Three Fathers

I didn't spend all that much time in her company, and was careful about what I told her, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew I was spending a lot of time in my father's company, and she began to get somewhat suspicious. But it was only when I became pregnant that the shit really hit the fan.

It was obvious to me that I would carry his baby. It seemed inevitable. He was the love of my life, my soulmate, so clearly I wanted to give him a child. Another child. We had talked about it in a fairly casual way, but had made no clear commitment to trying for a baby. But I just became a tad forgetful about taking the pill. Next thing you know, I was late.

There was to be no debate or dilemmas this time. No blazing rows or planned terminations. This was a child I was definitely going to have. My father was overjoyed. My mother lost her shit. She screamed and hollered at me, telling me I was ruining my life.

"And with him, of all people?! Your own father?!" She cried, "You stupid little whore!"

I suppose I could understand. It was a pretty crazy scenario. I was pregnant and my dad was to blame. Clearly that was a daunting truth for her to face. Looking back, I wonder if jealousy played its part. Once upon a time, he had been her life partner, after all. Now he was mine. Mom had never remarried, even though she had dated a little. To see her daughter hook up with her ex? It can't have been easy.

She basically threw me out of the house and stopped speaking to me. But when her first grandchild actually arrived, she softened quite a bit. It's amazing how a new baby can change things, soothing the most contentious of relationships. We had a little boy - Oscar - and Grandma immediately fell in love. I don't think she's ever really come to terms with what me and my father are doing, but she has always been relatively civil.

Two years later, we had a little girl, called Savannah. And eighteen months after that, I was pregnant again. Dad says he likes fucking me when my belly is big, and he enjoys the taste of breast milk. I think we'll probably call it a day after the next couple of kids, but I like being a mother. I especially like being the mother of my father's children.

I'm a full-time homemaker now. A wife and mom, no less. I don't work. Well, I do work, I work damn hard, but I don't go out and get paid to work. I stay home, looking after the kids, waiting for my man to come back in the evening. I clean the house, chase after my children. I even bake cookies for Christ's sake. I'm a little Martha Stewart in the making. Except I'm also a dirty incestuous slut.

Life is crazy. Life is surreal. Life is what happens when you're busy making plans. Nothing had prepared me for this. I hadn't expected any of it to happen. But I felt so lucky. So blessed. I don't expect anyone else to understand. People might well be horrified to hear my story. How could I settle down with my own father? How could I let him fuck me night after night after night?

I love him. That's how. That's why. I love him more than I could possibly imagine, or explain. He is my everything and I feel so safe and secure in his arms. It's a different thing to whatever I may have experienced with my other lovers. A different level of affection. I am grateful to all the men in my life, all the cocks I have sucked, all the cocks I have fucked. But I am content to be where I am right now.

Let me put it this way; I had three fathers, but I have only ever had - or needed - one Daddy.

The End