Father Figure

entry one. June 03, 1932

Daddy had always worked hard. I loved that about him. He would wake up every day at 5:00am to tend to the fields before the sun rose, and would always be out until 8:00pm, to check nearly every mound of soil for a lack of moisture, and every leaf for a hint of illness.

Horticulture was his religion, and he followed it well. We not only had rolling hills of green fields, but we had a stunning, well-tended garden and small orchard- all cared for by my father. He never hired any help, but expected my seven brothers and I to care after his vegetable forest as passionately as he did- and we followed suit.

Our mother was not in the picture, as father had sent her away to an insane asylum when I was the youngest, at 8, and my eldest brother, Samuel, was 19. She confessed to my father that she had craved the carnal touch of the Sammy and had exposed her pussy to my brother. Sammy had fucked her in daddy's bed and gotten her pregnant, and she wanted to run off with him.

Of course, my father objected. Once my mother was sent off, Sammy disappeared from my life. Not that I remember much of him anyway, but I like to think he has the baby and all is dandy in my eldest and youngest sibling's lives, though I am still considered the youngest (which I find quite silly).

  I think it's daddy's fault that my mother fucked Sammy. He always commented on how handsome Sammy was, and always encouraged Mother to dress him and teach him how to treat a woman, even after Sammy had turned 13. He was even breastfed until he was 6, which is a fact I find very queer. Daddy encouraged it though, because milk would make Sam nice and strong.

  My father is one of odd opinion. I often finding him staring at me the way he used to stare at mom, and tell me how beautiful I am. He would only take baths with me, as he said only a woman's touch would clean him right. I would always find him holding me from behind while we bathed, his hard cock poking my buttocks. I would tease him for this, as I was young and did not understand he was simply showing me affection.

   I used to hate bathing with my father- it made me think he thought I was a baby who could not clean herself. However, as I aged and became the woman of the house, I began to look forward to bathing with my father, cleaning his cock for him, drying him off, and giving him his goodnight kiss that he always adored. By the age of 14, I began to feel aroused when I held his penis in my hands and rubbed it softly with a bar of beeswax soap. I remember when I kissed the tip of his cock for the first time, and just how firm it became!

   Father didn't speak to me for three days after that, but when our next bath-time came, he let me do it again. It has become custom now, and I still bathe with my father at the age of 19.
I tell him I do this as his daughter, that I do this as family... but truthfully, I crave his touch. I often lust after him like I heard that my mother lust after Samuel. Perhaps I have inherited her disease of sex. I intend to keep this deep down inside me, and to never let father be informed of my mental sickness.

  Of course, maybe I simply feel this way because I am the only woman of the house, and it is natural to want to service the men who inhabit it. I often have thoughts about my brothers as as well, but they're never as strong as the love I have for my father. Not a paternal appreciation or love, but a romantic one- I want to be mother, and sleep in his bed. I want to lay next to him and allow him to have his way with me. I want to be his wife and servant, waiting on him hand and foot. I want to bear his children.

  Lest, I am one of his children- and this will never happen. Besides, dear daddy is working harder than ever to keep our establishment above ground in this economy, and he has no time for silly games with his daughter anymore. He often does nothing but work, and the only time I get to have with him is when he waits for me in the basin- which, happens to take place tomorrow. I plan to take extra long washing him so I can indulge in touching him, and perhaps tomorrow his cock will kiss me back. 

  I will write a summary of tomorrow in this journal after I get back from bathing. I hope to continue writing as exciting things happen, and I hope to see myself grow in this diary.
Til then, farewell, dear self!