Mom And Daughter Forced To Fuck
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Mom And Daughter Forced To Fuck
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Though most of the excitement in a farmer’s life comes from the weather and markets, it sometimes happens that a farmer crosses paths with a belly dancer.
When I first started farming back in the late 1960s, one of my neighbors on the ditch lateral, a rough-cut man named Sam, had a daughter who became a belly dancer in Los Angeles. I first heard about this from the other neighbor on the lateral, and, considering the source, considered it teasing gossip.
Then one day a red GTO showed up in Sam’s driveway, and when Sam and I met up at the division weir on the lateral, I couldn’t resist asking about his daughter, the belly dancer. Sam immediately gave me a narrow look and made fists. He told me that yes, his daughter was a belly dancer, and yes, his daughter was visiting, and yes: if I set foot on his farm to try to see her, he would bury me in his cornfield.
Only 19 years old at the time, I was immensely flattered that Sam thought I, a scruffy young farmer, could possibly be a rival —yea, even a dalliance or distraction—for the affections of a big city belly dancer. But Sam did not make threats casually, so I leaned hard on my shovel and promised to stay away.
But fate intervened. On my way to town for parts the next day, I came upon the red GTO off the road, half way through a fence that held in a curious package of about fifty heifers. A woman sat in the GTO, her head draped on the steering wheel, crying. The steers, exercising their extrasensory fencehole perception, were filtering through the fence one by one, leaving a half section of lush grass so they could stand in the middle of the road and bellow their distress.
I pulled over, jumped out, and shoed the steers back into the pasture before leaning in to ask the driver of the GTO to back up so the fence could be patched back together. She looked up at me, a waterfall of black hair framing large green eyes, her make-up smeared from tears and her lips swollen from grief. She put her left hand on my wrist as she pointed with her right hand toward the radio antenna.
To my amazement, a red-winged blackbird had somehow become impaled on the tip of the GTO’s antenna, the point piercing between the bird’s wing and ribcage, making it flap vigorously in an effort to take flight. I put on a glove, then reached up from the bottom and nudged the poor creature up enough that it was able to fly a few feet before nosediving into the ground, which caused the woman to pound the steering wheel and scream. Only when she finally calmed down did she back up the car so the fence could be fixed.
That left the question of what to do about the bird, still flapping and hopping in an effort to fly away. I went to the bird, and seeing that its wing was broken, I picked it up. A reasonable solution would have been to put it out of its misery, but I wrapped it in a shop rag and asked the woman if she would prefer to take it to a vet, which, of course, she did.
Too shaken to drive, she pulled her GTO to a safe spot on the side of the road, and, coddling the bird, joined me in my pickup for a trip to the vet.
Each September in Meeker, as the cars line up at the main gate, flags ascend poles, the set-out crew fill pens at the top of the course with sheep while smells of fresh coffee fill…
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More stories to check out before you go
It was a normal, busy weekday. I was driving to work and noticed cars parked along the highway. I realised that there was a police crackdown on traffic violators and, to my horror, I suddenly realised that I had forgotten my driving license at home. Luckily, no one stopped me.
When I got to work, I decided to park my car and take a bus home to get my license. I wasn't going to take chances and risk trouble on my way home in the evening.
When I got home, I found the house silent. My husband had said he had a headache and was not going to work. I figured he was in bed, still asleep. My daughter, a university student, had mentioned she didn't have didn't have morning classes so she was probably studying in her bedroom.
I tip-toed upstairs to our room so as not to disturb my sleeping husband. I knew exactly where the license was so I thought I could just grab it and ease the door shut...until I heard noises from the bedroom.
I had never suspected my husband for cheating on me let alone bringing a woman to my house. But what I saw was beyond anyone's imagination; my husband having sex with our daughter!
The sight of my daughter and my husband naked on my very bed sickened me. I still get nauseated at the sheer thought of the spectacle. It was more ugly than shocking. Momentarily, I thought I had gone mad. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.
Then my daughter shamelessly retorted: "Mum, why are you surprised? I thought you knew it all along!" And to rub it in, my husband confirmed that what they were doing was no mistake. "The only mistake we've made is using your bed," my husband arrogantly said. Only the previous night, he and I were very intimate on the same bed. What a betrayal!
Their retorts brought me back to my senses and I walked out. I later told my in-laws and the village elders what I had seen and all of us were summoned. My husband can win an Oscar; he denied everything saying that he was very concerned I was losing my mind. I was shocked when he and my in-laws suggested I should get psychiatric help. I knew they had beaten me and I got into serious depression.
I kicked my husband out of our bedroom and as expected he ran into his 'lovers' arms. My two sons kept aloof and never encouraged any discussion about what was happening. Maybe they too blame me for their sister's insanity though their distant relationship never changed.
Thoughts of pain and regret started creeping through my mind. I had severally been warned by concerned women who had seen them together that the two were overly involved. I often told-off the women justifying the closeness with the obvious fact that it is psychologically proven that daughters love their fathers more than their mothers.
When my daughter grew older and became a pretty young woman, I got suspicious but I severally rebuked myself for even imagining that my daughter and her father would ever have a sexual relationship. From when she was a tiny baby she would sit on his lap and lay her head on his chest and he would kiss her cheeks. What reason did I have to thwart the beautiful relationship between father and daughter?
I recall a day when one of my friends called me to inform me that she had seen my daughter and her father kissing passionately. I scolded the woman for having such immoral thoughts and firmly defended my family. My husband is a prominent business man and my family was steadfastly crocheted together hence I wouldn't be the one to expose it to public shame. Besides, even if it were true, everyone would blame me for being poor in parenting or worse still, no one would believe me. Had I listened, I would have cautioned my daughter early enough or separated them at some point but I worried what the two would have thought of me had it turned out to be just an innocent father-daughter relationship.
The relationship between me and my daughter was average; we had good and bad times and I was firm but loving whenever she did a mistake. But every time I corrected her, the father would reprimand me in her presence. This made her very disrespectful and even when I invited our local pastor to speak to her, she accused me of being unfair to her declaring that the only true friend she had was her father.
She was very distant to her brothers and had no girlfriends. When she was in high school, I questioned who her girlfriends were but she was categorical that she enjoyed her own company. I admit I may have given up on her too soon because I chose to ignore her and to continue bringing up my sons who had teachable spirits. I comforted myself that getting solace from her own father was safe instead of getting it from outside.
I went to see a psychological counselor as a last resort but he advised me to file a divorce. I have invested so much into that marriage that I can't stand losing all the estates I have laboured for. I chose to stay and ignore everything.
I do all a wife is supposed to do apart from sharing my bed with my husband or choosing his wardrobe. That's within my 'co-wife's' docket. It's been over three years since they moved in. Our sons have gone their different ways to pursue their careers. I am so lonely in that house but I can't move out neither can I share my ordeal with anyone. I blame myself so much for being a poor mother but now, as it were, it's too late. I must learn to accept my daughter as my co-wife.
I am a mother and a once happy wife. Not anymore; today I am a bitter woman; full of regrets and nursing pangs of resentment against my daughter. She is a girl I nursed as a baby and nurtured into adulthood. I never withheld an iota of love from her yet she mercilessly took my husband and abused my matrimonial bed. It would have been less painful, if my co-wife were not my very own daughter.
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The Standard Group Plc is a multi-media organization with investments in media platforms spanning newspaper print
operations, television, radio broadcasting, digital and online services. The Standard Group is recognized as a
leading multi-media house in Kenya with a key influence in matters of national and international interest.
Standard Group Plc HQ Office,
The Standard Group Center,Mombasa Road.
P.O Box 30080-00100,Nairobi, Kenya.
Telephone number: 0203222111, 0719012111
Email: corporate@standardmedia.co.ke
More stories to check out before you go
It was a normal, busy weekday. I was driving to work and noticed cars parked along the highway. I realised that there was a police crackdown on traffic violators and, to my horror, I suddenly realised that I had forgotten my driving license at home. Luckily, no one stopped me.
When I got to work, I decided to park my car and take a bus home to get my license. I wasn't going to take chances and risk trouble on my way home in the evening.
When I got home, I found the house silent. My husband had said he had a headache and was not going to work. I figured he was in bed, still asleep. My daughter, a university student, had mentioned she didn't have didn't have morning classes so she was probably studying in her bedroom.
I tip-toed upstairs to our room so as not to disturb my sleeping husband. I knew exactly where the license was so I thought I could just grab it and ease the door shut...until I heard noises from the bedroom.
I had never suspected my husband for cheating on me let alone bringing a woman to my house. But what I saw was beyond anyone's imagination; my husband having sex with our daughter!
The sight of my daughter and my husband naked on my very bed sickened me. I still get nauseated at the sheer thought of the spectacle. It was more ugly than shocking. Momentarily, I thought I had gone mad. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.
Then my daughter shamelessly retorted: "Mum, why are you surprised? I thought you knew it all along!" And to rub it in, my husband confirmed that what they were doing was no mistake. "The only mistake we've made is using your bed," my husband arrogantly said. Only the previous night, he and I were very intimate on the same bed. What a betrayal!
Their retorts brought me back to my senses and I walked out. I later told my in-laws and the village elders what I had seen and all of us were summoned. My husband can win an Oscar; he denied everything saying that he was very concerned I was losing my mind. I was shocked when he and my in-laws suggested I should get psychiatric help. I knew they had beaten me and I got into serious depression.
I kicked my husband out of our bedroom and as expected he ran into his 'lovers' arms. My two sons kept aloof and never encouraged any discussion about what was happening. Maybe they too blame me for their sister's insanity though their distant relationship never changed.
Thoughts of pain and regret started creeping through my mind. I had severally been warned by concerned women who had seen them together that the two were overly involved. I often told-off the women justifying the closeness with the obvious fact that it is psychologically proven that daughters love their fathers more than their mothers.
When my daughter grew older and became a pretty young woman, I got suspicious but I severally rebuked myself for even imagining that my daughter and her father would ever have a sexual relationship. From when she was a tiny baby she would sit on his lap and lay her head on his chest and he would kiss her cheeks. What reason did I have to thwart the beautiful relationship between father and daughter?
I recall a day when one of my friends called me to inform me that she had seen my daughter and her father kissing passionately. I scolded the woman for having such immoral thoughts and firmly defended my family. My husband is a prominent business man and my family was steadfastly crocheted together hence I wouldn't be the one to expose it to public shame. Besides, even if it were true, everyone would blame me for being poor in parenting or worse still, no one would believe me. Had I listened, I would have cautioned my daughter early enough or separated them at some point but I worried what the two would have thought of me had it turned out to be just an innocent father-daughter relationship.
The relationship between me and my daughter was average; we had good and bad times and I was firm but loving whenever she did a mistake. But every time I corrected her, the father would reprimand me in her presence. This made her very disrespectful and even when I invited our local pastor to speak to her, she accused me of being unfair to her declaring that the only true friend she had was her father.
She was very distant to her brothers and had no girlfriends. When she was in high school, I questioned who her girlfriends were but she was categorical that she enjoyed her own company. I admit I may have given up on her too soon because I chose to ignore her and to continue bringing up my sons who had teachable spirits. I comforted myself that getting solace from her own father was safe instead of getting it from outside.
I went to see a psychological counselor as a last resort but he advised me to file a divorce. I have invested so much into that marriage that I can't stand losing all the estates I have laboured for. I chose to stay and ignore everything.
I do all a wife is supposed to do apart from sharing my bed with my husband or choosing his wardrobe. That's within my 'co-wife's' docket. It's been over three years since they moved in. Our sons have gone their different ways to pursue their careers. I am so lonely in that house but I can't move out neither can I share my ordeal with anyone. I blame myself so much for being a poor mother but now, as it were, it's too late. I must learn to accept my daughter as my co-wife.
I am a mother and a once happy wife. Not anymore; today I am a bitter woman; full of regrets and nursing pangs of resentment against my daughter. She is a girl I nursed as a baby and nurtured into adulthood. I never withheld an iota of love from her yet she mercilessly took my husband and abused my matrimonial bed. It would have been less painful, if my co-wife were not my very own daughter.
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