Can Do No Wrong in Love

"Before I could graduate from high school, I became pregnant with you. We were forced to drop out of school and your father worked two jobs to provide for us since our 'loving' families didn't want to have anything to do with us and you. John managed to fight his way up the ranks in the factory through hard work and a willingness to do whatever was required of him. Soon his bosses came to value his common sense, work ethic, and general know-how over other employees with more education or seniority, and they made him the shift foreman.

"Still, it was hard it was in the beginning with you. We could only afford a small studio with a bed and sparse furnishing. When you were born money was stretched even more. Even with what little food stamps we were given, we couldn't afford much for baby food so I breastfed you for almost two years. I was forced to make inexpensive meals that lasted for days but your father never complained and was just happy that he had us."

"Mary," he once told me, "My life was so lonely until you entered it. I'm so glad to have you and now our baby girl. I don't know what I would do without out you two."

"Sex was and still is the only way I could show my gratitude and love for him. Fortunately, part of the welfare program provided me with birth control assistance, and I was able to please your father often as he wanted without us worrying about another pregnancy. John has gotten so used to me being willing and available, I don't know what he would do without his sexual needs being taken care of."

I remember sitting there in our kitchen, looking at my nonplus mother and totally taken aback with her casual and complete disclosure of my parents' sexual history, practices, and preferences. I was speechless and couldn't get my mouth to work properly.

Seeing my plight, mom quietly said, "Honey, I know that I've shared a lot with you about your father and our love for each other. Your entire perception of your world must be topsy-turvy. However, the first thing I need to remind you of is that you don't have to approve of your parents' sexual behavior, you just have to accept that this is our way and hopefully understand.

"Next, I need your father as much as he needs me. He has given selflessly to make us happy and deserves to be happy. Lastly, I will say it again that when two people love each other dearly, they can do no wrong no matter what the law, customs, or other people say. I have done and will continue to do whatever it takes to make your father happy.

"And I'm so glad we have you whom we love very much. You are the apple of your father's eye, and I am really glad. He keeps saying that with each day that you remind him of me. I'm glad that I have you too. Should something happen to me, I'll rest peaceful know he has you to console him. You will take care of your father as I do, won't you?"

"Mom, you're scaring me! Stop talking like this. Nothing is going to happen to you. And, yes, of course, I'll take care of dad. I love him just as much as you do. Now, stop talking like this."

"Yes, yes, Kara, you're right. Nothing is going to happen to me...but I just wanted to make sure that your father has a loving someone who will take care of him. Now, since you're home early, let me show you how to make a pot roast. It's inexpensive and your father's favorite dish. A girl like you need to learn how to cook so that she can please the man of her life."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The days became months, and I became adept at noticing my father's moods and how my mother picked up the clues and subtly reacted. Sometimes, she would massage his shoulders as he sat in his favorite chair and then leaning over, whisper softly in his ear.

Dad would then nod and go upstairs or down to his workshop in the cellar, and mom discretely would follow. After a certain period, they would reappear, sometimes singularly and sometimes together. Dad was always relaxed and mom always has a slight sheen of perspiration on her brow and a slight smile on her lips.

However, more often than not, their trysts occurred in their bedroom before bedtime. When dad was tense or worried, mom never failed to admit to some wrongdoing or error in judgment. By this time, I could read mom's subtle hints and would announce that I was going to shower and turn in early. Soon after I called my goodnights down the stairs, I could later hear my parents climbing the stairs and their bedroom door closing behind them.

"Mary!" hissed dad angrily as he stripped off his clothes. "How often have I told you to ask me first before making an expensive purchase?"

"Oh, I know, John, that I should have gotten you permission before ordering a new set of pots and pans...it's just that ours are so old...and I thought..." stammered mom as she undid her housedress and after draping it over a chair. Then quickly undoing and discarding her bra and panties, she knelt before my dad to slowly ease his tented boxer over his hips and down his legs.

"Please forgive me, dear, I was wrong in not asking you first. I'll cancel the order first thing tomorrow morning," murmured a humbled mom as she lightly began to caress my father's rather large erect cock. "Let me make it up to you," she said as she lovingly rubbed her cheek against his manhood before tenderly kissing and licking it. "Let me suck you off...ummm...you taste so good...ummm...and I want your sweet spunk... ummm...to fill my mouth and then my tummy..."

"Oh, no you don't, you easy cock-sucking tramp! Don't think you're going to get away so easily with a blow-job! A sneaky fuck-slut like you needs to be taught a painful lesson so that you don't forget who's the boss of this house."

With that, my father grabbed my mother's head and furiously face-fucked her. I don't know how my mom could take dad's erection pumping in her mouth but she not only did but seemed to enjoy it. Suddenly dad yanked out of mom's mouth and barked, "Stand up...hands clasped behind your back...and bend over from the waist."

When mom was slow to comply, a stinging slap landed on her thigh that made her jump and then assumed the instructed position, her full boobs swaying and jiggling as they dangled from her chest.

"Lately I've been too kind with you, bitch, and you've been taking advantage of my love for you. It's been a while since I've tit-slapped..."

"Oh, no, please, John! Don't slap my breasts...it hurts so much...that I..."

Mom never got a chance to finish her plea as her boobs were quickly swatted back and forth, a shrill but muffled shriek escaping her clenched teeth. "Do you dare move, cunt! Two more slaps and then I'll really begin to discipline you." The slaps were quickly and painfully administered to mom's bright red swaying tits.

Dad swiftly turned so that his left hip was against his wife's right him as his burly left arm reached over mom's back to hold her waist firmly. "Will you buy expensive stuff without my permission?" Before she could answer, three lightning swats reddened her quivering creamy butt cheeks.

"Oh, no, dear," whimpered mom pitifully as her husband spanked her repeated. "Oooh, John..." was utter as I watch my mother lift her head but the look on her face wasn't one of pain or displeasure; rather, one of undisguised lust. Pushing her butt back for more, my mother moan, "Ooh, John...you know what spanking does to me...yes... spank my naughty ass like the disobedient little girl that I am...please, John!"

Surprisingly I wasn't shocked at my mother's utterance or her being turned on. I was, however, amazed to find my hands squeezing my tits through my thin nightie. What surprised me, even more, was realizing that watching my dad punish my willing mother really excited me. When he mounted her and shoved his big cock into her wet pussy, I found myself furiously rubbing my squirming panty-less pussy.

"You love this, don't you, Mary? Ever since our first time, the pain gets you turned on like a little bitch-in-heat wanting a big meaty boner. Tell me, you fucking cum-dump. Tell me!"

I knelt with legs spread and pressed my ear to my parents' bedroom door. With the front of my lifted nightie shoved in my mouth to muffle my cries, I heard, "Ooh yesss. John! When you punish me...it makes me so fucking hot and wet! My goddamn pussy juices are running down my inner thighs! Can't you hear how squishy wet I am while you shove that goddamn big cock of yours into my juicy twat? Spank my ass...while you fuck me like the disobedient slut that I am!"

I heard my parents groaning aloud and my father's palms loudly whacking against my mother's behind. I heard the thunder of my stiff fingers slapping swiftly and sharply against my dripping wet pussy at the same time as his slaps. I jerked at the stinging pain and the incredible searing pleasure that jolted my young body with each slap. When I felt my guts beginning to clench, I furiously strummed my stiff inflamed clitoris back and forth. The sounds of my parent's mutual orgasms and the thick wooden door masked my muffled cries when I gloriously climaxed with them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I brought myself off nearly every night in the privacy of my bed, recalling my parents' unusual trysts. On those nights when I didn't play with myself in bed, I was listening at my parents' door as they engaged in their rough bedroom sex. More often than not, my nightie would be bunched around my waist as I masturbated and climaxed in what had become my own unique way.

In bed or at my parents' door, I began by fondling my tits that seemed to be growing with each day, and then squished and twisted them cruelly. I pinched and tugged on my extended nipples from my heaving chest until I was on the verge of crying out. My fingers always drifted between my parted legs to rub my stiff swollen clit and sopping wet slit until my virgin twat flowed with my slippery excitement.

However, what pushed me over the edge into orgasmic bliss was when I finger-slapped my oozing sex, lightly at first and then harder as I grew more aroused. With my legs widespread, I rapidly spanked my sex as I muttered every filthy, sick, and despicable name that could describe me. Each smack of my fingers on my inflamed pussy sent searing carnal electricity shooting through my jerking but aroused body. Then harshly and rapidly flicked my jutting clit back and forth, I leaped in the oblivion of my orgasm. Like my mother, I had become thoroughly addicted to painful and humiliating sex that brought me excruciating sexual pleasure and release.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mom and I would often spend the late afternoons talking about sex and dad. To her, I was eighteen and naturally had questions about my own sexuality. As always, she was open and frank about sharing her own experiences. Our talks ranged from what it felt like the first time to how to give a blow-job and other topics that would make a sexual education teacher blush.

"Mom, before you met dad, did you...ummm...masturbate?" I posed while careful not to disclose my kinky self-pleasuring.

"I believe I had mentioned to you earlier that I had a high degree of the need to be sexually pleased. I think my self-discovery began when I had been left alone for a long period. To comfort myself, I would touch myself...my breast and nipples...then rub my body. Then one time I happened to stroke my pubic hairs and found the sensation pleasurable and when I continued, I suddenly had my first orgasm...wet panties and all. I soon played with myself whenever I felt lonely or sad.

"Even after your father and I began making love, I continued to bring myself off... maybe, even more. Your father's spankings and the nasty names he calls me add a certain zest to my fantasies and masturbation. I still do it now...to rest and relax...or to get myself prepared for your father's needs."

When I pushed to openly talk about my father's needs -- his sexual likes, dislikes, and peculiarities, mom simply stated, "Your father was raised in an abusive house that made him hard, bitter, and a bit mean. If he keeps his anger and frustration bottled up, he'll turn to the whiskey bottle and become mean...not to me because he's highly protective and wouldn't really hurt me...but definitely to others.

"I came from a house of neglect, and when I was drawn to your father, I felt needed when I was able to release his pent-up emotions and so I act out to make him mad enough to punish me and then sexually take me. The physical side to our love is the spice that makes for hot sweaty sex that exorcises his pent-up demons. For your father, inflicting pain and humiliation on me is his way of showing me that he cares for and loves me. He knows that by doing so, I am free to be the uninhibited inner-whore who shamelessly wants to be needed and desired.

"As I've said before, I don't expect you to accept the lovemaking that I share with your father. I do hope, however, you will understand. Kara-girl, one day you will find that you love a man so much that you will put him before and above yourself. Whatever else people may say, pleasing your man will become your sole focus in life. Remember that you can do no wrong for someone you love."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Although I didn't think I was, I was often told that I looked much older than my age. While I had my mother's slender figure, I had fuller breasts, slightly curvy hips, and rounded buns. To increase the sensations of my masturbation, I closely trimmed my lightly-colored pubic hair and especially those around my hooded clitoris. In so doing, my love button seemed to protrude more and be more sensitive. This kept me in a state of almost constant arousal which added a certain glow that others noticed.

"Mary," my father commented to my mother when he thought I wasn't listening as I washed the dishes after dinner, "Our Kara is really pulling your pretty facial features, and her body...well...looks more developed than yours when you were her age. Hmmm, I better watch out who our little girl hangs with. Won't want her getting involved with the wrong guy."

My appearance and developed body drew the attention of members of the opposite sex. The guys who were my age were awkward around me were either shy and tongue-twisted, or brash and full of themselves. They put their moves on me with the hopes of scoring with a mature-looking but inexperienced me. Unfortunately, none of them ever got to first base with me.

The men and especially the older ones took long second-glances of me. I often overheard their loudly whispered comments to each other that ranged from "God, she's a teenager but sure looks like a full-grown woman" to "I can't believe she's barely legal" and lastly to "I wonder how good she is in the sack." I ignored such unwanted masculine attention since none of these boys or men could ever measure up to my father.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Graduation came and I didn't know what to do with my life after high school. My classmates were going to college, joining the military, or looking for a job. Since my folks were just making ends meet and I wasn't a big fan of studying anymore, college was quickly ruled out. While the military offered traveling to different parts of the world, it was only after undergoing strict basic and skill training which wasn't appealing to me.

I was unattached with no special guy and the possibility of marriage wasn't on my mind. While I had resigned myself to finding a job, I was in no great hurry to find one. Instead, I loved helping mom take care of dad, and would often help her as she did her housekeeping chores or shopping which was okay with my parents. This would ultimately prove to be a blessing in disguise.

The reason why was that my father was offered a floor manager's position to help start a new factory that had just been built several states away. To induce him to relocate, the company offered a sizeable pay increase as well as a house with the option to buy. My parents were elated because this meant not having to live frugally, and with the encouragement of mom, dad accepted. We were packing up and looking forward to the move in a few months when tragedy unexpectedly struck.

Mom had gone to buy some last-minute groceries when her used car was t-boned by another car that ran the red light. By the time dad and I got to the emergency room, mom was dying with no hope of recovery. The sight of my mother lying on her death bed broke my heart, but seeing the anguish and sorrow that engulfed my father crushed me.

"John, I'm dying...no, nothing can be done to save me. You have to accept that and let me go."

"But. Mary, what will I do without you?"

"Time is precious, dear, so listen. You will cremate me and take my ashes with you so that when your time comes, I can be buried with you, my dearest. Kara will take my place and take care of you in all ways...

"Kara? Kara, are you there?"

"Yes, mom! Oh, please don't die..."

"Hush, Kara! Do you remember promising me that if something happened to me that you'd take care of your father?"

"Of course, mom...but I don't know if I can do what you did..."

"Remember, you 'can do no wrong if you do it for love. You love your father, don't you?"

"You know I do!"

"John, did you hear Kara? She is a young woman who loves you as much as I do...and is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep you happy. Do you accept that, John?"

"Yes, Mary, but..."

"There are no 'buts,' John! Just accept that Kara...will become me...and take care of you...in all ways in your new life. I love you, John! And you too, Kara! I just wish I had more...." And with that, my mother passed away, leaving my dad and me to console each other.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Because mom was a stay-at-home wife and didn't have any close friends, we cremated her without having a service. The car insurance company for the driver who killed my mom didn't contest his guilt and settled rather quickly with a check for her used car and a sizeable payment for my mother's life. Dad wanted to put the whole mess behind him and accepted the offer, and we decide to move on.

Over the next month, what we couldn't sell, we either trashed, donated, or packed it into dad's SUV with its small trailer. With the urn with mom's ashes, we leisurely did our road trip to our new house in another state and a new life.

However, once we arrived, we kept to ourselves, making no overt effort to befriend those in the new community that was slowly developing and growing around the factory. We were still grieving and valued our privacy as we consoled each other. In time, each of us sought to fill the void left in our lives by mom's unexpected passing.

For me, I focused on our new house which was everything and more that mom would have wanted. I spent all my time furnishing the house from bottom to top with whatever we didn't bring with us using the money from mom's insurance settlement that we had put into a joint checking account. Having spent so much time with mom, I proved good at shopping, cooking, and doing whatever was necessary to keep my father happy and make our house a home.

To cope with mom's passing, dad threw himself into his work. It went without saying that setting up a factory, shift schedules, work procedures, and dealing with his shift managers and supervisors stressed dad out beyond belief. He often came home moody and grumpy and as his troubles began to pile up, he started taking one too many glasses of whiskey to dull his internal frustration and turmoil.

About a month later, his situation came to head. I had just finished showering and when I checked on dad, I found him miserable and slouched on a kitchen chair with a half-emptied bottle of whiskey on the table and a half-full shot glass nearby.

"Enough, dad!" blurted out of my mouth as I took the whiskey glass from my father's hand. "You cannot drown your frustrations in a bottle. Mom told me to make sure that you didn't, and I most certainly will do my best to keep my promise to her. Stop it!"