Incest Diaries

Dear Diary,

I know it’s been a while since I’ve written in you, but I just have to get this off my chest, and I know I can’t tell anybody or daddy might get in trouble.

You see, I can only start off by saying I’ve only loved one man in my life, and that man is my daddy. I remember him treating my mother like a queen before she left us. (Bitches never know how to appreciate something good). He brought her flowers every afternoon. Lilies, he always brought her lilies, because they were her favorite, along with chocolate and cards. My daddy treated this bitch, like every day was Valentine’s Day. He looked at her with so much love in his eyes. I wanted someone to look at me like that one day. I wanted someone to hold me, the way he held her, to love me as deeply as he loved her, but the boys my age were only concerned with touching boobs and telling their friends about it. These boys would never give me what I wanted; I knew that what I wanted, was a need that only my father could fulfill.
I remember the day my bitch of a mother left us. I was still a child. She left to go to the supermarket, and never came back. My father, being the loving husband that he was, grew scared and started telling people that she probably got kidnapped. Later on that week though, she sent him a letter that said

“Dear John,
I can’t be with you anymore; I’m in love with our neighbor Bill. We’ve run off together, so please don’t try and find me. Take care of Beth, will ya.

– Bev”

My dad would have never let me see that letter, but the day it came in the mail, I knew who it was from. His reaction told me everything I needed to know. I had forgotten about that letter until recently, when I went in his drawer, looking for a pair of his socks to use for sliding around the hardwood floors he had paid to get waxed. I found it beneath a pair of his underwear, but he came inside his room before I had the chance to read it. So one day when he was sleeping, I snuck into his room and looked in his top dresser drawer. I saw the letter and pulled it out without hesitation, scurrying out of his room and into the hallway bathroom. After I read the letter, I never really knew what it was like to hate someone, but I knew I hated my mother. She had broken the heart of my kind, sweet, generous father. When I snuck back into his room to put the letter back in its place I saw something. He was lying back on his bed and there was a tent being made with the covers. I put the letter back, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of that tent. “What is that?” My eyes grew wide with curiosity as I began to close the distance between myself and my father’s bed. When I got close enough, I just had to look at it; I put my face nice and close to the tent, by resting my chin on my father’s hip, and it was huge. With my face being so close to it, I saw that whatever was beneath his cover was bigger than my head.

My heart throbbed in my chest, and I began to lick my lips. My privates (wait I can say pussy, because this is MY diary) my PUSSY began to tingle, and I was unable to control myself any longer. I took my hand and began to reach towards the tent, I took my hand and attempted to grab the tent. But, whatever was beneath my father’s cover was too big for my entire hand to wrap around it. As if almost by instinct, I pumped my hand back and forth on the mass. When I reached the top, I felt that his cover was moist on the very tip of the tent. There I was, stroking this enormous thing beneath my father’s covers, while wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my panties. My bare legs shivered, and I began to pull the covers down. My father’s entire body went stiff and he began to make a sound I never heard before, he was letting a loud grunt come out of his mouth.