Metamorphoses of Life

Remember Krug's song about how the women went to God to complain about men? A great song, true to life. Seriously, after the line that if a sinful woman enters the gates of paradise, then everything will grow over like under an armpit, I always applaud, though maybe some dumb bitch will decide to check if it really grows over or not, even though she's a real sinner. But in the song, not one of the women entered, and that's how it is in life, because everyone cheats. And I don't believe that nonsense about immaculate conception at all. All books were and are written by people, including the Bible, which was rewritten many times until some council adopted the final version.

If you think that it's someone somewhere out there who sometimes

cheats, but your wife and daughter are honest and sinless, then you're just a weirdo with a capital W, who believes in fairy tales about honest women. Fairy tales are fairy tales so that miracles can be found somewhere. No one has ever caught a golden fish or a pike that grants wishes. Such fish and pikes for women become sugar daddies, and for gigolos, women become dumb bitches.

At the corporate party, I looked at our women from work and was touched, they came with their husbands, all so prim and proper, but they all cheat, I personally fucked two, and one during the day, before the party, I came in her mouth in our toilet, her period started, so she worked with her mouth.

Think this is an isolated case? You're mistaken! The only question is how often they cheat and in what state. When drunk, it's a real gift for someone wanting to relieve pressure.

But that's in another life, not the family one. In the family, we are different, so pious, exemplary, and mothers-in-law judge by themselves, what bitches they are, they cheated on their own with married men, so they judge their sons-in-law the same way, wishing their daughters well. And how is the daughter different from the mother-in-law? Not at all, she's the same potential mother-in-law or mother-in-law who drinks and wants sex when she wants it, not when the husband deigns. That's how we live different lives. And when comedians tell jokes or funny stories, we laugh, that's not about us, that's about some other people from a parallel universe. I'd really like to see a person in a marriage who hasn't cheated! Show me, huh?

And I'm the same hypocrite as everyone, good for some, bad for others, and if you take off the mask, I'd be a trembling creature for the majority, but that majority is exactly the same, just also in masks. Absolutely everyone wears masks, except for Down's syndrome people. They don't know how to hide, nature laughed at them and showed everyone the true face of people, if they were sinless.

We lived with my wife for nineteen years, created a daughter, raised her of course, as it should be, not by personal example, but as it ought to be. However, in life, from early childhood, you encounter what people say and what they actually do. And that's radically different.

I encountered mass cheating at the very beginning of my married life. We rented a room in a dorm then, so as not to live with parents. It was something else, husbands go to work, lovers immediately knock on their wives' doors. And it was such that in the company, if someone's husband wasn't there, then the lover was there and everyone treated it normally and no one told anyone anything, thinking that only the neighbor had horns. My wife and I worked together then, on the same shift, we left and came together and were together at work. That was a time when we still wanted to be together all the time.

Sometimes the guys from the company gathered separately from the women in this dorm and played cards, for small money and drank. But even when drunk, they didn't tell each other that lovers came to their wives, and you talk about male solidarity! In general, there was such a tangled mess there, you couldn't make head or tail of it, everyone had fucked everyone.

I decided to move out of the dorm away from sin, we rented an apartment. I started looking at the neighbors, turned out the same thing. Husband at work, lover comes to the wife. Wife at work, lover comes to the husband, just some kind of fucked up mess. And at some point, a lover came to me too, and after she left, I destroyed the traces of her presence. And at night I lay and thought, what a bastard I am, my beautiful wife is next to me, and I'm cheating on her! What if she's cheating on me too! But it's better not to know and not think about it, then you'll live together a long time, naively believing that only you're the goat cheating on her for both of you, and she's white and fluffy. You better check your child's DNA for paternity, if he's even yours!

That's the kind of guy I am, what to do now.

Daughter finished school, sent her Unified State Exam results to several institutes, we started waiting for answers. Celebrated our beauty's coming of age. I came home from work around ten then. Vika waited for me, to drink a glass of champagne in the family circle, get gifts, and then took off to hang out with her crew. She had a boyfriend, though our daughter didn't introduce him to us, just his name started popping up often in conversations.

My wife and I sat a little longer and went to sleep. I had two days off ahead, and she had work. I worked shifts, and she had a five-day week, even a six-day week. I don't check if she's at work or somewhere, it's easier to live that way, everyone has their own conscience limits. And mine is like this — give me a conscience and I'll fuck it! —

In the morning, my wife left for work, I woke up of course, but pretended to be asleep, why bother her and get underfoot. When she left, I washed up, had breakfast, took a couple more shots, for my daughter's birthday, and went to watch TV. I hear someone banging on the door, can't get the key in. Went, opened the door, or rather tried to open it, someone was holding it shut from outside. I pushed harder and opened it. Saw my daughter sitting by the door, I knocked her down with the door, but Vika was on autopilot, drunk out of her mind. Picked her up, carried her home, put her to bed, undressed her, took off her shoes, leaving her in panties and bra. Stood and looked at my daughter, holding her sandals in my hands — How quickly time has flown. Such a babe has grown up, just recently she was sitting on a chair and looking at me scared — Dad, I'm bleeding —

Turned out it was her first period, called my wife, asked where she kept her pads, the ones she rides once a month. Explained what for. My wife called our daughter back, explained everything. And I later taught Vika how to get rid of blood stains using cold water and laundry soap. Back then, her butt and thighs were just starting to round out, and her little tits were swelling. And now she's lying there, a cool, slender, young babe with tits and an ass like models from magazines, only real and without any photoshop.

Went to the hallway, put the sandals down, locked the door and, having taken another shot of cognac, went to sleep some more.

After lounging on the sofa a bit more, I went to the kitchen, cooked myself some dumplings, with broth, just felt like some of that kind of food. Then my daughter comes, in a robe, puffy, feeling bad. Ate all my dumpling broth and went to the bathroom. I poured a little water from a half-liter bottle of cola into my cup, added cognac for myself and into the bottle. Drank my portion, and put the bottle back in the fridge.

When Vika came out of the bathroom, I called her, opened the cola, poured her some — Drink this, you'll feel better soon —

— From this crap, you mean? — she grimaced.

— There's caffeine in it, cola helps — I lied, she doesn't know I added cognac to it.

My daughter took a sip, grimacing, looked at the cola bottle — The taste is kind of weird —

— Tastes normal, if you hadn't gotten drunk yesterday, it would taste normal, you drink, I'm telling you, you'll feel better

Vika drank, poured herself some more, sighed heavily and started drinking the cola again.

— Alright, you get better, I'll go to the room, lie on my back, watch TV

— Did you get home long ago? — asked my daughter.

— Not long ago — I smirked and went to the room.

About five minutes later, Vika came to me — Damn, I really do feel better. Can I come to you? —

— Of course you can — I replied. My daughter climbed over me, groaning like an old granny and lay down in the spot where my wife sleeps, lay on her back for a bit, then put her head on my shoulder, her hand on my chest and started fiddling with my nipple with her finger.

— Men have such tiny nipples

— Well, what other kind do we need, we don't breastfeed! I don't understand why men need them at all. Maybe for the future or, on the contrary, in the past men also gave birth and breastfed — I laughed.

— Do you like mom's breasts? — asked my daughter.

— At certain moments, I like them very much

My daughter kneaded my chest with her hand, sighed — Stroke my head — she asked.

I started stroking her hair, lightly massaging her head with my fingers and stroking again.

— Mmm, like that — Vika approved. — I feel kind of melancholy

— Why all of a sudden? Seems like you were out partying, celebrating your birthday! Now you can be kissed everywhere — I smirked — Is there anyone to kiss you, though?

— Mmm, just not everywhere

— Is he squeamish or something? — I smirked.

— Do you kiss mom there? — asked Vika.

— Of course. I kiss her on the lips, and there's also mom, just different lips — I laughed.

— And does mom kiss you on the other lips?

— How could it be without that. It's a mandatory program, so to speak

— And you're not disgusted kissing mom on the other lips? — my daughter persisted.

— Why should I be disgusted? If I'm there more often, everything will be tasty and smell like a woman

— Mine is all clean down there — my daughter said offendedly.

— Well, I don't know, haven't tried it. And I don't really believe just on your word — I laughed.

— Pervert — Vika said, lightly slapping me with her palm.

— What perverted thing did I say? That I haven't tasted you? That's the truth. — I was surprised.

— Hug me tight! — my daughter asked quietly.

I turned on my side, hugged her and pressed her tightly to me. She also hugged me and pressed against me — This feels so good — she whispered. We called this a moment of tenderness, though there was one catch, my body reacted normally to women, it didn't distinguish if it was my daughter or a neighbor, my dick got hard exactly the same. Usually such moments of tenderness happened either with clothes on, or I was covered with a blanket or sheet. But here the sheet ended up under us, and my dick reacted, making a tent out of my underwear. An awkward moment.

— What's that poking me? — Vika said displeasedly, moving away from me and looked at what was poking her.

— Side effect of cuddling — I joked when she looked at me with round, surprised eyes

— Wow — and turning me onto my back, as if nothing happened, lay her head on my shoulder, hooked her leg so that my dick ended up under her knee and started fiddling with my nipple with her finger again.

__PART__— Dad, do you and mom do it often? — my daughter asked quietly.

— Do what? — I asked back

— What, what. What's not clear? That — and she made a few butt movements that clearly made it clear what she was asking about.

— Why do you need such details? — I laughed.

— Well, just curious!

— Well, it varies. We definitely do it a couple of times a week, sometimes more often. Do you have problems with your boyfriend?

— Screw him — Vika said angrily.

— Did you have a fight or something? — I inquired.

— He just doesn't understand me at all. I say I'm feeling kind of sad, caress me, and he grabs my ass and laughs, the bastard. Thinks it's affectionate and funny

— And that's it? You fought over that? — I was surprised.

— Well, not only that, I told him everything I thought and we broke up... Had a fight — my daughter sighed.

— Washed down the resentment with alcohol? — I smirked.

— Mmm — my daughter sighed.

— And does mom like doing it with you? — Vika asked again, making a fucking motion with her butt against my thigh.

— You know, honestly, I've never asked her about that. I'll tell you this, if there's no pleasure from body to body, then they're unlikely to live together long, at least they'll quickly get a lover or mistress. — I smirked — If she hasn't run away yet and I haven't run away from her, then we suit each other

— Do you have a mistress?

— What's with this mood of yours today? — I stroked my daughter's head.

— I don't know, just in this mood. So, do you or not?

— I'll tell you everything! Who talks about that, especially to their own daughter — I laughed.

— Well, I won't tell anyone. Well, tell me, huh...

— Of course not, your mom is the one and only — I replied.

— Said it like you have a bunch of mistresses. So you do — Vika said, squeezing my chest.

— Those are your conclusions, not mine — I laughed.

— You're all bastards, can't satisfy your own woman, go after others — my daughter said displeasedly.

— So that's how it is — I laughed — So we're all bastards!

— Mmm — she confirmed.

— What, did he cheat or doesn't satisfy?

— I'll tell you everything — my daughter said, sitting up and looking at me — You have a wen on your face, let me squeeze it out?

— What's with you and mom's habit of squeezing out every little thing. Nothing else to squeeze out? — I smirked.

— Come on dad, let me squeeze it out! — sitting up higher, my daughter whined and reached her fingers towards my face. Her robe opened at the top, revealing nice tits.

— Don't stick your charms out, or I'll get cross-eyed — I laughed, looking at my daughter's breasts.

— Damn, where are you looking! — she adjusted her robe.

— Where it's more interesting, that's where I look

Watch TV then — Vika said and reached for my face again. Her