Beth’s lullaby. My father, my husband

Nasty. #fiction #fatherdaughter #husbandwife

Hi. My name is Elisabeth. Beth for short. I am 16 years old Let me start at the beginning. I was born to Kiara Bone (20) and Max Charles (35). I don’t really remember when it started, probably because it started young. For me this was normal. And I cannot say I ever had a problem with it.

My family expressed love with sex and pleasure. I was raised into it. One of my earliest memories was sitting on the couch on my dad’s lap, watching TV, with his hands rubbing and gently fingering my pussy. For hours at a stretch at times. It would sometimes leave my pussy sore. The good kind of sore. I was eased into having his cock inside my tiny pussy as soon as my nether regions were a little developed. There’s a running inside joke in our family. That the only thing that would calm me when I was fussing was someone eating and licking my pussy. They called it Beth’s lullaby. And that is probably true. During my childhood I loved falling asleep to someone licking me, sometimes rubbing my clit. And it has continued well into adulthood I can say. We didn’t kiss on the cheeks in our family. We smooched. Exchanged saliva. Pinching nipples or grabbing the coochie was a sort of greeting for the females.

My mother was always okay with it. Partly because she was a sex maniac. Partly because she got off on me and my dad together. And partly because she didn’t care. She hovered around where the best sex was. The home was her back up. Don’t get me wrong. She loved me with all her heart. But she also loved the sex lifestyle. When I was 12, she left. Not because she wanted to, but because it was a once in a lifetime experience for her. It was a yatch trip with 8 guys living in and others rotating in their stops, around the seas for a year and a half straight. And they had invited her to be their “resident entertainer/entertainment”. Which essentially means she’s the only woman on board for weeks or months at a stretch, at the beck and call of 8 men round the clock, sometimes more, never less. They’d have a resident doctor and gynaecologist should she ever face complications from the strain of her “physical activities”. She was NEVER going to pass up an opportunity like that.

We said our goodbyes at the pier. That night, I could tell father was sad. So when he was in bed, late at night, one hand draped over his eyes, laying down, I creeped into his bed and hugged his chest. He lay still for a moment. Then hugged me back. We lay there for about 5 minutes before he raised his hand and lifted my chin to face him. Then he started kissing me. Slow, passionate kisses that turned fierce and aggressive and hungry. I was barely able to comprehend the pace when in one swift motion, he turned me below him on the bed. He hovered dominating over me for a second, looked me in the eyes, and it seemed like a silent agreement. Then he took me. We have had sex before, yes. But that night, he TOOK me. He owned me. Before, it was always childish love, where make love. But that night, he didn’t let me struggle, barely let me whimper and catch a breath, sometimes using his mouth to kiss me and muffle my sounds, sometimes outright choking me or holding my mouth, or gagging me with my own panties. He FUCKED me. Fucked me for 5 hours straight. He was well hung 12”. My pussy was TINY. It was GRUESOME. I don’t remember if I fell asleep, or blacked out. I remember my father waking me up when he was leaving for work. After he left, I tried getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom. The pain was all-consuming. I could BARELY walk. When I somehow reached the bath, I ran myself a hot one, and sat in there for a couple of hours. Letting the water numb the pain. After I got out, I was looking through the medicine cabinet of my parents’ (now my father’s) bathroom when I came across some adult diapers. Why they were there, I had no idea, but it was a welcome relief. I put one on. It felt cold on my extremely sore pussy. It eased me out a little. Once I was out of the shower, I put on a comfortable day robe and walked out of the room. The house needed tending to. We hadn’t said it in words, but the look we had shared last night before he thrust himself into me, I was the woman of the house now. So for the next several hours. I cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, and ran to the grocery store. I had to down a pain killer, because the pain was getting in the way of the work. Around 6 pm, father came home from work. The moment he walked through the door, I rush-limped to him. Took his bag and coat as he undid his shoes. I put the coat and the bag away and came back and asked “Daddy, would you like to have dinner now?”
He replied “No. Run a warm bath for me first please.” I turned around and headed for his room when he said “Beth?” I turned. He came closer to me, towering over me. His 6”4” to my 5”5. “Call me Max from now on.” He said. I nodded a nervous nod, with butterflies in my stomach, I turned around, smiled a silly smile to myself, and skipped to run his bath. After he was done, we had dinner. We didn’t talk, but the silence was easy. After that, we headed to his room. Our, room. He started passionately kissing me when we were in bed and his fingers found my pussy. I flinched. He stopped. He carefully removed the diaper and saw my throbbing red, sore pussy. And for the next several hours, he softly licked and pleasured my pussy, and the pleasure was overcoming my pain. We didn’t have sex that night, just him soothing me. Kissing here and there. A couple of nipple pinches. We cuddled that night. He was sweet and gentle, and the next morning, my pussy felt significantly better.

This was how it was from then on. I was essentially his woman now. People here would barely have time to visit each other. When someone did come, we acted like father and daughter. But behind closed doors. I was his partner. His other half. Managing his household and pleasuring him. There were times when I started forgetting that this was the man that fathered me. I was born from the same cum that I was regularly taking inside my pussy, ass and mouth every night now.

After a year, he made it official. On my next birthday, he got a priest reverend, 75 years old, who believed that the old ways were the good ways. That women should be married young. And that inbreeding was a good way of preserving bloodlines. On the morning of my birthday, he handed me a beautiful white dress, complete with a veil and a bouquet. I put it on. It was tightly body hugging, accentuating my beautiful curves. I was 5”5’. Significantly taller than my other peers. I already had perfectly formed breasts. They were small, but round and firm. And a beautiful bubble butt. The dress accentuates all those features. It had a deep neck, exposing my cleavage. I put it on, put on some light makeup. Put my waist length hair in a bun, and put the veil on. I held the the bouquet and took one last look at my childhood bedroom mirror. I looked like a woman. And in a few hours, I was officially going to be a bride. To my biological father. In perspective, it looks crazy. But I was as excited as any bride would be. At 2 p.m. I walked out of my room and walked down the stairs to a beautifully decorated living room. There were white flowers everywhere. I walked down the steps where my father was waiting for me. He looked stunning in his black tux. He looked at me and smiled as he gave me his hand. I took it as he walked me down the makeshift aisle as my father , at the end of which stood the priest. We were the only three people in attendance. After we reached the stand, my dad handed me over to the priest and took his place as the groom. The priest began reciting his pieces and at the end of it, we said our vows and exchanged our rings. The priest asked, “do you Max Charles, take Elisabeth Bone Charles, as your lawfully wedded wife, and promise to stand by her, in sickness and in health? “I do”, he smiled. The priest repeated, “Do you, Elisabeth Bone Charles, take Max Charles, as your lawfully wedded husband, and promise to stand by him, in sickness and in health?” “I do” I said shyly, looking at him through the veil. The priest walked forward, he faced me and lifted my veil. He pulled my face and smooched a wet smooch on my lips. I was stunned at first, but after a while, I reluctantly grabbed the back of his white hair, and we smooched for a good 5 minutes. He then parted, a little breathless. He slowly felt my little round breasts. His fingers found my nipples and he pinched it, hard. A gasp left my lips. He walked back to his place. I am pretty sure this part of the ritual had no relevance, and he just wanted to know what it was like to kiss and touch a girl so young. “Till death do you part. You may now kiss the bride.” He said. Max lifted my chin and kissed me passionately. I was now his better half, his wife.

A week later, we moved to a remote suburb in New York. Barely 50 people in the neighborhood. There were many reasons for this. One, me and Max wanted to start our life as husband and wife. We didn’t want our past as father and daughter to keep defining us. Our relationship had changed. The other reason was if My mom/Kiara, who was now a bit like my competition for Max, ever came back, she wouldn’t know where to look for us. It was a win win for me.

We moved and changed our names. We are now Rose and John Clarke. Our neighbours call us the Mr. And Mrs. Clarke. They didn’t really doubt my age. I started wearing heavy makeup and dressed like an adult, wearing very provocative clothes, accentuating my breasts and curves, and barely covering my body. I had a good teen body. They suspected I was an 18 year old slutty gold digger who had a baby face and had trapped John. He was a wealthy ass surgeon after all. I wasn’t going to school anymore but John made sure I got my education through home-schooling.

This brings us to today. I turned 16 a month back. John and I have been married for 3 years. We have a very smooth sailing married life. Does he love me? I don’t know. But he loves having me as a wife. And he is a devoted husband.
And about 2 months back, I found out I was pregnant. With a baby girl. John and my 4th anniversary would be around the time she’s born. I picked the name Millie out. She would be my gift to John. I haven’t told him yet, but I will tonight. Hope he’s excited to be a daddy again. I am super excited to be a mamma to his little girl.

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