Love in the Time of Insanity Pt. 02

8 June

The night before I'd again entered his room wearing my long gown. As I stood there smiling, daddy glanced over from his book and, rather sternly, looked me up and down. Is it winter? he asked. His tone was cold, imperious even. That of a stern father. As I bared my body to him I could not help wondering: is this how men are? By the third time they take it for granted that you exist to perform sex with them? Whenever they want it? That you're little more than a domestic geisha? Even when the man in this case is the father and the woman his daughter?

I assumed he held his erection by its base as another offering to my mouth. But as I fell forward to it he gave my left hip an awkward tap. A second tap, even as I took his stiff flesh in mouth, was accompanied by a tug of my right thigh. Straddle me, he finally said.

I looked back as he maneuvered my knees into position, on either side of his chest. His hands then rose to my buttocks, which he began to knead, as if my body were so much dough, even as his open mouth rose between my plump thighs. With a yank he brought my ass lower, and his tongue parted my wet lips—the lips of my sex—as mine slid back down the shaft of his sex below me. His puckered lips soon found my clitoris. He sucked at it. Then his tongue played with it. It was wonderfully pleasurable. And it was hard to keep focus on the cock in my mouth while I longed to open it and express my pleasure with a cry. But soon enough my mouth turned salty-sweet and the pleasure ended, abruptly. It was as if you'd let the oil run low in a lamp and, without warning, and with a final flicker, the room went dark.

Last night, having learned my lesson, I entered daddy's bedroom naked. In fact I played a little game. I opened the door and leaned in just far enough that he, looking up from his book and over his left shoulder, could see my bare breasts. I smiled coquettishly. He smiled too, his mood far different tonight, and beckoned me inside.

As he marked the place in his book and set it aside, daddy said: I want you to do something different for me tonight.

What's that?

I want you to straddle me like you did last night, only this time...You'll see.

He held out welcoming arms as I climbed on the mat and once again placed a knee on either side of his chest. Only this time, as I leaned forward toward his half-flaccid cock (was the mere sight of his naked daughter's body not enough to make him hard anymore?) he clawed at my buttocks, which were still sore from last night's kneading.

No, sit up this time, he directed. I want you to sit on my face. I love it this way. And your little pussy is so fresh and so clean. Sit back, darling. Smother me with it...

As I lowered my wet vagina to his face he squeezed both my thighs and made a pushing motion, followed by a pulling one. He wanted me, I gathered, not just to lower my vagina to his face, but to rub it against it. For me, the sensation was pleasurable—but not nearly as much as the night before, when he so expertly plied his lips and tongue against my little nascent sex organ. I'd experienced masturbation, of course, and intercourse with a man, but that had been the most pleasurable sensation of my life. My sexual life, at least. As I rubbed against daddy's face, smearing his moans and watching his cock grow stiff against his belly, I thought to myself: if I ever marry again I'll ask my husband to perform that on me every night—No! I'll ask him in an intimate moment before we marry. That way, if he says no, I too will say no, I thought with a smile.

After several moments of this daddy slapped my buttocks and pushed them away, upwards. Below he gasped for air as if he'd just surfaced from near-drowning. His face, from his dark eyebrows to his bearded chin, glistened with the residue of my juices. His hands were frantic.

He made a twisting motion with my hips and shouted, once his breath was back, Sit on me! Turn around! Sit on me! I pivoted on a knee and arrived astride his hips, now. Below, his hand stood his stiff cock straight up at me. Sit on it! he said. But when he couldn't find entry I took hold of it, below me, and guided it in as I sat. This is different, I thought, experiencing his cock in my vagina, and deep in it, for the first time. In my few times before I'd only experienced intercourse while lying flat on my back.

Daddy gave my hips a lifting motion. Ride me, he said. I love it when a woman rides me. I thought: a woman. Not I loved it when your mother used to ride me like this, but...a woman. How many had ridden him this way? And who? And when? Mom had left him for another man, true. But had daddy had other women during their marriage? College students of his, perhaps?

As I played cowgirl, to his horsey, he reached up and felt my tender breasts. Then he rose up on his elbows and took my left nipple in his mouth. He sucked in the whole of my little left tit. I thought about how my husband had pulled out of me those three times, wanting to ensure I would not get pregnant. Not knowing any better I assumed this is what careful men did. I was bouncing above him now. This was fun! Some new and wonderful pleasure was building inside me. I raised my hands to my bath-slick hair. I made fists. I said, almost as an afterthought: Just don't cum in me daddy, OK?

But his head had rolled off to the side, mouth open. And as I rose up in my ride, his penis, gone half-flaccid, fell out of me. I lowered myself into the slop of sex. Rising again, but now unconnected to his body, I looked back between my legs and watched a lone drop of semen run down the inside of my left thigh. Like a translucent white tear rolling down a cheek.

I'm sorry, was all he said.

I hurried to clean myself up. For the first time I cleaned myself before I cleaned him. All his seed had poured out of me, yes? One couldn't get pregnant after making love this way, could she? Is this why daddy chose this position?

Moments later, after I nested my head on daddy's left shoulder, and I cupped his limp penis in my hand, he repeated: I'm sorry. Though I couldn't tell if he meant by this, I'm sorry I just had incestuous sex with you; I'm sorry I came in you; or I'm sorry I failed to satisfy you.

His chest heaved with a single, short laugh. Your mother used to say, he said, I was too quick on the trigger.

I brought my hand up and played with his chest hair. Is that why she left you?

After a pause daddy said, The answer to that is very complicated. It's for adults.

I'm an adult.

Yes, but an inexperienced, naïve one.

I pulled my hand back. I resented his condescending attitude. The attitude of a self-proclaimed intellectual to a mere woman. If an American bomb fell on our apartment building tonight I would die just as assuredly as he was. Although, as a woman, I lacked his degrees, I was just as much a human being as he was. Never mind that he, the supposed wise man, had just deposited his semen in my womb...

Anyway, I finally said, mom left you for another man.

True. These things get complex. People, married people, get tired of each other after a while. Then, if by some chance, they meet someone special...someone who makes them feel young again...You see, human beings are always seeking a heaven on earth. It may only last a few weeks, a few months...or if they're lucky, it might last a few years. But it's all illusion. Human happiness is an illusion.

Sometimes I hate her, I said, a bitterness filling my mouth.

Don't.

I do. I can't help it. She abandoned us.

She was chasing the illusion. It's a powerful force. The most powerful in existence.

No, I said. I think these bombs are the most powerful force.

Daddy laughed. You too are a philosopher, I see. I didn't mean to sound condescending before. But I fear far worse is coming.

With mom?

With war.

I felt vindicated. I once again cupped daddy's emptied balls in my left hand. I fondled them. His penis lay spent, and shrunken, on his belly.

Do you know where she went? With this new husband of hers? She hasn't so much as written me.

Try to be patient, he said, stroking stray locks of my hair. Communication is difficult. I'm certain, after this nightmare is over, you'll be reunited with your mother.

I hate her.

No you don't.

Don't you?

No. And therefore you shouldn't either. Be patient.

Do you know where she is?

After a pause he replied, Her new husband was transferred to Hiroshima I believe, in the Chugoku Region. Do you know where it is?

Is it safe there? I asked.

Daddy lifted a lock of hair out of my eyes. Compared to Tokyo, any place is safe.