Incest

Nicole and her husband, Phil, had been married for four years and they’d been trying to have a baby for over two years without any apparent success. Every time Nicole would take an early pregnancy test, it would always turn out negative. Nicole and Phil had figured out everything they could to ensure that she got pregnant but so far it just hadn’t worked for them. Finally, it became obvious to Nicole that the reason she wasn’t being knocked up by her frequent fucks with Phil was because of his either having a low sperm count or possibly that he was not able to impregnate her.

Nicole was so desperate to have a baby that she began to think of all the possible avenues she could pursue to get knocked up. One thing she didn’t want to have to do was tell Phil that the reason for their failure to get pregnant was him. She felt there were lots of possible problems with his realizing he was virile and potent enough to knock up his own wife. So, Nicole began to try to figure out another way around their fertility problem. She finally decided on a rather unorthodox solution that she hoped would get her pregnant and that would keep Phil from realizing that he was their baby’s actual father. (more…)

Where do I start? I am a nymphomaniac. I had to tell someone about the most incredible and fulfilling experience I shared recently with a mom and her daughter. Let me tell you about me first and how I found myself so fortunate to fall into such an incredible encounter.

My name is Kathleen. I am twenty three years old finishing up my last year of college. I am 5′2″ tall with an average build; shoulder-length brown silky soft straight hair; piercing brown eyes; fairly average size 34B breasts; and a soft, cushy ass that adds some shape to my body. The thing about me is if you look at me, I appear to be the spitting image of the absolutely sweet & pure, innocent girl-next-door. I walk, talk and act very innocently, carrying on as everyone’s friend. But, that is my lure… Once I get my hands on a beautiful girl, I take them to new sexual heights that change their lives. I am very picky about my sexual friends. I want girls my age that have a naivety about them. Looks aren’t that important, but I do want them to be conscious of their bodies… cause when I get them, they become real women. I am a nympho, plain and simple. (more…)

When I came home, she was in the kitchen doing something over the sink. The music from the radio was loud and she was swaying to the rhythm. I admired her ass encased in the skin tight shorts she liked to wear around the house. She’s only five two and her waist is narrow, which makes her ass look more prominent. It’s a perfect ass, a magnificent ass, and legs to die for. Her brown hair fell to her shoulders and she was barefooted.

I wanted to push her down over the sink, yank her shorts down and drive my hard cock deep in her wet pussy. I wanted to feel her ass smashing against my crotch and the smooth tightness of her legs against mine. I wanted to hear her moans, her pleadings for me to fuck her harder. I wanted to rut there, like a beast, until my cock exploded and filled her with my cum. (more…)

Jessica may have been young, but she knew what she wanted. More than anything she wanted to ride her father. Right now. She yearned for his cock, fucking her hard. Hopefully making her pregnant.

She had just entered into the family’s world of sex. But she had quickly grown to love it, and she was pleased to know that her father lusted after her so much. She had that kind of control. But of course, she wanted him just as bad.

She had long black hair, straight and in a ponytail. She had pale freckled skin and small breasts. She shaved all of her body hair, so she was smooth. She was also relatively tall for her age, and skinny. She wished she was more rounded out. She made up for that with the fact she was an incredible lover.

Her heart beat quickly, and her face was beet red. The rest of the family was in an orgy. But she was saving herself for when her favorite lover got home.
(more…)

I woke up the next morning having the memory of my brother making love to me the previous night. I lifted up my nightshirt and played with my breasts while my other hand slipped between my legs and pushed my panties to the side. I caressed my aching pussy slowly running my fingers up and down my wet slit.

Last night had been the most wonderful night of my life. I’d finally been able to express my love for my brother Tim. I could still feel his kisses on my lips and his hands all over my naked body. I moaned very quietly knowing my parents’ room was next to mine and might be able to hear me. My finger was sliding in and out of my pussy fast, with thoughts of my handsome brother.

Tim had been in a horrible car accident that left his face somewhat disfigured. Yet that didn’t stop me from having the urge to make love to him. I’d fallen hard for him; there was no doubt about that. I began to squirm on the bed coming close to my climax, but once again was distracted by my mother knocking on the door.

“Nicole!”

I groaned frustrated. “Yeah?” (more…)

For two years at least, Susie had been parading her sexy little breasts and curvaceous bubble-butt right in front of her father - pretty much whenever the opportunity presented itself. Giggling to distraction, she would deliberately drop things on the floor so she could bend over to retrieve them, knowing full-well he could see her panties. On a really bad day, she would make sure she wasn’t even wearing any.

She became expert at color-coding her bras so that they were patently obvious beneath whatever semi-transparent midriff top she had stretched, barely decently, across those hot pubescent nipples.

And still, her fifteenth birthday was a few months off. As her father saw it, it really was time for payback!

The day therefore that young Susie got home from school, only to be met in the kitchen by her father who demanded abruptly, “I want to see your tits Susie,” was indeed the start of a new chapter as far as the McKenna family was concerned.

“Pardon me dad?” she exclaimed, unsure whether to laugh or run over to the neighbors. (more…)

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It was in mid-July that Karen called me at about 7 p.m. on a Friday. My brother-in-law Bud had chest pains and the emergency unit had just taken him to the hospital. She asked if I would mind watching Jenny while she went to stay with her husband.

Of course, I agreed. At this point, I was only thinking about Bud, and was not thinking of anything else.

As the hospital was in the direction of my house Karen said that it would save time if she dropped Jenny off by me rather than for me to go there, as she (Karen) would only have to drive back past my house when she returned anyway. She could pick the girl up then after she left the hospital. However, it probably would not be until the morning.

It was only about 10 minutes later when I heard the horn to Karen’s car beeping. I went outside to greet Jenny. When Karen saw me, she threw me a kiss and quickly drove off, leaving me with the young girl.

Jenny was carrying a small bag, which she apparently threw together in a hurry. I took it and carried it into the house for her. She followed.

She had never been to my place so I showed her around. I told her that she would be sleeping in my bed while I slept on the living room couch. She put her things away in the bedroom and then joined me. (more…)

The rain storm hit unexpectedly as Brianna rushed from the bus stop and across a few block toward home. With each step she took, her vision became blurred from the heavy rain splatter on her face. She furiously wiped away the rain from her eyes, but it didn’t help at all; she hadn’t been feeling well the past few days, but she refused to let her father see how much stress of her exams were getting to her and the slight fever–at one time, she had put it down to just another fever that normally passed as quickly as it came…this one however, was linering–it had been all week.

Pushing her way through the front door, Brianna dumped her school bag on the floor and almost tripped over as she stepped over it.
“Daddy, I’m home!” She called out as she headed toward the bedroom she and her father now shared.
The idea of a big old comfy bed was beginning to appeal to her. (more…)

Margaret, or Maggie, as everyone called her, smiled as her parents told her she was being sent to her Uncle Bob’s farm for the summer. Her parents were archeologists, and during the summers, when they weren’t teaching, they usually went off to some far off place to dig up what Maggie thought of as ‘dead things’. And then Maggie always got sent off to Uncle Bob’s farm. Her parents had been working on their PhDs for the last two years, though, so it had been two years since she’d spent the summer with Uncle Bob.

Actually, she reminded herself, he wasn’t REALLY her uncle. She was adopted. She knew nothing at all about her real parents, having been taken from them by some court when she was just a baby. But, as far as she was concerned the people who adopted her WERE her real parents, and her father’s brother was her REAL uncle, regardless of the lack of blood ties.

She was a little nervous about it this time. She’d always loved going to the farm. It was an old place, with lots of big barns and little outbuildings, and there were all kinds of interesting things to see and do. As she grew up, her Uncle gave her chores to do, and each year they seemed harder, and seemed to take longer. But each time she left with a feeling that she could handle almost anything. She knew how to use all kinds of tools. She understood the needs of animals. She could drive a tractor and set a fence post all by herself. Now that she’d turned sixteen, she was curious as to what trials he would set for her this year. She was a little afraid that it might be harder than she could do. (more…)

Chrissy was mad. She was fifteen years old and she hadn’t been on a single date.

It wasn’t because she was unpopular. Lots of kids at her school liked her and wanted to be around her.

It wasn’t because she was ugly. Her 5″ 6″ frame supported breasts that were a handful each, tipped with sharp little pencil eraser sized nipples just made to suck on. Below that were her thin waist and hips that any baby-bearing woman would love to have. Her cute little pussy lips were pink and plump and nestled just below fine wisps of golden pubic hair. Her face was gorgeous. She was a knockout.

No, the reason Chrissy had never been on a date was because of her father, one John Robinson by name.

He wasn’t mean or anything. He just remembered what he tried to do with 15 year old girls when he was, say thirteen through nineteen. For that matter he lusted after Chrissy’s friends regularly and would gladly plow their sweet teen furrows if it didn’t mean he’d end up in prison. He knew what boys thought about when they looked at his daughter, and he had decided a long time ago that she wasn’t going to be exposed to groping strangers out for a quick fuck and then on to the next girl.

To be fair, any boy she wanted to spend time with was welcome to come to the house and they could watch TV, or make something to eat, or play board games on the dining room table. Anything except be alone, especially in a bedroom. (more…)

I been talking to Jessica for some time now , getting to know each other and sharing secret fantasies……..
Jess had confided in me that things just werent going well with her marriage and she needed something that her husband Jimmy wasnt giving. We talked about everything and anything, including her desire for YOUNG COCK, she said she had always been attracted to young teens and often imagined she was getting fucked hard and fast by some young neighbor teen when jimmy DID want to have sex… Well me being the perv I am I suggested she ACT on her desires and find her a young one. Now Jess being a MOM and having a teen son and 2 other kids she had to really consider her options as far as getting a young cock up her wet mature pussy….she started dressing sexier when her sons friends would come over and even would rub agianst a few as she walked by just to get a reaction, She would later tell me how Hot and excited she got when she felt thier young cocks as she rubbed against them…and how she would go to her room and rub her hard clit till she squirted her juices thinking about those cocks… (more…)

Bobby stuffed the $22 dollars he had made in tips into his pocked and left the pizza [bleep]. It was his first ever - real job and at 15 all he was thinking about was showing off tip money to his mother. He unlocked his bike and rode the two miles to his house. His boss had let him go over two hours early because it was a Sunday and there just weren’t enough customers to justify all the staff, and being that he was the new guy on the block, he had to go. He parked his bike in the carport and went into the house through the back door. He was a little surprised that the house was dark. Had his mom gone out somewhere? He was just about to call out her name when he heard a noise coming from the back of the house. Thinking that maybe a burglar was in the house he picked up a knife from the kitchen and slipped down the hallway towards the back bedrooms. He listened carefully as he walked, then he heard it again.

“Ohhhhhh. Ohhhhhhh Godddddd.”

That sounded like mom? Was she hurt? For some reason Bobby continued to quietly slip down the hallway until he could peer into his parents bedroom. What he saw when he looked in shocked him to his core? His mother was naked, on her back with some guy shoving his cock in her pussy. (more…)

Heather lay in her bed and listened to the rhythmic squeak of the old fashioned bed springs that came from her son’s room. Chris rarely gave her any cause for worry, but these days he seemed obsessed about playing with himself. She knew that teen boys masturbated, but it seemed as if Chris did it all the time. Whenever he was in the bathroom, and she passed by, she could hear the whiff, whiff sound of skin on skin. Even now, just a few minutes after going to bed, she could hear the telltale noises from his room. Heather tried to ignore the sounds of squeaking bed springs, but she couldn’t ignore her urge to investigate. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and got up.

Heather had been 16 when Chris was born. He was conceived one night when she had got drunk and had sex, both for the first time. Her parents had respected her wish that she be allowed to give birth and raise the baby boy. She had worked hard, both in school and in her various after school jobs. It hadn’t been easy but now at the age of thirty-two, she had her own business and was quite proud of her son.

Chris had his father’s good looks and his mother’s intelligence. At least she liked to think so. He played one sport after another and always seemed to be on his way to a game, practice or workout. As a result, Chris had a body that just wouldn’t quit. He had broad shoulders and bulging pecs that drew down to a slim waist of washboard abs. And when he wore shorts Heather couldn’t keep here eyes off his well muscled thighs and calves. (more…)

It had only started a couple of months ago. Etta had known about incest but it was in an abstract way, because the 14-year-old girl was still a virgin and also because she didn’t know of anyone that was directly involved in the forbidden practice.

That changed when she found out that one of her best friends was having sex with her own father. Upon hearing of that, the shocked girl talked her own parents about what she had found out. Although both of them told her how wrong sex was between family members, to her surprise her mother somewhat condoned the practice, telling her not to condemn her friend because there was no way of knowing if maybe she was forced or even if maybe there was something in her genes that fueled the urges. And even though her father didn’t comment, Etta couldn’t help but notice that as she and her mother discussed this topic, he seemed to be studying his daughter’s reaction.

Etta was very confused. The thought that things like that could happen was something that she had not honestly believed until now. (more…)

My mother worked days as a secretary and evenings as a housewife and mother. Mom was loving and nurturing but at the same time always busy and no nonsense. Dad on the other hand worked nights in a hospital as a lab technician and during the day was full of fun and games.

He was my best friend and playmate. He would play with my doll and me all day long. He acted out the part as if the doll was actually my baby and I was the best mommy in the whole world. He would say to my baby “I know why you’re so cute, you have the prettiest mommy I ever saw”. I loved it, when I got up in the morning I sat in front of my mirror to make myself pretty for my daddy. Dad never failed to notice and told me how pretty I looked everyday.

I don’t believe my father had eyes for little girls, I only believe he had eyes for me. At least that is how he made me feel.

Dad and I never had sexual intercourse, what we did was always fun and always a game that I enjoyed. Most the time I instigated the play.
(more…)

Whenever I needed to get-off, which was often the case, I would always fantasize about my sexy mother. She was the main porn actress of my perverted fantasies. My name is Kevin. I’m 18 years old and live at home with my mom and dad. I have an older brother named Jeremy who is a junior architect for a major firm. He lives in an apartment on the other side of town.

Cynthia, my mom, is a busty 45 year old sexpot. But, if you ask me, she looks more like a vibrant nymph in her 20s. Mom is a very fit woman who likes to diet and hit the gym four times a week. She has soft, silky brown hair, light green eyes, a cute upturned nose, and full red lips. But her best asset in my opinion-and the opinion of most men who drool when she walks by them in the street-is her plump, round ass. Mom’s phenomenal curvy ass has a sublime way of hypnotizing the male species in their tracks. With each step of her dainty feet, mom’s ass cheeks will deliciously bounce and sway-side to side.

There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t want to sink my thick 7 inch cock into her tight crack. Honestly, I was so in love with that fuckin’ ass of hers it made my dick throb every time I saw it. Unfortunately, my chances of ever fucking my mom’s sweet ass were a little less than zero. It was totally pointless to even consider. Mom would never allow her baby to stick his hard cock into her luscious pear-shaped ass. At least, that’s what I thought–until… (more…)

Mom was a war bride. She was only 16 years old and pregnant with me when Dad married her. Right after they were married, my father left for Germany; it was at the beginning of world war two.

Dad was killed; one of the war’s earliest casualties. Mom was living with her mother when I was born.

My first experience to anything sexual, at least as far back as I can remember, was when I was approximately five years old, in kindergarten.

Mom and I were home alone. She was in the shower, and had left the bathroom door open, probably so she could keep an ear open for me. I went in to use the toilet. While I was on the bowl, I could see her through the shower curtain. I was looking at my mom’s naked body when I got my first boner in my young life. When my mother got out of the shower, I pointed it out to her.

I said, “Look Mom, when I push it down it pops right back up again.”
(more…)

Mom and I had made good time on our drive from Silicon Valley to the Sierra, and had arrived at the secluded campground just on the California side of Lake Tahoe with plenty of daylight left. Our tent was up and our sleeping bags were rolled out, our cooking gear and our food supplies were squared away, and we’d built a small fire just as the last blush of sunset was fading into the jagged black outline of trees against sky. We were the only people in the campground, and the silence and solitude were as vast and as comforting as the forest itself.

This was Mom’s and my celebration, our way of rewarding ourselves for the effort we’d invested in our successes. I had just graduated from the eighth grade, with top honors in science and math. I was looking forward to a summer of rest before I started high school and turned fourteen in September. Mom had just been promoted to director of education and documentation at the computer company where she worked–no small accomplishment for her. Dad had simply left when I was three, and in the ten years following, Mom had put herself through college and worked her way up the ranks to where she was today. It had cost her a lot of long days and lost sleep to do what she did. I remembered many lonely nights and weekends as she attended classes or did homework, but she reminded me often that we were working together to build a future for ourselves. And I think it had been good for both of us. Mom now felt that, at age 33, she had plenty of time left to build a career and enjoy the fruits of her labors. For my part, I had developed a sense of responsibility far beyond that of my peers, and was fully ready to embark upon what I considered to be the beginning of my real academic career. (more…)

When I was thirteen, my mother fucked me, three times. Never did a word about it pass between us.

Which isn’t surprising, because I grew up under a code of silence. It wasn’t written down, and it wasn’t told to me. It was just the way it was. In my family, nobody talked about themselves, who they were, what was important to them, which of their doings were triumphs and which were disappointments, or how they felt. Above all, nobody talked about how he felt. Bitterness, anger, frustration, joy, love, despair, even mere happiness were emotions I read about in books and suspected I felt, but I had no guidelines from the adults around me. Probably I felt like other people did-or people in books, anyway-but the fact was that either I had the range of feelings that other people did or I was all alone in the world. For the most part, it felt like I was all alone in the world. In my house, there was occasional laughter and more often anger, but nothing in between. Like most kids, I assumed that my family was normal, that all families were like my family. I didn’t learn until much later that I grew up in a strange atmosphere, indeed, and learned phrases like “flat affect.”

When I was very young, before I’d internalized the code like everybody else had, I’d tell my mother when I was unhappy, when I felt sad, when the world wasn’t going my way, and her response invariably was, “Think happy thoughts, and the sadness will go away.” I didn’t understand until much, much later that that must have been my mother’s way of coping with a life that consisted of a good deal of unhappiness. (more…)

Mom was a beautiful woman for her 37 years. She kept herself in shape with her excerize rituals every day. Dad, for many years was an executive with a lot of power.

We got along well enough, that is, for a growing teen with needs and designs on his car. He generally relented though, and let me use it with warnings of caution.

Things were pretty good between the three of us for many years, until that fateful day that dad’s company got involved in some kind of Securities scandal.

Suddenly, dad was out on the street looking in. Out of work for the first time in his career. Mom gracefully accepted this new financial arrangement as well as I.

We skimped on things we would have ordinarily taken for granted with dad’s working income. Now, we were forced to live on what they had saved.

Our home was secure and paid for. One of the nicest in the immediate area. A big Dutch Colonial.

Through the resulting weeks, dad had taken to heavy drinking. Going out in the early afternoon and coming in completely plastered. Mom had always had a warm dinner ready on the table for him.
(more…)

When Dad died my mother went into a depression that nothing seemed able to break her out of, gone was the happy go lucky woman that I had loved for the past eighteen years to be replaced by a woman I did not know. Doctors, psychiatrists, clerics, they all tried and failed to ease her depression, six months worth of treatments of one form or another and all for nothing.

Not that she neglected me or anything, it was just that the sparkle, the life had gone out of her and I was desperate for some way to cheer her up. I’d racked my brain for months trying to figure out something that I could do, taking her out was not an option, a priest had suggested it and she had tried it with no success, but I knew there had to be something. Then something my father had said before he had fallen ill came back to me, he’d laughingly told me that no matter how low mum was feeling a good seeing to always cheered her up. I grinned as I had the thought, sex had not been a taboo subject, hell I’d already lost my virginity to the mother of a friend of mine, but how the hell was I supposed to find a man for my mother? About the only thing she had shown any interest in since dad’s death had been me and that had been in a sad, distracted way, but I couldn’t do the deed. (more…)

The first day that I had sex with my little girl was not a shock to me. Although she was only 12 years old, I had started to fantasize about her when she was only 8. Indeed, I think my wife Joan sensed my feelings and began making Sheryl cover herself when not alone in her room. Further, for the last couple of years I was stealing feels of my daughter, whenever Joan was away from the house and the two of us were alone. Not enough to cause her to tell my wife, but enough so that by the time she reached 12, I know my daughter knew what I was doing, and although she didn’t say anything to encourage me, she didn’t avoid me either.

I was pretty sure that she wanted me to sneak feels of her. Not only did I have that feeling but she occasionally would either rub up against me or sit on my lap and push into me or snuggle into my neck. Unfortunately, for me, it seemed as if my daughter only would do those things when my wife was in the house, albeit not in the same room. Thus, I sensed that Sheryl not only condoned my secret feels, but even welcomed them, and maybe more. (more…)

You’re going to think this is a sad story, because it starts out sad. But don’t be sad for long, brothers and sisters, because it ends up pretty OK, at least to me it does. I’m Bobby, by the way, Bobby Henderson. That really doesn’t matter to the story, except that it’s about me and my mother, Claire Henderson. There are a few other people in it too, but they only matter a little. I’ll mention them later.
My mom’s story starts out like a lot of people hope their adult lives will start, with a good marriage to a good man who gave her a good baby - that’s me - and they were pretty happy, all things considered. But my father was killed in an accident at the plant and things sort of went to shit starting then.
I was only six at the time, and I don’t really remember too much about him. I do remember my mother crying every night for a long long time after she told me he wouldn’t be coming home any more. She told me later that, in my six year old style, I tried to make her feel better, telling her that I loved her and that it was going to be OK. That’s what she told ME whenever something I thought was bad had happened. You know… scraped knee, hit by a baseball, stepped on a nail… that kind of thing. So, when I heard her crying I said the same things to her.
As strange as it sounds, the words I said to her when I was six had a profound impact on our relationship, and would continue to have that impact for years and years. More about that later. (more…)

It’s funny how things turn out. Seemingly unconnected events conspire to cause little things to happen and sometimes those things can be life changing. So for my story I’ll show you the “unconnected” things. The life changing part will become clear.

First of all let me tell you a little about our family. Dad is this big beefy guy with wide shoulders and muscles a pro wrestler would be proud of. Mom died when we were younger, but I remember she was this little slip of a woman who was beautiful and smiled all the time. Now that I’m grown, if I saw a couple like that I’d stare at them, thinking he’d just CRUSH her while they were… well, you know.

My sister, Lee and I got our frames from our mother, much to my dismay. I couldn’t be a jock, so I drifted toward shop and that was a little change that made a big difference in my self esteem. I’m pretty good with my hands and people know it. But I stood by watching the jocks get all the popular and gorgeous girls. (more…)