Chapter 1: Dr. Song family
Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, Fiction, Incest, Mother, Daughter, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Fisting, Foot Fetish, .
Desc: Erotic Sex Story: Chapter 1: Dr. Song family - A broken family, a rebel daugther, the sexual experimentation, her change of behaviour and the new bonding of the mother and daugther. A romantic saga.
The Cathedra continues arguing, although increasingly less whether sexuality is an individual's personal choice, environmental effect, or is already programmed in our genes and is not an option, but an inheritance from our ancestors as unavoidable as the color of the eyes or hair, the height, a mark on the body, or diabetes. As we'll see in the case of our main character, her genes marked her tendency.
Moira Song is her name. Dr. Moira Song is a forty-eight year old gynecologist, divorced, with only a twenty-one year old married daughter, Christine. Everyone inside her family knows that she is bi in her sexual preference; in truth, she is a closet lesbian and well advanced in her way to be a lesbian mother with incestuous tendencies on her mind. A path known to her in that she has been a lesbian daughter.
Her married daughter, who is a student at some University, got pregnant by her student boyfriend and they were forced to marry as a result. Since they didn't have the means, and his parents were unwilling to support a family of students with a child, Moira Song took them to live with her in her parent's old mansion, at her expense.
Dr. Moira is the only child of a family in which her parents' attitude and failed marriage marked her for life. Her father was a renowned obstetrician, whose greatest ambition was that her only daughter would become a famous lawyer, not a medical doctor, and least of all, not a gynecologist.
Her parents married when they too were both in the University; her father was a professor and her mother was a student. They met, they either fucked or made love, and she got pregnant. She was twenty-three and he her senior by fifteen years. Nobody who knew them thought the marriage was going to last, but they were still together after forty-five years; yes, they live in the same house, but only that. They are no more than enemy-friends and have been so for almost thirty-five years, an enmity not declared, but clear in all acts of their lives, and their daughter has known it.
Dr. Geoffrey Song was British by birth, the son of a second rank diplomat in the British Foreign Service posted in the United States when his son was a mere five-year-old child who, when his father was given the order to go to a new diplomatic destiny after some twelve years serving in the United States, refused to go to the new diplomatic destination with his family and stayed in the U.S. Dr. Geoffrey had always had an acute insecurity about his sexual orientation, he didn't like to date, and in fact, nobody in the faculty had known him date with girls or women before his sudden marriage to his pupil.
Most of the faculty members had him as a little strange, aloof, even rude sometimes, in his attitudes to colleagues and students. Some thought him to be asexual, not interested in sex with either gender. Aah, they were so wrong. Since Dr. Geoffrey was a teenager, he had what he saw as a strange compulsion; he felt a tingling effect in his manhood when near a good-looking boy or young man. His rigid Lutheran early education made that sensation a sin, something from the devil, something to fight. So in his concept, the best way not to sin was to abstain from any thoughts of sex, and oddly enough, that timid attraction for his own sex led him to study gynecology, a field in which he acquired the reputation as being one of the best.
What was his reasoning for choosing this discipline? Simple; in his naivety, he thought that the sight and permanent contact with hundreds of vaginas in a clinic practice would change his natural tendencies and make him like and appreciate the feminine sexual organs. It was a major surprise to him, that in no time at all, the sight of a pussy, no matter the beauty, the age of its owner, or of the pussy itself, was disgusting. It wasn't so strange, since the people performing in many areas hate their trades, nonetheless are very good at it, and he was very good attending women.
And what about the adventure of his marriage; why did he marry at all? Practically the same motives for choosing to be a gynecologist; he was trying to overcome that attraction about young boys or men. In addition, his bride to be, later his wife, was from a very rich family, and with a good private clinic practice and his professorship, although not a pauper, he wasn't as rich as he would be with the passage of the years. So he married himself an heiress.
The relationship of the new married couple went from lukewarm to cold, and was freezing cold by the end of their fifth anniversary. Having sex fell from once per month, to once in a while after the birth of their daughter, and stopped altogether after the third year. Bitterness was the word, they fought constantly, and in contrast to the majority of the fights most couples have, money wasn't the reason; the reason was, or so it seemed to, hatred for each other. If one asks oneself the reasons for this hatred, it is difficult to explain. It apparently was the sum of thousands of small things, with a prominent one, sex, or lack of it.
They had a beautiful baby girl; they had money enough to live comfortably and improving substantially with each passing year; the wife has money of her own, and liberty to use it as she wanted. They had the liberty to be with whom each would like, only keeping up the social and family appearances. They went together to family gatherings and social events, always with smiling faces and naturally joking and intermingling in conversations. The perfect couple; only their daughter knew the truth. Poor girl.
When the explosion came one day, ripping their tenuous family tissue, fate willed that twelve-year-old Moira was home and heard their very bitter discussion, with accusations and confessions between her parents this time that rocked her unstable world even more. She was accustomed to her parents' fights, knew that her parents didn't make love, and that her mother was unfaithful to her marriage wows.
She did know that her mother had lots of female friends, and it appeared so natural and even wonderful to her that at least one of her parents had friends and brought them home. But she heard things that late evening that she didn't understand at the moment, but later on, in the following months and years, she could understand all that her parents had thrown at each other in its immensity. The fragments of their verbal clashes she heard that night were particularly poisonous.
" ... I don't want to talk about it anymore." It was her mother's voice.
"Oh, you don't, do you." Her father's British clipped voice, "Why, do you think I don't know about your affair with your college roommate?"
"Well at least she gave me love and pleasure, more than I can say about you."
"... &&##..." her father's voice was unintelligible, " ... you bitch, why did you marry me then?"
"No, why did you marry me?" she heard her mother retort.
"Not for your or your family's money, that's for sure." Her father's voice was enraged.
"No, that's for sure, and I admit it you never used my money, you have been a good provider," her mother's voice was sincere and appreciative; but she couldn't change what has been their rough and wounding way to communicate, " ... except in the 'fucking' department."
"Well, at least I gave you a daughter," she heard her father say in an ironic tone.
"Yes that's truth, casualties are casualties; you luckily fucked me on one of my fertile days."
"Luck, my arse; that, my dear, wasn't by random or luck, I decided which days were best to get you pregnant so I could end with that torture."
Her mother's voice sounded shrill and incredulous, "You son of a bitch, what do you call torture?"
"Fucking you, my dear, fucking you and putting my dick inside your vagina; that's torture to me," her father's tone of voice was sarcastic and slightly mocking.
Moira wanted to stop listening as her parents bared their moral wretchedness, but she couldn't.
She didn't understand everything they were hurling at each other, but their words were forever etched in her mind so that she wouldn't forget them; ever. Their conversation, by the way, was continuing in the same tone.
"So fucking me was torture for you? And I say 'was' because the last time you put your sorry excuse of a penis in my pussy was a lifetime away, at least ten years ago, if I remember rightly."
"Yes, that may be so, but your pussy can't complain if I'm not wrong, as you had it well attended by your lady friends, and if I correctly remember your cries, your lady friend sometimes had a substantial fake penis inside you."
She could guess by her mother's shrill tone of voice that she was enraged, furious at her husband's indifferent assertions of her sexual practices and the powerlessness that caused her not to be able to attack him in the same way. He could be sexless and indifferent to her nude body that neither often saw until now; in fact they had separate bedrooms since shortly after Moira was born, but she hadn't the slightest bit of proof that her husband was philandering. She had to find what the weak point in his armor was; she wouldn't be in equal terms until then.
Dr. Geoffrey could see the fury, the anger, the spite, and his wife's overall wishes to return the diabolic blows. The good doctor then surprised his wife with a confession, a confession that was going to bring calm to the spirit of his wife with the remediation of their situation; but it would be a fatal blow to the image her daughter had of her father.
"I'm going to confess something to you that I should have done years ago, but I couldn't; I'm gay, I have never had sex with a guy, and please believe me if I tell you I agree with your pursuit of happiness, sexual relief, or whatever you call it..."
"But then why did you..." Now little Moira's mother was thunderstruck.
"I had repressed impulses and was excited at the sight of some boys when I was young. I was wrongly convinced something was wrong with me and I was adamant about curing what was wrong, that's why I went to the School of Medicine and specialized in gynecology, with the wrong assumption that I would start to like pussies after seeing and touching so many them."
"I don't understand the logic of that thinking..."
"Of course you don't, both genders think differently, and it's easier for you lesbians to..."
She was very upset; "Excuse me, I'm a bisexual woman and I still like a real penis from time to time; that I didn't look more for them was out of respect for you and our marriage wows."
"Oh, I'm sorry, and I really appreciate your way of thinking, but with each passing month, I realized I should have studied urology. That way I could have had as many cocks in my hands as I wanted every day, without society frowning at me or worse."
"Yes, but why did you marry me at all if you felt that way?" Her voice had a depressing tone; she felt as if her life had all been a lie, which, in fact, it had been.
"I married you for the same reasons, to try to cure myself with someone I liked and still do; you must know I love you as a sister or someone related by blood. I'm very fond of you and hope we could live a peaceful platonic marriage from now on."
"That's easy to say ... it's been a lie for so long..."
Moira didn't want to keep listening to their voices and she ran out the house to the small gazebo in the garden with tears in her eyes, where her worried parents found her in the morning, with traces of so many tears on her face.