Summary: Seiji's little secret with his Dad doesn't last for long, and his life goes spiraling out of control as hurt, pain, and betrayal lead him down a path that he never thought he would take. And as life goes on he finds himself pondering the question: What is worse? Life or death?

Author's Note: I'm having a writer's block on SYM. So I decided to move onto this story to keep me busy for a while at home. D: of course, I wouldn't have a writer's block if my other computer hadn't screwed up on me, because it held ALL of my stories, including chapter five of SYM (that I'm working on, AGAIN). I had just finished it, when my OTHER computer wouldn't respond right. I should have copied it to a CD just incase, but I wasn't thinking about that at the time. –curses herself for not thinking- Anyway, this story is based all around Seiji's unbelievable mistake: smexing his father. MOST OF THE STORY IS IN THE P.O.V. OF SEIJI, OR IN OTHER WORDS, 1st Person View. Edit: Fixed this chapter and reposted it. XD

Anywho, I hope you enjoy the story. AND READ MY –BEEPING- AUTHOR'S NOTE. These things can hold important information sometimes, mmkay. :D

Rating: NC-17 – because FP really needs a really high rating. xD

A Sinner's Reprieve

Chapter 1: Screw Up

I don't know what I am anymore.

I feel like a monster; a parasite.

I don't even think I have the proof and dignity to call myself my father's son, or call myself my mother's son. All I can say is that I'm full of regret, but I don't have to courage to stop something that sooner or later is going to ruin everything that exists in my life, and most possibly obliterate my whole entire life in one, single, foul blow. I hate myself and have the power to make myself stop, but I can't help myself. I'm a selfish, fifteen-year-old boy; full of regret of my current situation, but can't seem to grow enough balls to make it better by ceasing what I've been up to for at least six months.

I'm surprised no one has even caught on. It's pretty hard these days to hide the scent of sex (probably because it seems to cling to everything). And it's even more strange and tough to hide your expressions towards someone who you've been having sex with who already has a spouse or mate themselves—who happens to be your own mother. This opens up a gate for a whole new kind of criticism; commenting adultery with your own father behind your mother's back, for a long period of time as I've been doing. I'm surprised I'm not burning in the pits of hell right now. . .

But I think that's only because my little secret hasn't been exposed.

It all started out as a ride home from school with my dad, something that was extremely unexpected at that time. (He rarely came to pick me up; it was always my mother who came. She didn't work, and that was only because my father's source of income was high enough that he only had to work. I've always wondered what chefs get paid for them to have so much money sometimes. . .) I believe I blanked out for a few minutes as we just drove, and drove, and drove; and when I felt the car come to a stop, my attention arose again, but I found myself in an old park that not many people went to anymore.

And that was where it all began.

I really didn't understand what it was. Had it been just sex or something else in particular? Was his love for me just in a fatherly way; or did he so it so that he could get what he wants from me? I know my dad, and he probably just wouldn't say things to get in my pants. He only had to do a little amount of touching before I unwillingly submitted. And afterwards, when I woke up in my bed with an aching lower stomach and a burning, sore ass, I felt my heart become stuck in my throat. I don't know how long I sat there, looking down at my hands and mentally screaming, yelling, pretty much mentally abusing myself as I thought of how I had slept with my father's just hours ago, and how I had just broken ALL trusts, probably all bonds, with my mother.

And destroyed my family.

I avoided being around my dad for a while. I kind of ignored him, or when I heard someone coming, I would hide around a corner and see who it was. If it was my mother, I would appear once more, yet hesitant and anxious when I talked to her or looked her in the face. I wanted to say something, I wanted to tell her what happened but I couldn't bring myself to it—I was so scared of the reaction she would have. I never got around to telling her about it, and I never bothered to even think about it anymore. I was trying my best to forget what I had done.

And I did—for a while.

After a small absence of my mother and my younger brother (mother was off visiting relatives in South Japan while my brother was at one of his friend's house), I found myself being bound again. I tried to resist myself, and I tried to just pull away and say 'no.' But does words wouldn't pass my lips, and I was caught in a web of pleasure and clouded thoughts. Hence, I gave up on all self-control and commenced to continuously having sex with my dad when everyone else was gone.

The car, his office, outside, the shower, my room, the living room, the kitchen, the garage, the other bathroom downstairs, somewhere in the backyard, on a random bench-

I was a horrible person; I had turned into some kind of nymphomaniac (The male form.)

Today, I realized it was going to be one of those days again.

When my dad and I were all alone in a big house; my mother gone, my brother gone with her.

One of those moments.

I'm standing in front of the window, watching my mother back out of the drive off and then disappear down the road, turning the corner as she makes her way off to the mall and wherever else she said she was going to go. I felt this solemn expression coming over my face because I knew I would be underneath (or on top) of my dad in the next few minutes. I shook my head and then leaned up against the door, staring up at the roof.

My blonde bangs fell into my eyes (they were starting to get long; I need to get them cut.) I just find myself thinking and staring; wondering if this day will be the day where I finally stop this madness. Could I finally just stand up and tell my dad that this was over and that there would be no more sex, for the sake of our family and my own sanity and conscience? Or was I going to be the helpless little bitch always thinking of that prospect, but end up spreading my legs open and forgetting the whole thing in the end? 1 out of 2 times, it was always the second scenario.

I'd like to call myself a man whore now.

My mind stops trailing off into its own little world, and I slowly turned my head to the side, staring off towards the kitchen. I clearly hear the clanking sounds of dishes knocking together and the whishing sounds of water swaying and being drawn up in the sink. I see my father in my mind, standing there washing the dishes after baking ANOTHER CAKE, right after my mom, my brother, and I demolished the one he had cooked before. He makes some awesome cake—he makes some awesome everything.

While my dad takes over the role as cook, my mom takes over the role of the designer in the house.

Pretty normal home, but with nice furniture. I get a lot of comments from friends I invite over once in a while. . .

I narrowed my eyes and stood up straight, a serious look on my face. I don't need to be pondering about stupid things like that, I need to be thinking about what's going on; me ending the father and son with benefits relationship. I couldn't take this shit anymore; what if things went from bad to worse? I stepped forward for a moment, and then finally began walking towards the door of the kitchen. I felt myself feeling kind of clammy, and myself beginning to sweat and jitter.

Would I really be able to do this?

I stopped at the door, peeking into the kitchen and leaning against the door frame a little. Sure enough, my dad was standing at the sink washing the dishes silently. I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep breath. I was having such a hard time. . .

My mind seemed to wander. . .

What is he thinking about?

Did he kiss mom before she left?

Does he even still have SEX with mom?

Does he love me more than just a son now?

Blah, blah, blah; there I went, getting off subject. Keep your eyes on the prize, as what I use to always say before all of this mess came up. . . When I was chasing after girls (not that I still don't either. Just because I'm having sex with a MAN, doesn't mean I still don't have an attraction towards girls. My first sexual encounter was with some random girl in the library. I'm not GAY, I'm pretty much more bisexual than you think), and acting like a retard with my cousins, and goofing off in class to make everyone laugh. And now, I was totally different.

I still talked to girls, of course, and still had a sexual attraction to them too. (And then at times, I would think of my dad. . .) But now, I really didn't hang out with my cousins that much, and I seemed to be so quiet in class now, it scared the living hell out of my teachers because I've been to the office at least fifteen times for my teacher's worrying.

Off subject again.

I really need to learn how to concentrate better—


I blinked for a moment when I heard my name, and then shot a glance to where my dad had been standing at the sink. He had turned around now, the dishes in the dish holder. He was wiping his hands off, and his attention had been directed to me. I found myself becoming slightly flustered. I was speechless at first staring at him, and then I finally got the courage to say something.

"H-H-H-Hi, Dad. . ."

It was like my words had been caught. I sounded like such an idiot.

"H-H-H-Hey, to you too Seiji."

He laughed at my uncertain words and turned back around. My cheeks turned a little bit redder and I watched him as he shuffled around a little. When he turned around, he had a plate with a slice of cake on it and a silver fork sitting beside it. He walked over to my, handing it out to me with two hands. I stared down at it for a moment, and then back up.

"You want me to taste it?"

"Yeah. I kind of feel like I did something wrong, but I'm not sure. I was going to let your mother or brother taste it, but they left before I could get the icing on it. So, I guess you'll be my little guinea pig for today, huh?" He smiled at me as he finished the last of his sentence.

"Okay. . ."

I took the plate from him, picking up the fork. It was a chocolate cake, but I had a feeling there was some element of surprise stuck somewhere in it. Maybe he put fruit in it or something? Or he put some kind of cream filling or special kind of candy in it? Curiously, I cut a small piece and chewed on it as my dad walked past me into the living room.


His voice echoed from the living room.

I chewed the rest and found the special secret ingredient, or ingredients. A chocolate cake with stuff pecans and fudge in the center. Oh god, when we finished this stuff, we would be as big as houses. Other than that, the taste was great. And plus, it had pretty much just come out of the oven and it was nice and toasty as I bit into it and some of the fudge spilled on my tongue; I was in a fat man's heaven. And smiled and took another bite, and then after that one, I finally responded.


I heard an inaudible chuckle from him.

"Oh really? What do you like so much about it?"

I kept eating a few bites as I tried to respond to my best ability.

"Uh. . . I like the pecans, where did you get these pecans? Anyway, I liked the pecans, and I love the fudge! Gah, it tastes so good! I'm going to be so—"

I froze in my words as I felt two strong arms wrap slowly around my waist, pulling me slightly back and lifting me a little off of my feet. Startled, I jumped a little and hurriedly placed my plate on nearest part of the counter that I could reach. I suddenly felt tense and anxious.

This was the time.

I closed my eyes and tried to speak as I felt my dad nuzzle his head into my neck. The only thing that came past my lips was the sounds of a frozen voice. Making a small sound, I placed my hands on my father's hands, tightening my grip on them.


"Hmm…?" His small reply could barely be heard because it was so close to my neck. He had began to slowly nibble at my skin, and it was becoming harder and harder to concentrate at the task at hand. Biting my lip, I tried to speak once more. "I think that maybe—we should, um—" I was too distracted. Closing my eyes even tighter, I could help the small moan that escaped out of my mouth.

I was a failure.

"What was that?"

Dad, I want this to—


I want you to stop. Stop, please.

"I want you to—"

Stop. I don't want to do this anymore.

"I want you to. . . I want you to keep going. . ."

I had officially just let down myself and my whole entire life.

"Your wish is my command. . ."

I felt myself slowly relax in his arms as he felt all over my body, touching familiar places that made my body lurched and jerk in all directions, caused small sounds to escape from my mouth when I didn't mean to, and even caused my brain to cloud over like a storm was taking over the skies. I was a failure, a failure. I can't do it. Because I can't let go of how good it feels. . .

One time more just won't hurt.



I think I had lost all of my brain cells.

". . . D-D-Dad . . .!"

It was like I was a machine; moving as fast as I could without the power of a central brain.


I bit my lip and clutched onto my dad's legs as I moved up and down on him. Rising and falling, over and over and over again; each time feeling his length filling me up to the point where I thought I would nearly fall over and crumble to the ground. My usual frantic movements for pleasure had increased. I had begun to move faster than my brain could react to.

Or maybe that was just because I felt all my insides pulsating crazily.

I wanted to move faster and harder.

I wanted to forget about everything.

I wanted to forget about what I was doing.

I wanted to forget about my regret.

I wanted to forget about telling my father that I wanted to stop.

I wanted to forget about how badly I wanted to cry at the moment.

With my eyes closed, my neck outstretched as my face was directed up towards the ceiling, my hands now lying on his stomach, and my body moving up and down rapidly, I like myself be taken over by pleasure. (I had my back to my dad, so I couldn't stare down at his face or anything.)





Up, down—

All around.

My whole entire mind was beginning to cloud, and it was like I didn't even know where I was anymore.

Who I was anymore.

The only thing I heard was the sound of my dad's moaning and my own moaning, rising louder and louder and louder as I started to reach my peak.

Forgetting everything that was going on around me. . .

Just forgetting. . .

Just so close. . .

So close to cumming.

Can't think anymore. . .—!

And then I hear this sound. This sound that distracts me from everything. My mind filled with pleasure, my cloud nine, nearly everything. But it wasn't just something small. I slowly opened my eyes.

What had I-?

A creaking noise. . .?

My dad had gone completely silent also; by then, I had stopped moving and I was hesitant to stop staring at the ceiling. Slowly swallowing, I first took a glance towards my dresser, and then shakily back at the roof and then slowly and painstakingly at the door.

Oh god, not the door-

I only saw a mere glimpse of my mother before I was suddenly shoved off my father's lap, his manhood sliding out of me as I fell to the floor, gasping slightly. And not because the feeling of it coming out felt great, because of what I had just seen at the door. Was I just imagining things-?

I took another glimpse, only to see my mother once more. Her hand was over her mouth, and her eyes were wide. The expression in her eyes was a mix of confusion, and another unreadable expression.

Oh god, oh god-

I felt a lump in my throat as I hurriedly stood to my feet, throwing on my clothes and my boxers as fast as I could. I didn't know what to say.

My mind was racing.

My heart was beating crazily.

Oh god, we had just been caught.





I shook my head like a madman, feeling tears forming in my eyes as I heard my father trying to explain what was happening, and my mother screaming back at him asking him how exactly could he explain something that she had just seen us doing. I tried to block it out; I heard my mom turn and quickly stomp out of the room; the sounds of her sobbing and hateful screaming blaring in my head like car horns.

And the sound of my dad following her, trying to talk to her, trying his best to make up some kind of important conclusion as to what we were doing. In all, he was as helpless as me.

The door slammed loudly, and I sat there shakily on the floor.

My whole body shivering from fear.

Tears pouring down my cheeks as I had just realized what had happened.

My body motionless and my mouth as dry as dust.

Oh please, God. . .

Tell me this is my imagination. . .

Tell me I reached cloud nine so high, that I'm having hallucinations. . .

When I open my eyes. . .

Everything. . .

Will be back to normal. . .

OMGZ, END OF CHAPTER ONE! Tsk, tsk, nothing good comes out of affairs as you can see. Let's see if what happened at the end of the story is real or not in the next chapter, shall we? Read on my friends (AFTER I GET THE NEXT CHAPTER UP THAT IS.)