A Unique Relationship

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*****NOT TRUE STORY*****
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My name is Svornacajeck Hepjamenckif, and as you must have probably guessed by the unpronounceable name, I am Dutch. I share a very unique relationship with the young woman who is my wife and consequently, the mother of my children. But before I elaborate any further, it is essential that I lay the background before you. I submit to the necessity.

When I was around sixteen, I knocked up a girl who would become my first wife. She had a twin, identical to the extent of their being carbon copies of each other. Even their visible moles were the same - but where my wife had a rather circular mole on her left ass-cheek, her sister had one on the other cheek.

In those days, land was often shared between neighbors so as to utilise the resources fully. That was how Helga and I came into contact - she was my neighbor. An outhouse was erected between her house and mine, and this became our house. Helga's sister Zelga and I were good friends, until one fateful day when a rain caused her to take refuge in my house. Helga was at the local hospital, expecting to deliver at any moment. Somehow, Zelga and I ended up in bed together - it was only a one-night stand, but it was enough, as I later discovered. By then, though, Zelga, aware of the repercussions our actions might bring, ran away.

She blamed her pregnancy on the fictitious fellow she had eloped with.

And even though she was her sister's closest confidant, Helga never thought it strange that Zelga had never mentioned anything to her. She never knew that I had fathered a child in her twin as well. I was practical enough to hide the truth from my wife, in the best interests for me, my wife, our families and our baby boy. Even then, for some time, I was wracked with guilt for what I considered had been my cowardice in facing the music. Gradually, though, I came to realize that Zelga had done the right thing; I was in love with her sister, not her. A marriage borne out of commitments is a surety for failure.

Now we move twenty-one years ahead. My headstrong son brought home a bride from the Highlands, a beautiful and well-mannered girl who offset our ignorance of her parents with her bright nature and innocent eyes. To be quite honest, what finally turned my wife in her favor - you know how mothers are always so intensely critical of any girl their sons bring home - was that she looked similar to the younger version of my wife. My daughter-in-law settled in like a charm.

About a year into the marriage, my son decided that he wanted to quit the old farming occupation and move on to more dynamic areas like commerce. To avoid any confrontations between his 'old-fashioned' father and himself, my son moved with his wife to the house just down the street; we were still living close enough to bring the other running over with just a single holler, and it afforded the necessary distance between me and my son. He must have inherited his headstrong nature from me...

It was around this time that his work started to get expansive, and he had to make long trips to distant places. With my wife's blessing, my daughter-in-law would spend these periods with us. At first, the two women would go out for the day, shopping or gossipping or both, but as his trips became more frequent, his wife started to have second thoughts about taking so much freedom with us. Helga was increasingly immersing herself in her religious activities, a trend that I found disturbing. After all, we hadn't even touched forty! My relations with my wife started to get strained.

Meanwhile, my daughter-in-law and I were striking up a good rapport with each other. She was vibrant, enthusiastic and open, attributes that I found surprising since she still maintained the docile outlook of a countryside belle. Without even realizing it, we began to be attracted towards each other. Her devotion of me, although along expected lines of propriety and tradition, was very flattering and I seemed to be the perfect man for her to waste her time with as she waited for her busy husband to pay attention to her.

As the days went on, Aarnja, my daughter-in-law and I became very close. She said I offered her the security that she wanted as a lonely wife - and I replied that she was the bright sunlight that had brought some life back into the world of a very old man. Playfully, she punched my arm. "Come on, Daddy, (she always called me that, much to the amusement of Helga) you are not that old. In fact, you hardly look a day over forty."

"I am not yet forty," I remember roaring.

Together, we rolled on the ground in laughter. That was when Cupid struck - for me, that is. As I took in her happy face, the pout of her lips, the brown eyes and the youthful body, I was aware that I hadn't been so appreciative of any other female since... I married Helga. I felt jealous of my own son, for he had a very beautiful bride who still adored him, while I was going into my twilight years with a woman who already looked like she was sixty and behaved like she was eighty. I stared at her for a long time, until she felt compelled to break into my reverie.

"Why were you looking at me like that?" she asked with a smile. A smile does wonders in beautifying a face - few faces are still left unappealing when there is a smile on them . In the case of Aarnja, I did not believe the smile could improve upon the perfection. My wind went out in a long sigh as I realized I was wrong.

"Nothing," I said, "But just remember me to compliment my son on his beautiful selection of a wife." I had never been one to hold back a compliment.

"Oh," and her smile grew wider. "So you think I am beautiful?"

"Undoubtedly! But I thought enough people would have told you that already - most of all, my dear son."

"Your son," she replied reluctantly, almost clipping off the words, "Never ever tells me. He is too busy with his other - beautiful women."

I was shocked - no red-blooded male could leave this Madonna of beauty for anything, least of all for the very same characteristic that she was so rich in. Then I remembered the old adage of beauty lying in the eye of the beholder. As we gazed over the quiet lake that watered my land, I could sense the hurt in her - the wound I had irritated must have been paining her too much, for I saw, for the first time in my life, this woman cry. I placed an arm over her shoulder, protectively, wanting to comfort her.

But it was also evident that she needed to get the burden off her shoulders. And who better to talk to if not her dear 'Daddy', her father-in-law? Slowly, word by word, the sorry state of her wedded life trickled out through quivering lips. She bent her head, resting it gently on my shoulders, and closed her eyes as I stroked the skin below her earlobe. Years of farming experience had taught me that it was one of the most soothing points in the body.

"Nowadays, Markjun doesn't even have enough time to look at me - it's always this trip or that. The words that do come are not exactly loving - he just shouts at me when he misplaces things himself. When I asked him about a corsage with a girl's name on it, a corsage that he had just bought, for it was still fresh, he almost struck me. Then he told me that he couldn't waste his life on me, that there were other women who wouldn't mind sharing - why couldn't I be like them? He wanted me to sit quietly while he was having lovers in every city he visited! He isn't the man I married - he has changed a lot..."

I hugged the sobbing girl. Inside me, something snapped and I decided to make a good husband of the little dick when he came home next time; a few lashes with the horse-whips should do the trick, I thought, as I inhaled the fresh scent of my daughter-in-law. But as if sensing the anger within me, Aarnja pulled her head away and looked at me. "Promise me you won't harm my husband." When I stared incredulously at her, she continued. "I don't have anybody else. And I don't think I can stand it if something happened to you either."

Her pleas tugged at my heart. I felt sympathy for her, but the more I looked at her, the feeling turned into something more concrete, something that is a taboo between a man and his daughter-in-law. My eyes were moist as I met her serious gaze. "You will always have me," I said, conscious that my voice was breaking. "No matter what. I will always love you. I will be there for you whenever you need me."

Her head snapped back as she heard my declaration. She placed her hands on my cheeks, as if studying my face, and smiled weakly. Our eyes met and locked into position, unable to move any more. The world seemed to be frozen still, the slight throbbing of our hearts the only indication that life still existed. She mouthed the word "Thanks", but ended it with a very suggestive gesture of licking her lips. Unsure of what she meant, I remained motionless, still looking into those hypnotic eyes.

As a train moves out of a railyard - slowly at first, then faster as the track is confirmed and secured - her face moved towards mine. Our lips pressed against each other, a hidden power pushing them from both sides. Aarnja did not remove her hands from my face as our bodies drew closer, the soft feel of her skin a contrast against my rough hide. I circled her waist with my arms, pulling her closer until our pelvic regions made contact. The brush of my rough working pants against her cotton skirt was elctrifying. Even though our kiss was an expression of love, I had an erection, something that I've often considered coarsely animalistic. For the moment, though, it felt sincere, pure.

As my hands cupped her buttocks, a slight moan escaped from my daughter-in-law's lips. Almost immediately, like switching gears, her lips started to maul mine furiously. She hungrily devoured my mouth, leaving no fold inside untouched by her probing tongue. After the initial assault, however, her tongue went back to tracing the contours of my mouth again. This time, I allowed my serpent to run riot inside her mouth. I darted in almost as deep as the downward curve of her throat, before drawing back. Even through the skirt, I could feel her heat as she ground against me without any inhibitions now.

Obeying commands that I hardly recognized as my own, my hands slid up her body, beyond the ripe swell of her breasts, to the top of her blouse. Dutch blouses are different in design - in addition to the buttons in front, there are two zips along the shoulders. Confidently, my fingers caught hold of the zips, one on each side of the neck, and pulled them back. My eyes were concentrating on her beautiful face even as I made to divest her of her blouse. I knew she wore a bra from the way her heavy mounds pressed against my chest, those two wonderful projections that so enhance a woman's sexuality.

As my fingers made contact with her bare skin, she gave a slight jump. Her skin was flushed to the tone of a rose, and as she pulled away, I was aware that her breathing was labored, rapid. For a moment, I hesitated - she was still my son's wife. Her loving gaze, however, told me she would never hold it against me if I proceeded. Slowly, without any hurry, I pushed the blouse down her delicious swell, until it lay crumpled at her feet. Her bra was a conservative piece, but even that couldn't suppress the erect nipples that poked through the thick cup. Aarnja started to reach behind her, but I shook my head - I wanted to undress her. Instead of dropping her arms limply to the sides as I thought she would, she started to unbutton my shirt.

She had almost reached the last button when I succeeded in removing the bra. Placing my hands on her shoulders, I held her slightly away from me as I surveyed the work of art - the vision of beauty - that was going to be mine. Her firm tits were topped with buds so smooth and pink they seemed almost virginal. Her pretty navel on the firm stomach stared back at me, and I smelled her delectably sweet perfume. She closed her eyes as my hands started to hike slowly down her chest towards her pebbles. Her hands, though, flew over my body as if they had eyes themselves, and pretty soon, the only thing that hid my nakedness from her was my underwear.

My fingers finally reached those hard nuts on top of her breasts. Even as she moaned, she started to push my underwear down. I obliged by stepping out of the material. Only her skirt remained, and even though I wanted to rip it off, I knew that she would savor it more if I took it off gently. One hand tweaked her nipples and brushed against her skin as the other reached the hemline of her skirt. The fingers slid into the gap between cotton and skin expertly, and got a single grip on both her skirt and her panties. I pushed the last remaining pieces of clothing down her body, past her wet pussy, past those long legs, past her sculptured knees, to the ground. Wordlessly, she stepped out of the pool of her clothes.

We kissed again, this time hard and fierce. Both of us needed to be loved, and both of us wanted to love. Each other. There were no fears, no last-minute thoughts as we shamelessly rubbed our bodies against each other, the exquisite jolts that shot across our body more than welcome. Aarnja, my daughter-in-law, was in her element as she played fencing with my tongue - thrust, parry, thrust. Our movements caused the head of my cock to almost slide into her pussy, for she was almost as tall as I was, but she changed positions at the last moment, managing to avoid my probing cock. There were other things to do first...

Before I knew it, both of us were rolling on the ground, still locked in the most passionate kiss anyone has ever shared. We ended up with me on top of her delicate frame, giggling naughtily as our pubic hair generated staic electricity with every single movement. Bending my head, I kissed the neck, drawing forth another set of delightful peals as she writhed under the caresses. Her throat bobbed up and down in excitement, but I managed to get hold of it long enough to start suckling on it. Aarnja thrashed as she fought back an orgasm, but in the end, she gave in.

As her eyes rolled to the top of her head, I moved my mouth downwards to meet her breasts. My daughter-in-law started to protest that she was not ready yet, but I continued, miking them with my mouth. My jaws were exercised to the full as I bit and pulled and suckled on them, driving her to two more orgasms with my attack. Then I trailed my tongue down her stomach towards her navel.

Aarnja knew what I was going to do, and sure that she wouldn't be able to put up with such treatment anymore, she tried to push my head away from the little hole that graced her stomach. I held on, running around the navel until she visibly relaxed, and then, with a speed of a striking snake, I shot my tongue into the hole. I felt the sides of what had fed her the nine months she was in her mother's womb, as she started to thrash again, her moans now coming loud and clear.

Suddenly, her feet brushed against my erection. Aarnja did not miss my reaction, and grinned as she made another pass at my hard-on. She started to push it upwards, and I realized that she wanted me to enter her, to make love to her. To perform that final act without which no physical loving is complete. The painful throbbing of a full cock-head told me that it was time.

I entered her, gently at first, then built up my tempo. She matched me stroke for stroke, shivering with as much pleasure as I was. I slowed down again, and without missing a beat, she slowed down too. We had tuned ourselves to each other's needs - we could convey our wishes without speaking. I watched her face contort with pleasure as I reached the limit of her pussy; I felt her muscles contract as she finally fell that long drop into the abyss of pleasure. Abruptly, my control went too. As I shot wave after wave of jism inside her, my consciousness faded. Only the feel of her soft body connected me to reality

We remained in each other's arms long after we had consummated our union. There was no doubt but that this was going to develop into a long affair, at least until my son returned to his senses and realized the value of the princess he had brought home. Frankly, though, I knew it would never happen, wished it would never happen. I didn't know if I could let her go when the time came - because I knew she would have a tough time letting go of the wonderful times spent together. As long as we maintained this relationship, I knew we could still be good friends - but if we ever broke up, the doubts, the hurt, would ensure that we would forever be uncomfortable with each other.

I didn't want to lose a good friend again.

Without my wife getting suspicious, Aarnja and I carried on our affair for more than a couple of months, when finally, my poor excuse of a son showed up at our doorstep to tell us that he was leaving his wife for some rich man's daughter he met along the coast. The kind soul, my wife, I persuaded to let the young woman to stay at our place. I reminded her that Aarnja had been more of a daughter to us than Markjun had been a son. Aarnja moved in with us, her parents-in-law, and this left my wife more time to pursue her religious interests.

Which suited me and Aarnja just fine - the more time we got together, the closer we got. When Helga went on a pilgrimage for a couple of days, the two of us did nothing else other than lie in each other's arms all day. We would make love, laugh, talk, or just enjoy the other's presence silently. We did what two people in love do - we loved each other.

And one fine day, when we were having one of our stolen moments, Aarnja dropped the bombshell. She was pregnant!

She wanted to go away before it caused any rifts between me and my wife, for surely the latter was not so naive as to notice that the only man my daughter-in-law had been with was me. I told her no, she wasn't going. I was going to break the whole matter to my wife, and she could move out - there was no way I was going to let the love of my life walk out on me. I suppose her pregnancy only hastened what I would have done in any case - leave my wife for Aarnja.

That very evening, I revealed everything to my wife. Predictably, she went ballistic, until I told her that I knew we were no longer in love, and she had her priorities and I had mine. Without going into details, the painful scene finally ended with my wife walking out of the front door with her suitcase in hand. Before she did leave, however, she signed a paper that released me from our marriage. As soon as the door shut behind her, Aarnja and I kissed.

Then I proposed to her.

At that point, my daughter-in-law broke down. She started to cry like I had never seen before, and before long, the coarse fabric of her dress was soaked with her tears. When I moved to hug her, she pushed me away. "Leave me alone," she shouted, "I betrayed you."

"You've never betrayed me, honey, you never will," I tried to soothe her.

"I have! A terrible secret, but I loved you so much I could never tell it to you. I still love you, and if I ever lose you - it would kill me..."

"Nothing in the world, darling Aarnja, would make me leave you. Nothing. You mean more than anything else in the world to me."

"Do - do you remember Zelga?" she asked between sobs.

Somehow, I began to have a premonition of what this was leading up to, but I dismissed the thought from mind. I merely nodded.

"And the fact that she was having your baby when she ran away?"

Only three people in the world would have ever known of this fact - me, Zelga and our child. I froze as the cold realization hit me. I wanted to collapse, for I felt weak and helpless. Why, God, I thought, after so many years?

Noticing the pallor of my face, Aarnja started to cry even harder. "I am your daughter. Ever since I saw you the first time, I knew you were special. I decided that you were too special for me to ruin with the revelation that I am your illegitimate daughter, but I wanted your fatherly love too. Then I met Markjun, and he reminded me so much of you that I fell - I thought I fell - in love with him.