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Incest pregnant story

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She did what she needed to stay whole enough to parent. I should say immediately that I made a slip of tense a moment ago; I said that mother liked sex tremendously, when in fact I have little reason to doubt that she likes sex tremendously, and may well enjoy it with someone in addition to my father to this day.

My queasiness remains, I suppose, as perhaps it should; I have no desire to know who she makes love with or how many times she does so.

And she, of course, would never breathe a word of it to any of us, perhaps especially not to my sister. I have also been thinking lately that my father may not be the quiet, ignorant cuckold I once took him for.

Now I think that he loved my mother well, and made love with her well, and therefore he knew that weeks or months without touching were not in her nature.

Yet his sense of duty, and to some degree his ambition and love of the intelligence trade, required him to be stationed overseas on remote assignments for months at a time.

And his sense of love and duty required that he not ask my mother to hole up somewhere nearby, just for his occasional comfort; nor did it let him ask for a fidelity that would be broken, along with his trust.

Instead, I think, he said nothing, and trusted that my mother would find a decent man to make love with, and spare him both the details and pain of any emotional bond that would threaten their marriage or plans to have children.

There was, after all, nothing to do but trust her. For her part, I think she did likewise, trusting my father to wear a condom when loneliness and ardor became wearisome, and likewise trusting him to keep his sensual pleasures safely separate from his feelings of love and devotion for her.

And when, as her book suggests, her boss asked her to make love with him, she also agreed to this, my father was, if not relieved, then unsurprised.

I think now that whatever discomfort the image of his sexy wife splayed under another man no doubt caused my father, he preferred it being another Japanese-American man to any other.

What outraged me when I first read her book, and now causes me to smile with wonder at her naughtiness, was her apparently guileless pleasure in maintaining two lovers when my father would come home on leave.

Now, having experienced it myself, I believe her lack of guilt evidences an inner confidence which I greatly respect, especially when compared to my own conduct.

My mother, I sincerely believe, assessed who she was, the love match she made with my father and the career paths she and my father had chosen, and made a clear-eyed decision of what would sustain her through the times apart.

Cleaving off her part-time lover during his leave probably struck her as needless and perhaps even phony; to her, I think, duty to the secrecy that bound and protected them both was neither hypocritical nor immoral.

Indeed, it was perhaps the boldest form of morality and duty a married couple can share; the point was not to hurt or humiliate your partner with the mechanics of what kept you whole in their absence.

From references in her book and odd bits of recounted family history, I gather that my parents decided to start having children when they turned twenty-five.

They may not have understood all that it entailed, but they wanted them just the same. I gather my father stopped using condoms during his visits.

I imagine her lover complained about using them, as did the lover in her book; and so, shouldering the birth control burden herself, she began using a diaphragm with him.

In the very scene I first turned to in discovering her memoir-novel, the heroine is languorously enjoying a second lovemaking session on a hilltop picnic towel.

Her sense of spiritual completeness causes her to hold her lover to her, to capture the full joy of unity with Nature.

Later, as they lay snuggled together, still warmly bonded, she wonders if her sense is premonition; and despite her usual precaution, it does seem the soft circle of rubber was dislodged in the perfect afternoon of lovemaking.

Thus, did I enter the world. This realization took some years to sink in. Everyone had always commented that my brother and I looked like my mother, while my sister took after my father.

This apparent contradiction was the source of a long-standing family joke. By carefully piecing together snapshots and the accompanying timeline, I believe that within days of missing her period, my mother flew to Turkey and spent a long weekend with my father--sufficient explanation for my birth eight months later.

In any event, my slightly premature birth was unremarkable. Her lover certainly bore a resemblance to her husband, but not strikingly so. Without becoming too dewy-eyed, I think my mother responded to the duty she undoubtedly felt to her unborn child.

She paused, trying to remember any difficulty, and seemed to fail. A second child would have put those thoughts to rest. Or perhaps she feared my father was infertile, and that he would begin to question her initial pregnancy if nothing came of their unions.

The problem was that he wanted me to be with her because he knew it made her happy he even told me this and so for the most part I spent time with my mother and he left us alone.

My mother, before and after the actual incest, did dress in a revealing way toward me and would allow me to see her in her lingerie.

Who needed Playboy when I had my mother? She was not interested in my body; she only wanted me to be interested in her body.

I call what happened with my mother incest and not rape. There is a big debate among psychologist as to whether a man can be raped.

Perhaps this is true but for me it was incest. My mother waited for me to take the first move. She did, of course, present herself to me in an attractive way but in waiting for me to make the first move she smeared me with the guilt.

If I had not made the first move then she would have ignored me and eventually I would have been homeless.

But in the process of becoming homeless my mother would have insured that my father and all others around her would have thought it was my fault. My mother, in public, is a regal figure and has fooled most people and her opinion holds weight.

And I needed female attention so why not pay attention to my mother. The rewards were great-up to a point.

I was spoiled and spoiled and spoiled. But my mother would sometimes have to stop spoiling me because the situation would be too obvious to everyone else.

Though I gave her emotional security, my father gave her financially security to a point, but much more than I could and so she had to please him for this reason also.

My mother taught me adultery. This was the worst thing about the incest. If I had not been emotionally involved and had somehow just remained aloof then it would have been different.

My parents taught me to go into any other relationship and stick my noise in where it did not belong. I would go into other marriages and start talking deeply with the woman about very personal things concerning her husband-things that were none of my business.

Again, this caused many problems with others and sometimes men would become very angry with me. Etichete: incest , drama , gemini , daniel.

Share pe: Facebook. Selectia zilei 1 1 Dorel si caramizile Selectia zilei 2 2 Cat de mare sa fie pestele?

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Incest Pregnant Story

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We finished up and she left to go to the washroom to clean up. I probally went to sleep waiting for her to come back. A lot of the night is fragmented and even today I still have trouble remembering it completely.

In the morning she never mentioned it at all and she acted completely normal despite the fact that she fucked her own son.

The Problem: Everything went fine up until today when my mom called me up at work. I thought maybe someone died or she found my porn stash.

What is it? I get home and I see that my mom is sitting on the couch. Her face was all red, and I could tell that something really bad happened.

It looked like she was crying for a long time. When I was about four years old I had to have a testicle brought down. However, in grade 10 I had to have my other one removed because it became cancerous.

What should I do? This entire dilemma is killing me psychologically. This time though things went differently. We both sat down at the dinner table and sorted everything out.

I then made the move to kiss her on the lips because of how upset I was about it but she pushed me away She then told me her childhood story about moving and the next thing she said to me I'll never forget "in West Philadelphia where I was born and raised, on the playground is where I spent most of my days, chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool and all shootin' some b-ball outside the school when a couple of guys who were up to no good, started making trouble in my neighborhood.

Got in one little fight and my mom got scared, said you're moving with your Auntie and Uncle in Belair. Last edited by Griptape12; at PM.

Baby Dick Mother Fuckers. Weirdest story I've read in awhile. Last edited by betterthanahipster; at PM. Share pe: Facebook.

Selectia zilei 1 1 Dorel si caramizile Selectia zilei 2 2 Cat de mare sa fie pestele? Selectia zilei 3 3 Oaia vrea sa fie mangaiata Selectia zilei 4 4 De ras si panarama Selectia zilei 5 5 Farsa cu catelul Selectia zilei 6 6 Caini si pisici, momente nostime Selectia zilei 7 7 Ciudatenii ale naturii care te lasa cu gura Now I think that he loved my mother well, and made love with her well, and therefore he knew that weeks or months without touching were not in her nature.

Yet his sense of duty, and to some degree his ambition and love of the intelligence trade, required him to be stationed overseas on remote assignments for months at a time.

And his sense of love and duty required that he not ask my mother to hole up somewhere nearby, just for his occasional comfort; nor did it let him ask for a fidelity that would be broken, along with his trust.

Instead, I think, he said nothing, and trusted that my mother would find a decent man to make love with, and spare him both the details and pain of any emotional bond that would threaten their marriage or plans to have children.

There was, after all, nothing to do but trust her. For her part, I think she did likewise, trusting my father to wear a condom when loneliness and ardor became wearisome, and likewise trusting him to keep his sensual pleasures safely separate from his feelings of love and devotion for her.

And when, as her book suggests, her boss asked her to make love with him, she also agreed to this, my father was, if not relieved, then unsurprised.

I think now that whatever discomfort the image of his sexy wife splayed under another man no doubt caused my father, he preferred it being another Japanese-American man to any other.

What outraged me when I first read her book, and now causes me to smile with wonder at her naughtiness, was her apparently guileless pleasure in maintaining two lovers when my father would come home on leave.

Now, having experienced it myself, I believe her lack of guilt evidences an inner confidence which I greatly respect, especially when compared to my own conduct.

My mother, I sincerely believe, assessed who she was, the love match she made with my father and the career paths she and my father had chosen, and made a clear-eyed decision of what would sustain her through the times apart.

Cleaving off her part-time lover during his leave probably struck her as needless and perhaps even phony; to her, I think, duty to the secrecy that bound and protected them both was neither hypocritical nor immoral.

Indeed, it was perhaps the boldest form of morality and duty a married couple can share; the point was not to hurt or humiliate your partner with the mechanics of what kept you whole in their absence.

From references in her book and odd bits of recounted family history, I gather that my parents decided to start having children when they turned twenty-five.

They may not have understood all that it entailed, but they wanted them just the same. I gather my father stopped using condoms during his visits.

I imagine her lover complained about using them, as did the lover in her book; and so, shouldering the birth control burden herself, she began using a diaphragm with him.

In the very scene I first turned to in discovering her memoir-novel, the heroine is languorously enjoying a second lovemaking session on a hilltop picnic towel.

Her sense of spiritual completeness causes her to hold her lover to her, to capture the full joy of unity with Nature.

Later, as they lay snuggled together, still warmly bonded, she wonders if her sense is premonition; and despite her usual precaution, it does seem the soft circle of rubber was dislodged in the perfect afternoon of lovemaking.

Thus, did I enter the world. This realization took some years to sink in. Everyone had always commented that my brother and I looked like my mother, while my sister took after my father.

This apparent contradiction was the source of a long-standing family joke. By carefully piecing together snapshots and the accompanying timeline, I believe that within days of missing her period, my mother flew to Turkey and spent a long weekend with my father--sufficient explanation for my birth eight months later.

In any event, my slightly premature birth was unremarkable. Her lover certainly bore a resemblance to her husband, but not strikingly so.

Without becoming too dewy-eyed, I think my mother responded to the duty she undoubtedly felt to her unborn child. She paused, trying to remember any difficulty, and seemed to fail.

A second child would have put those thoughts to rest. Or perhaps she feared my father was infertile, and that he would begin to question her initial pregnancy if nothing came of their unions.

With my mother, both of these are entirely possible, since both would conserve the marriage and family unit equally well.

But given my own current confusion, I tend to distrust any conclusions about my mother, or my own situation, that seem too facile.

My mother was fortunate to find a trustworthy lover who was blessed with a distant marriage of convenience; his requests for transfer to Hawaii never seemed to get granted, and so he stayed on in D.

I am not sure what instigated his eventual transfer, be it bureaucratic machinery or his own decision to leave D.

In any case, my biological father left when I was six, and my mother quit her job shortly thereafter; she then housewived her three children until my father returned for good several years later.

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My Psycho Mom Got Me Pregnant At 13 -- ACTUALLY HAPPENED STORY -- My Story Animated

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