[M/F] I loved him twice [Incest]

Now I’m a middle-age woman, married late, 2 young kids.

Decades ago, long before I met my husband, I had sexual relations with my father. That’s my secret.

I was just out of college, 22, the youngest child, and Mom had died 2 years earlier. Dad was going to be in the home alone after my brother went into the Army. I moved back home to live with Dad just as my brother moved out.

Our losses were, I now know, very different. But there’s no way to measure such things – the loss of a parent versus the loss of a life partner. One dark day followed another, each of us struggling. Our Minister helped, visiting weekly and guiding us through grief. He was the one to coach us to talk about her often, not avoid the topic. Put out more photos, he said. Keep her not only in our hearts, but in our heads too. Mention her at mealtimes, even set a place if it felt right.

It helped. I liberated her recipe file and started trying to cook like her, feed us the way she always had. We set Mom a place at Thanksgiving, and I tried to host Christmas at our house the way she did. It was awful and wonderful, family members crying and laughing. Grandma Jansen, dad’s mom, took me aside as she left that night, gave me a special hug. Stared deep into my eyes and said my mother would have been so proud of the woman I had become. The youngest, but a pillar, that was her word. I was a pillar. Dad wasn’t healed, she said, but he wasn’t broken either, she said. I swelled with peace.

Dad and I made a big dent tidying up but we were tired and we agreed to leave the rest for morning. I gave him a goodnight hug and kiss in the hallway and I saw less gloom in his eyes than ever before – even with Mom absent, the get-together had eased him. 30 minutes later, fresh from my shower, I lay in my bed and felt my mother’s presence. I can’t describe it, but I knew we had resolved something today. I cried for just a few seconds, dried my face, and went to his room. It would be corny to say he was expecting me, because that’s not it, but he welcomed me when I asked if I could sleep in his bed “just for tonight?” It was a wide bed and we made a point to sleep as far apart as we could. No, nothing happened, but when we woke up we had our first real kiss before jumping out of bed.

I came back that night straight from my shower. Didn’t even touch my bed. I remember the sex being awkward that night. I wasn’t very experienced, and Dad was so conflicted he went soft a few times. I learned with a giggle that Mom had been old-fashioned in one area. My father had never seen a groomed pubic area. Each time his erection flagged he went down on my bald crotch and perked right up again. But still, early times are clumsy. By our third week as man and wife we were fitting together like we were made for each other. I guess, in a sense, we were. I discovered I was fascinated by his semen. It had made me once, years ago, and to have a mouthful was thrilling.

***

I never slept in my old room again except when my brother visited. For six years I played the wife for Dad, and we had the rare privilege of loving each other twice, once as a father and a daughter, and once as a man and his woman. Dad’s gone now, with Mom, and I know she’s happy I took care of him when she couldn’t anymore.

***

After the graveside service, I got back in our limo with Grandma Jansen. She told the driver to start, even though my brother wasn’t with us. She had asked him to come back in another one. I swear to you I knew what was coming. She embraced me and she said “thank you for taking care of my boy.” I pulled away and looked at her, our faces close together and she said something like “a mother knows. Bless you both. Bless your love. Your special love. Now we will never speak of this ever again.” And we never did. She passed just a few years later. I hope I’m half as good a mother as she was, and my own.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/k538p3/mf_i_loved_him_twice_incest