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I will always, always, remember my 18th birthday as the worst day of my life. It was supposed to be so special - but it was the day everything was taken from me.
My birthday falls in January, which was shortly after my first semester at University had finished. I remember Dad coming to get me in his car, a wide smile on his face as he saw me. I hadn't seen him or my mother in just over 3 months - and I missed them both dearly.
I remember laughing so much in the car with my Dad. When I asked why my mother wasn't with me, he nudged me and winked at me. "Don't worry kiddo, she's getting everything ready for your big day. I shouldn't tell you this, but she's planning on absolutely spoiling you for your big 18th." He said. I was excited, but mostly just happy to be going home for a couple of weeks.
The drive went by quickly - we laughed almost the entire way. I remember the confusion on his face when we got home, and there wasn't another car in the driveway. He'd been gone for almost 4 hours at this stage. "That's weird... Maybe she's still out getting something." He said, getting out of the car.
We went into the house and made lunch, continuing to have a good time - but I could tell as time went on that he was growing more and more concerned about my mother, where she might be.
"I'm going to go to your grandmother's, she might have..." He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He didn't recognise the number.
"Hello?" He said as he answered. "Yeah, that's me. Who is this?" He asked. I looked on, frowning at him. His face suddenly went so pale, and he looked dead behind the eyes. He dropped the phone and looked right over at me.
"Dad? What's wrong?" I asked him, walking towards him, putting a hand on his arm. He didn't respond. I shook him, feeling scared. "Dad! Talk to me!" I said, looking into his eyes. "Tell me what's happened?"
"Your... Your mother was in an accident, sweetie." He said, his voice catching. My stomach sank. "She's dead." He said..
I didn't believe it. I didn't believe him. They had to be wrong, they had to have called the wrong number... I hit him on the chest, telling him this was a mistake, that he had to go find out what actually happened.
The rest was a blur - I don't remember much until the funeral. My mother didn't even make it to 50. The church was full of mourners, friends, families, colleagues - they all loved her. She was the brightest spark in the room at all times. A gorgeous and beautiful woman who was kind above all else, and would always put her family or friends before herself. She was selfless, compassionate, and guiding.
I stayed with my father for a couple of weeks afterwards, intending to go back to college. But as I spent time living with him, without my mother, it became clear that he couldn't look after himself. I was never sure if he was just so overcome with grief that he didn't want to look after himself, or if he was so used to my mother doing everything for him that he was just incompetent. He could barely cook, couldn't use a washing machine, was useless when it came to cleaning - all of the things my mother did that he took for granted. I suppose I took it for granted, too.
I deferred university for a year, took a job at home, and hoped things with my father would improve. I never got a chance to get over my own grief as I was always looking after him. Daddy never went back to work - he took his couple of weeks of grievance leave, and when he had been supposed to return, he instead handed in his notice. He worked from home for the remaining 4 weeks of his contract, and then that was it - he was done.
If I was to tell you how I felt about how my father handled this process, I think I would say angry. But if I allowed myself to feel my anger, I would be overcome with guilt. I lost my mother, but my father lost his best friend - as much as I had tried to support him, he couldn't get over it. For people who didn't see him daily, he seemed mostly fine - a man who had lost his wife, sure, but he didn't seem like somebody who was totally incompetent, totally lost in life.
Tomorrow, I turn 21. Tomorrow it is three years since my mother has died, and my life got thrown into turmoil. My friends offered to go out and celebrate - but I never had any desire to celebrate my birthday, the day had become too sad.
I got home from work just after 5PM today, feeling exhausted. Tomorrow loomed over me as it did every year, and I just wanted to skip past it, act like nothing had happened.
"I'm home." I called out, walking into the front hall of the house, putting my coat on the rack. It was a cold January - not snowing, but temperatures ranging in between 0 and 5 degrees Celsius.
No response - which was usual. My Dad, while he made an effort to show he was grateful for how I cared for him, never seemed to make much of an effort with me at all. He didn't treat me like I was his daughter anymore, or even like a young adult woman küçükçekmece escort (https://www.pompaci.net/bayan/istanbul/avrupa-yakasi/kucukcekmece/) - just someone whose sole purposed seemed to be helping to keep him going.
I walked into the living room, where he was sat, reading. "Hey, Dad." I said quietly, sitting down on the chair across from his.
He looked up to me after a few seconds of silence, giving a small smile. "Hey, kiddo." He said, and he exhaled. "21 tomorrow, eh? Maybe it's time I stopped calling you kiddo."
I think I had smiled while thinking about my birthday for the first time since the accident. I was actually getting some conversation out of my father. "Well you did give me a pretty name, be a shame not to use it." I said, smiling at him.
"Your mother picked your name, actually." He said. I was almost shocked - Dad never talked about Mam. To mention her so casually was... unexpected, to say the least.
"Well then, you made the right choice in letting her pick it." I said, with a small laugh. He chuckled, and I stood up. "I'm gonna go have a shower, then I'll make us dinner around 8, sound good?" I asked.
He smiled at me. "Sounds good. Thanks, ki... Thanks Abigail." He said.
We smiled at each other, something which didn't happen often anymore. After a couple of seconds of silence I bent down, kissing him on the cheek and walking out of the room. I headed upstairs to shower, wondering if maybe tomorrow, my birthday would become my birthday again, and not just a day of grief.
After my shower, I stood naked in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. People had always told me from a young age that I looked just like my mother. I didn't believe them - I'm not sure if it was because I was an edgy teenager who wanted to look different from my parent, or if I didn't feel worthy to be compared to a beauty like my mother.
But now, the day before turning 21, I could see that I truly did look like her. My skin was pale and smooth like hers. My hair naturally blonde. My eyes a bright green, with large pupils. I had the same dimples as her when I smiled. We had similar body types - I was a couple of inches shorter, but we were both large breasted women with wide hips. I smiled at myself, feeling like I was smiling at my mother. "I promise I'll make you proud. I'll look after Dad, always." I whispered, talking to her. Not that she could hear me, but it felt... Right.
I wrapped a towel around myself and walked to my childhood bedroom to get changed after drying off. I pulled on a black thong and a pair of dark legging shorts, and then a white v-neck cropped t-shirt. It was only just after 6PM, so I decided I'd just lay in bed and unwind for a while, scrolling my phone and trying not think about the big day of tomorrow.
A half hour later, I heard the sound of my father coming up the stairs. There was quiet - he seemed to stand out on the hallway for a few seconds. I sat up slightly, trying to listen to where he went. I heard steps coming towards my door, and then he knocked a couple of times. "Abigail? Do you mind if I come in?" He asked.
I adjusted my top slightly, pulling it up to show a bit less cleavage. "Yeah, of course." I called out. The door opened and he smiled, walking in. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked.
I nodded to the side of the bed and sat at the side myself, smiling as he sat down. "What's up, Dad?" I asked, quietly.
He took a breath, closing his eyes and looking away, as if trying to will himself to speak. He sighed, then looked at me. "Look, I know I haven't been.. Since your mother died, I..."
I cut him off. "Dad, we don't have to do this, seriously. It's fine." I said, my tone a bit stern. I didn't want to talk about how angry his lack of responsibility had made me in the last couple of years.
"Please, Abi, just let me." He said. He looked at me for a second and I gave in, nodding my head, allowing him to continue. "I know I haven't been much of a father since your mother passed... Shit, I know I've barely been a man since she passed. I've been weak, irresponsible, and sheltered. I haven't provided for you, and I've done nothing but take. I've halted your progress as an adult, as a woman, and you've had to take care of me these last three years." He said. His voice was a bit shaky, and he was upset. He paused, and I stayed silent, waiting to see if he would continue.
"Tomorrow, you turn 21. And tomorrow is three years since your mother passed." He said, his voice a bit quieter now. "I want you to celebrate your birthday properly tomorrow, whether that's with me, or your friends, or... Just, enjoy being 21. Enjoy being a young woman." He said. "And just know that.. I'm so, so sorry." He said, bursting into tears.
My heart broke for him. I could never deny the anger I felt towards my father. Everything he said was true - hehad failed me. I had to put my life on hold to look after him. But I would never change a thing, because I'd küçükyalı escort (https://www.pompaci.net/bayan/istanbul/anadolu-yakasi/kucukyali/) never abandon him, as I know he'd never abandon me if I needed help.
"Oh, Dad." I said quietly and wrapped my arms around him, holding him against my chest as he sobbed quietly. I rubbed the back of his head and kissed his forehead, then gently nudged his head back, making him look up at me. "Everything you said is true, it is." I said, speaking quietly. "But you will always be my father and I will always love you, and I will always look after you while Mam isn't around." I said, looking into his eyes.
"I love you." I repeated, smiling down at him, wiping a tear away from his face.
"I love you too, kiddo.. Abigail." He said, looking up to me. He looked into my eyes intensely for a few seconds, and I found myself unable to look away. "You do just look like her, you know." He said, his voice quiet.
I smiled at that. "Y'know, it was only tonight that I accepted that. I'd always denied it, but now... I think I see it." I said, his head still resting against my chest. He pulled back slightly, putting some distance between us. I saw his eyes shoot down to my cleavage for less than a second, and I felt a sudden urge of desire grow between my legs. I also felt an instinct to... I don't know... Provide?
He cleared his throat and stood up. "I'll let you get back to resting." He said, and turned to walk away.
"Dad, wait." I said, still sitting on the bed. I patted the spot where he had been sitting. His eyes looked over my whole body this time, and I felt that same urge of desire, and an instinct that I couldn't describe as anything but maternal.
He sat down beside me and I pulled him back to the position we had been hugging in, with the side of his head against my chest. I stroked his head, speaking quietly. "I've tried my best to fill in for Mam. To replace her. I've tried to support you in every way I can, because you needed me." I said, quietly. My voice dropped to a whisper now. "But there are some things that I've never replaced, aren't there?" I asked.
I could feel him tensing up slightly. He looked up at me, looking a bit pale. "What do you mean, Abi?" He asked.
"I saw you, just now, looking at me." I said, and he went to protest. I put a finger to his lip. "Shh, it's okay, Dad." I whispered, and kissed his forehead. I brought my lips to his ear. "Let me be her, tonight. Let me be her every night." I whispered.
He pulled his head away from my chest, slowly, looking at me, puzzled. "It's okay." I repeated, and put my hand behind his head, resting it there. I moved closer to him, and I could see excitement starting to build on his face. I closed my eyes, and he closed his. Our faces tilted to a slight angle as we leaned in together, our lips meeting, slowly at first.
The contact sent a whole thrill through my body. I had no idea where this desire to please my father had come from, to fill in the rest of the gaps my mother had left behind - but I knew I needed to do it.
The kiss quickly grew more passionate. My hands ran up and down his chest, his hands through my hair, onto my face, and onto my chest, desperately pawing at my breasts. I crawled into his lap as our kiss continued, our tongues now breaking into each other's mouths, colliding with desire and need, the both of us moaning against each other. I could feel his hard cock underneath me, and knew I wanted it inside of me.
I broke our kiss suddenly and looked down at him. He was smiling more than I had ever seen in these last 3 years, and that put a wide smile on my own face. I took my white top off, tossing it aside, and exposing my breasts. He looked at them as if he was in awe. I felt so powerful, so gorgeous.
"Abi... Can I?" He whispered. I nodded my head, and he brought his lips to my left breast, alternating between sucking on my nipple and flicking against it with his tongue.
"Oh, Dad..." I moaned quietly, holding his head as I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations. "Daddy... Mmm. You're a good boy, aren't you?" I whispered. He went wild at that. I felt him throb underneath me and the movements of his tongue grew more intense. Over the years, it had become obvious that what my father needed more than anything was to be mothered, to be praised. It appeared that carried over to the bedroom, as well.
He brought a hand to my other breast, squeezing it with passion, but not rough - not hurting me. His thumb rubbed over my nipples and I moaned loudly. "Daddy. Fuck." I said through my moans, running a hand through his hair.
"Abi, I need you." He grunted. I knew he did. I needed him, as well. I wasted no time and lifted myself slightly, reaching down between us and unzipping his jeans. I pulled myself from his lap as I got to my feet, pulling them down to his ankles. I stepped back and pulled my legging shorts down, as well as my thong, while he stood up to remove his boxers kültür escort (https://www.pompaci.net/bayan/antalya/kultur/) and step out of his jeans.
I pushed him down onto the bed, and we both laughed. He looked up at me with awe and love on his face. I looked down at him and smiled. His cock was uncut, and if I had to guess, just about six inches, maybe slightly less. It was thick, and rock hard.
He sat up and I straddled myself on his lap again, feeling his tip against my entrance. I shuddered at the feeling and felt his breath on my breasts as he exhaled on my skin. "Are you sure?" I asked him quietly as he reached down, holding his cock still for me as I hovered over it.
He was quiet for a couple of seconds. "Certain." He responded. I lowered myself onto his cock, and I moaned as every inch of it filled me. He moaned loudly. I looked down at his face, his eyes closed.
"Look at me." I whispered, and his eyes opened. I started to ride his cock, gyrating my hips on him. After about 5 seconds, his eyes widened. "Abi, wait, fuck, I'm gonna..." His face looked strained, and I smiled. I knew what was going to happen. "Shh Daddy, it's okay." I moaned, grabbing his head and pulling it to my breasts. "It's okay." I repeated, and he moaned loudly against me, and I felt his hot load shooting into my cunt.
I kissed the top of his head and stroked the back of his head as he panted against my breasts. "It's okay." I repeated through my whispers, placing more kisses on his head. I wasn't surprised that he didn't last long. I knew my father hadn't been with a woman since my mother had passed.
Still panting slightly, he pulled back from me, looking up at me. "I'm sorry." He said. I smiled, and laughed, shaking my head, kissing him on the lips as I pulled off of his softening cock. "Don't be. We're just getting started, right?" I asked him.
With that, things suddenly changed. He stood up, lifting me, and flipped us, dropping me on the bed and falling on top of me. He kissed me, hungrily, and I felt his lips move to my cheek, my neck, down to my breasts. "I love your tits, Abi. You're just like your mother." He moaned against me as he once again played with my tits - paying perfect attention to my nipples, treating them so nicely.
Hearing the comparison to my mother felt so... right. I had taken her place in every way except sexually, until tonight. I felt so validated, feeling the man who had known and loved her so much, accepting me in her place as his lover.
He started to trail his lips down my chest, to my stomach, towards my thighs. I closed my legs slightly, shaking my head at him, aware of the mess he had left inside of me. "You don't have to do that, Dad." I whispered.
"I want to." He responded, kissing along my thighs. I closed my eyes and opened my legs, feeling his lips get closer to my wet cunt. His tongue flicked sideways along my labia, and then circled along my clit a couple of times. I moaned loudly, reaching down and gripping his hair. He drove his tongue in and out of my pussy for a few seconds, tongue-fucking me as I shook and moaned for him on my bed. But he soon pulled his tongue back, replacing it with the middle and ring fingers of his right hand.
My Dad fingered me, and I felt his fingers curving inside of me every time he pushed inwards, hitting my g-spot. I moaned so loudly for him, wanting him to know just how good he made me feel. He brought his face back to my pussy, his tongue focusing now solely on my clit. His tongue moved in slow circular motions against my clit, a constant pressure on it. He never sped up or slowed down, and never varied his movements - just constantly moved his tongue in that clockwise motion while he fingered me.
"That feels so fucking good, Daddy. Fuck." I moaned, my body writhing and bucking in response to the pleasure being bestowed upon me. He kept going, and after a few minutes, I felt my own orgasm coming along. "Dad... Daddy... I'm gonna cum..." I whimpered. My right hand gripped tightly onto his hair while my left hand gripped the bed sheets, and I moaned loudly, feeling my orgasm rocking through my body. I felt him moaning against me as the orgasm rocked through my body, wave after wave of pleasurable ecstasy making its way through my body.
He pulled his fingers out of me as I finished cumming and brought his head away, and I lay there, panting. He crawled up next to me, kissing me on the cheek, resting his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair again. "That was amazing." I whispered, and he laughed.
After a couple of minutes of laying in silence, I pushed his head gently away from my chest, looking down at him. "Think you can go again yet?" I asked, trailing a finger along his chest.
He shook his head. "I don't know... I don't think so." He said, seeming embarrassed.
I smiled at him. "Well, let's see what we can do about that, hmm?" I asked, quietly. I looked into his eyes as I brought my hand to my mouth, licking my palm before bringing it to his soft cock. I took it in my hand, stroking it gently with three of my fingers and my thumb wrapped around it.
"Abi..." He groaned, closing his eyes. I smiled at the reaction, but after a minute or so, his cock hadn't grown much harder. "Lay down properly for me." I said, as he shuffled onto his back and I crawled down in between his legs.
I will always, always, remember my 18th birthday as the worst day of my life. It was supposed to be so special - but it was the day everything was taken from me.
My birthday falls in January, which was shortly after my first semester at University had finished. I remember Dad coming to get me in his car, a wide smile on his face as he saw me. I hadn't seen him or my mother in just over 3 months - and I missed them both dearly.
I remember laughing so much in the car with my Dad. When I asked why my mother wasn't with me, he nudged me and winked at me. "Don't worry kiddo, she's getting everything ready for your big day. I shouldn't tell you this, but she's planning on absolutely spoiling you for your big 18th." He said. I was excited, but mostly just happy to be going home for a couple of weeks.
The drive went by quickly - we laughed almost the entire way. I remember the confusion on his face when we got home, and there wasn't another car in the driveway. He'd been gone for almost 4 hours at this stage. "That's weird... Maybe she's still out getting something." He said, getting out of the car.
We went into the house and made lunch, continuing to have a good time - but I could tell as time went on that he was growing more and more concerned about my mother, where she might be.
"I'm going to go to your grandmother's, she might have..." He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He didn't recognise the number.
"Hello?" He said as he answered. "Yeah, that's me. Who is this?" He asked. I looked on, frowning at him. His face suddenly went so pale, and he looked dead behind the eyes. He dropped the phone and looked right over at me.
"Dad? What's wrong?" I asked him, walking towards him, putting a hand on his arm. He didn't respond. I shook him, feeling scared. "Dad! Talk to me!" I said, looking into his eyes. "Tell me what's happened?"
"Your... Your mother was in an accident, sweetie." He said, his voice catching. My stomach sank. "She's dead." He said..
I didn't believe it. I didn't believe him. They had to be wrong, they had to have called the wrong number... I hit him on the chest, telling him this was a mistake, that he had to go find out what actually happened.
The rest was a blur - I don't remember much until the funeral. My mother didn't even make it to 50. The church was full of mourners, friends, families, colleagues - they all loved her. She was the brightest spark in the room at all times. A gorgeous and beautiful woman who was kind above all else, and would always put her family or friends before herself. She was selfless, compassionate, and guiding.
I stayed with my father for a couple of weeks afterwards, intending to go back to college. But as I spent time living with him, without my mother, it became clear that he couldn't look after himself. I was never sure if he was just so overcome with grief that he didn't want to look after himself, or if he was so used to my mother doing everything for him that he was just incompetent. He could barely cook, couldn't use a washing machine, was useless when it came to cleaning - all of the things my mother did that he took for granted. I suppose I took it for granted, too.
I deferred university for a year, took a job at home, and hoped things with my father would improve. I never got a chance to get over my own grief as I was always looking after him. Daddy never went back to work - he took his couple of weeks of grievance leave, and when he had been supposed to return, he instead handed in his notice. He worked from home for the remaining 4 weeks of his contract, and then that was it - he was done.
If I was to tell you how I felt about how my father handled this process, I think I would say angry. But if I allowed myself to feel my anger, I would be overcome with guilt. I lost my mother, but my father lost his best friend - as much as I had tried to support him, he couldn't get over it. For people who didn't see him daily, he seemed mostly fine - a man who had lost his wife, sure, but he didn't seem like somebody who was totally incompetent, totally lost in life.
Tomorrow, I turn 21. Tomorrow it is three years since my mother has died, and my life got thrown into turmoil. My friends offered to go out and celebrate - but I never had any desire to celebrate my birthday, the day had become too sad.
I got home from work just after 5PM today, feeling exhausted. Tomorrow loomed over me as it did every year, and I just wanted to skip past it, act like nothing had happened.
"I'm home." I called out, walking into the front hall of the house, putting my coat on the rack. It was a cold January - not snowing, but temperatures ranging in between 0 and 5 degrees Celsius.
No response - which was usual. My Dad, while he made an effort to show he was grateful for how I cared for him, never seemed to make much of an effort with me at all. He didn't treat me like I was his daughter anymore, or even like a young adult woman küçükçekmece escort (https://www.pompaci.net/bayan/istanbul/avrupa-yakasi/kucukcekmece/) - just someone whose sole purposed seemed to be helping to keep him going.
I walked into the living room, where he was sat, reading. "Hey, Dad." I said quietly, sitting down on the chair across from his.
He looked up to me after a few seconds of silence, giving a small smile. "Hey, kiddo." He said, and he exhaled. "21 tomorrow, eh? Maybe it's time I stopped calling you kiddo."
I think I had smiled while thinking about my birthday for the first time since the accident. I was actually getting some conversation out of my father. "Well you did give me a pretty name, be a shame not to use it." I said, smiling at him.
"Your mother picked your name, actually." He said. I was almost shocked - Dad never talked about Mam. To mention her so casually was... unexpected, to say the least.
"Well then, you made the right choice in letting her pick it." I said, with a small laugh. He chuckled, and I stood up. "I'm gonna go have a shower, then I'll make us dinner around 8, sound good?" I asked.
He smiled at me. "Sounds good. Thanks, ki... Thanks Abigail." He said.
We smiled at each other, something which didn't happen often anymore. After a couple of seconds of silence I bent down, kissing him on the cheek and walking out of the room. I headed upstairs to shower, wondering if maybe tomorrow, my birthday would become my birthday again, and not just a day of grief.
After my shower, I stood naked in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. People had always told me from a young age that I looked just like my mother. I didn't believe them - I'm not sure if it was because I was an edgy teenager who wanted to look different from my parent, or if I didn't feel worthy to be compared to a beauty like my mother.
But now, the day before turning 21, I could see that I truly did look like her. My skin was pale and smooth like hers. My hair naturally blonde. My eyes a bright green, with large pupils. I had the same dimples as her when I smiled. We had similar body types - I was a couple of inches shorter, but we were both large breasted women with wide hips. I smiled at myself, feeling like I was smiling at my mother. "I promise I'll make you proud. I'll look after Dad, always." I whispered, talking to her. Not that she could hear me, but it felt... Right.
I wrapped a towel around myself and walked to my childhood bedroom to get changed after drying off. I pulled on a black thong and a pair of dark legging shorts, and then a white v-neck cropped t-shirt. It was only just after 6PM, so I decided I'd just lay in bed and unwind for a while, scrolling my phone and trying not think about the big day of tomorrow.
A half hour later, I heard the sound of my father coming up the stairs. There was quiet - he seemed to stand out on the hallway for a few seconds. I sat up slightly, trying to listen to where he went. I heard steps coming towards my door, and then he knocked a couple of times. "Abigail? Do you mind if I come in?" He asked.
I adjusted my top slightly, pulling it up to show a bit less cleavage. "Yeah, of course." I called out. The door opened and he smiled, walking in. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked.
I nodded to the side of the bed and sat at the side myself, smiling as he sat down. "What's up, Dad?" I asked, quietly.
He took a breath, closing his eyes and looking away, as if trying to will himself to speak. He sighed, then looked at me. "Look, I know I haven't been.. Since your mother died, I..."
I cut him off. "Dad, we don't have to do this, seriously. It's fine." I said, my tone a bit stern. I didn't want to talk about how angry his lack of responsibility had made me in the last couple of years.
"Please, Abi, just let me." He said. He looked at me for a second and I gave in, nodding my head, allowing him to continue. "I know I haven't been much of a father since your mother passed... Shit, I know I've barely been a man since she passed. I've been weak, irresponsible, and sheltered. I haven't provided for you, and I've done nothing but take. I've halted your progress as an adult, as a woman, and you've had to take care of me these last three years." He said. His voice was a bit shaky, and he was upset. He paused, and I stayed silent, waiting to see if he would continue.
"Tomorrow, you turn 21. And tomorrow is three years since your mother passed." He said, his voice a bit quieter now. "I want you to celebrate your birthday properly tomorrow, whether that's with me, or your friends, or... Just, enjoy being 21. Enjoy being a young woman." He said. "And just know that.. I'm so, so sorry." He said, bursting into tears.
My heart broke for him. I could never deny the anger I felt towards my father. Everything he said was true - hehad failed me. I had to put my life on hold to look after him. But I would never change a thing, because I'd küçükyalı escort (https://www.pompaci.net/bayan/istanbul/anadolu-yakasi/kucukyali/) never abandon him, as I know he'd never abandon me if I needed help.
"Oh, Dad." I said quietly and wrapped my arms around him, holding him against my chest as he sobbed quietly. I rubbed the back of his head and kissed his forehead, then gently nudged his head back, making him look up at me. "Everything you said is true, it is." I said, speaking quietly. "But you will always be my father and I will always love you, and I will always look after you while Mam isn't around." I said, looking into his eyes.
"I love you." I repeated, smiling down at him, wiping a tear away from his face.
"I love you too, kiddo.. Abigail." He said, looking up to me. He looked into my eyes intensely for a few seconds, and I found myself unable to look away. "You do just look like her, you know." He said, his voice quiet.
I smiled at that. "Y'know, it was only tonight that I accepted that. I'd always denied it, but now... I think I see it." I said, his head still resting against my chest. He pulled back slightly, putting some distance between us. I saw his eyes shoot down to my cleavage for less than a second, and I felt a sudden urge of desire grow between my legs. I also felt an instinct to... I don't know... Provide?
He cleared his throat and stood up. "I'll let you get back to resting." He said, and turned to walk away.
"Dad, wait." I said, still sitting on the bed. I patted the spot where he had been sitting. His eyes looked over my whole body this time, and I felt that same urge of desire, and an instinct that I couldn't describe as anything but maternal.
He sat down beside me and I pulled him back to the position we had been hugging in, with the side of his head against my chest. I stroked his head, speaking quietly. "I've tried my best to fill in for Mam. To replace her. I've tried to support you in every way I can, because you needed me." I said, quietly. My voice dropped to a whisper now. "But there are some things that I've never replaced, aren't there?" I asked.
I could feel him tensing up slightly. He looked up at me, looking a bit pale. "What do you mean, Abi?" He asked.
"I saw you, just now, looking at me." I said, and he went to protest. I put a finger to his lip. "Shh, it's okay, Dad." I whispered, and kissed his forehead. I brought my lips to his ear. "Let me be her, tonight. Let me be her every night." I whispered.
He pulled his head away from my chest, slowly, looking at me, puzzled. "It's okay." I repeated, and put my hand behind his head, resting it there. I moved closer to him, and I could see excitement starting to build on his face. I closed my eyes, and he closed his. Our faces tilted to a slight angle as we leaned in together, our lips meeting, slowly at first.
The contact sent a whole thrill through my body. I had no idea where this desire to please my father had come from, to fill in the rest of the gaps my mother had left behind - but I knew I needed to do it.
The kiss quickly grew more passionate. My hands ran up and down his chest, his hands through my hair, onto my face, and onto my chest, desperately pawing at my breasts. I crawled into his lap as our kiss continued, our tongues now breaking into each other's mouths, colliding with desire and need, the both of us moaning against each other. I could feel his hard cock underneath me, and knew I wanted it inside of me.
I broke our kiss suddenly and looked down at him. He was smiling more than I had ever seen in these last 3 years, and that put a wide smile on my own face. I took my white top off, tossing it aside, and exposing my breasts. He looked at them as if he was in awe. I felt so powerful, so gorgeous.
"Abi... Can I?" He whispered. I nodded my head, and he brought his lips to my left breast, alternating between sucking on my nipple and flicking against it with his tongue.
"Oh, Dad..." I moaned quietly, holding his head as I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations. "Daddy... Mmm. You're a good boy, aren't you?" I whispered. He went wild at that. I felt him throb underneath me and the movements of his tongue grew more intense. Over the years, it had become obvious that what my father needed more than anything was to be mothered, to be praised. It appeared that carried over to the bedroom, as well.
He brought a hand to my other breast, squeezing it with passion, but not rough - not hurting me. His thumb rubbed over my nipples and I moaned loudly. "Daddy. Fuck." I said through my moans, running a hand through his hair.
"Abi, I need you." He grunted. I knew he did. I needed him, as well. I wasted no time and lifted myself slightly, reaching down between us and unzipping his jeans. I pulled myself from his lap as I got to my feet, pulling them down to his ankles. I stepped back and pulled my legging shorts down, as well as my thong, while he stood up to remove his boxers kültür escort (https://www.pompaci.net/bayan/antalya/kultur/) and step out of his jeans.
I pushed him down onto the bed, and we both laughed. He looked up at me with awe and love on his face. I looked down at him and smiled. His cock was uncut, and if I had to guess, just about six inches, maybe slightly less. It was thick, and rock hard.
He sat up and I straddled myself on his lap again, feeling his tip against my entrance. I shuddered at the feeling and felt his breath on my breasts as he exhaled on my skin. "Are you sure?" I asked him quietly as he reached down, holding his cock still for me as I hovered over it.
He was quiet for a couple of seconds. "Certain." He responded. I lowered myself onto his cock, and I moaned as every inch of it filled me. He moaned loudly. I looked down at his face, his eyes closed.
"Look at me." I whispered, and his eyes opened. I started to ride his cock, gyrating my hips on him. After about 5 seconds, his eyes widened. "Abi, wait, fuck, I'm gonna..." His face looked strained, and I smiled. I knew what was going to happen. "Shh Daddy, it's okay." I moaned, grabbing his head and pulling it to my breasts. "It's okay." I repeated, and he moaned loudly against me, and I felt his hot load shooting into my cunt.
I kissed the top of his head and stroked the back of his head as he panted against my breasts. "It's okay." I repeated through my whispers, placing more kisses on his head. I wasn't surprised that he didn't last long. I knew my father hadn't been with a woman since my mother had passed.
Still panting slightly, he pulled back from me, looking up at me. "I'm sorry." He said. I smiled, and laughed, shaking my head, kissing him on the lips as I pulled off of his softening cock. "Don't be. We're just getting started, right?" I asked him.
With that, things suddenly changed. He stood up, lifting me, and flipped us, dropping me on the bed and falling on top of me. He kissed me, hungrily, and I felt his lips move to my cheek, my neck, down to my breasts. "I love your tits, Abi. You're just like your mother." He moaned against me as he once again played with my tits - paying perfect attention to my nipples, treating them so nicely.
Hearing the comparison to my mother felt so... right. I had taken her place in every way except sexually, until tonight. I felt so validated, feeling the man who had known and loved her so much, accepting me in her place as his lover.
He started to trail his lips down my chest, to my stomach, towards my thighs. I closed my legs slightly, shaking my head at him, aware of the mess he had left inside of me. "You don't have to do that, Dad." I whispered.
"I want to." He responded, kissing along my thighs. I closed my eyes and opened my legs, feeling his lips get closer to my wet cunt. His tongue flicked sideways along my labia, and then circled along my clit a couple of times. I moaned loudly, reaching down and gripping his hair. He drove his tongue in and out of my pussy for a few seconds, tongue-fucking me as I shook and moaned for him on my bed. But he soon pulled his tongue back, replacing it with the middle and ring fingers of his right hand.
My Dad fingered me, and I felt his fingers curving inside of me every time he pushed inwards, hitting my g-spot. I moaned so loudly for him, wanting him to know just how good he made me feel. He brought his face back to my pussy, his tongue focusing now solely on my clit. His tongue moved in slow circular motions against my clit, a constant pressure on it. He never sped up or slowed down, and never varied his movements - just constantly moved his tongue in that clockwise motion while he fingered me.
"That feels so fucking good, Daddy. Fuck." I moaned, my body writhing and bucking in response to the pleasure being bestowed upon me. He kept going, and after a few minutes, I felt my own orgasm coming along. "Dad... Daddy... I'm gonna cum..." I whimpered. My right hand gripped tightly onto his hair while my left hand gripped the bed sheets, and I moaned loudly, feeling my orgasm rocking through my body. I felt him moaning against me as the orgasm rocked through my body, wave after wave of pleasurable ecstasy making its way through my body.
He pulled his fingers out of me as I finished cumming and brought his head away, and I lay there, panting. He crawled up next to me, kissing me on the cheek, resting his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair again. "That was amazing." I whispered, and he laughed.
After a couple of minutes of laying in silence, I pushed his head gently away from my chest, looking down at him. "Think you can go again yet?" I asked, trailing a finger along his chest.
He shook his head. "I don't know... I don't think so." He said, seeming embarrassed.
I smiled at him. "Well, let's see what we can do about that, hmm?" I asked, quietly. I looked into his eyes as I brought my hand to my mouth, licking my palm before bringing it to his soft cock. I took it in my hand, stroking it gently with three of my fingers and my thumb wrapped around it.
"Abi..." He groaned, closing his eyes. I smiled at the reaction, but after a minute or so, his cock hadn't grown much harder. "Lay down properly for me." I said, as he shuffled onto his back and I crawled down in between his legs.