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March, 2008
My son was born in September of 2007. I had lost custody of my two other children the previous year.
So, he was all I had.
I named him Kenner, because I had fond memories of my time in Kenner, Louisiana.
I didn’t know who his father was. He was conceived during a gang bang over the Christmas holidays of 2007. And I have no more to say about that; I was really fucked up.
People would ask me who the father was. I was always honest about it. I just said I don’t know.
You have to understand. I started slutting around in early June of 2005, and I only got started because my husband kept pressuring me to have sex with his friends.
I tried to keep it secret, but his fantasy fulfilled turning into my vice. It only took several months of messing around with other men for my sense of morality dissolved into sexual chaos. And swinging soon progressed into prostituting.
And my old life, my church-based social network, was shut from me forever by the scandal.
I went from a 29-year-old church-going, well-respected mom to a 30-year-old slut so fast I was dizzy at the transformation.
But by March of 2008, four months short of my 33rd birthday, I was a has-been whore. I was fat and depressed and drinking too much.
I live in a small town community. Most of the fellers around here that wanted to fuck me had done so more than once.
Everybody knew my business and nobody much cared, except for my family.
When I was respectable, I worked in a diner. But I wasn’t respectable anymore. And the only honest work I could get was waiting tables in a country tavern where the management made it clear I needed to be a sportin’ girl. That meant if a customer offered comments of a personal nature that a lady might object to, I had no business pretending I was a lady.
And if a customer wanted to pinch my ass while I was taking his order, so be it.
I put up with that nonsense, but I wasn’t so desperate as to let men from the tavern invite themselves into my apartment.
From the birth of my son onward, I hardly ever heard from my husband. Randy had finally lost interest in me altogether. We had been separated about 15 months by the time Kenner popped into this world.
But my father-in-law, that was a different story.
Morton, who was 55, and much leaner in physique than his no-count son, had been divorced for years. He was divorced for the common offense of being a cheating bastard. He was always fucking around with younger women. But he never fucked
around with me.
In fact, I never saw much of Morton until I was six months pregnant. He showed up a month after Oscar and the Salvadorans moved out of my apartment. I was deep into the blues at the time. I wasn’t getting any sex, I was too heavy to work and getting no government assistance.
I was seriously considering sucking cock at the truck stop just to pay the rent and utilities.
I was bitching at Randy for help and he was blowing me off. Then one day Morton knocks on my door, said he’d heard from Randy that I was in need.
I let him in. We talked. He was sympathetic and offered to cover my rent until I got back on my feet. I was surprised.
What happened next deeply touched me. I had become very casual at this point in my life about sex.
Well, I just assumed no man did something for me for nothing. Wouldn’t you assume the same?
When he put $840 on the kitchen table to cover the back rent, that month’s rent and the light bill, I just assumed he wanted sex, even if I was his daughter-in-law.
So I got on my knees to thank him and started massaging his crotch.
He looked shocked, and he pushed my hand away and said I didn’t need to do that.
I didn’t know what to think. And then my next thought was, “Oh God, he thinks I’m a fat ugly skank!”
Mind you, I was six months pregnant, moody as hell and up to 210 pounds. I’m 5 feet and 7 inches tall and I can carry some weight and look sexy. But not that much weight!
I blushed. And I don’t blush easy. I apologized and said, “I don’t blame ya for not wanting me. I must by a sight.”
He tried to say something, but the situation was so awkward that it all came out in mumbles and I waved him off.
“You don’t need to explain nothin.’ I can’t imagine what it must be like for you in the community, having to deal with having a fat whore for a daughter-in-law, and what all you must hear from folk. I’m sorry I offended you. I just don’t know how to thank you for this.”
I was talking to his shoes because I was ashamed enough of myself not to look him in the eye, and I closed with, “God will repay you.”
He left quiet and I felt the fool. I kept telling myself what a dumb-ass I was to make that move. I figured that was the last I’d see of him.
But Morton kept coming by. He brought food. He kept noticing things that needed fixing. The front screen door, the window latch in the kitchen, the clothes hanger pole in the closet.
We got to be friends and he became more talkative. I gebze escort learned that he was not dating anyone of late. I encouraged him to see someone, but he didn’t seem interested.
He kept looking at me during our visits. And it made me wonder.
I wasn’t having sex. He wasn’t having sex. What was the harm in the two of us hooking up? Then I’d tell myself, “He’s your father-in-law, dumb shit! No wonder he’s hesitant. Besides, he probably thinks he’ll catch some god-awful disease.”
I knew he was interested. He was there for me when the baby came. He was there for me afterward.
Meanwhile, I breastfed my boy every chance I got. And I started taking long walks. I was determined to bring my weight down.
If Morton wasn’t gonna tap my pussy, I wanted to be attractive to somebody.
By March of 2008, I was down to 180 pounds, and my muscle tone was better. I stopped wearing fat girl gowns and started putting on tight skirts and tops to work. I was back in the tavern serving beers and feeling sexy.
But I just couldn’t bring myself to take any man serious enough to get in his truck. Truth tell, I still had whore fatigue.
I didn’t wanna be one, even if everybody thought I was one.
I kept telling myself, “Okay, I can’t go back to the life I had before all this slutting around, but there must be some in-between lifestyle that I can be comfortable with.”
During the pregnancy, Morton came by at all hours. But after I got back to work, and I was working nights and Morton worked odd hours of the day, well we got to seeing less of each other.
I noticed the absences made our hearts grow fonder toward each other. I missed his company. And it was plain to me that he missed mine.
I started feeling like the impossible could happen. Could it be? Could I fall in love with my father-in-law? Could he fall in love with me?
And I was always needing consoling. I missed my first two children terrible. The visitations through my sister-in-law, who remained a custodial trustee of sorts, became less frequent. It was my parents’ fault. They were the primary custodial guardians and they poisoned my children against me.
It finally got to the point where I hardly ever exercised my visitation rights because I couldn’t bear to see the hate in their eyes. They were never comfortable visiting with me. What was the point?
Well, all that tumbled out when Morton and a bottle of tequila was around. The consoling words started turning into hand-holding. And then hugs.
Then there would be that look — just a man and a woman looking into each other’s eyes, and that familiar pull of desire holding us to each other. He always broke the look first. I didn’t want to push him. I felt like I had to wait.
If it was meant to be, he would have to make the first move.
But time passed. And he didn’t make that move. And I couldn’t understand what was holding him back. Did he think of incest? Was it so terrible? I rationalized all that away. We weren’t blood kin. I just happened to be married to his son. He was the grandfather of two children I no longer had.
I started to think, “Why the fuck ain’t we divorced yet?” The subject never came up between me and Randy. I had to admit, I liked being able to tell people I still had a husband, even if it didn’t mean a damn thing in any practical terms.
But I got to thinking, “If I’m divorced, then Morton isn’t really my father-in-law anymore and he’ll put his hand on my pussy.”
I am not a very disciplined thinker. When I get my mind fixated on a subject, it do tend to wander.
I mention this because I was so angry at my father. It was him more than my mom that turned my kids against me. And thinking about incest sex with my father-in-law turned during one night of heavy drinking into a fantasy about an incestuous confrontation with my dad.
My daughter’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and I wasn’t going to be able to have anything to do with her birthday party. That just stoked up my daddy hate.
So one night, while inebriated, I recorded video of myself naked, fucking myself with a dildo and talking dirty at my daddy into the camera, begging him to fuck his whore daughter because I was so horny for his cock.
I burned a dvd and mailed it to his attention under false pretenses in the hopes he’d put it into the dvd player before he realized my ruse. The package was disguised as religious promotional material from an out-of-town church that I knew he had a passing acquaintance with.
I knew he would be fooled long enough to at least see the beginning of my homemade porn. How far into it he would go, I had no idea.
Days passed and I did not get a call from daddy, not that I expected one. But the day of my daughter’s birthday arrived and I was in a bad way when Morton came by the house. It was a Saturday afternoon and we talked about her and the birthday.
And between shots of tequila, I confessed to Morton what I had done to my father. I didn’t expect him to do göztepe escort anything more than maybe scold me for being a bad girl.
But he put his hand on my thigh and started stroking and asked me if I needed a daddy so bad I would do such a wicked thing as that.
I was wearing a tight bluejean skirt and a plaid red and white blouse. I was wearing a black thong. I was in bare feet.
It was 2 p.m. and I was supposed to be at work by 3 p.m. I was a little drunk. As soon as he touched me in that way and said what he said, I started thinking I was in no condition to go to work, and maybe I should call in sick.
My feelings for Morton were too strong. I had been holding deep feelings from him longer than I could stand and I said the stupidest thing any woman can say. I grabbed his hand tight and pulled it up to my pussy and I said as serious as a heart attack, “Morton, I wanna have a baby with you soooo bad.”
His jaw dropped. He pulled his hand away. And he said, “I … I … I …. uhhhh!”
I stood up, and realizing my insane response tried to make like it was a joke. “I’m kidding! Morton, I’m kidding!”
He let out a nervous, “Whew!”
And I thought, ‘Fuck! I just made his dick shrivel.’ I took a gamble and sat on his lap and hugged him.
“Mmmmmmmm, Morton. You been so good to me. I wouldn’ mind one damn bit if you was my sexy daddy. In fact, I’m really sweet on you.”
“You are?” he said.
We smiled at each other and that broke the ice. Of course, he knew I was sweet for him!
I pulled my head away from over his shoulder and looked at him and smiled and said, “I am. Oh, I am!”
“You shouldna’ taunted yore daddy like that, Teresa. You got another daddy that would have loved to see that dvd.”
I looked at him quizzically, “Morton, are you jealous?”
“I am,” he said in all seriousness.
His right hand slid up from my knee across my thigh and patted my big white butt. Then he squeezed the flesh and I knew we were gonna do it.
I offered my mouth to his lips. He played with my tongue. I moved his hand from my ass to my pussy, my thighs parting where I sat.
“You a dirty girl, provoking your flesh and blood daddy like that, such a dirty girl,” he said. “What would you do if he was to get so excited as to come looking for you?”
I felt his thumb swirled around my clit as he spoke to me.
“I’d tell him to go to hell,” I answered. “I’d tell him I was just showin’ him what he been missing for being such a bastard with me. I’d tell him I got me a new daddy.”
I felt his dick hard against under my butt.
“Why would you tell him that?” he asked as his middle finger hooked into my pussy.
“Cuz I got a daddy here. You my daddy now,” I said, now feeling the rush of blood into my pounding head.
Morton grabbed my hair and pulled me into a kiss. When we broke it, he said, “I’m a be yore nasty daddy?”
“Uh huh,” I responded.
“You gonna be my nasty daughter?”
“Yes, daddy!,” I responded.
He pulled me into a kiss. His left hand let loose my hair and wandered to my right breast. I undid my blouse, then I undid my bra.
It was fresh to my mind at this point that my father-in-law had never seen me naked. All the men in town that had fucked me, and here was this sweet man that had never even seen my bare chest.
It was his first time with me, and I felt such a warm and loving urge to offer myself.
“Does daddy wanna suck his widdle girl’s nipple?” I asked in a girlish accent as I gently pushed my 40-D fleshy white tit into his face.
“Daddy wants,” he said with a smile.
He sucked and drew milk. I was feeding him. The sensation of finally being able to give back to him something for all he had done for me, the sense of gratefulness – it was overpowering. I felt flooded with a healing power, and his mouth suckled at my dribbling nipple, and the four fingers of his right hand fucked with this driving need into my wet, fleshy pussy.
I thought it predictable that my sharing with him the story of my provocation against my own father should excite him. I thought, ‘I should have done that sooner!’
He kept sucking milk from me and finger fucking my horny cunt. I dived into the role of the incestuous and horny daughter.
“Oh, daddy! Yes. Oh, daddy! Yes! Mmmmm! Is your baby girl’s milk sweet, daddy?”
Maybe it was all the shit that I had been through, but this was the most loving I had felt with anyone, ever. It was never like this with his son. It was never like this with anyone. I wanted so desperately to tell him that I loved him, that I really did want his child, but I didn’t dare.
When he had his fill from my right breast. He asked for the left. And I gave it to him. And he sucked milk. When he had his fill of that, he commanded me to my knees.
I went there gladly. I took out his cock. I licked his member slowly. I licked with long languid strokes. I was so grateful that I had the experience with men to be patient with an older halkalı escort gent. He was semi-hard and it took him a lot of daughter licks to get hard enough to stab some pussy.
I felt one with him. I closed my eyes and pumped on his cock, my palms flat against the fabric of his jeans at the knees.
He would moan softly and every once in awhile say, “Dirty girl, oooo you dirty girl!”
He didn’t grab my hair. But he would rub his thumb up and down the bridge of my nose while I sucked his cock. That made me feel like a kitten being petted.
When he was good and hard, I pulled his cock out of my mouth with a wet smack and stroked it while we talked.
“What do you want, Morton? I’ll do it any way you like.”
“Oh, baby girl,” my father-in-law said. “Why don’tcha get out of the skirt and dance for your daddy.”
I smiled and stood, bent over, still stroking his cock with one hand. I used my other hand and wiggling hips to shake down my skirt to the floor.
Then I toyed with my thong, pulling it tight against my vagina as I wiggled my hips.
“Big girl butt,” Morton said, “gorgeous thighs, baby.”
I let go of his cock and he took over the wanking chores while I danced like a skank and worked that tortured thong down to my ankles. I turned and squatted and shook my junk, running my fingers over my cracks while my daddy by law jerked at his cock.
I was trying to be playful. I didn’t want to blow our play by sending him any more ‘love you madly’ telegrams. And I was being very attentive now, making eye contact frequently, smiling lasciviously.
My father-in-law was definitely enjoying himself. And getting braver about expressing his needs.
“Oh Terry, you dirty whore!” he said.
And there it was, that part of me that was on his mind.
“Yesssss, daddy. Yor baby’z a dirty, nasty whore!” I replied, but my heart got just a little cold. He had been so supportive. How many times had he told me I didn’t have to be that kind of woman anymore?
“Come down here ‘n suck it, bitch!” he said, his soul now flooding with lust.
“Yes, daddy,” I said obediently.
I knelt and resumed the act of oral sex on my father-in-law.
No more rubbing my nose like I was his kitten. Now he was grabbing hair and calling me a “good whore.”
“You such a good whore, baby. I can’t believe I waited so long to put you on my cock. Nnnnn! You nasty bitch!”
As I sucked him, I told myself it’s just talk. He really does love me. I just know he does!
The second round of oral only lasted a couple of minutes because I stopped and looked up at him while I pinched the cock-head.
“Morton, I want you to come to my bed now.”
I needed to be firm with him, to get out of the dirty talk and get real. I stood up in my nakedness and walked away. I went to my bed and lay there on my back and waited. It didn’t take but a few moments for him to follow and press his knees into the far end of the mattress.
“I’m gonna ask you not to call me a whore or a bitch again, Morton. I know you just playin’ and you don’t mean it, but I don’t want to be in that mindset. Can you make love to me?”
Morton smiled and stroked my calves and thighs and parted my legs.
“I believe I can, Theresa. I believe I can,” he said confidently. “And that ain’t no simple thing for me at my age. But you make me feel young again.”
He put the weight of his stomach on mine and we kissed and I stroked his cock like a pro. I pressed a hard cock-head to my wet hole.
He pushed in and we kissed again.
I grabbed his face and made him look at me. Our eyes locked as he fucked.
“I need you with me, Morton,” I said. “I need you so much!”
“You’re good for me, Therrr!” he came back.
I wouldn’t let go of his face. And when he began to tire and broke his gaze, I growled, “Don’t you stop looking at me. Be real with me, Morton. Don’t look at a whore. Look past that. Please, daddy, can you look past that!”
And I realized in that moment that I — uh — had daddy issues.
“Yes, baby,” he replied. “I see you, baby. I see you. I’m making love to you. Is this how you need it, baby?”
“Yes, daddy. Yessss!”
Blissful moments passed. He moved inside me. He moved steady and we only broke our stares to kiss. He told me my lips were so sweet. I told him I loved him. I truly loved him. I had to say it. I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
He didn’t say he loved me back. But he did say, “You’re not a whore to me, baby. Not to me.”
It didn’t sound convincing. I felt like that was the best he could do in so far as he was trying to tell me what I wanted to hear.
He spent himself inside me. He let his weight fall on me. Then he rolled to his left onto the mattress.
I shifted my weight to face him and wrapped a leg over his hip. We stared at each other and smiled. He took my head in his hand and kissed me.
I asked him, “Morton, how long have you wanted to do it with me? Make love, have sex?”
He looked away and left a silence between us. I poked him in the rib.
“Teresa, I been imagining lying down with you since before you married. You was a damn hot youngster back in yor high school days. And you just kept getting hotter in my eyes,” he said.
“Go on!” I said back with another finger poke at his ribs. “You wanted to love me up that far back?”
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