Your erotic stories

WARNING: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately. Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.

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Curtis and I were best friends growing up. In high school, we competed with each other in sports and academics. I was the captain of the football team. He was the captain of the basketball team. I graduated just ahead of him for the highest GPA but his SAT score was 100 points better than mine. He got a scholarship to an Ivy League school while I accepted an appointment to a national service academy. He was the embodiment of every parent's dream son.

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"Nice day to wash a car isn't it?" Dean walked up the driveway seeing his friend's mother in cut-off jean shorts and a black bikini top washing the car. "Oh yeah! Nice and sunny out this morning!" She replied back with a smile while pulling the soapy sponge out of the bucket of water. "Hank home?" He tried his best keeping his eyes off her body if she just happened to look over his way while talking.

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Warning -- This story contains parts of incest. If you are offended by it, please continue reading with caution. As I looked out the window while thinking about my life so far, I saw the child with an adult body, playing around with two other children in the garden. My life in the past few years, had been an emotional roller-coaster. I spent a very normal childhood as a girl except for that my parents died in a car crash when I was twelve and lived my teen years in the protection of my aunt. I lived happy life with my aunt and she was very caring. Everything started to go out of ordinary, when I was nineteen. This is my story; Melissa's story.

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When Christopher DeVries arrived home from school, there was a simple message stuck to the refrigerator: Be here when I get back from work, we have to talk. Mom. The door had been purged of expired notes and grocery lists to make the message stand out. She had even thought to use the little magnet shaped like an exclamation point to pin it up.

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My best friend Gavin was going with one of the girls in our circle of friends. Her name was Justine and I kind of had the hots for her. We were all in our last year at school and I wasn't the sort of guy to get much action; not that I'm unattractive. I just find it hard to talk to girls. I get shy and they always end up with someone who isn't. Gavin's always good at getting girls; knows how to talk to them and I always end up being the third wheel when we hang out together.

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The mom's set the rules and Dad gets involved. I woke in the night, to find Aunt Marie sliding into my bed. I felt her cuddle up to me, her hand wandering mischievously. "That was mean of you, Jeremy, to let me fall asleep in the horny clutches of my son. Your Momma had him so worked up, he had to take it out on me," she pouted.

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It was the middle of July. Ninety plus degrees with heat advisories but here I was pushing the mower over the world's largest lawn because Dad had been ragging me about getting it cut. I'm dressed in shorts and tennis shoes, soaked in sweat barely able to keep a grip on the slick handle imagining I'm about to collapse as I finally finish the last strip of grass.

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When Dad was alive he took real good care of Mom. For as long as I can remember Mom has been a sleep walker. Dad had a thin line tied between his leg and Mom's ankle and when ever she started sleep walking he would guide her back to bed. She did not always sleep walk but when ever she felt stressed she would. Like the time her brother Walter was injured in a car accident. Mom woke up three times that night and Dad had to get her back into bed.

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Working in construction for so long I've been able to work my way up to foreman; which in my case, basically means that I point out what others are to do and I don't do much physical labor anymore. I've been doing this, with the same company, for almost twenty years now, starting when I was just seventeen. I've been able to keep myself in great shape, physically and sexually. It's no secret that there's a special category for construction workers in a lot of women's, and men's, fantasy worlds. I've been able to take advantage of a lot of a lot of those feelings over my career and I hoped to keep it up as long as I could. After all, I'm only thirty-six years old; I expect to be able to fuck like a madman for another few decades.

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