Fuck, Dad, the house fell down.

Dad used to get home early on Fridays, so we had plenty of time to get laid before my mom got home.
It was convenient to start in the couple's bed. It was more exciting to risk leaving evidence of the crime on the opponent's turf.
Oral sex was part of the foreplay most of the time, the bad guy almost always teasing me with his tongue and magic fingers that knew the way to my G-spot.
He hardly made fun of me during my kiss, he liked to hold on to extend the time of the fucking session and ejaculate a lot at the end. However, that day, he did not ask me to stop, nor did I want to stop. He sucked and swallowed his member that every minute seemed even more delicious. My father buried his fingers in my hair forcing my head during the back and forth in my throat. Surely, it was the best kiss we had ever done, to the point of making fun of him in my mouth this time. He continued to press and expel his viscous liquid and ordered me to swallow everything so as not to leave a drop on the bedsheet. It was our little game in which he commanded and I obeyed. I desired that moment in the various fucks I had previously practiced with him.
When he had finished beating his dick, I took out my mouth and lifted the trunk. I knelt between his open legs, he remained lying in front of me with his perverted face. I looked at the man with my sated face, I passed the rib of my hand in the corner of my mouth to contain a remnant of the semen that was trying to escape.
I went to the bathroom in the suite to wash my mouth, and he came after me, and he invited me to the bubble bath game, and I love that part of the fun, the contact of our smooth, soaped bodies with liquid soap, the rubbing of my skin on his, and the exchanges of intimate caresses, it was crazy.
Moments later, his dick was again at its maximum rigidity, he cornered me in the box's only tile wall and played by rubbing the glans of my urethra against my cheek, going back and forth judging me that I was begging to be penetrated.
The man heeded my request... the invasion was on my little ring... in spite of his calm and care, yet the beginning was too painful, as always.
The suffering was fleeting and insignificant, as the delicious part arrived and took over that anal act. I enjoyed each stroke with my hands leaning against the wall and keeping my body bent. The cries of delight were loud and shrill. As for my simulation of crying and refusal, they were theatrical:
No, Dad, please!
Shut up, you little whore!
I loved our little theater, a game of perversion that gave more erection when he caught me from behind in a freakish way blowing hard his cock in my ass.
"You son of a bitch!" There was a scream in the room.
Mother came out of nowhere, had arrived quietly and caught us practicing that depraved thing over there.
I didn't even feel it when he pulled his dick out of my ass all at once.
Madame Helena, furious at the confirmation of her suspicions of betrayal, slapped and cursed him, and my father backed away, fending for himself with his hands, and begging her to calm down.
My mother grabbed my arm with tremendous force and practically threw my body out of the bathroom after dragging me to the door.
"Get out of here! My conversation with you will be later", she said consumed with anger.
Her anger seemed only to increase, she took the bath brush, a long cable, and returned to the offensive against the bald man, trapped in the small space of glass. The spirits were very excited, everyone was screaming and no one was listening. I asked them to calm down, but I could not even distinguish them anymore; standing near the bathroom door, I could only see two vultures through the green glass covered with steam. Suddenly I heard a strong impact and the cry of my father:
I'm going to hell!
I ran to the pit entrance and saw Mommy lying on the wet floor with her face glued to the glass, not moving, and her body in a position that looked like a dead frog.
Screams and total despair on my part.
<unk> You killed my mother <unk> I kept repeating it in tears.
He defended himself by saying that she slipped and fell on her own, and I called the man a liar, among other things, and I was going to mess with my mother to see if she was alive.
My father told me not to touch it, or it could be harmful.
<unk> She's breathing, I'll call the rescue <unk> he said and ran out.
Paramedics arrived quickly and gave her first aid at the scene, and by the time they loaded her into the ambulance, she was already conscious.
Later in the hospital:
Mrs. Helena is tough, she's got some bruises on her face and a dislocation on her arm, nothing serious, she'd be discharged the same day, but she wouldn't come home with me until after my father left with his things, it was her demand.
It was bad for his Flavio, and it was worse than he could have imagined. The case would not only be a question of incest and marital betrayal, much less would it be only in the family. He would answer for violence against his wife. My mother filed a complaint of assault, in addition to accusing him of sexual abuse of minors.
Below is the abridged version that my father told the deputy, who had previously told me a similar one.
"My wife arrived and was very nervous upon discovering the betrayal. She pulled Nicole out of the bath and came back very altered walking with difficulty on the wet and smooth floor. When she tried to hit me with the improvised weapon (the brush), I was more agile and managed to deflect the blow. Helena hit the air and slipped losing her balance; in the fall she hit her face very hard on the glass wall. And remained inert while I went to call for an ambulance".
Summarized version told by my mother:
"I became suspicious that some perversion was taking place in my home, I found traces of sexual acts on more than one occasion, I thought of a way to catch my husband.
I started this Friday, coming home at an alternate time, and I happened to catch him on my first try, and I caught the bastard having sex with my daughter, and at the same moment, my stomach rolled up, thinking that this disgusting thing was a daily occurrence, and I lost some control, and I grabbed the bath brush to get him away from my daughter, and at the same time, to defend myself.
The next moment, when I questioned the pervert, I raised the brush only with the intention of intimidating him so that he would not come at me. He reacted brutally by punching me in the arm and kicking me with a kick in my hip when I was already out of balance. I fell and hit my face against the glass, I felt a terrible pain in my head and I must have fainted. I remember waking up only inside the rescue car".
My condensed version told to the delegate:
"From where I stood, I could only distinguish two vultures through the green glass dimmed by the steam. I heard the sound of the impact and ran inside the box. I found my mother already fallen and fainted".
As for the fact of the accusation of sexual abuse: I told the delegate that the sex between us was consensual, I was already fifteen years old and allowed from the beginning. My father never forced me to do anything and never resorted to force or was violent with me. Much less was I offered money.
Hours earlier, at the hospital, I had agreed with Dad that we would tell the truth about our sexual advances, there was no way to hide it, but as for the date of the beginning of the relationship, it would be wise to lie and say that we started in the last two weeks, and with my permission, of course.
At the end of that part of the story, in addition to the couple's divorce, the man was also sentenced to a restraining order and could not come near me or my mother.
As for me, I was considered a victim of the situation and forced to go to therapy, they said I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome because I defended my father, even though everything was plotting against him.
That's it for now.
The 'formal' definition of Stockholm Syndrome is: the victim of assault, kidnapping or abuse develops a sentimental attachment or empathy for their abuser.