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Author’s note: This short stroker is most likely fictional; read the prior chapters for the full account. All sex involves humans aged 18+. This A TASTE OF INCEST tale include incestuous bisexual group sex, a little anal, and yet another lemon-juice recipe; if you object to such, stop reading. Views expressed are not necessarily the author’s, who has stayed in the Sellwood during a brutal heatwave. Your constructive comments are welcome. If you like this, join the 1%ers and VOTE!
An Taste of Incest: WPLJ
(White Port & Lemon Juice)
(Mom & the kids are so hot!)
“Uh. Uhh. Uhhh…”
I was weary, bone-tired, as Saturday’s dusk subsided into night. Tired from the freakish unseasonable heat, the kind we almost never see here in drippy-droopy Portland; tired from another hard workweek at the clinic; tired and filthy from helping the kids on Terry’s Mustang project, holding tubing and cabling while he made connections and adjustments.
And especially, tired and happy from all the sex. I have not had good sex since Kurt left on his endless expedition. It had been so long…
“Uhh. Uhhh. Uhhhhhhh…”
I woke in the dark to moaning and movement beside me on my bed – my bed that had been lonely and empty for years.
It was empty no longer. I was not alone. I drifted into consciousness and realized my children were beside me. And they were not asleep, not judging from the sound and feel of them 69ing.
My bedroom was not totally dark. Light from the full moon seeped in through thinly curtained windows to dimly illuminate a steamy scene: Ronni perched on her brother Terry, her mouth swallowing his cock while his head nuzzled and nodded between her thighs, both of them groaning and writhing quietly.
Ronni came; I smelled, felt, and heard her climax. A sympathetic wave of lusty joy washed over me as if she was beaming orgone energy. I nearly came then myself – and again, when Terry grunted, and stiffened, and spewed semen up into his big sister’s mouth.
Ronni rolled off her brother… and right onto me.
“Oh god Mom, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, baby; you already woke me, a couple minutes ago. Having fun?”
Ronni giggled and Terry snorted. I took those as yesses.
I reached over Ronni, took Terry’s hand, and placed it firmly on my nearest breast. “You think you can get it up again anytime soon for your old mother?”
“Oh, he might need some help now,” Ronni said. “But if we work together, I think we can make some progress with him.” She scrunched around and licked his soft, glistening cock. “Gimme some help, Mom?”
I scooted next to my daughter and joined her in mouthing her brother’s rapidly stiffening staff of life. She licked up one side. I licked down the other side, then shifted down and took his bloating scrotum in my mouth, while she deep-throated him. Damn, that girl must have been practicing!
Terry was still a kid, just nineteen, so his revival was rapid. His cock inflated like a spicy kielbasa and was just as tasty. Ronni and I gave him some final slurps. He groaned, and groaned again when our mouths pulled away.
“Come on, son,” I murmured to him, “you know you want to.” I lay back and spread my legs wide with my knees raised and my feet flat on the bed.
I knew he wanted to; I could feel that. I also knew he was very conflicted. I could almost hear messages bouncing around in his teenage brain. Despite having already fucked his mother and sister, his internal argument flared: conscience and inhibition versus lust and biology, or fear versus desire.
Nature won that fight. Just as I expected.
Terry crawled up between my legs and mounted me. “Oh fuck, Mom,” he moaned, as he plumbed my bottomless cavern with his endless erection.
I moaned in response and pulled his face to mine. His tongue probed for my tonsils while his cock sought my cervix. He attained neither goal – but not for lack of trying!
“Oh damn, son, you feel so good!” I wheezed as his loins crashed into mine. I did not have the same control over the proceedings as when I rode him like a cowgirl earlier. That was fine. I did not want control now; I wanted ACTION!
Our positions shifted a bit. He came at me from a new angle: hotter, richer, tighter. I wrapped my exited legs around his back and pulled him in closer and deeper to my center. Oh fuck!
We canlı bahis şirketleri shifted again, more this time. My son pulled my legs up on his shoulders, bending me nearly in half, and pounded away. Oh FUCK!!
“OH FUCK!!” Terry yelled, and exploded inside my molten core. I felt his incendiary sperm coat my insides like hot living caramel. This last sensation was too much. I bit his shoulder, hard, very hard, drawing blood, to stifle what would have been a guaranteed window-shattering scream. Oh fuck…
My son collapsed on me. I held him, cradled him, nestled his head on my breasts, stroked his cheeks, and whispered reassuring nothings, soft lies.
“Wow,” chanted a soft voice beside us, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Ooohhh…”
I glanced over. Even in the dim light, I could see my daughter frigging herself, working fingers of one hand in and out of her young pussy while her other hand abused her nipples. I heard her quietly cum from her own efforts.
What a way to start the night!
I was going to say I am no stranger to sex – except I have been, for the last few years. Okay, so I am no beginner at sex. But this has been the best in my life! And with my own kids!
Sex is certainly no stranger to me. From when I was only a little kid… I vaguely remember when Papa and Mama took me from the Rajneesh commune in central Oregon to the Heavenly Love commune in New Hampshire, where I really grew up. People there were naked a lot, and screwed out in the open a lot, not much different than growing up on a ranch, except with people, not cows.
We kids at H-Love knew all about biology and our places in the world. I knew I would be a wife – and I was, and oh so young, when Papa and Mama gave me to Kurt, their Brother-In-Love. Legal marriage age in that state is thirteen. I was just barely older. We had a beautiful legal wedding and a scary legal wedding night – and in less than a year, I was Ronni’s mama, and Terry’s just a year later.
Kurt was always funny. As in, funny-strange, not funny-ha-ha. He was never mean or bad to me. He still is not, and he still provides; a fat check comes every month from the Institute’s office just down the street near Reed College. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Kurt was a decade older than me and he already had degrees in astronomy, anthropology, and divinity, and a strange career as a twisted anthropologist, looking for lost worlds, lost races, alien contacts, Atlanteans, Sasquatches, Republican-Reptilioids, that kind of stuff. He went off on expeditions financed by the Institute while I stayed at home and took care of the kids.
Home. For the first couple years, H-Love was home. Then Cambridge; then Berkeley, and Santa Cruz, and Boulder; and then here in the Sellwood in Portland for the last dozen years. This is the most home I have ever had.
Mothering is not a full-time job. I also work at a veterinary clinic. I love all those innocent faces. I love building trust with them. And they don’t kvetch.
Kurt and I fucked a lot when he was home. And he always had new ways to fuck, stuff he learned in his anthropological research, I guess. There was this one technique from New Guinea… no, I had better not tell you that one. You would NOT believe it!
Funny – for all that fucking, I was only pregnant twice, just in those first couple of years, but never since then. I always wondered if something happened to Kurt?
Anyway, Kurt would be gone for many months, then back home fucking me for a couple months, and then he would be off again on another expedition. I stopped counting the years since he has been back. I get post cards every now and then, and the monthly check, and that is about all.
Saturday afternoon… everything just clicked into place. So hot, we wore almost nothing. So dirty, from that filthy work. So refreshed, sipping cold lemonade, and washing under the sprinkler. And… so HORNY, watching and feeling their young bodies… Ronni’s nice breasts and hips, and Terry’s great erection… it just HAD to happen, it was so RIGHT!
“Are you guys all right?” A hand shook my shoulder.
The full moon was higher; its wan light through my thin curtains cast a pale glow on us. Terry and I nestled together and Ronni prodded us.
My grogginess lifted quickly. I sat. “Yeah, I guess I just passed out. Wow! That was great!” Terry sat up beside canlı kaçak iddaa me. “And YOU were great, son!” I kissed him. Even in the dimness, I saw him blush.
“Umm, I think we’re all kind of rested now, and it’s just after midnight,” my daughter said. “Got any ideas?”
A bolt of inspiration flashed through me. Not a thunderbolt; nothing so dramatic. More of a tickle-quiver-bolt, a nerve-spasm. WPLJ!
Ronni peered at me. “You have a look in your eyes. What’s up?”
“Double-You Pee Ell Jay, that’s what’s up! And some snacks. Is anybody else hungry and thirsty and a little chilly? I have the sovereign cure!”
We hopped – or crawled, actually – out of bed and threw on light wraps. We trooped into the kitchen. Ronni tossed some popcorn into the microwave and I prepped the WPLJ.
I learned this in Berkeley from impoverished grad students. For one or two people, get a mickey, that is a half-bottle, of white port wine – the cheapest and strongest you can find. Gallo is high-end there. Get a full bottle for more than two drinkers.
Leave the bottle out at room temperature; you do not want it cold. Unscrew the cap. (Yes, this is screw-cap wine – no effete corks are found here!) Take a little swig, not too much. Start a pot of water boiling on the stove. When the water roils, put the open bottle into it.
Open one of those little plastic lemons with concentrated juice. You took a slug of port, remember? That was to make room for squirting in a load of lemon concentrate. When you see steam start to rise from the wine bottle’s neck, pull it from the boiling water and squirt-in the lemon juice. Wait for the bottle to cool a little, screw the cap on, shake it once or twice, then uncap and pour, or sip carefully. Think of it as hot sake.
The Berkeley kids called it Piedmont Sake. That is a joke; Piedmont is a rich district here. It is like mixing Karo syrup into rotgut whiskey and calling it Bel-Air Bourbon. Ha. (pause) Ha.
“Popcorn’s popped, Mom.”
“Drinks are ready, kids.”
“Umm, where are we going to consume all this, ladies?”
“Let’s plop on the couch.”
“How about I put on some raga music?”
“Perfect! C’mon, we need to talk.”
We snuggled together on the old beige leather-covered sofa, poked popcorn into each other’s friendly mouths, passed constantly refilled cheese glasses of warm WPLJ, and chatted.
No, not chatted – discussed. Where we were. Where we were going. Why.
Terry had his geology studies at Portland State University. Ronni had her music program at Reed College. I had my clinic work. We all had each other. We talked of these, and more.
Our talk progressed to a rather touchy-feely stage. Pouring warmed strong wine into almost-empty stomachs promoted the interactions – hot alcohol is absorbed into bodies VERY quickly. Translation: WPLJ is a cheap fast drunk.
The WPLJ was consumed – and so were our brains. We headed back to bed.
Ronni was holding and kissing her little brother. “Terry, there’s something… My friends have talked about it, how fun it is, but I’ve never tried it… Terry, would you fuck my ass?” Trepidation quavered her voice.
“Your ass? You want me to take your ass?” Terry sounded hesitant.
“Yes, it’s… we’ve done about everything else, you and me and Mom, and I’ve done lots of stuff, but never… I mean, it’s like… it”ll be just you, Terry – only you can ever have my ass. EVER! It’ll be so special between us. Please?”
I cut in. “Baby, if you’ve never done this before, you need a little preparation. Wait a minute.” I rolled over to the bedside stand where I kept my toys and lubes. Oh yes, I had tools for entertainment. How do you think I managed to stand all those years without Kurt?
How to prepare: LOTS of lube. Terry and I inserted wider and wider toys into Ronni’s anus, until she said she was comfortably stretched. Then, more lube.
Ronni hunched into doggy position with her knees bent and spread. Terry and I gazed on her bubbly cheeks and rosy little asshole, now gleaming with lube.
“Wait, this first,” Terry said. He scooted on his back till his head was between his sister’s thighs. His tongue reached out to Ronni’s pussy. I watched him lick and suck and slurp her engorged labia and extended clitoris. Damn, that looked so hot!
Ronni obviously approved. “Oh fuck bro, that’s great! Oh fuck… but that’s enough! canlı kaçak bahis I want to feel YOU, all of you, INSIDE me, all the way! Yeah, now…”
“Wait, this first,” I said. Terry lay on his back with his mouth on his sister’s holy-of-holies and his magnificent cock rising like the Chrysler Building, but thicker. I moved down and swallowed that cock, covering him with my saliva, my natural lubricant.
That cock seemed to expand and inflate even more. He was almost bursting when I backed off and said, “I think you’re ready now, son.”
Terry scooted out and knelt behind his sister. “Go slow,” I cautioned.
He slowly slid inside her, deep inside her, all the way in one smooth insertion. He grunted. She groaned. I grinned.
“Oh fuck, Terry, oh fuck, I’m so full, oh fuck…” Ronni’s voice dropped to inarticulate muttered curses.
You want details? Ask Ronni. I witnessed a first-class ass-fucking – and I helped by fingering my daughter’s vulva and circling her clitoris, gently frigging her. A mother’s work is never done.
Yes, Ronni came, amazingly loud, and guttural. She came, and Terry did not.
“My turn,” I said, after Terry withdrew his still-huge stiffy from Ronni’s rectum. “Wipe that thing off and put it in me! I haven’t had a real live dick in my ass for YEARS.”
I had already used lube and toys in my anus while I watched Terry sodomize his sister. I was almost ready.
“Wait, this first,” Ronni said. She pushed me on my back and slipped between my thighs. Like her brother had with her, she licked and slurped me till I was approaching the edge. My gasps signaled her to stop.
“Okay, and now you, little brother. You’re wiped clean? Good.” She bent to him and took his bald bayonet between her lips. Like I had with him, she lubricated him naturally, completely, then moved away. “You’re both ready now, I think,” she laughed.
I moved into place on my elbows and knees. My son nestled close behind me. His strong hands held my sturdy hips steady as he patiently pushed his pipe into my spice island. As with his sister, his long, slow, steady thrust reached total depth, his strong thighs pressed tight against my firm buttocks. I nearly screamed with joy.
I would cream and scream soon enough. Ronni kissed my mouth and twizzled my clit while Terry probed me, fucked me, reamed me, and then pounded me into total gibbering idiocy. And he came inside my ass, great hot streams of molten cum that filled my bowels, driving me mad.
Yes indeed, I screamed. And Terry roared. And Ronni giggled. Damn her!
We all definitely needed a long, careful shower after that. And more WPLJ. And more sleep. Zzzzz…
I woke around noon with sunlight filtering through the curtains and the bed once again in motion. I rolled over and saw my children intertwined. They lay on their sides, fucking, with Terry’s butt aimed at me. Ronni’s legs wrapped tight around her brother’s waist. His hands and mouth ranged freely on her breasts and face.
Oh, I always loved that position! It was one of my favorites with Kurt.
They came quietly. So did I, thanks to my fingers. They apparently heard and/or felt me. They rolled, with Terry on top. Both looked at me and smiled.
“How you doing, Mom?” Terry asked.
“Great, absolutely great! Well, my butt hurts a little, but…”
“Yeah, mine does too,” Ronni said. “Not that I really mind.” She giggled.
“Well, we’ll have to walk and sit gingerly, carefully, for a while. But we’ll recover. As long as Terry doesn’t get too enthusiastic, that is.”
“I’ll be good, Mom. Okay, what now?”
What do you think? We spent most of Sunday in bed, fucking and sucking and slurping, interrupted by showers and snacks and more lemonade. We recovered nicely.
Another recovery was rather different. Two weeks later, both Ronni and I knew: we were pregnant. Pill? What pill? Condoms? Didn’t use any. The results should have been predictable. Duh.
“Uh, kids, we need to talk…”
We talked, and we decided. The kids will continue with their studies; Ronni can make music even with an enlarging belly. Terry can stay based here. I can keep tending animals at the vet’s. Even with two or more babies, we can live quite well on Kurt’s checks. We shall go on.
We are family. Deal with it.
Author’s note: This story by Hypoxia Smurf is copyright (c) 2014. Keep your eyes peeled for more A TASTE OF INCEST tales – some adapted, some new, some in series, many standalone. This is the last sequel to a SUMMER LOVIN’ STORY CONTEST 2014 entry. And don’t miss THE BOOK OF RUTH and the BLACK & WHITE stories. If you like this, VOTE!
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