I Married My Father

I've heard that roughly forty percent of families have at least one occurrence of incest. It doesn't often go on to be a permanent lifetime relationship, mainly because of the pressures of society. So what has happened with me is very rare. I have actually married my father! Bridal dress and bouquet, marriage certificate, the lot!

We were able to do it because of one small but important detail. In my country, it is not compulsory to write down the father's name on a Birth Certificate. So when Mum gave birth to me, she gave me her own last name and didn't write down my father's name! Boy was I thrilled when I found that out!

Mum's reason for not wanting to write it down was because he had pissed off as soon as he found out she was pregnant, and she felt bitterly angry towards him. He "went bush" as they say in my country. "Gone walkabout", they also call it.

She believed that he was a no-hoper, so she didn't want him to have any rights as the father, and she believed that no-one would ever be able to get any money out of him anyway, because he would never have any.

She was so wrong about him. I tracked him down, with a lot of help, when I was 14. He was only 28. He'd had sex with Mum when he was 14 and she was 16, and I was born before he turned 15. I forgive him for running away, because at that age his family, and Mum's family, and the whole of society was making a lot of trouble for him, for getting a white girl pregnant.

I found several good leads up in Darwin, and the people there said he was in Alice (the town Alice Springs), and by going to his favourite pub in Alice I found out he lived five miles south of the town in a little pale green fibro shack. I went down there an spoke to an elder of the tribe, and, after all the elder's questions about me, pointed out his house, and came with me in case anything needed to be smoothed over.

I knocked and he opened the door. I was so excited to see him I said "Hi Dad!" He looked just the same as mum's photograph, only older. Dad looked at me, then the elder, then back at me. He could tell from looking at the elder that I was genuine, the real thing, because the elder was so serious. And he could tell from looking at me, because I looked so much like my mother, only with darker skin.

Dad opened the fly-screen door, and said "You'd better come in". I grabbed him around his neck and gave him a big hug. Dad staggered around and fell into a small wooden seat next to the small laminex table. His cottage was only three or four rooms.

We talked for a long time, and he made cups of tea for me. The elder left as soon as he knew we were both comfortable with each other. I began to feel a deep bond with my Dad. I decided to unpack my things and stay there. I had brought enough money to stay in a hotel, but I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with my Dad.

He had only one bed, and said one of us will have to sleep on the floor. I took a look at the bed and it was big enough for two. I gave him a hug and said I didn't care whether we slept on the floor or on the bed, as long as we were together. He got an erection which I playfully grabbed. He said "Hey! You're not supposed to do that to your father!"

I replied "Who said so!"

He said "We'll see how you like it!" and he grabbed at my bosom.

I said "Hey! Softly, softly!" Then I held his hand on my bosom, and began to breathe deeply. It wasn't long before we were both in his bed screwing each other's brains out. He was puzzled as to why I wanted him so much. I said I've been missing him all my life. He said he often thought about me.

As we approached my sixteenth birthday, two years later, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He hadn't had another drink since the day we met, partly because he was so happy, and partly because he wanted to look after me properly. And we went walkabout together, and he taught me his ways and his knowledge of the bush, which I was eager to learn all about.

I got hold of our birth certificates. As I said there was no father listed, and Mum had given me her last name, not my father's, because she thought we'd never see him again! So all we had to do was go back to the city, where no-one knew us, get married like most folks do, and live as man and wife. We got hold of a marriage celebrant, I got dressed up in a wedding gown, we had a photographer to take pictures and nobody knew that we were actually father and daughter!

We went on a honeymoon in the bush, and lived off the land, eating witchetty grubs, berries, bats, birds, a wallaby, etc, and we'd go into whichever town we were near for "a slice of cow" as Dad calls it. I know enough about the bush to live very well in it. I hear about white people who get lost in the bush and starve to death. To me that's like starving to death in a pantry or supermarket! There's food everywhere in the bush. You've just got to recognise what's good to eat.

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