual component was stronger. But the thought of having two holidays every year made me feel at ease. After that, my father visited me at school twice, taking advantage of business trips.

The first time was before the summer vacation that year. My father was staying at a newly opened hotel not far from the school. That afternoon, we had lunch together and went to his room. In the lobby, we saw a couple of couples walking past us very affectionately. Suddenly, I felt an impulse I had never felt before. 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 taken me to the room.

It was one of the best newly built hotels at the time. The room was quiet, dimly lit, and warm. It was the first time I had been in such an environment with my father. I could no longer think of myself as a daughter, but as a woman, a complete woman.

I imagined myself as a mature woman, 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 lightly 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 began licking my luscious vulva with abandon. 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 rolled over and straddled me, waving his penis directly at my vagina.

My desire 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, fluttering everywhere. His thrusts continued like a raging flood, wave after wave, as desire was released from the crumbling walls, resulting in a series of orgasms that seemed to reach a tidal wave.

By this time, I was beyond cessation. After catching my breath, I immediately rolled over and pinned him beneath me, swaying my slender waist as his hard, thick penis assaulted every possible corner. The room was filled with the fragrance of the bed and the soft chirping of orioles.

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 filled the air. I stretched out a hand, feeling the speed of his thrusts, while soothing my testicles that were hanging outside, unable to enter.

When he pressed me down again, pounding into my core with passionate abandon, I was already overwhelmed by his ecstasy. He couldn't hold on much longer either. With a deep, rumbling moan like distant thunder, his enormous member inside my vagina throbbed explosively, then surged towards my uterus like a thousand horses charging in. In an instant, I felt as if a mountain had collapsed and water had overflowed—a truly unbearable experience!

That night, we made love four times in total, 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 felt like paradise, the taste seemingly otherworldly.

The penis in my hand was as lively as a dragon, its veins bulging. I knew the jade essence inside was about to burst forth, so I licked and played with it even more frantically. The dragon suddenly raised its head, shooting out streams of white fluid. My fragrant lips and jade tongue, however, could not resist, so I forcefully met it, letting the jade essence pour into my mouth.

My father was satisfied, sighing deeply. I licked and savored the jade essence filling my mouth. The richness of it made me intoxicated and dizzy. I closed my fragrant lips and swallowed it all.

My father saw it clearly and immediately pulled me into his arms, kissing my lips, still smeared with semen, passionately. Our tongues swirled and intertwined, the long kiss, tinged with the faint scent of semen, is unforgettable.

Later, my father came to see me again, but this time someone was sharing his room, so it wasn't convenient. 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, standing by the door, constantly alert to any movement outside.

My father pulled up a chair, unzipped his pants, and there was his large member, already eagerly awaiting, its small mouth agape, drooling. I quickly met his gaze with my lips, and he lifted my skirt, reaching his hand between my thick pubic hair, exploring my secret paradise.

The peach and plum trees do not speak, yet a stream forms beneath them. The damp, moist entrance to the peach blossom cave could not withstand his caresses. I quickly got up and straddled his lap, aiming his penis at my flower core and swallowing it whole.

The unusual environment also greatly excited my father. The old tree-like position could no longer satisfy his passion. He gently pulled me from his penis, turned around, and pressed me onto the neatly folded blankets on the bed beside him. He spread my legs and thrust his penis into my overflowing, spring-like vagina. Then he leaned down and pinned me down, reaching for my tender, white breasts.

His penis, like a dragon plunging into a spring pool, swam freely, oblivious to my agonizing struggles. I was overwhelmed with excitement but dared not moan aloud, clinging tightly to the blanket as I experienced two orgasms. His untamed dragon finally ran out of steam, 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 groin.

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 my workplace, where we often made love. But at that time, my new life gave me so much to do that we didn't do it often, basically about once every two weeks, sometimes once every month or two.

Later, I met my current husband, and I started falling in love again. My husband showed me the future I had always dreamed of. I was like a little bird nestled in his arms all day long, and I didn't see my father as much anymore. My father also didn't want to bother me anymore. 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 also been intimate with my father during the honeymoon phase, and it was very exciting, the new world my boyfriend brought me completely captivated me. It's just that I occasionally miss my father. I remember one afternoon, my boyfriend had a quick, intimate moment with me before he went on a business trip. Afterwards, I felt a little lonely, so I called my father to come see me. We spent the whole afternoon together. Being ravaged by two men I loved in one day 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 have that thought. Looking back, I regret it a little.

I know very well that my relationship with my father is just another part of my life; it has nothing to do with 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-minded about sex. Once, in a moment of heightened passion, I almost revealed this secret to him. Thankfully, I held back, but sometimes we still teetered on the edge, and we both found it very exciting.

After marriage, I didn't have sex with my father very often, and the occasional time we did became even more thrilling. 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, stroking the little life inside me, I often thought of the deep, intertwined love between my father and me. One day, unable to resist, I undressed in front of my father, wanting him to witness life blossoming and bearing fruit 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, frolicking penis from its cage; it stood proudly before me, allowing me to play with it. The feeling of holding that penis in my hand was utterly satisfying.

While kissing my belly, he played with my breasts with one hand, and with the other, he caressed my private parts below. That fertile land, unusually plump due to pregnancy, captivated him.

His actions had already set me ablaze with desire. I kissed his ear and whispered sweetly, "I want it!" Then I rolled over onto my stomach, my buttocks raised high, my vulva wide open.

He asked, "Is it okay?" I replied that it would be fine for the next two or three months; I'd been with my husband just two days ago, so I just needed to be careful.

He then took his large penis and slowly inserted it into my vagina, gently thrusting in and out. The warmth was so full and satisfying; each thrust felt like a fish in water, like spring blossoms.

Later, I couldn't resist any longer and let him lie down, carefully straddling him. His erect penis pressed against my core, making me feel like a blooming lotus, my hips swaying uncontrollably. Soon, I reached my climax amidst soft, sensual moans.

Because I dared not make any big movements, my father remained erect. After thrusting into me for a while, he pulled his penis out and began masturbating, his hand on 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 simply 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 breasts. He kissed me while his hand grasped my full, round breasts. My breasts, swollen and heavy from breastfeeding, were glistening with milk from his touch, like jelly dripping from purple grapes. He lowered his head, hesitated for a moment, and then carefully took my nipple into his mouth. I gently stroked my father's head and said, "Suck."

Waves of tingling sensations washed over my breasts, and milk flowed freely. Compared to breastfeeding a child, besides the feeling of happiness, this tingling sensation was even warmer and more alluring, a warm current slowly flowing downwards.

I hugged my father's head, which was now covered in many gray hairs. I couldn't help but feel 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 and become a woman through and through. Today, I could comfort my father in a motherly way. I didn't know whether I should feel sad or gratified at this moment.

The surging desire eventually overwhelmed my brief sentimentality. We quickly took off our clothes and became naked and entwined. Because we hadn't done it in a long time, we were both very excited. There happened to be a blanket on the wooden floor, and my father directly pressed me to the ground, his long spear aimed at my vulva and thrust in and out skillfully. The fullness brought by his strong penis made me gasp softly.

He thrust into me for a while, then told me to change positions so he could penetrate me from behind. I turned around, knelt down, and stuck out my buttocks, which were fuller than before. His penis quickly slid in between my wet, parted labia, then, as if stirring fire in a mountain, he lifted my swaying breasts.

He played with my breasts, his penis churning inside my vagina, making me feel weak and tingling. When he had had enough of my breasts, he stroked my buttocks and began to thrust powerfully like a strong piston.

I was pleasurably enjoying the pleasure coming from behind my father when suddenly I caught sight of my peacefully sleeping child's adorable little face facing us. A wave of shame washed over me, and I gasped to my father that the baby was watching us. My father hummed in response and suddenly increased the force of his thrusts. The despair I couldn't hide only intensified my excitement. The illicit affair between a naked mother and her in-laws, the resulting passion that filled the room—how could it be? It was a picture of eroticism. 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 frenzy, I reached climax with my father. In the days that followed, because I devoted all my energy to my husband and child, I lost some passion with my father and even my husband. It wasn't until my child was a little older that I realized my life seemed to need these things.

During that time, I mainly rekindled my passion with my husband. He always had a variety of sexual techniques that I enjoyed immensely, adding a lot of romance to our otherwise mundane marriage. Although the saying that women are like wolves in their thirties and tigers in their forties is a bit of an exaggeration, for some women, sex is indeed essential for a healthy mind and body.

During that time, my husband and I started trying anal sex. After a few attempts, he finally got to have sex with all three of my sensitive spots.

One day not long after, I went to visit my father. My mother wasn't home, so we naturally started having sex. My father has a habit similar to my husband's: 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 made such lewd noises.

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 took advantage of the situation and entered, exploring along the secluded path behind my anus.

At that moment, I felt my anus bursting with desire, my whole body went limp, and I moaned softly, letting my father do as he pleased. After a while, he began to thrust gently. The intense pleasure was both thrilling and ecstatic. It was my father's first time experiencing this, and he was naturally incredibly excited. In no time, his penis ejaculated inside me. The throbbing, engorged penis instantly ignited me. The extraordinary orgasm felt like it had propelled me to the clouds before I plummeted down. The weightless sensation amidst the intense pleasure made me scream.

In the days that followed, my father seemed very interested in my anus, always wanting to explore it. I always laughed at him for being so impulsive in his old age. Fortunately, like my husband, even in the heat of passion, he was still very gentle and considerate.

Actually, since getting married, I haven't had many opportunities to have a proper, long-lasting sexual encounter with my father. Most of the time, we can only sneak around under the noses of my mother or husband. While my family is busy on the other side, we'll have quick sex in the bedroom or living room. Sometimes it's just mutual caressing, and sometimes in the summer when the weather allows, I'll lift my skirt and let him penetrate me. That feeling of stealing a kiss is tense and exciting, and we can reach orgasm in a short time.

Later, my child grew up happily, and the pace of life wasn't as hectic as before. Plus, my mother had some activities after retirement, so I had more free time to spend with my father. However, his energy wasn't as vigorous as it used to be, especially after his surgery three years ago. Although he recovered well, he was clearly not as virile as he used to be; he preferred to touch me more.

Our last sexual encounter was six months ago. My mother went to Beijing on a company-organized tour. That day, when she visited my father, she found him lying in bed saying he wasn't feeling well. I sat on the edge of the bed and chatted with him. He said he wanted to touch me, so I unbuttoned my clothes and let him slowly caress my still-full breasts.

I was puzzled as to why he was so aroused despite feeling unwell. He said he didn't know. Curious, I reached under the covers and found his penis was still soft. So I started playing with it, and it actually hardened in my hand. I took off my skirt and straddled my father, inserting his penis into my vagina and moving it up and down. After a while, I stopped and lay down with my father, chatting. His penis remained inside me, occasionally twitching.

Actually, we'd been making love this way since his surgery, until his penis was completely soft inside me. This is a very peaceful way of making love. You might not reach orgasm, but you'll always feel a sense of satisfaction, slowly immersing yourself in desire, everything relaxed and readily available. I think you can only experience this feeling when making love with an older man, because I tried it with my husband, and it didn't work. We needed a different kind of passion.

The funny thing is, the mild desire with my father immediately transforms into a raging fire when I'm with my husband. I have to go through a passionate encounter with him, and he always says with delight, "Women are truly like wolves in their thirties and tigers in their forties!"

Now, my relationship with my father is just a normal intimacy, which often reminds me of my childhood. I know that the passion between us is gradually fading, returning to the tranquility of childhood. Actually, I like that; that pure feeling is like when my father held my little hand and we strolled in the afterglow of the sunset, quiet, warm, and peaceful.

This is a story about the passion and sex between my father and me. At first, I tried to describe the sex scenes in a lighter way and deliberately portrayed myself as a well-mannered lady, different from the typical promiscuous woman.

But as these memories gradually transformed into words, the passion within betrayed me. The primal instincts and blood-bound desires within me, like a seductive wind sweeping across the mountains, swirled up countless petals in the sunset of memory. I couldn't help but recount the exquisite beauty and tremor of each time it entered my body or the depths of my soul, my body and mind dancing in ecstasy. Only then did I realize that this was truly the grand stage of my innermost being.

Therefore, you may consider this article as an alternative love story told by a wanton woman, because most of the time life needs to be direct and simple. If you are fortunate enough to sense the deep emotions beneath our passion, then please quietly savor the passion and love of life. Of course, if I disgust you, then in 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 have never thought there was anything wrong with my relationship with my father. I am used to my personality and way of thinking often being different from ordinary people, and these have not prevented me from having my own happy family and being a good wife and mother. I am so grateful to my father for allowing me to grow up healthily and for 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. Most of the time he was doing his "important things," and I could only watch from the sidelines. But I still thought it was pretty good. Occasionally, I could help out a little, which would make me happy for half a day.

My mother's workplace was far from home, and she usually didn't come back at noon. Sometimes she even had to work the night shift, so I was especially close to my father from a young age. I remember that most of the time he would bathe me. I liked the feeling of his strong, thick hands touching my body.

I vaguely remember one day I suddenly barged into the bathroom and asked to bathe with him. It was the first time I had faced his naked body. 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, and scolded me, but couldn't get rid of me. He finally took off my clothes and bathed me naked. That's when I first saw his big, hairy penis, sleepily stretching and turning, finally standing proudly before me. I was utterly astonished.

Knowing he couldn't control the situation, my father was quite uninhibited. When I timidly reached out and grasped his erect penis, he neither refused nor said anything.

I curiously asked why it had become so big and hard. He said the caterpillar was angry. At that age, this joke suited my taste perfectly, and I became even more curious about it. While lathering with soap, I couldn't resist rubbing it for him. It grew harder and harder in my little hands, standing erect almost as high as my head, its magnificent peaks towering majestically.

I played like this about seven or eight times. Sometimes my father wanted to refuse me, but each time he repeatedly warned me not to tell anyone! At that time, the children in the yard still played together all the time, and I vaguely knew that in other people's eyes, intimacy between men and women was absolutely a shameful act.

All of this ended in second or third grade, but I still loved being close to my father's body. He had a special scent that made me want to snuggle against his broad body like a little bird. I also loved 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 cute, 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 started my period, I squatted in the toilet and screamed. My father rushed over. I pointed down there for him to see. Actually, I already knew what this was from a book. I just wanted to proudly declare to my father that I was now a woman.

My father grumbled, scolding me for overreacting and being disrespectful, but at the same time comforting me, telling me to quickly wipe myself clean. I coaxed him to do it, and as always, he eventually listened to me. Watching him carefully wipe my genitals, my heart started pounding, and I felt a little hot. That evening, my parents prepared extra dishes 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 earnestly discuss some physiological issues with him, pulling up my clothes to let him see my breasts or genitals. My father would always give me a lecture or two, but I didn't care.

During that period, my father's body held a different attraction for me than before. Beyond the familiar warmth, a restlessness had been added. I often rested my breasts against his arm, each physical contact sending shivers down my spine.

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 described in those texts were enough to make this naive young girl's heart flutter and keep her awake at night.

One day, our whole family went swimming at the beach. My mother seemed to have left about towels, and I said I wanted to practice kicking my legs. My father then cupped my breasts and lower abdomen with his hands, his hands firmly gripping my breasts. I immediately felt dizzy, my heart pounding like a deer, my bones melting. Suddenly, we both fell silent.

My feet were only splashing water symbolically. My father's hands would occasionally knead my small breasts, while his other hand was almost touching my vulva. The heat flowing between my legs 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, revealing glimpses of my breasts, the buds 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, and soon my father undressed me, his warm hands cupping 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, never expecting my father to do this. This was the most shy I ever felt in front of him, but at that moment, I was already aroused, quickly overwhelmed by boundless pleasure.

Before I knew it, my father had stripped me completely naked, kissing my virgin body, fragrant and dewy like a newly blossoming flower. 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, dancing gracefully in the newly lit bonfire, merging my first kiss into a sea of surging passion.

At this moment, my body was already flowing with spring water, and my father's hands timely traversed towards that fragrant, grassy paradise. His fingers, like the gentle breeze of April, caressed the budding peach blossoms, half-open and half-closed. I breathed softly, my waist swaying like a willow in the wind, and soon, a tremendous climax surged forth. My father, holding me like a mountain, made my climax linger for a long time.

My father, with his warm, soft body in his arms, was still brimming with desire and unwilling to let go. He continued to caress my body, and I, too, was overcome with lust, reaching out my slender hand to grasp his hard, hot penis.

My father took my hand and taught me to slowly stroke it up and down. I could tell he was enjoying it; his penis swelled in my hand, as if trying to push aside my small hand that was wrapped around it. I was powerless to control this lustful worm, so I used my other hand to help.

My father's hand continued to caress me, and although I was also driven mad by lust, I didn't seem to have any intention of letting him penetrate me. Perhaps it was because he was already making me feel so good.

After a while, my father suddenly told me to push harder, then grabbed my hand tightly and began thrusting his large penis up and down forcefully. His breathing became rapid. I didn't understand what 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 him 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 me clean. Seeing that he had returned to his usual self, still loving and caring for me as before, my earlier fear vanished instantly, replaced by a joy of having discovered my father's last secret.

Afterwards, my father inevitably reminded me not to tell my mother. By then, I understood many things, so I behaved very politely in front of my mother. After that, my father seemed a little nervous. He bought me a lot of books, often took my mother and me out to play, and his attention to my grades noticeably increased. I knew he was afraid that this would make me lose control and become addicted.

I just secretly found it amusing. My life didn't change much. I didn't think about these things much. I only knew that my father would definitely give in to me at the right time, and this feeling stayed with me for many years. However, my father's good intentions made those years very happy and fulfilling.

From then on, we played like this. Later, I slowly developed the desire for my father to penetrate me, but in the end, I didn't dare to. My father's large, beautiful penis, like something out of a European porn film, always carefully avoided my vulva and never approached easily.

One day, my father suddenly asked me to lick his big little brother. Of course, I only liked this cute little brother, so I went up with my tongue and lips to meet it and experience an unprecedented intimacy.

The worm, quite perceptively, became erect. Although it might have seemed too imposing for a 13-year-old girl, the sight of its glans, its little mouth agape and drooling, made it look like a hungry baby bird. So, I couldn't help but part my lips slightly and gently take its glans into my mouth. My father gave a long kiss and gently pressed his penis against my front teeth. Afraid of hurting it, I quickly opened my mouth wide, and the worm seized the opportunity to pry open my lips and slide inside between my tightly closed lips.

This abrupt intrusion made my tongue feel somewhat embarrassed. I could only spit it out a little, and my little tongue, now slightly more at ease, eagerly intertwined with it.

The penis was throbbing passionately between my lips and teeth, its enormous glans and shaft straining my mouth so much that I had to exhale to catch my breath. My father, holding his bright red penis, rubbed it back and forth against my lips with a touch of swagger. I couldn't resist grabbing it again, sucking and licking it like I was teasing a beloved pet.

Soon, my father guided my hand, making me thrust faster and faster. In an instant, the penis, hard as a stick, bulged with veins and changed color. Thick fluid gushed out, like white ribbons flying through the air and hitting my face, one of which shot deep into my mouth!

The strong smell of semen and the sudden impact made me pale, and I cried out in a spoiled tone. My father, not even having time to savor the ecstasy, quickly cleaned me up. Looking back, it was actually quite fun.

Later, my father started licking my vulva. His thick tongue was warm and soft, gently brushing around the two petals of my vagina, then sweeping over my moist and delicious clitoris, making my whole body go wild. One of his hands didn't miss my two white and jade-like breasts, and soon I was completely limp from his ministrations.

After starting work, I watched an adult film with a female companion. Half of us were married, and the other half were single; it was basically the first time for most of us. The oral sex scene in the film made most people scream and cover their faces, but I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Actually, in my relationship with my father, the only thing that felt a little strange was oral sex, and now I could finally enjoy it openly.

My father often held this warm, soft woman in his arms, watching the gentle flow of spring water by the edge of the grassy bank. I imagine it wasn't easy for him to keep his eager member from throbbing beneath him, so he had to come up with 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 squeezed them together to form peaks, while his penis moved back and forth between these soft valleys until he ejaculated and was exhausted.

Until I graduated from high school, I never had sex with my father in the true sense of the word. It wasn't that I thought it was wrong to have sex with my father, but in this respect, like any other good girl, I thought it was something I could only do when I grew up. I always believed that my relationship with my father was merely an extraordinary intimacy, a somewhat frenzied physical closeness, an unreserved expression of true affection between father and daughter.

Despite the secrets I shared with him, I felt at peace with myself; I simply considered myself different in some way. I consider myself a person with principles, and I know this thinking has a hint of "stealing books isn't stealing," but setting aside reproduction, incest is essentially a psychological issue, while stealing books is a practical one.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my father had wanted to sleep with me back then? I don't know, but I'm certain that not being able to directly engage in sexual activity would have been torturous for someone like him, but thankfully, there was still my mother.

Perhaps it's because of my relationship with my father, but in my eyes, my mother is more like an older sister. 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 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, regardless of what others think. I know she's an inseparable part of my father. Without her, I wouldn't have a father who loves me so much. I often feel that half of my father's love for me comes from my mother, so I'm filled with gratitude towards her. I secretly believe that my father is a great gift from my mother.

Although there's a lot of love and affection at home, I know my world is far bigger than that. I know I'll eventually leave them to find my own new home, so I really want to go out and see the world. When I took the 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 is to get into a prestigious university, she didn't say anything. On the eve of starting university, I wanted to make love 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, my father especially speaking with deep concern. 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 wants to get married as soon as I start dating, but after a year of passionate love, I realized that marriage was too far away, and there was too much uncertainty ahead. The uncertain future made our promises seem pale, and 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 slowly wither away 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 in the darkest corners of the campus.

After the breakup, I found a different kind of peace of mind. I felt much more mature, and since falling in love, I started paying more attention to my appearance and even changed my hairstyle. When I returned home during winter break in my third year of college, my father said I had truly become a young woman. Only then did I realize that I had fortunately inherited almost all the best qualities from my parents and had blossomed into a sexy and beautiful young woman.

One afternoon during that winter break, when my period had just ended, my father finally couldn't resist the temptation of such a mature body and suddenly pinned me down (he rarely did this before). In his passionate kisses, I felt his intense possessive desire. His penis pressed against my vulva, and his rapid breathing, carrying the overwhelming desire of a man, assaulted me. I was an undefended city, and the wildness within me suddenly ignited like a wildfire in spring.

I held him tightly, wiggling my hips as I rubbed against him, whispering in his ear, "Put it in!"

Without hesitation, he spread my legs, thrusting his penis against my wet little hole. The firm, smooth glans filled me with anticipation. Before I could even savor it, his penis had already stormed into the city gate like a fierce chariot, followed by a sharp pain! I screamed in agony!

Actually, my father's movements were relatively gentle. He immediately stopped, waiting for me to recover slightly before slowly beginning to thrust. Although I had imagined it would be a grand ceremony, like the young girls in novels giving away their virginity for the first time, a sublimation of my life, where excitement could slowly replace the pain,

I still felt too much pain at the time. Despite being excited, I chose to whine in front of my father, who had no choice but to stop, just like when I needed injections, and coax me, saying it would be fine after a while. Thinking about it now, it's really funny.

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 ejaculated into 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, you seemed to need a marriage certificate to buy condoms, and people buying condoms at the counter were very conspicuous. However, we were lucky. A man who had received favors from 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 identity didn't attract his attention. This proves that many people secretly asked him for favors back then; it was a pretty lucrative profession.

My memories of sex during that period aren't very deep, perhaps because compared to the later frenzy, it seemed too mundane.

Back at school, my feelings for my father were different; the sexual component was stronger. But the thought of having two holidays every year made me feel at ease. After that, my father visited me at school twice, taking advantage of business trips.

The first time was before the summer vacation that year. My father was staying at a newly opened hotel not far from the school. That afternoon, we had lunch together and went to his room. In the lobby, we saw a couple of couples walking past us very affectionately. Suddenly, I felt an impulse I had never felt before. 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 taken me to the room.

It was one of the best newly built hotels at the time. The room was quiet, dimly lit, and warm. It was the first time I had been in such an environment with my father. I could no longer think of myself as a daughter, but as a woman, a complete woman.

I imagined myself as a mature woman, 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 lightly 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 began licking my luscious vulva with abandon. 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 rolled over and straddled me, waving his penis directly at my vagina.

My desire 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, fluttering everywhere. His thrusts continued like a raging flood, wave after wave, as desire was released from the crumbling walls, resulting in a series of orgasms that seemed to reach a tidal wave.

By this time, I was beyond cessation. After catching my breath, I immediately rolled over and pinned him beneath me, swaying my slender waist as his hard, thick penis assaulted every possible corner. The room was filled with the fragrance of the bed and the soft chirping of orioles.

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 filled the air. I stretched out a hand, feeling the speed of his thrusts, while soothing my testicles that were hanging outside, unable to enter.

When he pressed me down again, pounding into my core with passionate abandon, I was already overwhelmed by his ecstasy. He couldn't hold on much longer either. With a deep, rumbling moan like distant thunder, his enormous member inside my vagina throbbed explosively, then surged towards my uterus like a thousand horses charging in. In an instant, I felt as if a mountain had collapsed and water had overflowed—a truly unbearable experience!

That night, we made love four times in total, 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 felt like paradise, the taste seemingly otherworldly.

The penis in my hand was as lively as a dragon, its veins bulging. I knew the jade essence inside was about to burst forth, so I licked and played with it even more frantically. The dragon suddenly raised its head, shooting out streams of white fluid. My fragrant lips and jade tongue, however, could not resist, so I forcefully met it, letting the jade essence pour into my mouth.

My father was satisfied, sighing deeply. I licked and savored the jade essence filling my mouth. The richness of it made me intoxicated and dizzy. I closed my fragrant lips and swallowed it all.

My father saw it clearly and immediately pulled me into his arms, kissing my lips, still smeared with semen, passionately. Our tongues swirled and intertwined, the long kiss, tinged with the faint scent of semen, is unforgettable.

Later, my father came to see me again, but this time someone was sharing his room, so it wasn't convenient. 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, standing by the door, constantly alert to any movement outside.

My father pulled up a chair, unzipped his pants, and there was his large member, already eagerly awaiting, its small mouth agape, drooling. I quickly met his gaze with my lips, and he lifted my skirt, reaching his hand between my thick pubic hair, exploring my secret paradise.

The peach and plum trees do not speak, yet a stream forms beneath them. The damp, moist entrance to the peach blossom cave could not withstand his caresses. I quickly got up and straddled his lap, aiming his penis at my flower core and swallowing it whole.

The unusual environment also greatly excited my father. The old tree-like position could no longer satisfy his passion. He gently pulled me from his penis, turned around, and pressed me onto the neatly folded blankets on the bed beside him. He spread my legs and thrust his penis into my overflowing, spring-like vagina. Then he leaned down and pinned me down, reaching for my tender, white breasts.

His penis, like a dragon plunging into a spring pool, swam freely, oblivious to my agonizing struggles. I was overwhelmed with excitement but dared not moan aloud, clinging tightly to the blanket as I experienced two orgasms. His untamed dragon finally ran out of steam, 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 groin.

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 my workplace, where we often made love. But at that time, my new life gave me so much to do that we didn't do it often, basically about once every two weeks, sometimes once every month or two.

Later, I met my current husband, and I started falling in love again. My husband showed me the future I had always dreamed of. I was like a little bird nestled in his arms all day long, and I didn't see my father as much anymore. My father also didn't want to bother me anymore. 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 also been intimate with my father during the honeymoon phase, and it was very exciting, the new world my boyfriend brought me completely captivated me. It's just that I occasionally miss my father. I remember one afternoon, my boyfriend had a quick, intimate moment with me before he went on a business trip. Afterwards, I felt a little lonely, so I called my father to come see me. We spent the whole afternoon together. Being ravaged by two men I loved in one day 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 have that thought. Looking back, I regret it a little.

I know very well that my relationship with my father is just another part of my life; it has nothing to do with 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-minded about sex. Once, in a moment of heightened passion, I almost revealed this secret to him. Thankfully, I held back, but sometimes we still teetered on the edge, and we both found it very exciting.

After marriage, I didn't have sex with my father very often, and the occasional time we did became even more thrilling. 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, stroking the little life inside me, I often thought of the deep, intertwined love between my father and me. One day, unable to resist, I undressed in front of my father, wanting him to witness life blossoming and bearing fruit 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, frolicking penis from its cage; it stood proudly before me, allowing me to play with it. The feeling of holding that penis in my hand was utterly satisfying.

While kissing my belly, he played with my breasts with one hand, and with the other, he caressed my private parts below. That fertile land, unusually plump due to pregnancy, captivated him.

His actions had already set me ablaze with desire. I kissed his ear and whispered sweetly, "I want it!" Then I rolled over onto my stomach, my buttocks raised high, my vulva wide open.

He asked, "Is it okay?" I replied that it would be fine for the next two or three months; I'd been with my husband just two days ago, so I just needed to be careful.

He then took his large penis and slowly inserted it into my vagina, gently thrusting in and out. The warmth was so full and satisfying; each thrust felt like a fish in water, like spring blossoms.

Later, I couldn't resist any longer and let him lie down, carefully straddling him. His erect penis pressed against my core, making me feel like a blooming lotus, my hips swaying uncontrollably. Soon, I reached my climax amidst soft, sensual moans.

Because I dared not make any big movements, my father remained erect. After thrusting into me for a while, he pulled his penis out and began masturbating, his hand on 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 simply 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 breasts. He kissed me while his hand grasped my full, round breasts. My breasts, swollen and heavy from breastfeeding, were glistening with milk from his touch, like jelly dripping from purple grapes. He lowered his head, hesitated for a moment, and then carefully took my nipple into his mouth. I gently stroked my father's head and said, "Suck."

Waves of tingling sensations washed over my breasts, and milk flowed freely. Compared to breastfeeding a child, besides the feeling of happiness, this tingling sensation was even warmer and more alluring, a warm current slowly flowing downwards.

I hugged my father's head, which was now covered in many gray hairs. I couldn't help but feel 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 and become a woman through and through. Today, I could comfort my father in a motherly way. I didn't know whether I should feel sad or gratified at this moment.

The surging desire eventually overwhelmed my brief sentimentality. We quickly took off our clothes and became naked and entwined. Because we hadn't done it in a long time, we were both very excited. There happened to be a blanket on the wooden floor, and my father directly pressed me to the ground, his long spear aimed at my vulva and thrust in and out skillfully. The fullness brought by his strong penis made me gasp softly.

He thrust into me for a while, then told me to change positions so he could penetrate me from behind. I turned around, knelt down, and stuck out my buttocks, which were fuller than before. His penis quickly slid in between my wet, parted labia, then, as if stirring fire in a mountain, he lifted my swaying breasts.

He played with my breasts, his penis churning inside my vagina, making me feel weak and tingling. When he had had enough of my breasts, he stroked my buttocks and began to thrust powerfully like a strong piston.

I was pleasurably enjoying the pleasure coming from behind my father when suddenly I caught sight of my peacefully sleeping child's adorable little face facing us. A wave of shame washed over me, and I gasped to my father that the baby was watching us. My father hummed in response and suddenly increased the force of his thrusts. The despair I couldn't hide only intensified my excitement. The illicit affair between a naked mother and her in-laws, the resulting passion that filled the room—how could it be? It was a picture of eroticism. 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 frenzy, I reached climax with my father. In the days that followed, because I devoted all my energy to my husband and child, I lost some passion with my father and even my husband. It wasn't until my child was a little older that I realized my life seemed to need these things.

During that time, I mainly rekindled my passion with my husband. He always had a variety of sexual techniques that I enjoyed immensely, adding a lot of romance to our otherwise mundane marriage. Although the saying that women are like wolves in their thirties and tigers in their forties is a bit of an exaggeration, for some women, sex is indeed essential for a healthy mind and body.

During that time, my husband and I started trying anal sex. After a few attempts, he finally got to have sex with all three of my sensitive spots.

One day, not long after, I went to visit my father. My mother wasn't home, so we naturally started having sex. My father had a habit similar to my husband's: he liked to touch my anus while having sex with me, which often left me feeling incredibly aroused and unable to relieve my desires.

That day, he brought me to the brink of ecstasy from behind. When he touched my anus again, I couldn't help but gasp and say to him, "Dad, 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 made such lewd noises.

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 took advantage of the situation and entered, exploring along the secluded path behind the mountain.

At that moment, I felt my anus bursting with desire, my whole body went limp, and I moaned softly, letting my father do as he pleased. After a while, he began to thrust gently. The intense pleasure was both thrilling and ecstatic. It was my father's first time experiencing this, and he was naturally incredibly excited. In no time, his penis ejaculated inside me. The throbbing, engorged penis instantly ignited me. The extraordinary orgasm felt like it had propelled me to the clouds before I plummeted down. The weightless sensation amidst the intense pleasure made me scream.

In the days that followed, my father seemed very interested in my anus, always wanting to explore it. I always laughed at him for being so impulsive in his old age. Fortunately, like my husband, even in the heat of passion, he was still very gentle and considerate.

Actually, since getting married, I haven't had many opportunities to have a proper, long-lasting sexual encounter with my father. Most of the time, we can only sneak around under the noses of my mother or husband. While my family is busy on the other side, we'll have quick sex in the bedroom or living room. Sometimes it's just mutual caressing, and sometimes in the summer when the weather allows, I'll lift my skirt and let him penetrate me. That feeling of stealing a kiss is tense and exciting, and we can reach orgasm in a short time.

Later, my child grew up happily, and the pace of life wasn't as hectic as before. Plus, my mother had some activities after retirement, so I had more free time to spend with my father. However, his energy wasn't as vigorous as it used to be, especially after his surgery three years ago. Although he recovered well, he was clearly not as virile as he used to be; he preferred to touch me more.

Our last sexual encounter was six months ago. My mother went to Beijing on a company-organized tour. That day, when she visited my father, she found him lying in bed saying he wasn't feeling well. I sat on the edge of the bed and chatted with him. He said he wanted to touch me, so I unbuttoned my clothes and let him slowly caress my still-full breasts.

I was puzzled as to why he was so aroused despite feeling unwell. He said he didn't know. Curious, I reached under the covers and found his penis was still soft. So I started playing with it, and it actually hardened in my hand. I took off my skirt and straddled my father, inserting his penis into my vagina and moving it up and down. After a while, I stopped and lay down with my father, chatting. His penis remained inside me, occasionally twitching.

Actually, we'd been making love this way since his surgery, until his penis was completely soft inside me. This is a very peaceful way of making love. You might not reach orgasm, but you'll always feel a sense of satisfaction, slowly immersing yourself in desire, everything relaxed and readily available. I think you can only experience this feeling when making love with an older man, because I tried it with my husband, and it didn't work. We needed a different kind of passion.

The funny thing is, the mild desire with my father immediately transforms into a raging fire when I'm with my husband. I have to go through a passionate encounter with him, and he always says with delight, "Women are truly like wolves in their thirties and tigers in their forties!"

Now, my relationship with my father is just ordinary intimacy, which often reminds me of my childhood. I know that the passion between us is gradually fading, and we are returning to the tranquility of childhood. Actually, I like that feeling. It's like when my father held my little hand and we strolled in the afterglow of the sunset, quiet, warm, and peaceful.

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Incestuous relationship between father and daughter

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