Father Fucked on Valentine's Day

He reached around to pull out his billfold.

"That's ok, Dad, it is my gift to you for a wondrous fuck from one who comes from the old sod. No fuck-in charge Pop. Best you go now before someone misses you."

"How sweet of you," he stared at me and paused, "you've got the eyes of me Mum," he said.

He dressed and moved to the door, then looking very proud of his performance.

"It was a delicious evening. A loving fuck, sweetie. Thank you. Are you sure I can't give ya some money?"

"No, Dad, just be on your way."

I kissed him on his forehead and out into the world he went.

The next month I moved to Alicante. I never saw him again. But, at least I'd finally got to meet my Dad. I'd have preferred meeting him under other circumstances, but Dad was right. It was a loving fuck. I'll remember him for that.

Oh yes, my period arrived a week later. I guess praying does work.

THE MOVE TO ALICANTE

Once ensconced in Alicante, in a cheap seaside hotel, I fell back into my usual routine, turning tricks at night and sleeping late. When I awoke, I bathed in the bathtub. I lay there watching the cockroaches climbing the cracks in the wall. I began to take stock in myself. I wasn't proud of being a whore, but I knew I'd done what I had to do to survive.

That night when I was out street walking, hoping to pick up enough money to pay for the hotel and buy myself a meal. I usually stood on a corner with three other ladies of the night. It was a black night. You couldn't even see a thin sliver of the moon. I'd gone into a cafe and gotten a coffee to keep warm. When I came out of the bar, everyone was gone. I imagined the other girls had found clients. I heard a rustling noise. As I turned around, something hit me in the back of my head. It turned out to be a starry night after all.

I awoke to the sound of iron horseshoes clopping through the street. A small candle provided only dim light. I realized I was being held captive inside what looked like a Tinker's wagon. I had a terrible headache. I lay on a bed of straw. It took a while before I realized the gravity of my situation. I tried shouting out into the darkness. Someone roughly grabbed my head and tapped my mouth to silence me. There was nothing I could do. Whoever my captors were, they seemed to know where they were going. They parked the wagon near a rowdy pub. I could hear loud music and shouting.

KIDNAPED, RAPED, & LEFT FOR DEAD

What followed was a night of horror that I'll never forget. A pimple-faced man stuffed some pills down my throat and held my nose until I swallowed. As a result, I didn't remember all that went on afterward. I knew I was sex trafficked, repeatedly raped during the next night, subjected to the grossest of human potential. I was fucked in every orifice by more than one man at a time.

The long night's ordeal was followed by the dawning. I decided to make believe I was dead. When they couldn't wake me, two men speaking Gypsy dragged me out of the wagon and left me tied up on the beach. They covered part of my body with sand and figured the high tide would carry me away. Before they left, a third man speaking English grabbed me by the breast,

"My God, she has a nice pair of knockers," he said. "Bring us another one like this next week. No tiny tits, or you won't get paid."

After that, he gave both my tits a hard pinch. I had all to do to not cry out in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he shouted?

"I'm taking a piss," responded his cohort, who proceeded to piss in my face. "Take that, you fuck-en whore."

"Well, that'll clean up her act," said the other man. They all burst out laughing. Moments later, they drove off. I was left alone in the early morning's sea breeze, listing to crashing tide coming in.

SAVED BY THE BELL

Some elderly man-timer ambling along the deserted beach, holding a metal detector, found me several hours later. I could see the incoming tide was only 15 feet away. My taped mouth prevented me from calling out. The white-haired gent was approaching. He seemed so intent on beachcombing that he never looked up.

Little did I realize with all the pain in my vagina that someone had pushed an old copper penny into my pussy. Probably someone's idea of a joke. It was that stroke of fate that saved me. The old guy's device started ringing a bell when he passed over my body. His meter had picked up the large coin. When he began digging, he quickly arrived at my cunt.

He almost went into shock when he saw what he'd unearthed. Realizing I was alive and moving, he untied me. He helped me walk back to his car. Once in his car, covered with an old wool army blanket, I pulled the lucky penny out of my puss and gave it to him as a reward.

"It's an old one," he said, looking at it carefully, "1933."

He drove me a short distance to a small straw-roofed cottage. Over the next few weeks, he and his wife nursed me back to health and sanity. By now, I'd had enough of the sordid life I'd made for myself. I tried to borrow a small amount of money from the old couple, but they insisted it was a gift. On the fireplace was a photo of their daughter, only aged 18, who was killed by a hit and run driver. They'd never recovered from their loss. With the cash, I caught a ferry back to England. I still hear from them. We exchange greetings during the holidays.

REDEMPTION

Once back in the UK, I applied to social services for rehab. They put me in a self-improvement program for persons who were mostly addicts or prostitutes. I'd registered by admitting to having had a minor drug habit. I didn't want to be known to be a whore.

I met a nice man, Emmett Chadwick, who had a minor addiction problem. He'd struggled for several years but had finally freed himself. I never mentioned the terrors I'd had to go through.

During the break period, we would eat together. I was aware that Emmett had developed a crush on me. He worked as a Veterinary assistant and earned a fair amount of money. I thought it best to keep my past sexual history and transgressions a secret. Emmett was a fragile man who might not be able to deal with my past. I thought it best to bury my past. I said I'd worked as a maid for an elderly woman.

MY NEW LOVE & MARRIAGE ON VALENTINE'S DAY

Over the next three months, I realized how comfortable I felt with Emmett. He always treated me like a lady. I dressed more conservatively, but I could tell from the swelling in his pants that he favored me. When he invited me to his parent's home over the Christmas holiday, I made a good impression.

Emmett and I shared minor intimacy. He loved to play with my tits. I told him I did not want to have sexual intercourse until I after marriage. Of course, to alleviate his sexual tension, I pleasured him with an occasional handjob.

"You are very sexy," he told me breathlessly, and he was pleased.

He proposed to me one night after a similar event, spraying the inside of his little car's windscreen. I decided to give in to his marriage whim as I thought we'd be a good match. I was fond of him. I thought I could learn to love him. We were married by a City official on Valentine's Day. His brother and his parents attended. We all went out to a lovely roast beef dinner at the Grayson House in Piccadilly.

On the first night of our honeymoon, he took me aside.

"You don't remember me, but I met you on the beach in Spain several years back. I was one of the college kids on the bus. Of course, I had a full head of hair back then."

We both laughed. I had a distant recollection of a shy boy who would bring me a wildflower or an unusual seashell now and then. He seemed utterly unaware that I'd slept with several of the students.

"I thought you were returning with us and was distraught when I couldn't find you on the bus trip back. I thought you were perfection, and I know you are perfect now."

He laid me back and almost smothered me with kisses, working his way down to my vagina. I was surprised how accomplished he was with his tongue. I orgasmed immediately.

"Let me do you, sweetheart," I said.

"Oh, my dear bride, I'm not done yet," he said. At my insistence, he fitted a condom and proceeded to make love to me in a beautiful sweet fashion that I'd forgotten existed. When he finished, I'd climaxed more times than I could count. It was the first sex I'd had since escaping the Tinkers, and it was exhilarating to be having a healthy relationship.

When we finished, I lay bare-breasted in his arms, my leg between his. h

"I bought you this," he said and put a small ring box in my hand. It was a lovely Victorian Diamond ring flanked by two oval emeralds. I was astounded.

"Oh, it's wonderful,"

"Happy Valentine's Day, my darling."

I was confident that my life was going to be an incredible adventure, after all.

"Happy every day to you, my darling husband." I lay back in his arms until sweet dreams carried me away.

That was ten years ago to the day. My life has worked out quite nicely for both of us. We have a nine-year-old red-haired son we adore. Emmett still works at the clinic. Now and then, he brings home an abandoned pet. I went to school to qualify to be a nursing aid and surprisingly found work at a Urology Clinic where I see naked penises every day.

Never abandon hope. Thank you, God!

THE END