The touching began when I was very young. I can always remember my father's efforts to be close to me when nobody else was around. We would snuggle together and kiss, and his hands would explore my body under my nightclothes. My mother saw the signs, but chose to look the other way. By the time I was in my late teens, my intimate activities with my father had become a regular thing. Nearly every Sunday, after my mother went off to church, my father would lock all the doors, pull the shades down and take the phone off the hook. Then we would undress and get into his bed, together.
At first, our activities were confined to just kissing and touching each other. But as I grew older and my body began to develop, we began to experiment, more. I became fascinated with my father's penis and how it would grow hard when I would touch him. And I began to sense the control I had over him when I would tease him and get him aroused. He taught me to masturbate him and, in time, I became adept at controlling his ejaculations until the last possible moment, bringing him to many pleasurable conclusions. And then one day, as he was exploring me, he found my clitoris and was able to bring me to my own shuddering finish. It was my first orgasm and I loved it!
From that point in time, our erotic activities progressed even more rapidly. My father instructed me how to perform oral sex on him and I learned to tolerate - even enjoy - the sweet taste of a man's semen in my mouth. It was also around this time that my father penetrated me for the first time. He was a big man, and at first it was painful, but after a few tries, I managed to get all of him inside me and was surprised to discover the feeling was very pleasurable. I remember that I occasionally experienced some fleeting feelings of shame for what I was doing, but the pleasure and excitement always won out in the end. As time went by, I was able to put out of my mind the fact that it was my father whom I was having sex with and just enjoy the physical pleasure that seemed to envelop me.
By the time I had graduated from high school, my father had become strangely possessive of me. I had always been allowed to date, but now my father wanted to know exactly where I was going and when I would be home. I was also admonished not to have any physical contact with the boys I dated, the exception being a quick good-night kiss. It was becoming clear to me that my father wanted me for his own pleasure, and he feared that if I ever had sex with someone else our "secret" might be revealed.
My father even chose my college for me: a small, private school less than an hour's drive from home. I was also expected to come home, every weekend, presumably so that we could continue our sexual activities. Of course, I did what I was told.
In my second year of college, my father began taking me on business trips with him. Most of these trips were to nearby cities where he would meet with business associates for an hour or two and then go out for dinner and drinks with them. The first few trips were uneventful, except for my usual servicing of my father's sexual needs. It wasn't long, however, before I discovered my father's underlying motive for bringing me along. As he explained, I was now expected to "entertain" his business friends, as well as him. At first, I was expected to simply accompany him to receptions, cocktail parties and to dinner, dressed (of course) in something sexy and revealing that my father chose for me. But as time went by, it became clear that my father had more in mind for me than just sharing social activities with his friends. At the appropriate time, I would be expected to have sex with them.
The first "appropriate moment" occurred when I accompanied my father on a trip to San Francisco. Following drinks and dinner in the hotel, my father invited "Jim", one of his business friends, back to our suite for some "relaxed conversation". In the elevator, I could see Jim eyeing me in my outfit, a tiny black cocktail dress my father had chosen for me the day before that clearly showed my breasts and barely covered my ass. I knew, then, exactly what would be expected of me.
Once inside our room, my father's announcement that he was going to retire early came as no surprise to me. He indicated to Jim, in no uncertain terms, that I was available for Jim's pleasure and that the adjoining bedroom was intended for us to use. Despite what I knew of my father, I couldn't believe that he was actually "whoring me out" to his friend. But he was.
My evening with Jim was certainly not a disappointment. He proved to be both a gentleman and a very considerate lover, much more so than my father ever had been. After the formalities of removing our clothes, Jim began by kissing me all over, feeling my breasts and kissing me on the mouth. Then, he had me stretch out naked on the bed while he worked his way down my body with his tongue, finally ending up between my legs. I was able to finish several times before Jim was inside me, fucking me hard and deeply while he squeezed and pinched my nipples. We stayed entwined together in bed for several minutes until Jim became hard, again, and then we shared our pleasure one last time.
When Jim had gone, my father appeared in the doorway. He had been watching and listening to us having sex and had become very aroused himself. And so, in the wee hours of the morning, my father was the last to enjoy me.
In the months that followed, my father took me on several more trips with him, including one to Mexico City and one to Tahiti. On all these trips, my job was to be the "perfect hostess", continuing to fulfill my father's sexual needs as well as those of his friends. In Mexico City, I was introduced to three very distinguished-looking gentlemen who supposedly did business with my father. That evening, my father hosted all of them in our suite and again I was the entertainment, having sex with each of them, one after the other, while my father watched from a chair across the room.
The trip to Tahiti was supposed to be just a vacation for my father and me to get away from home. But, again, I wound up having sex with nearly every man he met who agreed to let my father watch us. For this trip, my father had rented a video-camera and, but instead of recording the beautiful scenery of the islands, he took videos of me in bed with his new friends.
During my third year of college, I met a wonderful boy - another college student - who was a year older than I was. We dated on and off for a several months, but the relationship was very awkward for me since I always had to be home early and could never stay anywhere overnight. As time went by and our relationship became more serious, he also wanted badly to have sex with me, but I knew the answer would always have to be no. My father had drilled it into me that if any boy I dated ever found out that I was having sex with my father, he would certainly end the relationship. In spite of my efforts to keep him at a distance, I knew that I loved him and, at the end of the year, we became engaged to be married.
I would like to be able to say that my marriage ended the incestuous relationship I had with my father, and that I was loyal to my husband ever after. Unfortunately, my father continued to pressure me to have sex with him, and whenever I would visit him he would find a way to get me into bed with him. Even more stressful was the fact that my father was fucking me "bareback", that is, without using condoms, and I was terrified he would get me pregnant. But by then, my father's health was failing and, within the year, he died of complications from his diabetes. Even after his death, my relationship with him would continue to haunt me.
Unknown to me, my father had kept a diary in which he chronicled my sexual activities with him and with his friends. Everything was there: dates, times and places, as well as the names of all the men I'd had sex with. He had also saved all the photos and videos he took of me and, as fate would have it, it was my husband who first discovered this little treasure trove of family secrets.
Confronted, I had no choice but to confess to my husband all of what I had done. While I tried to downplay the number of meetings I'd had with my father's friends, I knew that the list was long. I also knew that "playing the victim" was not going to work. My father's photo collection contained literally dozens of images of me wearing sexy lingerie or, more often, completely naked, entwined with other men in an endless number of compromising positions while I sucked and fucked them, always with an indisputable look of pleasure on my face.
After several days of silence and shaming, my husband's anger finally subsided, I fully expected that he would leave me. Instead, he began to ask me questions. Not so much the particulars of whom my lovers had been or how and where all this had happened, what he wanted to know was what I had been feeling when I'd had sex with them. With no small sense of shame, I had to admit to him, honestly, that I'd enjoyed it. As more time passed, and the questions continued, I realized that my husband was becoming fascinated with my sexual activities and the more I talked about it, the more I recognized that we were both becoming very aroused from these discussions.
Miraculously, our marriage survived my "youthful indiscretions" with my father and his friends. Still more amazing, the relationship between my husband and me began to deepen. No longer did he view me as a boring housewife who occasionally tolerated intimacy when she had to, but he began to see me as a sensuous, desirable woman with more than the usual level of sexual drive and lots of experience in bed. Sex between us became more frequent and more satisfying than ever, and we found ourselves experimenting with new positions and practices that made every experience more erotic.
One day, about a year after my incestuous relationship had been exposed, my husband asked me if I would be interested in sharing sex with another couple. I couldn't believe my ears. Was he making a joke? Yet the more I thought about it, the more I said to myself: "Why not?" "Why shouldn't he experience the same erotic pleasures of having a variety of partners that I'd enjoyed for so many years?" By the end of the month, we'd shared our first experience together with another couple. Since we were "newbies" they offered to go slowly with us. But by the end of the evening, we were both so comfortable with the situation that we decided to join their "swing club". Now, all these years later, I'm divorced and the kids are grown and gone...and I miss my father so much....
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