Irenea

I am Irenea, retired general of the Bangurelian armed forces.

Who my mother was, I never knew. From childhood, I grew up with my father. We always slept naked in our big bed, because even the nights are warm in Bangurel. My father used to rub his cock three times every night and cum, I only know him like that. He taught me to masturbate him when I was 5, I think. I was terribly proud that I could rub it so well that I was allowed to do it by myself from start to finish and let him squirt in a high arc. Around the same time, he showed me how we girls have to masturbate. He made it clear to me that it was something private that you didn't do in front of other people. But I was allowed to masturbate as often as I enjoyed it. I was very quickly addicted to the sweet vice and, when I made my father squirt three times, I masturbated until late at night, until I was too tired.

My father was a scientist and technician and almost always worked at home. A computer screen, a notepad, and an old‐fashioned caliper were all he needed to work. (The caliper was just a memento of his great‐grandfather.) I had my own screen for playing and studying. I always enjoyed playing with the neighbor kids, I showed the girls how to masturbate, and I masturbated the boys with gusto. Unfortunately, we were all still much too young and the boys could not yet squirt. I asked father very carefully and he looked up absent‐mindedly from his notebook and mumbled indistinctly, from 8 or 9 they squirt and delved back into his scribbling. So it was and you had to wait it out. The kids knew where to find porn movies and we watched, plucking our clits.

At 8 I asked my father thoroughly. Why didn't he have a woman to fuck? Was rubbing and squirting enough for him? I pestered him relentlessly, because I was a very clever child. I cornered him relentlessly. Why didn't he fuck me while I was there? A pretty little woman, as he said it often himself? Huh? He was caught in my trap. I wouldn't let go of the prey. He stammered and stammered. "You're only 6," he said lamely. 8 and two and a half months, I corrected him sternly. "Oh, is that so?" he asked in exasperation, "oh, is that so?" He mumbled, where have the years gone? I didn't let up, I had to fire from all guns. "I've seen this fucking a thousand times," I exaggerated. He raised his head questioningly. "On screen, of course," I lectured the unworldly father. "I've seen the fucking, for real!" I drummed on, "Men fucking women, men fucking men, women fucking women, dogs fucking women..."

He hastily interrupted me. "You're still a virgin, you don't know in the reality what fucking really is" he tried to weasel out. "I've seen the deflowering too, of course, Professor!" I said insultingly, of course he was one, but I wasn't allowed to address him that way. He sat there for a while thinking, presumably about Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. He looked at me in confusion. "So, what do I do now?" he asked, like a child facing an unsolvable problem. "Simple," I said boldly, "first you deflower me and then we fuck each other, every night!" I set apart the masterful plan. He nodded, the topic was done for him, there was nothing more to think about.

Till it was evening, he had of course forgotten everything again. I took his cock as usual and made it stiff, then stopped. "What?" he asked, and I grinned. "You forgot! Deflowering and fucking!" He nodded absentmindedly. "Oh, right!" he muttered, and laid me on my back. The problem had been analyzed, the facts were clear, and now the proof must be given. He deflowered me so gently and considerately that I almost didn't notice the prick.

I was kind of proud of myself. Only 8 years and 2 months old, and I was already allowed to fuck! I did not think for a second about the legal age limits, because firstly I knew nothing about it and secondly because I would not have cared about these limits at all. I wanted to be deflowered and fucked, I had been deflowered and fucked now! That alone counted, I had achieved something in a fair discussion and that with my father, who was certainly the smartest man on the planet!

Now I felt his stiff, warm cock in my little cunt, which he filled to the full. I felt the sweet sensation in my pussy after a short time, which preceded the orgasm. Clutching him, I hooked my heels into his ass cheeks and pulled myself up against him. When I pressed my pussy tightly against him, I felt his thrusting with my clit! I clamped even tighter to him and the orgasm rose like my shining hero Captain Powers from my comic books. The orgasm shook me violently, but I did not let go of him!

He continued to thrust hard, Captain Powers approached over the hill again and I had stopped counting his firm thrusts long ago. This orgasm was a little more violent and I twitched and wriggled like a little mouse in a trap. In the midst of my wriggling, I felt him squirt his semen into my pussy in firm, steady jets. He paused and I let him go as the twitching subsided. He was far away in thoughts and asked me how it was for me? I kissed his hairy chest and whispered in my thinnest voice so as not to ruin the moment, "Wonderful, Daddy, just wonderful!" He dozed for a few minutes and his fine fingers caressed my body. "Another fuck or a rub?" he asked with his eyes closed. I nudged him in the side, what a question! "Again!" his new little wife commanded, "fucking again of course!" He fucked me twice more that night and almost instantly fell asleep with a smile, he had cum three times like he did every night. I masturbated some time longer until I was dead tired.

We fucked for the next 34 years, ten times a day — until the end only once a day. I mourned him as my father and my husband. No one knew of my double pain, but it didn't matter. I will forever have him in my heart and perhaps in my vanishing memory. How often he interrupted his research because he had an unexpected erection! We sat daily in front of his program, which allowed us to fuck or advised to squirt in my mouth! How many times I went home from my job in the military to work on dad's erection!

I had studied technology and engineering with my father, he was a smart and demanding teacher. Although I had no official degree, a simple entrance test was enough to convince the military. The fact that I was a student of my famous father helped immensely. I slid up the career ladder, ran a large institute, and had no love affairs, which was important. The military was very backward in that respect. I was alone for the two years after my father died. I continued to have no love affairs and the long masturbating at night relieved any stress. Often a young neighbor girl came over in the evening and we fucked each other clit‐on‐clit, because we both liked to fuck girls and needed the fucking and orgasms very badly! Then Wengin came as my new assistant. He blew me away in the first second. I was in love for the first time, at 44!

Wengin was a Half of beautiful stature. A very smart and beautiful face, framed by thick well‐groomed hair that merged into a thick mane. He let the mane hang down over his ass cheeks, it seemed right to him. But he was also the most brilliant engineer who ever worked for me. He had to wear his cock visibly like all Halfs, but what a magnificent cock! It was very large and always semi‐stiff. The glans was not raised when he was not erect. I trembled with excitement, when he worked next to me I could not tear my gaze away from his thing. When he sat next to me with his flagpole, I had to pull my acts together to keep from grabbing it. It was those first days that were a terrible sexual ordeal for me. I lay awake all night masturbating, not counting the orgasms. In the morning, I drank three times the amount of wake‐up‐juice to even make it into work.

Wengin was neither blind nor stupid. "Let me analyze the problem in peace," he said softly when we were alone. "You're in love with my cock, I can tell. We're workmates and we're not allowed to fuck each other. You're a senior officer, I'm just a lab assistant. You're a human and I'm just a Half." He fell silent for a moment. "Halfs serve humans, they've only ever been your slaves. So if you want to use my cock, go ahead, I won't betray you!" His gaze was clear and open and I was furious. "I have never dealt with a Halfman before," I said angrily, "yet you do me an injustice! I don't consider anyone a slave and never will. If I'm drawn to your cock, it's because of my carnal desire. And not because I have some abstruse right to subject a human being to me!" I was trembling with rage. Our conversation went on for a while and Wengin became more and more silent. In the end, I looked at him, perplexed. "What now?"

He took me by the hand and led me into the small adjoining room and locked the door. He took off his jacket and embraced me naked, his French kiss sweeping me off my feet. He took off my panties and pushed up my skirt after laying me on the floor. We didn't speak a word, I watched excitedly as he rubbed his massive cock all stiff. I saw his glans bend upward for the first time. I was so nervous with excitement and desire that I had a vaginal spasm. He must have had to thrust a dozen times before he could penetrate me. The upturned glans pounded on my G‐Spot and continually brought me to orgasm. I had never been fucked so effectively before! I let Wengin believe that I had been deflowered. I did not tell him the truth and my love affair with Daddy until decades later.

We carried on our relationship for less than a full year. We fucked dozens of times during the day at work and at night until I was exhausted to death. We began to love each other beyond the sexual and got caught once. Three fat generals yanked open the door, I was lying orgasming under him and he was just squirting into my pussy. The generals stared at my wet and dripping pussy and then one asked where the fucking half‐man was? Wengin had run off and was nowhere to be found. I was fast‐tracked to 30 days solitary confinement and every day the officers came to fuck me. It was very humiliating, although I kept my job. There were several hundred men who fucked me then and in the years that followed. None could fuck as well as Wengin. He was dead for sure, I was assured. I mourned our brief happiness and the second man who meant more to me than just fucking. When an opportunity presented itself, I retired with the rank of general. I lived alone, fucking the neighbor girl on a case‐by‐case basis or ordering a Half‐boy from the nearest brothel.

I was addicted to the mulberry liquor that made me insanely horny. I had a modest life, filled with a lot of masturbation and orgasms. Then, after 20 years, Commander d'Aubonville called me and changed my life. He needed to see me in person urgently, it was urgent and important. And then the code word "honey blossom" came up! Wengin's code word!!! I wanted to know everything, but he said, not on the phone! I invited him for tomorrow at noon and he came. I was emotionally agitated and masturbating all night and the next day and was pulled out of my fantasizing and masturbating in the middle of it by the house bell. I quickly put on a pair of flimsy breeches and opened for him. The young officer and I sat down in the garden behind the house, we drank mulberry liquor and ice water in the monkey heat; he did not drink mulberry liquor. He told me that he had met Wengin in his exile, he was alive, he was ALIVE! He could not tell me much about him, only that Wengin wanted to see me again in his house by the lake. The Commander went to the area once a month and could take me to Wengin's and pick me up 3 or four days later.

I was sweating in the monkey heat, the pants rubbed against my stiff clit. I asked him if I could take off my pants here in private seclusion, and he nodded. "Your house, your rules, General!" he said politely, and I stripped naked. The sight of me was certainly not very seductive, my full, large breasts hanging sadly to my belly button, my clit sticking out inches from my pubic hair. We continued to talk magnificently and I had to take the clit in my hand because it was almost driving me crazy. Pan, the commander, had taken off his uniform jacket and was staring quite openly at my pussy and at my hand clutching the stiff clit. He was visibly aroused, his cock visibly stiffening in his pants.

I slowly began to masturbate the clit. I wondered if it wasn't bothering him. He laughed, "Your flagpole, your hairy bush!" he said smiling. He asked me curiously why I masturbated like a man? I laughed, my father had cut my clitoris loose from his foreskin when I was a toddler so it wouldn't grow bent and crooked. I said it was now perfectly straight, a good 12 centimeters long, growing until I was 16. Afterwards that was the only way to masturbate with it. I continued to listen to him and masturbated silently. It took some time until he took off his pants, we were surrounded by man‐high quaking‐grass. He masturbated very slowly and squirted from time to time a jet upon my pussy. We masturbated in silence.

My horniness increased from orgasm to orgasm. I shouted finally with a low voice, "Come, sailor, come and fuck me!" He reluctantly bent over and laid me on the grass. His eyes glistened and he fucked me very dutifully, squirting in the middle of my orgasm. He had enough after squirting three times.

He picked me up weeks later. He had brought a depilatory glove, because Wengin would not appreciate my pubic jungle. I was very impatient, but had to wait until we left town. I tore off my sweaty clothes and Pan deftly depilated me. I immediately masturbated on it, because the autonomous flight with the glider lasted 7 hours. I masturbated all the time and Pan sometimes fucked me in my orgasm. I was really primly horny at the end when we arrived at Wengin's. We fell tearfully into each other's arms and moved to the bedroom while Pan continued his flight.

The three days with Wengin flew by like in a flash. We fucked our brains out, he was aged like me, but the fucking was great as then. Pan picked me up after three days, the 7 hours I masturbated nonstop and he fucked me off and then. These emotional visits to Wengin filled the next few years.

Wengin died in my arms at the age of 76. I still had a good time with my friend Pozzebon, a retired intelligence officer. Pan gave us vast amounts of gold pieces that he received from the military for his valuable procurements. I became more and more silent and elderly and asked Pozz and Pan to give me a dignified burial one day. They promised it highly and sacredly.