When I opened my eyes, I saw a Turkish doctor bandaging my head. I wasn't wearing underwear, and my t-shirt was torn. There was still rubble on my body. After the doctor finished, they took me to the area with other patients. They covered me with a thin blanket, and with the effect of the IV, I fell asleep. I was 17 years old when this happened. When I woke up, a nurse gave me a pair of sweatpants to wear and helped me put them on without underwear. Only then could I ask about my family. But the nurse didn't understand what I was saying. While repeating what I said, she gestured as if asking me to give her permission, telling me to wait. Soon after, she came out with a man, who was an interpreter. I asked about my family, and the man wrote down my last name. I gave him the names of all my family members. I didn't know if they had survived. Our apartment building had been destroyed by a bomb from the damn Assad regime forces. I think I had been thrown out the window because I was near the window; at least, that's the last thing I remember. The man left with what he had written in his notebook, and I didn't see him again for about 3 or 4 days. The nurses dressed me for surgery, and I went in. Everything was blurry. When I came to, I felt a weight on my head, and someone was holding my hand at my bedside. When I rolled my eyes, I saw my father. He was beside me, crying, his eyes wet as he looked at me. At that moment, I thought we were all safe, and that my father had come to the hospital for me. I was grateful because my father was there. Where were my mother and three sisters? What were their broken bones, or were they okay and staying somewhere? I didn't know. When I called out to my father, he leaned his face close to mine and said, "Sleep, Hasan, you will get better, God willing." I wanted to answer, but exhaustion and sleep overwhelmed me. When I woke up again, it was night. I asked for water, my father gave me some, and I fell asleep again. I think we stayed in the hospital room with my father for 8 days. Afterwards, we were put on a military bus. Until then, my father told me that my sisters and mother were fine and that they were waiting for us in a place provided by Türkiye. We got on the bus, and shortly after it started moving, my father began to cry, looking towards the destroyed houses. I wanted to calm him down, I kissed him on the cheek, and he kissed me back. And I said, "Look, Dad, we're all alive, let's thank God, we'll be with my siblings and mother soon." After I said this, my father started crying even more violently; there was a mistake, the other patients and their companions on the bus were also crying or making moaning sounds. While two Turkish soldiers were telling us to calm down a little, my father said, "They're dead, only you and I are left from our family, your siblings and mother have gone to God." My head was shaken, my sisters, my darlings, my mother...
My father and I were brought to a large city in the country and placed in a hotel. For a few days, we just cried; even eating was difficult. We vented all the hatred inside us and tried to understand that we were the only two left alive. We prayed for my siblings and mother. We promised to visit their graves and pray. Three weeks later, accompanied by a soldier, we were brought to a container city, and we were given a container. I think it was about 50 square meters, with a room, a kitchen counter in the same room, a small refrigerator, and a bathroom and toilet that was separated from part of the room. Inside, there was a sofa bed and some sleeping materials. Within about a month, we received some more aid, and we now had enough pots and pans to cook. Our pain and losses still tormented our hearts, but we had to live because we were breathing. When the weather was warm, my father slept on the floor, and I slept alone on that sofa bed. As winter approached, the cold weather began to make itself felt. My father said that maybe we would be warmer if we slept together on the sofa bed. And so, my father and I slept together on that sofa bed. As the days went by, I could feel my father's masculinity when he hugged me. Some nights his penis was so hard I mistook it for his arm or leg. My father was 38, married at a young age, tanned, with muscles that could be called fit, 180 cm tall, with beautiful black eyes and long eyelashes, and quite hairy. I resembled him in eyes and eyelashes, but it was clear I took after my mother in height; I wasn't even 160 cm. I had a petite build, but I had the perfect Arabian buttocks, upturned and round. As the days progressed, winter had set in. My father and I worked in the fields during the day, and in the evenings we cooked and ate together. One night, he again pressed his hard penis against me from behind, it was right against my hole, and I was too tired to open my eyes. My father stirred a little and mumbled something. I think he was dreaming about my mother. He moved a little closer, and if he weren't wearing clothes, his dick would have gone right into my hole. I instinctively wanted to grab it and pull it away, and when I reached behind me, his erect penis must have created a gap between his sweatpants and his belly button, because my hand found itself directly gripping his hard dick. Although my fingers were thin and long, they didn't touch each other. I sometimes saw my father in shorts or underwear, and I knew he had a thick dick, but I hadn't imagined it was this thick.I felt a tingle inside, and I wanted to grab his head and turn it to the side, but finding his head felt like a long journey. Finally, I found his head, I grasped it, and at that moment, my father let out a groan, like a groan of pleasure. I tried to move his penis, which I was holding by the head, a little to the side, but at that moment, my father made another thrusting movement, and my hand remained there. Just as I was about to pull my hand and arm away, my father grabbed my arm, slid his hand down and placed it on top of mine, and asked me to move it up and down. I was surprised but happy; the desire for sex had suddenly struck my brain like lightning. I moved my hand up and down. We were sweating under the covers on that cold winter night, and after a long time, my father ejaculated, shaking and moaning softly. My entire hand was practically covered in my father's semen. I didn't know what to do, so I gently pulled my hand away, got out of bed, washed my hand in the bathroom, and then got back into bed. I woke up to my father's voice; he'd taken a bath, because there was steam, his hair was wet, and he'd prepared breakfast. Everything was normal that day; my father was being his usual self. When we got home in the evening, he started undressing in the bathroom, showering, and then getting dressed again. He said, "Let me shower first, you heat up the food." I did, and then he called from the bathroom, "Hasan, can you come and scrub my back with the loofah?" I didn't hesitate; I'd done it before, but he always wore underwear, and his back was always turned to me when I did it. This time, when I entered the bathroom, he was naked, sitting on a stool facing me, scrubbing my back with soap. Seeing him like that, something inside me broke. I couldn't help but stare at his flaccid penis, dangling from the stool and almost touching the floor. He noticed, smiled a little, then said, "It's okay, we're men, it's not a problem." He gave me the loofah and stood up, letting me look at his beautiful body. Then he pulled the stool away, turned around, and sat down. I was shocked and aroused, feeling my penis become erect. While massaging his back, I desperately wanted to climax, but I held myself back. We had dinner, then drank tea while watching something on TV. It was bedtime, and while I was brushing my teeth, my father was already in bed. I lay down beside him, unaware that something was about to happen. I glanced at him; he was getting ready to sleep. That night, my father had sex with me again, but I think he was tired, or maybe I was tired, and I didn't feel anything. The next day, we went to work again. When we got our money and returned home that evening, my father said we had the next day off and could go shopping if we wanted. I was happy because I always had to wear old clothes to work, and I didn't even know who most of them belonged to; now I was their new owner. I remember falling asleep that night.
When I woke up in the morning, I was surprised when my father told me I needed to take a bath. When I looked at him as if to say "why," he pointed to my penis. Oh my God, I had ejaculated, and my whole nightgown was wet and sticky. I was embarrassed at first, but my father approached me and told me not to be ashamed. He undressed me with his hands, just like when I was little, but while taking off my clothes, he was touching and caressing my body. I felt something between fear and pleasure. My father occasionally complimented my slender physique; "Hasan, if you were a woman with this body, you'd have many suitors, men would chase after you, they'd compete to marry you and have sex with you," he said, laughing a little, enjoying it a little. "Son, take that off too, let me see your manhood," he said. One hand on my underwear, the other on mine, pulled it down. My penis is thin but long. He grabbed my penis and said, "So you've grown up and you're ejaculating." I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or to my penis. Then he asked me to turn around. That's when I understood that my father was going to rape me. When I turned around, he grabbed my buttocks with both hands and started stroking them, saying, "Hasan, I wish you were a girl, with your perfect girlish beauty, even I would have sex with you." I don't know how it came out of my mouth, why I said it, I don't know if I have to be a girl! Hearing this, my father turned my face towards him, one hand on my buttocks, the other on my chin, and said to me, "Do you want to be a wife to your father? Do you want to be the solution to your father's unhappiness, my beautiful?" I didn't know what to say, I shrugged as if to say, "Why not?" My father slowly pulled me towards him, he was sitting on his knees on the floor, he sat me on his lap, my buttocks were slightly exposed, one hand was stroking my buttocks, the other was stroking my breasts, he said, "Hasan, I won't forget this sacrifice of yours, your mother would have wanted it this way too." He started kissing me slowly, tenderly. At first, I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to kiss. He started to devour my lips, his mustache, his thick lips kissing every part of my finely hairy face, my penis already getting erect when his lips touched mine. After kissing for a while, he got up and said, "Go to the bathroom and wait for me." I went to the bathroom, he called out to me, "If you need to go to the toilet, do it." Yes, I used to do it in the mornings, I said okay and sat on the toilet. When I finished, I flushed, and when I saw my naked father's semi-erect penis in the room, I lost my mind. I smiled at him, and he turned on the water and took me into his arms. Looking into my eyes, he said, "I love you, my new wife." What he said excited me, and I started to feel an irresistible pleasure of being his wife. He told me not to be afraid, just to serve him. I wasn't afraid, on the contrary, I put my hand on his penis, he put me down, took the loofah to wash me, soaped me up, and told me to take his penis in my mouth and lick it like candy. I didn't quite know what to do, but I did as he said. His penis was as hard as a rock and as big as a hammer handle. Its thickness was merciless. My father turned me over and over until he washed me, washed my butt. He rinsed me and took my hand, leading me out of the bathroom, dried me off, and treated me like a baby. I didn't know what to do, but I was enjoying it. Our penises looked similar, both straight, but mine definitely looked like a miniature version of his. While I was standing, he leaned down and kissed my lips, then sat back down on the couch, kissing me as we went, sat me in front of him, and put his penis in my mouth. I licked it eagerly, I couldn't finish licking anywhere, there were still dry spots. Because it was so big. My father was flying with pleasure, his eyes opening and closing sometimes to watch me. He stroked my face with his hand, then straightened up and stroked my butt. Finally, he lifted me up, he sat on the couch while I stood, he put his hand on my erect penis and stroked it, then he leaned down and took it in his mouth, and that's when I felt that warmth, I lost myself, my hands and feet started trembling, I understood what pleasure meant. He got up and started kissing me again, practically devouring me. He laid me down on the couch and climbed on top of me, licking all over. When he turned me around, I thought he was going to fuck me, but he did something amazing, and at that moment I truly began to believe that being my father's new wife would be wonderful. He licked my hole with his tongue, the warmth of his tongue as he tried to insert it must have driven me crazy, I was moaning with pleasure, moaning like mad. But I must have made a little too much noise, because my father covered my mouth with his hand and put me in the doggy position right there. I had practically offered my hole to him, my father licked it with gusto, and I was starting to get tired from trembling with pleasure. My father grabbed my slender waist, kissed my back, and started kissing behind my ears, and the sentence that came out of my mouth at that moment was a new and peak of lust for both of us; "Father, please fuck me, I want to be your wife."
My father started applying cream to my hole. If I had known that being fucked, especially with that enormous dick, would be so difficult for my first time, maybe I could have given up. When my father started inserting one of his thick, long fingers into my creamed hole, I felt a pain, but I didn't resist because pleasure outweighed everything else. Then he rooted his finger inside me, and after a few thrusts, I felt something, but I couldn't tell if it was pleasure or pain. He must have thought I was getting used to it, because when he tried to insert another finger, I realized it hurt, and I was scared. He pulled his fingers out, wiped my hole, and started licking again. I wanted to take his dick in my hand, and I had my first 69 position with my father. The head of his enormous dick barely fit in my mouth; it was pressing down, and I was having trouble breathing. When he realized I was struggling, he took his dick out of my mouth so I could breathe. He continued licking my hole, trying to put his tongue inside, taking my entire dick into his mouth. I was about to go crazy with pleasure, and I started to ejaculate into his mouth. My father, first surprised, then wanting to avoid losing my semen, sucked even harder, while simultaneously pumping his penis tightly and forcefully into my mouth. I was about to choke when his semen started pouring into my mouth and throat like water from a dam opening its gates. While I waited for relief, I was breathless for a while because of my father's semen. Seeing me gag, my father slightly pulled back his penis and, with long groans and cries of pleasure, ejaculated into my mouth. Much of it had already found its way into my stomach. The semen tasted good; I liked it. This pleasure must have brought a smile to my face, because my father asked, "Did you like it?" I blinked my eyes to indicate yes; I couldn't speak with that huge thing in my mouth. When my father pulled it out, I was surprised at how it had fit in. I was amazed, wondering if my mouth was really that big. My father leaned closer and started kissing my lips, murmuring something I couldn't quite understand. He said, "My wife, my little wife, I love you." He said, "Thank you." After a while, she said, "Let's go to the bathroom," so we went in, cleaned ourselves, got dressed, and went to the market...
