The Shark and The Mermaid Ch. 02
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(Tags: Incest, seduction, cheating, father, daughter, son-in-law, pregnancy, male/female.)
Readers are invited (or encouraged) to read my first story, “THE SHARK AND THE MERMAID: How I made my daughter my lover” to get a better understanding of this four-part series. Inge is a tragic figure and the story is not written in a conventional way, but I still hope that the storyline is acceptable to you. My thanks in advance to those of you who vote or comment. IXIX
I know that you can’t swim from Delaware to Norway. But I just want to go home. Ron is dead…Paul is fucking our daughter Kiara…and Far is dying alone.
Ron’s death was no accident. That I know. I’m sure it was murder, but I can’t prove it… Nobody can.
I don’t care what happens now. I miss Ron’s cock, his tongue, his beautiful pianist hands, his voice, the taste of his semen; his dark eyes; his bright smile…I should have said something…Why did I let him go like that…?
He was the most handsome man that I had ever seen (and I do know something about male beauty. I grew up among Vikings: my father, my classmates, boyfriends, lovers, and men on the streets of Tromsø, Trondheim and Oslo.)
I was in heat. He was on fire. He was my son-in-law and Kiara’s husband. I was anything he wanted me to be: his Inge, his lover, his whore, his milf, his slave, the nest for his bird, his babe, his everything. I had almost one year of wild sex, feeling again like a twenty-year-old, but with the experience of a ripe woman and the carnal teachings of my Far, my husband, and dozens of lucky men.
It’s strange how all these memories are coming back. Maybe it is because in a few hours, they will be swallowed by the sea.
I am leaving everything – and nothing – behind. The water is not too cold but I no longer see the shore of Bethany. The sun is coming down. I’m alone and nobody will find me.
In 1990, I met Paul Asatiani, a medical resident from the two Georgias (the former Soviet Republic and birthplace of wine and Josef Stalin; and the Southern USA state of “Gone with the Wind” and peaches fame.) He came to Norway to train with Dr. Thyggesen at Oslo’s University Hospital and do research on “neurotransmitters” (I never understood what that was about.) Instantly, I knew my fate. Paul was very quick, very intense and very bright (he learned perfect Norsk , his fifth language and fourth alphabet, in just three months – “the language genius,” my Far used to call him.)
Paul always used the right words and ideas to win an argument or woo a girl. I was the lucky one. I fell in love in three steps: in one month, I gave him my pussy, my brain, and my heart, in that order.
Sex was great. He used to say: “Height doesn’t matter in bed” (I am 1.83 m. and Paul’s 1.80 m.) and he was right. Although his penis is not as long and thick as my Far’s, Paul moves in a way that you feel you are being royally fucked, grinded and screwed inside and outside not by a man, but by Thor, the god of thunder, who won’t stop until he gives you the “little death;” and after you revive, he kills you again. And again; and again…until you ask for peace.
Incredibly, he holds back, in full erection, and just doesn’t cum until you beg, until you promise to be good, until you promise to be bad, until you promise to do whatever he wants you to do. And then he explodes in you, in your mouth, vagina, ass, face, breasts, hair or any place of your body within the range of his ejaculation. And then, you want more. And he obliges.
Sisters: “Let me tell you that size matters, but motion and endurance matter most.”
I used to joke with Paul that he didn’t have a “cock;” his penis was a “hawk” and my pussy was his “dove,” and his dove was always there for the taking.
But Paul could also be a sweet and tender lover, a hummingbird between your legs, a breeze around your pussy, an octopus inside your cunt. His teasing, soft and tiny kisses gave you goose bumps, everywhere. Omigod, I truly loved and love this man.
We had Kiara five months after we married; and six years later, came the twins, Erik and Gabrielle. By now, we lived in Paul’s hometown, Athens (not Athens, Greece but Athens, Georgia in the US.) Paul made sure that we had all the means and opportunities to be happy. And we were.
Kiara and the twins gave us lots of joy and satisfaction especially because they were outstanding students and incredibly sweet and caring with us and with each other. My beautiful Kiara had many of the Caucasus features of Paul’s family, but Erik and Gabrielle are 100% Scandinavian (I never told Paul that the twins are not his.)
Sisters: “Here’s my advice: never confess; never acknowledge or tell your husband that you have cheated; you will never be forgiven and you have no right to hurt him twice.”
When Kiara and Ron became engaged, we were very happy despite the young age of our daughter, and the fact that she was already gaziantep escort bayan reklamları pregnant and Ron wasn’t White (I didn’t know how Paul’s conservative Christian Orthodox family, coming all the way from T’bilisi, was going to react.) No problem. We had a wonderful wedding celebration and Ron became part of our family.
This is truly important: I don’t know what happened to me but when Amanda, our second granddaughter, was born, I decided that I was no longer going to have sex. And that was that!
In retrospect, my decision was crazy: I was healthy, physically and mentally; I was not menopausal; I loved my husband and found him attractive; I truly enjoyed sex; I looked younger than my age and was still pretty sexy. Perhaps it was because of my confirmed status as a grandmother at age 45. Or…
“Was it because of my mother…or my revenge, or my sense of guilt, Sisters?”
Paul respected my decision and didn’t give me any speeches, or tried to convince me, or demanded “his rights…” or told me to see a psychiatrist. He understood and accepted what I’m still trying to understand. He just looked at me with his bright amber eyes and kissed the palm of my hand. No drama (that’s the way my brainy doctor approaches the vicissitudes of life.) In any case, I told Paul that he was now free to enjoy sex with whomever he wanted, without restrictions. He just nodded. Twice.
And I prepared myself to enjoy a sexless life…until Ron convinced me otherwise and made me feel like a girl again. Or shall I say, like his call girl, his whore, his slut?
The waves are bigger now; I’d better rest on my back, and look at the stars for a while.
I was the only child in a loveless marriage. My Mor was a religious fanatic and an angry bitch that punished me constantly just to assert her power over me and make my life harsh and mirthless. I was afraid of her and cried almost every night… but I loved my Far and he was the only reason why I didn’t run away.
My house was a prison and my Mor (the Bitch) never let me go out by myself or with my friends. No movies, no boys, no fun, no nothing. There was only reading, housework and homework for me. I was, for most of my life at home, a shy, resentful, and very sad Cinderella. I felt like a battered dog, condemned to obey and never bark.
We lived about 20 Km North of Tromsø, above the Polar Circle, in a very small village between the fjord and the big mountain. My Far was a barman, not well educated but incredibly curious about everything in the world. He asked me every afternoon what I had learned in school that day. This was followed by a question and answer period that always brought laughter and smiles to the two of us, and an ugly frown to my Mor’s face. Who cares? Let her rot in her bitterness.
I used to show Far my books and the pictures of paintings in museums around the world. He was especially fond of the “Birth of Venus” by Botticelli and used to tell me that I was his Venus coming out of the sea. I think this was the seed of our lifelong love affair and wild fucking sessions.
At home, we bathed twice a week, on Wednesdays and Sundays. To save water, and because he loved me, Far let me bathe first in the hot water and then, it was his turn to bathe in my lukewarm, soapy water, which he called “my Venus Sea.”
I thought nothing about being naked in front of Far; that is, until the day I discovered my first, very blond pubic hair and my pointy nipples and surging breasts. From then on, I never let him enter the bathroom until I was fully clothed. I had seen his penis and was curious and almost scared by his length and girth, but there was no penis envy or temptation here.
So, my life went on, surrounded by the love of my handsome Viking Far, the cruelty of the Bitch (“You are lazy, Inge!” “You are useless, Inge!” “You are worthless, Inge!”, day after day, tear after tear, night after night), and my resolve to see something new… and soon. Finally, one day, preparatory school was over and I was ready to test my wings and fly to Oslo.
Since I got very high marks in my “studenteksam,” Far invited my Mor and me to celebrate. The Bitch declined and Far and I went on a “date”, which despite my being eighteen was my very first date ever. At the Kro, the food and akvavit (also, my first alcoholic beverage) were delicious and plenty. And then, Far asked me if I wanted to dance, something he hadn’t done since my mother went crazy with her beliefs of “sin everywhere; penance, everybody.”
I had never danced because music was forbidden in my house, but I decided to give it a try. Far was a very graceful dancer despite his towering height and muscular presence. I felt I was flying in his arms. Our eyes were fixed on each other and when we turned I could feel his knee between my thighs and my breasts against his chest. I was in heaven and could gaziantep bayan escort reklamları sense the warmth and flushing of my cheeks and an entirely new sensation, a shortness of breath and fluttering that went from my tummy to my chest.
After our third or fourth dance, I could smell my Far’s sweat and manly scent, which made me feel dizzy and flustered. At the end of the night and still dancing, my Far held me firmly with his strong hands and squeezed me, his body pushing against my body. I could feel the hardness of his big “thing” pressing and moving over my mound. I knew what it was and wished that he’d never stop.
I think it was the effect of the akvavit but, unexpectedly, he lifted my chin and, for the first time in my life, a real man kissed my lips and put his tongue in my mouth…A burning wave soared from my pussy to my belly. I had never been kissed or touched before, but the tingling in my pussy told me that I needed to have my Far’s cock inside me…that he was the one that would make me a real woman…
I didn’t know what it was at that time, but now I know that my Far had just given me my first orgasm. With one kiss! My panties were drenched and I was very happy and humming like a bird when we got home.
Something changed after that night. I started noticing that Far was looking at me in a different way; a way that made me feel funny and aware that I was a sexy and desirable woman, a woman who had power over men.
Sisters: “You know well that men are like dogs, wiggling the tail in their pants, trying to be friendly, and slobbering all over you to get what they need and what they want. Be kind to them, but not too kind.”
I knew I had to be very kind to my Far, but I also knew that I had to do what I had to do to set myself free. Life went on, but things had to change in our home.
One evening, we were in the living room by the fireplace, the three of us reading a book (we had no television then.) I felt, I truly felt, the gaze of my Far upon me. His eyes sled from my feet to my face, slowly caressing my legs, my knees, my thighs, my groin, my belly, my breasts…
I looked at him and, undeterred, he continued to move his eyes towards my neck, my lips and my eyes, which I averted as if I were looking at the sun. I didn’t dare to look back but I felt a tingling and warm sensation between my legs and, suddenly, I had to run to pee. I raised up from my chair and then…
The Bitch said: “Inge, what’s wrong with you?” “Don’t you know that you have to be excused before you go?”
“Yes, Mor, I’m sorry, but I really need to go.”
“Well, now you’ll have to stay until I say that you can go.”
I was about to explode but didn’t dare to move.
The handsome Viking looked at my mother and with his deep voice, softly said: “Inge, you can go now.”
The Bitch didn’t even lift her head, totally overruled by my Far. And I ran to the bathroom smiling to myself.
I knew then that the balance of power between the two women in my house was now in my favor.
This is just a small vignette of our family dynamics. I think that now you understand why I did what I did, my Sisters.
In retrospect, and despite my Mor’s threats of physical punishment (she used to drop melted wax on my belly, so that the burns were not visible) if I said something, I think I should have told my Far what was going on in our home while he was away, working evenings and nights at the tavern and resting until noon in his own room the next morning.
So that you know, Sisters: the Bitch had a separate room because of a chastity pledge to herself, made years before. I learned this from my Far when we became lovers. Then I understood his sexual hunger and why he kissed me and impaled me and fucked me with such force, as if I were his one and only lifeline to his own life.
I’d better start swimming again. The water is dark and I can’t see the moon. I need the North Star…Where is Bethany? Not even a light?
I had been accepted at the University in Oslo and was planning to move at the end of the summer (my last summer of everlasting light and the midnight sun!)
I had two months to seduce my Far and make him want me more than anything in the world, and ensure that he could no longer live without my pussy. This was going to be both my pleasure and my revenge: I would make my Far crazy with lust for me, and I would take her husband away from the old hag.
That was the cold-blooded plan. The warm-blooded plan was to make my Far fall in love with me and then reward him with my body. I was quite confident: Far was a man who would respond to my clear signals; I had decided that he was going to take my virginity before I went to Oslo; I would make him commit the ultimate taboo and fuck his own daughter (a mortal sin dedicated to my Mor,) and then, he would become addicted to the scent, escort gaziantep bayan reklamları taste, wetness, grip, and warmth of my cunt. Forever.
I knew what I had to do but I had no experience. None. I had never masturbated nor made out or held hands with a boy, although I had passed sex education with flying colors. When the other girls learned to insert a diaphragm or the female condom in their vaginas, I learned about the method but not the practice. I was the only totally untouched virgin in my class…I was pure like the day I was born.
But they were plenty of erotic and sex books at the library and I was a very good student and a fast learner. Poor Far and lucky me!
I approached the seduction of my Far as if it were a school project. He had no chance. I would offer myself to him with subtlety, tempting him to the edge of madness.
I was well aware of the beauty of my body; I am tall and, like the Venus of Botticelli, my light blond hair cascades over my shoulders. I had (and still have) a very thin waist, round hips and firm buttocks that are the perfect match for my chest, perky breasts, pointy nipples, and Roman statue shoulders.
My legs, for which I was often complimented at the swimming hall at the Gymnasium (I was first place in freestyle, by the way), are my best asset and my secret weapon: long, strong, shapely, with beautiful calves and knees, and perfect feet – I repeat – perfect feet, from heel to toes.
Sisters: “I hope I don’t sound too vain, but all of this is true. And my Far used to tell me almost every day that I had the most beautiful face he had ever seen or remembered. But then, he was already my lover and he always liked everything in me.”
My plan was to take advantage of our baths on Wednesdays and Sundays. Sunday was perfect because the Bitch spent all day in church and we had the house to ourselves; Wednesday was not so good but it could work, as it was often the day when Mor went to visit my aunt. In any case, I was ready.
First, I started to wear the smallest and shortest dress that I could find to parade in front of Far. With a straight back and waving my pelvis and butt like a ballerina, I would show my long legs and display my firm breasts (of course, no bra and two buttons down.)
I would take my shoes off and walk on my toes to show my well-shaped calves; I also made sure that every time I bent, I would give my Far a peek at my young breasts or my well-formed thighs, and sometimes, my panties.
I loved to see my Far’s reaction to the sexy nymph in front of him: his rapid breathing and flushed face, and the big tent on his lap that he tried to conceal with the newspaper were all a clear proof of my skills as a seductress.
Also, I started touching him, letting my hand rest on his knee or his thigh when we talked. When my Far was looking at me, I would caress my legs and move my fingers in small circles over my lap, always pointing to my mound. I knew I had my Far “at full mast” and my message was: “Here’s my pussy, Far; it is for you; come and get it… if you can.”
Now, every time we talked I would stare at his lips while wetting my lips with the tip of my tongue. I knew he wanted to bite me and kiss me and suck my heart through my mouth, but I was not going to let him do it. Not yet.
When we ate, I would open my mouth so that he could see how I chewed my food and how my tongue touched and moved against my teeth. I had him drooling. I would lick my fingers, daringly looking at him and then slowly wiping my fingers on my lap and on my legs, over my apron. I could see that now he wanted me, not as his daughter but as a hard-to-get woman that was going to pay with her cunt for teasing him so mercilessly.
Where was the Bitch during my shows? Answer: In the kitchen or her room! (She never ate with us; that was another one of her crazy idiosyncrasies and why I could get away with my teasing.)
I knew that Far worshipped my long Venus hair, so I often played with it while staring directly at his eyes or his groin. I know this was unfair but that’s the way it had to be.
One day, walking through the meadow, my hair started blowing and Far rushed to appease it with his hands. When the wind stopped, Far didn’t let go off my hair. Instead, holding my blond mane, he made me turn my head and kissed me fiercely and for a long time, sucking my tongue as if he were dying of thirst. I felt a wonderful, unstoppable wave of pleasure and the drenching of my cunt. My Far had just given me the second instantaneous orgasm of my life, even better than the first.
But it was too early and too fast for my plan; so I screamed: “Stop, please stop, Far… This is wrong…I’m your daughter…Don’t do this, please…Let me go!”
Far looked startled and embarrassed and, after a long silence, all he could say was: “Inge, my girl, this didn’t happen; I want you to forget that your father tried to force himself on you. It is not right.”
That was the perfect reaction – no apologies, but an acknowledgment that he had crossed the line and wanted to fuck his own daughter.
And I knew exactly what to say: “Far, I love you and I always will; no matter what happens or what you do, I’ll always be your girl.”
Sisters: “What do you think of my perfect reply (absolution, followed by a promise)?” Now, I was absolutely sure: my Far was going to fuck me, tear my maidenhead, and make me his woman.”
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