Daughter-in-law Ch. 02: The Initiation

My dad was the one who taught me that whatever I do, I should do with two rules: passion towards the goal and gratitude towards the people who contribute. So my thanks for this story go to lejla and AbstraktConcept, two random people who did not know me but were kind enough to help me with nothing in return. They inspired me to continue writing.

If you haven't read the previous episode of this story, this one won't make complete sense.

My father's thoughts are conjecture (but based on my wife's observations); the rest of it is all true.

*****

To say that my wife, Mousami, is pretty, would be a gross understatement. And it's not just her face, which is flawless. She has a clean, straight neck, breasts which are sized just right to fit my palm without bulging, and a waist that drives me crazy with the insane curves. She is 23 and she has violently child-bearing hips. Unlike the normal Indian woman, her body is naturally devoid of hair (except her pubes which I love trimming) and if you were to see her across the street, you would stop in your tracks. She could have won the beauty contest in college without even showing up, if she had cared to participate. She has had offers to model too, and she again declined.

I thought she was just lazy until the day she told me her horrid truth. Her father was an alcoholic and sex addict, and he regularly brought other women into their home. As a child, Mousami had repeatedly witnessed her mother going to a hospital due to beatings, and had shivered in fear when her father looked at her. She hated being thought as a sex object, hence the rejection of 'fame'. Years later, when she met me, I was able to convert her revulsion of sex into what is the right meaning - pleasure. All she needed was a loving hand, one that she had never felt. Come to think of it, that is all any woman wants really. Or so I thought.

Let's get on with the story then.

"I know only one woman who likes him even in this state."

"WHO!"

"You"

"Kya? (what?)"

"You like him even now, in this bad state."

"Of course. So?"

I had decided long ago in my life that I would never lie to the people I loved. But at this point, I felt I could postpone the truth a little. I was at my diplomatic best.

"So I think you should date him sweetu."

"Are you mad?"

"No. Just date him please. He would enjoy the company of a sexy woman."

"James. What are you saying????"

"You go and see him right now, then you question me. I cannot bear to see him this way again."

"I have also seen him. I understand baby. But he is your dad! How can I date him?"

"Not just date my love. You may have to fuck him too."

"You are sick. Go to sleep."

She turned on her back and pretended to sleep. Her shoulders were raised, so I knew she was awake and angry. I slowly slid into the bed and carefully touched her hip, whispering.

"Sweetu, give him your body. He will still feel pain, but your amazing body would soothe it."

She swung her leg and kicked me hard. That was exactly what I'd expected, but I was also hurt. I got out of bed, wrote a very emotional letter ending with "leave me alone please", and left the house. I went to a nice hotel far from home, and for the next two days ignored all her calls. I don't have to tell you that I jerked off multiple times watching dad and daughter-in-law porn. I returned home in the evening on the third day, trembling with guilt.

I found her in the living room, chatting with someone on Facebook. I went up to her and said, "How are you my love?"

She pushed aside the laptop and jumped up to hug me very tightly.

"Jamie! Where were you!"

"I was fucking a prostitute."

"Shut up idiot. I was so scared."

And she began crying. Here's the thing about Mousami. She never cries. Never. Even through all the beatings and other evil things she had experienced in her home, she had resolved not to cry, she felt it made her weak. Seeing her tears shook me up.

"I thought I lost you", she said weeping profusely.

I lifted her face and kissed her. I looked into her eyes and said.

"You will never lose me moron. I am sorry I did this. I have never run away from you or any problems we had. I am very sorry and I will never do this again. Please give me another chance."

She continued crying feverishly, and I felt sick for forcing my perversion on her. I promised myself I would never bring up the topic again. She was in no state to walk, so I picked her up, walked up to our room and placed her on the bed. She immediately hugged me and resumed sobbing.

"Ssshhh...how could I leave the love of my life? And you know how stupid I am. Please don't cry. Have you slept in the last two days?"

"Yes all I did was sleep." She responded sarcastically after a few moments.

"I am so sorry."

"Will you stop saying that!"

"Ok."

Minutes passed by. My hand was lying hesitatingly on her waist. I was very scared, guilty and shameful.

"I read your note."

"Sweetu.."

"Don't interrupt me." and she looked up at me. She held my face in her hands and said

"There is nothing I will not do for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes but.."

"Chup! Now tell me. How should I do it."

"What!"

"How should I date and fuck papa?"

I was flabbergasted.

"AAa..Are you sure?"

"Yes I am. As you said in your little letter, he deserves it."

"I love you."

She kissed me gently on my lips.

"Same to you. Now tell me how to do this. I can't go there and say fuck me papa."

"Umm..actually, I think it would be best if you honestly approach him and tell him what you are willing to do to help him."

"Will you be fine with it?"

"Yes my love."

"Should I go now?"

"Yes baby if you want to."

"I don't want another glass to be broken."

With that, she stood up and proceeded to change into nightwear. Which was nothing but a sheer negligee we had purchased in Goa but which she had never got around to wearing.

"Is it fine? I hope he will get the hint."

I was so hard I could have broken rocks. As she walked out of our bedroom, I saw her hips swaying and I couldn't help but imagine my dad's cock buried deep in her.

----

DAD'S ROOM [7pm]

Cradling his frosted whisky glass, a favourite because his wife had gifted it to him, John stretched out on his recliner, staring out the window. He was idly rubbing his cock, which was steel hard, thinking of his daughter-in-law who resembled his wife so much. He had had 8 glasses, and was nearing collapse now. He never heard the knock.

Mousami knocked once and then immediately entered, knowing he would block the door if he was in one of his moods. She saw him lying back on his recliner, holding a glass in one hand, while the other rubbed his erect organ through his robe.

She flushed, took a deep breath, and moved forward. Approaching him, she said

"Papa..."

John was startled. The glass fell on the floor, not breaking but spilling the last of his drink onto the floor. His hand shot to the armrest of his chair, but he kept staring out of the window though he was aware of her presence.

Mousami was shaking with nervousness. Thinking of James and what this man had done for him, she took another deep breath and walked up to her father-in-law. She picked up the glass with deliberate calm, and set it right.

She then knelt down in front of him, as if she were about to blow him. She did this to show him her cleavage and nipples. She touched and held his shins.

"Papa...I love you papa. Don't do this please."

After a very long time, he finally dropped his head to look at her. She saw that his eyes were moist, and he was quivering. She made her decision then. She would give this man herself.

Gently riding her hand up his shin to his knee, she said to her father-in-law, "Papa, get up, forget the drink. I want to show you something."

Her hand gently pulled his knee to indicate that she wanted him to stand up. When he was up, she led him to his bed and made him sit down on it. She sat too, squatting on the bed in front of him.

"Beta...I'm.."

"Shh. Don't speak papa please."

Sliding the strap of her negligee off her right shoulder, she exposed her breast to him.

John was wide-eyed with amazement. To think that the object of his dreams was right in front of him, was driving him mad with lust. Her nipple was jet black, exceptionally large and taut. The areoala was about the size of an old rupee coin, and it was light brown in colour. John started, then stared; he was about to lick his lips when he was reminded that this was his daughter-in-law. But he kept staring.

Mousami saw his face, and as only a woman can, deduced his thoughts. She leaned forward thinking "now or never" and said

"Touch, papa."