Relationship with My Daddy Ch. 07 by Ilovemysister29

Relationship with My Daddy Ch. 07 by Ilovemysister29

Explore the intense dynamics of desire in 'Relationship with My Daddy Ch. 07.' Dive into a captivating adult sex story that pushes boundaries and ignites passions. Join the journey of intricate relationships and sultry encounters. Read now for an unforgettable experience!<br/>

THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER OF THIS STORY. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND, I HOPE, ENJOYMENT OF THIS PIECE. PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR ASSESSMENT, POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE. AS ALWAYS, PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL IN ANY DISSENTION.

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After my wedding to Robert, I had learned I was pregnant. Fully aware of the likelihood of this baby being his, was slim to none, I forged on, trying to make my new marriage work.

Before daddy ultimately went back to prison, we were fucking 6 days a week under my husbands nose. Everyday that Robert went to the office, I was at my old apartment gripping the bed sheets until 4:45. I’d take a quick shower, then go home and prepare dinner for my husband. When he went on a business trip, we spent that whole time fucking in my marital bed. We NEVER made passionate love, we fucked.

The night before he was sent back to prison, we literally broke my bed in my old apartment. Please understand, I am not exaggerating when I said he POUNDED me through the mattress.

Yes, I consummated my marriage with my husband the night of our wedding. I asked him to keep the lights off in our room when we were intimate. Had he been able to visualize my vaginal area, he would have seen the bruising between my legs and the puffiness of my pussy lips. When he entered me, he felt the ooey gooeyness in my vagina. I had harkened that to my secretions being expelled from my horniness that night.

I felt so ashamed lying under my husband as he grunted through an orgasm. My father had ruined me by this point. To the effect that my own husband couldn’t set off the fireworks in me, that my father could. I had to fake my own orgasm to make it seem like he did a good job. When he ultimately turned on the bedroom lights, I lay there naked. Surprised, he saw the black and blueness covering my inner thighs and my puffy vulva. Worried, he apologized for being rough with his pumping. I knew he hadn’t caused it, but I reassured him I was fine and wasnt upset that he got ‘carried away’.

When he had gotten up to use the bathroom, I softly cried, knowing my vows were already obliterated an hour and a half after saying them.

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When I learned i was pregnant, I informed Robert. To say he was over the moon about that, would be an understatement. We were actually having dinner with his parents that evening after I was with my father, not a few hours earlier, telling him of the pregnancy.

My in-laws were beyond elated learning they were going to be grandparents so quickly after we officially tied the knot. My mother-in-law was eager to help me make one of the bedrooms in our house the babies room. Even my sister-in-law, Genevieve, was doubly excited that she was going to be an auntie.

Trying to obscure the double life I was living, was actually easier than first thought. Daddy and I had a schedule that from about 8:30-4:45, I was his. Be it my old apartment, or the home i shared with Robert, we fucked…and fucked…and fucked… I had to go to the pharmacy to purchase more over the counter Viagra type pills, as my father wore my cunt out every day we were together. The pink of my vulva became a browish hue, most likely from the excessive use.

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Ashamedly, there were days I was eager for him to plough me through the mattress. I’d find myself getting bolder and bolder in my encouragement of my father. The sinful nature of our couplings were nowhere near the front of my mind. I was a pregnant woman, and my hormones were now in overdrive.

One morning, after my husband left for his classes, daddy was balls deep in my 7 week pregnant cocoon. His weight on me, his face in the pillow, and my hands up and under him, I was holding on to his shoulders. I was egging him on. “C’mon… daddy… fuck your… pregnant…daughter..oh baby…yes…”

I wasn’t yelling or screaming, rather, I was solicitously running my manicured nails through his grey hair, or up and down his back. With my head able to see over his right shoulder as I lay on the pillow, I could make out his butt muscles clenching from every downward thrust into my womb. We weren’t frantically fucking, but he wasn’t trying to destroy my pussy either, at 9:30 in the morning.

“Daddy! Thump! Oh, Daddy! Thump! Yes! Yes! Fuck…me…THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!”

The rhythmic vibrations of the headboard slapping the wall were pronounced, as his determination became more urgent. Looking at my wedding ring, I felt shame deep down, but at that moment, even if Robert walked in, I wouldn’t have cared. No one could pry me from the fucking I was receiving.

To say I felt safe with my father, even under the downright horrible way he treats me at times, was indeed true. NO ONE dare interrupt this couple, purposely or accidentally, for fear of my father physically hurting them. I’d come to the point I wanted no one between my legs. Not even my own husband. I felt horrible when I’d turn him down, claiming I was tired.

My yelps and moans were drowned out by daddys own grunts and the bedsprings singing a melodic tune. There was no love. EVER. I knew I had to be on the bed, nylons either at my hips or with a hole pushed in them and my tits out, ready for fucking.

My husband had no suspicions of infidelity. I gave him no reason to.

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The day my father went back to prison, we had literally fucked an hour earlier. Come to find out, he had violated his parole just by getting a speeding ticket on his motorcycle. Based on his long rap sheet, the judge showed him no mercy and made him finish the remainder of his prior sentence.

In a way, I was grateful he was back where he rightfully belonged. But I also suffered from depression. I was pregnant with another man’s child, and I knew I had to play this baby off as Roberts’. Detoxing off, almost daily sex, was a daunting task. When my husband and I had sex, it obviously wasn’t the same.

As time wore on, my life became “normal” again. Normal, only in the sense, that I could actually be a wife to my husband. I routinely went to my appointments and Robert came with me. We learned we were having a girl and I wanted to name her Diana.

In Late February, we welcomed our daughter Diana Jean Green to the world. I had just had a birthday myself on Valentine’s day, so Robert was happy. She was a little over 8 lbs., but I managed to push her out of my little body.

She looked nothing like Robert. She actually had my fathers feature. The dark black hair. The big bones. She was going to be a big child growing up.

Roberts’ family were equally ecstatic. Genevieve, now 12, always wanted to babysit her “DiDi” as she called her. That was helpful, as it allowed Robert and me to go out on the town. His mom and Genevieve would pick the baby up and Genevieve was “responsible” for watching her. She loved the $40 Robert always gave her.

Coming home from an evening class at school, I walked in my house and saw Robert asleep in the recliner with Diana asleep on his chest. He was such a good father to her and it just broke my heart knowing she, biologically, wasn’t his.

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It was a matter of time before daddy got wind of the birth of our daughter. He was irate learning I gave her Robert’s last name. I tried explaining the obvious reason why, but he didn’t care.

The first time I visited him in prison was about 6 months after her birth. Sitting at the little window separated by the glass, Daddy came in and sat down. Picking up the little phone, I was so nervous. He immediately knew she was his child the moment he saw her.

“She’s mine, isn’t she?” His demeanor was calm, but I, myself, was guarded.

“I’m 99% sure she is, but I would need to get DNA testing to verify,” I’d said, gauging his reaction. Continuing, I uttered, ” I’m almost positive I conceived a few nights before my wedding or the evening of it, when we went to that room in the hotel.”

Daddy immediately said, “Find out. I’ll have the guard give you my hair follicles.”

Nodding, I concurred and we talked more. I had said my husband didn’t know I was here and that he was gone a couple days, but it was important Diana met her biological father. Concluding our visit, Diana and I left.

Over the next few months, I’d bring Diana to see her daddy. My husband and I constantly fought over me taking her to the prison, but I made it crystal clear she will know who her grampa is. Soon, she started to take to her daddy, even through the glass window. This was a different daddy I saw. He was playful with her, making faces and tapping the window where she put her hand. He fell in love with her.

It made me so happy seeing daddy smile when I’d bring our daughter. But I could also sense his growing disdain with me. Seeing how different I now looked, I couid see resentment in him. My hair was longer. I dressed a little more casual, but whenever I visited daddy, I would put on a simple dress, nylons and flats.

I did send out and request DNA testing. I took a hair follicle from Robert and some follicles from Diana, plus the DNA my father gave me. Splitting them up, I requested two different tests. After about 3 weeks I had the results and it proved 99.99%, Daddy was the father.

At the next visit I had with daddy, I informed him Diana was, indeed, his. Daddy then dropped a bomb on me ordering I change her last name to McDonald. I just said, “But he’ll know about our affair. It will take a long time to even accomplish.”

In his usual, calm, but serious demeanor, he pointedly said, “Just do it Sylvie.” Nodding, the two of us left.

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Come to Summer 2022, and I became pregnant again. This one was undoubtedly my husbands. Learning we were going to have another baby girl, the excitement abounded. Genevieve, now 13, couldn’t be happier. She loved her DiDi, and was more like a big sister to her. When we did indeed learn Elizabeth was growing in me, Genevieve talked Robert into letting her go with me to my ultrasound.

The next visit I had with daddy, he learned I was pregnant again. Knowing another man, even if it were my husband, got me pregnant, infuriated him. He ended our visit as soon as he saw me pushing Diana’s stroller in. I had a pronounced bump showing the new life I was carrying. He told me not to visit again.