A Letter to My Parents

Note to All - No one under the age of 18 is engaged in any sort of sexual activity in this fictional story. It is neither implied, inferred, suggested, nor endorsed by this author.

A Letter to My Parents, Part 8 - The Conclusion

I hope you all have enjoyed reading this series. It was one that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. This is the conclusion. Enjoy!

Me - Sabrina, age 22, 5'7' 125, blonde hair, blue eyes, 36B-24-34 (40 years old at the end)

Mom - Jenna, age 44, 5'8" 125, blonde hair, blue eyes, 36D-26-36 (54 at her last mention in this story)

Dad - Tom, age 44, 6'2" 195, sandy brown hair, blue eyes

Emily - (Sabrina's daughter) - 18 years old. 5'6" 120, 34B-24-36, blonde hair, blue eyes.

My pregnancy announcement brought Mom, Dad, and me even closer than we already were. They were always rubbing my belly telling my new baby how spoiled she was gonna be. (Footnote - we discovered that my baby was a girl, courtesy of the first ultrasound appointment). Dad loved singing into my belly hoping his voice would be soothing to her. Mom and Dad were so overjoyed, spoiling me with bubble baths and massages. Mom asked me if I had thought about names. The answer was a resounding yes. I told her that I started thinking about names the day I found out I was pregnant. I decided on Emily for a first name, naming her after my Mom's mom, and Grace for a middle name, naming her after Dad's mom. I thought it was fitting that she shared the names of the two women that brought Mom and Dad into this world.

All of the love, affection, and pampering I was being shown by Mom and Dad certainly didn't do anything to calm my libido. Sure, I was always horny and wanting sex with Mom and Dad before I became pregnant, but NOW IT WAS WORSE! It seemed my pussy stayed wet and it felt like my clit was always throbbing, craving a tongue, fingers, or cock. My nipples were becoming more and more sensitive and I discovered that I could actually orgasm just from rubbing, pinching, and massaging my nipples. I spent many days in the chaise lounge next to the pool caressing my nipples, bringing myself to orgasm. Sometimes, I would do it by myself. Other times I would do it while I had Dad's cock or Mom's pussy in my mouth.

Dad loved for me to stimulate my nipples while he was fucking me in the missionary position so he could watch. My cream from my orgasms served as extra lube while he fucked me or made love to me. The extra lube from my secretions would run down the crack of my ass, causing my little rosebud to want some attention as well. On several occasions, I told Dad to slide his cock up my ass after my pussy spasmed in orgasm on his wonderful cock. I wanted his cum in my ass. I loved the way that it felt to feel his cock contract and flex as he deposited his cum back there. I felt so dirty, yet so sexy, and so loved when he fucked my anal orifice.

On other days, Mom would fuck me with a new dildo she bought. It was quite long and somewhat thick and I felt like such a slut when she would fuck me from behind while I was in the doggy position. Sometimes, it was just the two of us. Other times, she would fuck me with the dildo while I sucked Dad's cock as he laid on his back in front of me, feeding me his beautiful member. As my belly continued to grow, I actually got more pleasure out of making Mom and Dad feel sexually fulfilled. On several occasions, Mom mounted Dad in the cowgirl position and I got behind her with the dildo and slid it up her ass after giving her asshole a wonderful tongue bath. She had some powerful orgasms from the double penetration and insisted that she do the same to me as I rode Dad. Being the horny, wanton, pregnant woman I was, I couldn't say no.

I could feel the dildo and Dad's cock seemingly rub together as Dad had his cock deep in my pussy and Mom had the dildo deep in my ass. What a wonderful sensation it was to feel the double penetration. My pussy and ass felt so overstimulated to the point that I thought I was going to pass out when I orgasmed. With Dad sucking and caressing my already sensitive nipples, the sensation of my orgasms were quite overwhelming. After regaining my senses about me, I slid down Dad's body to clean our juices off of his cock and balls. After I completed that wonderful task, Mom pulled the dildo out of my ass and fucked my mouth with it, making me taste my ass on it. It felt so dirty, so erotic, so taboo, yet so wonderfully blissful.

All of this happiness, however, was about to change.

I was 88 days from my due date with baby Emily. It was a day that would be etched in my mind forever. I knew what I was wearing, how much gas was in my car, how many miles my car was from empty, the time, the temperature, the exact words Dr. Allison used during my OB/GYN appointment that morning, the license plate number of the ambulance outside the house, and the names of the EMT's who were at the house.

When I walked up to the front door of the house, after getting out of my car, it felt as though I was walking in slow motion. I was terrified of what I may discover once inside the house. I remember hearing the birds chirping in the trees but my body suddenly felt numb as I looked over my shoulder and saw a police car, sirens blaring, pull into the driveway. I went inside and looked down the hallway. I could hear Mom crying hysterically, sobbing like a woman who had lost everything. I looked past her and could see the EMT's frantically doing CPR on Dad. I fell to my knees before I even got to Mom. They lifted Dad onto the gurney, continuing CPR, one EMT busy working on reviving Dad, the other calling the hospital on her radio telling them they were three minutes from transporting Dad.

The next few hours became a fury of activity. The police asked questions. Mom and I gave them our statements. The doctors at the hospital had Dad in the operating room trying to save his life. The staff at the hospital was concerned that I would to into shock due to my pregnant condition. They were so sweet, so accommodating, so kind, and so professional. Mom and I waited in the area for families. Then it happened.

Four hours after Dad was admitted into the OR, two doctors, Dr. Lane and Dr. Turnbull, both well known heart doctors in the south Florida area, came through the double doors. Their eyes were red and very distant. I knew what was about to be said to us. I burst into tears. I think Mom knew as well because she also started crying. The doctors explained that Dad had suffered a ruptured aorta, something hardly anyone survives. His was so bad that his chances of survival were less than ten percent. They went on to say that Dad was on a ventilator but there was no way he could breathe without it. Mom and I were crying and heartbroken. The man we loved and adored so much was not going to be coming home. Somehow Mom gathered the strength and courage to tell the doctors that she and I wanted to see him to say goodbye.

I didn't know what it was like for a death row inmate to walk to the execution of his or her death in the death chamber of a prison, but that walk to the room where Dad was on the ventilator certainly felt like finality and doom to me. I was sobbing because the man, whose baby I was carrying, was about to die and I felt helpless because I couldn't save him. Mom and I walked hand in hand, arm in arm, gathering ourselves, albeit clumsily, before entering the room.

All those tubes, all those monitors, the ventilator sounded like Darth Vader trying to wipe out Luke Skywalker. It was a lot to take in. Mom and I flanked both sides of Dad, each of us holding a hand. We told him how much we loved him, how much we appreciated all of his love, affection, and attention, and yes, how much we were going to miss him. Dr. Lane and Dr. Turnbull were in the doorway, allowing us to have our time with him before he took his last breath. Mom and I stood by his side for two hours, talking to him, not sure if he could hear us. We squeezed his hands and both of us kissed him on his forehead and backed away from the hospital bed upon which he lay.

Mom turned toward Dr. Lane and Dr. Turnbull and told them it was OK to turn off the ventilator so that he could rest in peace. Eight minutes later, Dad was gone. My Dad. Emily's dad. Mom's husband. Mom's best friend. When Dad took his last breath, the machines next to the bed signaled the end. A cold chill swept the room. I went numb and had to sit in the chair next to the bed. Mom rubbed Dad's left hand and just looked at him, so calmly, so lovingly. You could see the love for him still in her eyes, although a river of tears streamed from them. I had shed so many tears that my eyes literally felt like they were going to fall out of my head. The man that raised me, loved me, cherished me, adored me, and impregnated me was gone. I was broken and would never be the same again.

On December 25th, Christmas Day, at 6:07 AM, I got out of bed to go to the bathroom because I had to pee. I was groggy and I was also grumpy because I was awakened, from a wonderful dream about Dad making love to me, by the urge to pee. I stood up to wipe myself and felt a huge gush of warm liquid splash my legs and the toilet rug on the floor. I yelled for Mom from the bathroom. She came rushing in, saw that my water had broken, and told me it was time to head to the hospital to welcome little Emily into this world.

Emily Grace Kelly was born on Christmas Day, five days before her due date, at 12:02 PM. She weighed 7 pounds, 1 ounce, and was 20 inches long. Dr. Allison was amazed and shocked at how fast I had dilated and delivered her. I was so happy, yet a little sad when one of the nurses laid her on my chest. I wished Dad could have been there to see his little girl being born but I was convinced he was watching over us. Mom was a trooper, helping me breathe and to keep me calm and focused during the delivery.

We weren't too long removed from laying Dad to rest. When it was time for Emily and me to go home from the hospital, I told Mom to take me to the cemetery where Dad was laid to rest. We walked out to where his headstone was and I showed Emily where her Daddy was at and what a wonderful man he was. It was at that moment that the reality of the situation hit me. How was I going to explain to Emily that her Dad and my Dad were the same person?

FAST FORWARD 11 YEARS LATER -

I was now 33, Emily was 11, and Mom would have been 55 tomorrow. After Dad died, Mom and I were still close but I knew she was lonely and missed him a lot. What was once a thriving and wonderful sex life between me and her had been reduced to a fizzle. Her heart just wasn't in it anymore and I could tell that she craved a man's touch, something I just couldn't duplicate. Coupling that with raising Emily on my own, for the most part, my desire had also gone down the tubes. She met Gary, a successful 58 year old banker, two years ago. I liked him a lot. He was very kind and always treated Mom so well. He was sweet to me and Emily as well. I could easily see why Mom was drawn to him. He had the rugged jawline, the dashing good looks, a very nice body, and a demeanor that was very soothing. I liked him. But I especially liked him for Mom.

Mom and Gary were leaving on Gary's private jet for Colorado to spend a week skiing in the mountains. The plane took off from the airport in Miami and 41 minutes later, radar contact was lost. Six hours later, the Coast Guard found parts of the plane in the Gulf of Mexico but no Mom and no Gary. Two of the seats were recovered and blood found on them proved to be from Mom and Gary.

What had started as a wonderful life had turned into hell. I lost Dad almost 12 years ago and I lost Mom eight months ago. Home no longer felt like home. Emily and I were living in this big house in Miami on this sprawling property. I had all the money one could ask for and want, a daughter I absolutely cherished, Mom's car, Dad's car, Dad's motorcycle, this big ass house, this beautiful property on which the house sat, and Dad's company. Yes it was a lot and NO I was NOT happy. I felt empty. I felt alone. I felt miserable. And I had not yet answered the question - How was I going to tell Emily who her Dad was? Sure, she had asked questions but I always told her he was a great man and that she would have loved him so much. I knew that I couldn't keep the secret much longer, or could I?

After spending a few days of deciding what to do, I made a call to our family attorney, and told him I needed some advice. Miami was nice but it just wasn't home. I needed a change. I needed to be near the rest of the family again. Emily liked the school she was attending but she had made it clear that the people she hung around were fake and that she was only happy when she and I spent time together. After consulting with Jason, our attorney, I made a major decision.

I sold Dad's car, Dad's motorcycle, Mom's car, the house and the property on which it sat, and Dad's company. Financially, I was set for life. Emily and I sat down and, TOGETHER, WE decided we wanted to move to Nashville. We found a nice place to live in a gated community. It was a two bedroom home, each bedroom was an owner's suite with its own private bathroom and garden tub. It had a pool and two car garage, a necessity since Emily would be driving in a few years. For the first time in a long time, I felt content. Emily seemed quite happy as well.

After I got Emily situated at her new school, I found that I had plenty of free time on my hands and I needed something to keep me occupied while she was at school. I found a group of women, through social media, that made handmade quilts. I was intrigued by it so I messaged one of the ladies and she told me where they met three days a week. My first day there, I met the ladies and began the process of learning how to make quilts. It was a hobby that I fell in love with. Although I was the youngest woman there, they treated me like family and like they had known me for a long time. I was starting to feel happy again.

I was also starting to feel my libido coming back again. Spring break had just ended and I had dropped Emily off at school. I had this strong urge to masturbate. I had thrown away all the sex toys after Mom died so I was going to have to settle for using my hands to get myself off. I got home, stripped off my clothes, and laid back on the bed with my head propped up on some pillows.

I found some threesome porn on the internet on my phone and settled in for a nice, orgasm filled time. As I watched it, I imagined it was me, Mom, and Dad in their places making each other feel pleasure. I missed Dad's cock, his hands, his tongue, his kisses, his sperm - oh that delicious sperm I loved to drink and swallow. I missed Mom's kisses, her pussy, her breasts, and her tasty asshole. My fingers worked over my clit and my pussy hole. I had one hand working my pussy while the other squeezed and massaged my nipples. I dropped my hand from my breasts to my asshole. I had two fingers in my pussy and I forced two fingers in my asshole, trying to get the fingers to rub against each other in my openings. I fucked myself hard and fast, imagining Mom and Dad pleasing me and making me cum. I missed them so much.

I missed their touch, their kisses, their intimate words to me when we made love and when we fucked. My pussy felt alive again. My asshole felt alive again. I fucked myself as deep as my fingers would travel into me. I added a third finger to my pussy and a third finger into my asshole. I was craving a hard orgasm, one I hadn't had in months. My pussy was soaked. I had cum three times already. I added a fourth finger to my pussy and a fourth finger to my asshole. I wanted a good fucking. I needed a good fucking. I rubbed, pushed, and pulled my fingers in and out of me until I collapsed in a heap, satiated from one of the most powerful orgasms I had ever had. I pulled my fingers out of me and sucked them clean. I loved the way I tasted. If I could have manufactured my pussy and ass juice into a beverage, I would drink it every day.

Emily and I had been in Nashville for a few months. Emily had made some great friends at school. I had made new friends in my quilt making group. Summer time was approaching and I was trying to figure out where we would spend her summer vacation. Fortunately, I didn't have to wonder about that dilemma for too long. I had just dropped Emily off at school and had stopped off for coffee before going home. My phone rang. It was my Uncle Wayne. He was my favorite uncle growing up and we had always stayed in touch throughout all of my teenage and adulthood years. We were more like best friends than uncle and niece.

He and I chatted on the phone for over two hours and I told him that I was trying to come up with some ideas for Emily's summer vacation. He suggested we come out to Dallas and spend time there with him. There were a lot of activities there that were age appropriate for Emily and that she would have a great time. I told him I would run it by her and see what she thought about it. I picked Emily up from school, went home, and she did her homework at the dining room table while I fixed her a snack. I proposed Dallas and visiting Uncle Wayne for her summer vacation and she got very excited. She loved her Uncle Wayne and looked to him as a father figure when he came to visit or we went to visit him in the past.

She was so excited about going out there that she wanted to FaceTime him to tell him the news. I gave her my phone to call him and FaceTime. She didn't know that she was getting her first cell phone the day she finished school because she was so well behaved and her grades were top notch. She FaceTimed Uncle Wayne, I waved at him and said hello and left Emily to talk to him. She talked to him there at the dining room table, walking around the house, sitting out by the pool, sitting in the living room, and eventually next to me sitting on my bed. They were on the phone almost three hours talking about anything and everything you could think of to talk about. At the end of the call, she told him bye and I told him bye and we exchanged "I love you's" and hung up.

Emily went to her room to shower before bed and I told her I would be in later to tuck her in. Although, she and I had a great relationship, I still had not told her the truth about her Dad and I was so worried that she would hate me when she found out who he was and how it all came to pass. About a half an hour later, I went into her bedroom and tucked her in. I kissed her goodnight on her forehead and told her I loved her and she told me she loved me too.

School was out and Emily and I packed for Dallas. We decided we would stay with Uncle Wayne for one month. One of the ladies from my quilt making group agreed to come by the house a couple of times a week to check on the house and make the place look lived in. We went to the airport and caught our flight to summer vacation. Uncle Wayne was waiting for us at baggage claim where we greeted him with a huge hug. Although we talked on the phone a lot, the occasions to see each other face to face were few and far between. Emily ran and jumped into his arms. She was so happy to see him. We gathered our bags and he took us to his home, a nice ranch on the outskirts of Dallas away from the madness and stress of the big city.

He showed us around the property and we got to meet Zeus and Apollo, Zeus being his horse and Apollo being his golden retriever dog. He showed me to my room and Emily to her room, directly across the hall from mine. We dropped our luggage and made our way to the kitchen where he had a nice meal prepared for us. We fixed our plates and went out to the patio next to the pool and ate. We talked about different things, mainly about Emily and me moving to Nashville and how much I missed Mom and Dad. Emily really wasn't paying too much attention because she was busy eating her food and talking to Apollo, who had taken an instant liking to her.