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Zinnia Blossoms Ch. 03

Category: Incest
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Part 3: Escape Route

Author’s Note: despite what the characters in this story might think on the matter, this is a work of fiction. None of the names have been changed because none of these people really exist – except in as much as thoughts exist. Perhaps they’ll exist in your heads for a while.

This story also contains more sex than the previous two; this is intentional and is the case primarily because this story covers a much longer period of time than the others.

I hope the experience is satisfying.

Hello. My name’s Dane and this is a story about how I almost escaped.

First things first – my name’s not really Dane, names have been changed, that sort of thing. I won’t bore you, you know how this works. Yes, this is real. No, I’m not going to bother proving it to you. No, I have no idea who you are – I just know my sisters are going to find this and show it to someone because that’s. What. They. Do.

I have two sisters, a mother and technically a father, though if he turned up I’d…

Who am I kidding? I’d let him in and give him a coffee and then talk at him a lot. I’m not a fighter, even though I hate the guy for running out on us. He IS my dad, though. Can’t help but love him. Sandy – that’s one of my sisters, they’re younger than me and twins – says it’s probably just biochemical. Maybe she’s right, I don’t know. I’m the big dumb one of the family and until really recently I thought I was pretty much the normal one.

So much for that.

Um. Basic information. I’m twenty-three at the time of writing this but a lot of this started before my birthday. I’m a bit over six feet tall – six-two, I think, it doesn’t bother me so much. I work as a courier and go to the gym… Well, not actually a lot, but often. Being a courier doesn’t do too much to keep me in shape but actually being in shape helps haul boxes and stuff, you see, so I’ve got a bit of muscle to me. I have brown hair but I dye it sometimes – okay, that’s not true. My sisters badger me into letting them dye it. There’s a running joke at work that people have bets as to what colour my hair’s going to be after the weekend’s gone by.

I… guess I’m pretty good-looking. I’ve had compliments and they tend to make me feel really weird. I guess I’m kind of straight, too – I’ve met a couple of guys I think are pretty cute but never had any serious urge to… you know. Do anything about it.

I’m not a writer, by the way, not by nature or by training. I carry boxes, stick them in a truck and then drive the truck to wherever the boxes have to go.

What else? Oh, I’ve had a few girlfriends and almost every one of them has complained I think they’re ugly – which is completely not true, right, let’s make that clear. But I have twin sisters and a mother and… Well, they’re pretty hot. Mum’s hot in that ‘I used to be sexy and I miss it but fail to realise I’m still damn sexy’ way – I don’t know if that makes any sense, like I said, I’m not a writer. My sisters are still in that ‘bloom of youth’ stage. Oh, and they’re all redheads.

So… people find them a bit intimidating. Hell, I’ve even had friends say that I don’t get it when they talk about this cute girl or that hot woman because I’m ‘surrounded by hotness all the time’ or some bullshit.


Anyway, I should get into this.

It’s been a few months now since I had sex with my mother.

I wrote and erased and rewrote that about twelve times, I think. At first it was just hard to type the words out. Then I was trying to type something more lewd but that feels so damn wrong. Does that seem weird? ‘Made love to’ is more satisfying to type but it’s not quite true. I love her because she’s my mother, it’s not like I want to marry her or anything. But saying I… you know. My mother isn’t someone I like attaching the word ‘fuck’ to.

Fucked my sisters, though. I can type that no problems – mainly because at first I couldn’t and they actually sat me down and forced me to verbalise it. They’ve got this thing about me being the most innocent and pure one in the family – they’re probably right, too – and they like embarrassing me. They call it ‘tough love.’ I call it sadism.

So yeah. I have hot sisters and a sexy mother. All of whom I’ve been to bed with.

Here’s a thing, though. Most people don’t really realise that, right? I mean the sexy part. Hard not to realise you’re in bed with a blood relative when it happens, believe me. Plenty of people have hot siblings or parents but even if they know it in their heads it doesn’t trigger anything off. My sisters are studying to be shrinks or something. Sandy said it’s – I forget the term. But it’s this syndrome thing that means that something in your head turns off the ‘must fuck that’ reaction if you grow up with a person. Doesn’t matter if you’re a girl or a guy, it turns off and that’s why when you hear about cases of incest in the media – the ones that aren’t outright child abuse – it’s almost always step-relatives or people who grew up apart from one another. In those cases the syndrome thing doesn’t kick in, so the juices get flowing.

That’s not the case here. Not only did we grow up together, we grew up REALLY tight-knit, partially because of my fuck-headed Dad leaving us, but otherwise just… because. My sisters have always been really hands-on and my mother never missed good-night hugs until we kids felt we’d outgrown them. You know how that happens.

Funny thing, when Dad left we decided pretty much without saying anything that we hadn’t actually outgrown them at all.

Westermarck Effect, that’s it. Reverse sexual imprinting. Sandy and Sally have been really interested in it recently, for obvious reasons.

Now, see, when I found out about that effect thing I asked my Mum about it. Did she just not have that reaction? Turns out she did. How about my sisters? Yeah, they struggled with it too. This wasn’t an easy thing for any of us. The shock of wanting it gets complicated (but not replaced) by guilt, and the guilt of wanting it doesn’t go away afterward. It just piles up with the guilt of having had it.

And I almost escaped wanting it. Almost.

This is about that.


First, though, I need to give you a bit more, um, background.

This is going to get a bit hot and heavy from place to place so sorry about that. Unless you like that, in which case… Good for you. I guess. See, I can’t really talk about almost escaping a thing until I talk about the thing in question so we’re going to go back a bit.

I’m just going to say this outright: my sisters and my mother are actively dangerous people to underestimate. A lot of people do it – Sandy and Sally can run rings around people intellectually and they sometimes find it fun to act like they don’t get what’s going on. I’ve seen them lure people they don’t like into social traps and then finish them off like wolves dragging down caribou. I’ve lost more than one friend that way. Though admittedly those ‘friends’ have always turned out to be complete bastards so I guess I owe them.

My mother, she’s lost a lot of her confidence over the years, but recent events have revived a bit of her spunk. Just yesterday I went shopping with her (okay, she went shopping and took me along to carry stuff, amongst… other things) and I watched her flirt her way to discounts in every single shop that had anything even approaching a male shop attendant (as well as more than one female salesperson). My sisters are good but I couldn’t help but think – if that’s the sort of thing my Mum can do when she’s down, it actually scares me what she could do when she’s firing on all confidence cylinders.

I hope I get to watch it at some point. And I hope I’m not the focus of it.

So, yeah. Dangerous ladies.

Bear that in mind as we start.


As I walked Amanda out to my car I knew I’d lost another girlfriend. I was right. See, I’d made the mistake of bringing her home for dinner. The ladies of my family are very quick to judge whether they like a person or not and while they usually had good instincts (which is one of the reasons I continue to bring girls home to meet them) I felt they’d been unfair with Amanda.

This was all a while ago, back when life wasn’t so fucking weird.

She was furious. Mum had been bad enough but when Sandy stepped in things got outright nasty.

No, that’s not true. Things didn’t get outright nasty; if they had then perhaps people would have gotten over themselves. It was like some crazy Cold War of female hostility. Things were said and while I could hear the underlying viciousness I (thankfully) couldn’t comprehend exactly how – I’m just gonna say it – how bitchy they were all getting.

We drove to her place in silence. I tried to talk a couple of times but she just seethed at me – for putting her in that position or for not backing her up more, I don’t know. People underestimate how tight-knit my family is so when I don’t immediately leap to someone’s defence when my Mum or sisters have made a decent point, well, they get hurt.

What happened when I pulled up surprised me. That’s putting it mildly.

Amanda is this gorgeous rounded Spanish-blooded girl with honey-caramel skin, generous lips, black curly hair that falls almost to her waist. Her bust is big and soft, just like her hips and her eyes. She’d made a lot of effort that night and, while she’d chewed a lot of the lipstick off her lower lip as she worried at it with her teeth over dinner, she’d applied fresh crimson redness to her mouth that was a beautiful contrast to her skin.

She knows I really like red lipstick. Um. Perhaps ‘really like’ is an understatement.

As soon as I pulled on the handbrake she had her seatbelt off and her hands on my pants. I didn’t even really have time to ask what she was doing when she had my fly open. I wasn’t hard when she pulled the length of my cock into her mouth but you can bet your bottom dollar I sure was after a few seconds.

Amanda has a pierced tongue. She’s got this chunky barbell through it and my God does she know how to work it. She spared no expense – she dug down into my pants to pull out my balls as she licked up the length of my shaft, swirled that piercing around the sensitive head and sank her mouth down onto it. I’m white so the skin contrast alone is amazing but the combination of those wonderfully soft lips, vivid red and stretched around my rod…

Her eyes are a deep, captivating brown. They never once left my face as she worked and while I saw anger in them there was lust too. I brought my hand up to brush some hair from her face and she immediately grabbed it and shoved it in her hair. The nonverbal order to manhandle her head was a hell of a turn-on. I get why people might find submissive women hot but to me nothing is more arousing than a strong woman who loves to fuck and doesn’t apologise for getting what she wants.

In case I hadn’t made it clear, Amanda is a veteran cocksucker. She’s said before that she prefers giving head to actual sex – I don’t think that was true but it’s probably not far off. She knew how to keep suction going up, making her cheeks hollow in as she drew her head up, bobbing up and down with the most sexy and wild slurping noises you can think of. Not too much, just enough to make it damn clear that she was getting into it.

Not once did she look away. As I got herder and closer my hand closed and when it was tight enough to pull at her scalp in a way I knew must have hurt she just got more into it. She put her hands on my thighs and focused on pure movement. First she nestled in, the length of my rod sliding right down her throat (she doesn’t seem to have a gag reflex at all), then she switched to fast, shallow bobs punctuated by her swirling and clever tongue.

She rolled my balls around in one hand as she worked me, eyes still locked on mine. The feel and sight of her massive breasts pressing against my leg just drove me higher. Soon I was actively fucking her mouth and the more I did it the more she encouraged me with moans, slurps and furious head-bobs.

It was too much; I unloaded hard in her mouth. I tried to pull out but she didn’t let me so down her gullet it went. I seemed to cum for a long time and just when I thought I’d given her every drop she pulled on my thick rod and sucked out more of my seed.

Then she sat up, licking her lips and eyeing me as she swallowed the sticky warm cum I’d just left in her mouth. Her pierced tongue rolled over her painted lips – she hadn’t spilled a drop. She never did.

“That’s what you gave up tonight,” she snarled, and she was out the car door before I could say anything. I was still struggling to pull my pants closed when her front door slammed and the porch light went out.

I sat there for a couple of minutes.

Then I drove home. What else could I do?

Maybe they’d been right, my sisters and my mother, when they’d turned on Amanda. Someone who blows you and then immediately uses it as a weapon to make you feel as shitty as possible isn’t a good person. But I couldn’t help but wonder… Would she have done that kind of thing if they hadn’t riled her up?


“You know we do it because we love you.”

I can’t handle Sally sometimes. She said that to me the instant I got in the door. They’d waited up, of course, they all had. I didn’t know if some trickle of guilt over ruining my love life yet again had pierced their iron-like armour of self-righteousness (Hey, what can I say, I’d just been dumped and I was angry) and I didn’t care. I was tired, post-orgasmic, miserable, humiliated, awkward and I just wanted to go to bed.

Those words stung me, though, and I didn’t really bother holding my tongue.

“No, you did it because you think you know what’s best. Love has nothing to do with it,” I snapped. I almost never swear at my family. I guess it’s an old-fashioned thing, I don’t know. What I wanted to say was ‘No, you’re a pack of judgemental interfering fucking bitches who like to shove your noses in where they aren’t wanted,’ but I couldn’t get the words out. And I wouldn’t have meant it, not really. Well, not entirely.

Sally huffed. Sandy bristled. You don’t go after one without taking on the other. They’ve been ganging up on me since they were old enough to know how.

This is usually the point where Mum steps in and, like clockwork, she did. I don’t mean that to sound disrespectful but when you’ve lived your whole life with someone and you’ve been through this conversation a million times before you have a pretty good idea what people are going to do.

“All of you,” she stated, her voice flat and firm. She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. But what she did do was put a hand on my shoulder. She had to reach up to do so; I’m a pretty big guy. “Dane, I’m sorry. Did she..?”

“Dump me?” I asked, my tone hurt but not actually nasty. My sisters wouldn’t have held back if I’d done that. Instead I just turned for the stairs and began to stomp up them. “Yes. Yes she did. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”


This story is written from my perspective. I don’t know what was said downstairs so I can’t tell you. I’ve never asked. I don’t really want to know. But I’m sure it involved the three of them being awkward and then telling themselves off for hurting me and then proceeding to bitch about Amanda. It’s kind of hard to accept an apology when the person who gave it is busy justifying their actions, even if they aren’t doing it to you.

I’m the kind of person who tries not to say anything bad about another person. My mother’s a bit the same, though I guess that’s something she learnt later than I did. My sisters… Well, they’re not that kind of person.


I had a dry period after Amanda.

Okay, it wasn’t that dry. It was a bit dry but then I had a few girlfriends. I didn’t bring a single one of them home – they weren’t that serious, really, but I wouldn’t have anyway because I know damn well what would have happened. I don’t want you to think my family aren’t nice people, they are, but they’re protective and we can all be a bit clannish. We’ve always been close but my Dad leaving just made that so much more prevalent. Clannish protection can be a really comforting thing but it can be stifling too.

Because I didn’t bring any girls home and because I wasn’t talking about any I have the feeling my family thought I’d just given up on dating for a while. In truth I was tempted but no, I didn’t.

In fact I had just made arrangements with a friend, Ross, to double-date with his girlfriend’s friend.

The conversation went a bit like this.

Ross: “So hey, I’m going out with Mel in a couple days.”

Me: “Um, great.”

Ross: “Yeah, we’re going out to dinner and a movie, then probably dancing or some shit.”

Me: “Sounds great, bet you’ll have a nice time.”

Ross: “Well, that depends. Tara’s coming with us.”

Me: “Um…”

Ross: “Tara. Come on, Tara, you know. Blonde, blue eyes, tight body.”

Me: *blank stare*

Ross: “At John’s party last week, she was the one near the pot plant -”

Me: “Oh, THAT Tara, right. Yeah? Third wheel, kind of?”

Ross: “Maybe. Mel wants to find her a date.”

Me: “Huh. I dunno, man. Have you tried Steve?”

Ross: “Fuck a donkey, you’re thick. I meant you, man.”

Me: *non-committal, slightly skeptical noise*

Ross: “Come on, it’ll be great!”

I won’t belabour the point any more than I have but basically Ross talked me into it. He’s pretty slick, that one. So we made plans to catch up in a couple of days, then the next night we’d all go out as a fearsome foursome. This would, from what I gathered, basically mean Tara and me hanging around making small talk while Ross and Mel sucked face and felt each other up (it wasn’t the first time Ross and Mel had asked me to double-date). He didn’t say as much but I guessed that Mel had told Tara about it, Tara had been enthusiastic and Mel had invited her along on a whim before realising the presence of her friend would keep hanky-panky to a bare nothing.

Not the first time Mel has done exactly that.


I hadn’t dated anyone for a couple of weeks and frankly I wasn’t in much of a hurry to. Tara is an attractive woman and although I didn’t realise it then she’s also a very intelligent woman – way smarter than me – but I’d already had my heart and my balls kicked about enough in the previous few months so I wasn’t looking forward to the social event of the century.

That all changed very quickly. Here’s how.


I got back late that night. After convincing me that a double-date was the right idea we went out for drinks – not many, and I certainly didn’t drink enough to get drunk, but I got home feeling a bit frazzled. Talking about Tara had outlined painfully how little sex I was getting and how little I enjoyed it even when I did. I’m not sex-mad or anything but I spend a lot of time wondering if I’m ever going to get married, have kids, that kind of thing. That’s another trait of my fuck-head father, you see. He instilled in me from an early age that a man does Certain Things. When he’d fucked off I was left to try to fill the shoes of the ‘man of the house’ – I know that’s an archaic stereotype and all that shit because Sandy and Sally have told me often enough but it’s real easy to say ‘This isn’t your responsibility’ and another thing entirely to convince your heart of it.

I’m sentimental, you see. I’m a romantic at heart. That’s not always a good thing.

So I got back, pulled off my clothes, got in the shower, got out, fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling like shit – late nights do that to me. My sisters are night owls but I’m a… day owl? You know what I mean. I had a long day ahead of me and it wasn’t going to be fun so I guess I was kind of putting off leaving the house.

It was the whimpering that led me to my other’s room – or, more accurately, made me stop outside the door.

All our bedrooms are on the upper floor. The lower floor is dominated by a fair-sized kitchen and a really big lounge room. There’s other stuff on both floors but the point is that if we want to sleep (or whatever) it’s on the upper floor. Mum has the master bedroom, Sally and Sandy share a room (and wouldn’t have it any other way) and I have mine. We each have an ensuite; one of the reasons Mum and Dickface Dad picked it was because of the ensuites. You don’t try to force a brother and twin sisters to share a bathroom without there being repercussions and consanguineous sex was not on their list of concerns at the time.

My mother went a bit nuts when Dad left. I got angry, my sisters did pretty much the same and Mum fell apart. She was as strong as she could be in front of us but privately she was going to pieces. One morning she came down to breakfast in messed-up makeup and with her head completely bald. I don’t mean shaved to stubble, I mean completely shiny bald. You really don’t get how much pain someone is in until they do something like that – I’m not saying shaving your head is a sign of pain but Mum took such good care of her hair, it was the last thing she felt she had from her younger years that she felt made her pretty, I guess. It was part of her personality and she just… got rid of it. It was like watching her try to die.

Anyway, now she has a hot pixie cut.

My point, if I can actually get to it, is that she’s a sensitive soul with a really big heart and Dad leaving crushed her. She still has bad days.

I ‘d walked toward my room after getting out of the shower. I was warm, slightly pink and freshly clothed. There’s something about putting on fresh clothes that I love. Sure, it was my courier uniform and not something I’d actually choose to wear, but it was still clean.

Then I heard that whimper I mentioned. Then something like a sob.

I know the sound of my mother’s voice. Even if the fact that it was coming from my mother’s room wasn’t a giveaway the tone was one I’d heard too often at night (or thought I had). I hadn’t seen my sisters so I assumed either they were in there with her, likely hugging it out on the bed while Mum tried not to cry, or Mum was in need of a hug and my sisters were out.

So I went in. I knocked but I have this nasty tendency to knock really softly and if someone is crying (or whatever) they probably aren’t going to hear me. Mum didn’t.

She was certainly in need of something but a hug wasn’t it.


EDIT: I’ve written this next description a few times. This is all months ago, like I said, so my acceptance of the situation has shifted a bit.

Sorry if this next bit makes you feel awkward. Getting into detail is cathartic, though, if I’ve even spelled that right.


There is a desk in my mother’s room and on that desk is my mother’s computer. In front of the desk is my mother’s chair and at that point, sitting in my mother’s chair, was my mother.

She’d just had her shower, I guess. Her hair was wet and she was in her dressing gown. The dressing gown in question was pulled open – and I mean all the way.

Her breasts were heaving up and down with her breathing. Her whole chest was a kind of bright scarlet red and so was her face and her neck, too. She has really nice breasts and distinct nipples – what I mean is the areola bit doesn’t blend into the skin around it, each breast has a really obvious line. And her nipples were really hard, really big.

Mum had one of her hands up, cupping and squeezing one of her breasts (I have trouble calling them anything more crude) and her other hand was wrapped around this goddamn big dildo. It was that dildo she was pumping in and out of herself as fast and furious as she could go.

It was weird, to say the least. One of her legs was propped up on her desk and she was leaning her chair back in exactly the same way she’s trained me not to. Her pussy has these lovely shapely lips and it blushes rosy red when she’s horny. She was so damn wet that I could very clearly hear, now that the door was open, each squishy squelch as she buried the silicone cock into her body over and over.

This is stuff I saw in a split second, of course. She saw the door open out of the corner of her eye, tried to pull herself up, lost her balance and came down with a crash on her back. There was a huge thump as her head hit the floorboards, too, and then this weird surreal moment: the shock had made her tense up and her dildo got pushed right out, bounced wetly across the floor and stopped at my left foot.

See, falling over backward like that is exactly why she taught us kids not to tilt out chairs backward. We took her more seriously after Sandy had to get rushed to the hospital one day with a concussion and a need for four stitches in the back of her scalp.

That was under very different circumstances, though.

Now, let’s be clear – I’m not the smartest person in the world and I’m the dumbest in my family by a fair margin. Having said that I’m not stupid compared to the rest of the world. Nonetheless it’s a really fucking weird thing to see your Mum fucking herself into a froth of a morning (or it is for me).

Also, kids don’t normally comprehend their parents as sexual beings. They are, of course, otherwise they wouldn’t have kids, but the connection of ‘that is my mother’ to ‘that is my mother fucking herself with a 7″ artificial dong’ isn’t one most people ever need to make.

So I stared at her stupidly for way longer than I should have. When I DID move it was toward her, not away; she’d hit her head really hard and I wanted to make sure she was all right.

I’ll tell you what, her lungs sure as heck weren’t damaged. She yelled at me to get out and that’s exactly what I did. I fucking RAN out and downstairs.


I sat there a good while completely failing to cope with what I’d seen. Not just seen, either; if you know what it smells like when a woman is masturbating desperately in the open air of a room – not under the covers but right there, totally exposed – then you know the smell that was still clinging to my senses.

The hot, steamy juices… of my mother.

If you don’t imagine how much that can throw a guy then you’re probably never going to be able to.

If it were anyone else I just knew I’d have a raging boner. It took me a few seconds to work out that I did, in fact, have a raging boner and then I didn’t know what the fuck to think.

So I made coffee.

Hey, simple solutions are sometimes the best. Besides, it’d give me a different smell to think about. Either way it passed a bit of time and before long the shock had died down a bit, not to mention the stiffness in my rod.

When feet came down the stairs I was momentarily worried it was my sisters. There was only one pair, though, and it’s rare they’re out of each others’ sight. It was my mother and that scared me a hell of a lot more.


She’d cleaned herself up, though she was still red around the neck. I’d never seen that kind of effect on a woman, that extended kind of flush. I didn’t get hard again at the thought; I guess I was just too petrified. I couldn’t look at her but she went past me without a word and got a bag of frozen beans or something out to put on her bump.

The conversation that followed was brief and about as awkward as you’d expect. She tried to apologise, I tried to tell her not to, that kind of thing. See, the way I figure, she’s a fully-grown woman. While I hadn’t really thought of her as sexual before that point I’d realised, in my coffee-cup philosophy moments before she came down to the kitchen, that she’s been celibate since Dad left. Probably a bit before, I guess; I don’t know how often they were Doing It.

And, I mean, internet. If you can’t find something on the net to get you off then you’re probably just not looking hard enough. Or you’re asexual. No disrespect to the Aces.

So I took a deep breath and took my chance by telling her that. I mean, she wasn’t strangling puppies or anything. I think I said that, actually.

Then my sisters came in.

They saw us, paid exactly as much attention as they typically do, and went out again. Then Sandy came right back in.

“If you’ve hit her…” I can’t remember the exact words but the jist was that if I’d hit Mum – Sandy had seen the bag of miscellaneous frozen vegetables – then she’s cut my dick off and feed it to me.

It actually took a moment for me to realise she meant if I’d hit MUM. No matter how much shit my sisters levelled at the girls I bring home, nothing had prepared me for that. Me? Hit Mum? I wouldn’t. I just…

I guess some guys would have seen red, or whatever the term is. I just sort of sank in on myself. That she’d even think me capable of it hurt like I’d never have expected.

It was a shitty moment. When she realised she’d gotten the situation wrong – not at all uncommon for Sandy – she backed off and vanished into the lounge room.

Then Mum suggested she should maybe start dating. And that’s when I found that while I might get pissy about my family getting protective over me when it comes to affairs of the heart, well, I’m just as bad.


With that drama over and my head still swimming a bit with the memory of the sights, sounds and smells of my mother frigging herself, with my heart still heavy because of Sandy’s accusation, I left for work.

I enjoy my job well enough on most days and I came in feeling like it’d be good to get my head down and avoid thinking for a while. I bustled in, waving hi to a few people, grinning at the cute tea lady and stealing a doughnut on the way past, giving her a wink that she tittered at. I don’t know why, it’s not like I said anything funny.

Things don’t work out the way we’d like, though. Of course they don’t. Why would they? So instead of hauling arse and boxes, keeping myself busy and earning my way, I was doing all of those things rather badly because the image of my mother’s breasts and the memory of her smell kept coming back.

It wasn’t like I was turned on all day. I really wasn’t. It was more one of those ‘can’t unsee’ moments and my brain wasn’t going to put it on hold until it’d processed the information.

I was supposed to work late but my boss came up to me near my normal finish time. He’s a nice guy, nothing like my previous boss, and he basically told me to go home and work late a different day because my work had been shit. Only he said it nicely.

So I went home, planning on an early night to make up for the previous late one.


My evening got more embarrassing when I got home because the instant I was in the door I was confronted by the unexpected vision of my sister’s breasts bouncing free of her t-shirt.

That… might require some explanation but that’s basically how it went from my perspective. Put car in park, undo seat belt, get out, open door, boobs.

I couldn’t tell whose they were at first. Sandy and Sally have this thing where they like to dress mostly identically. I remember, though, thinking they were probably Sally’s because they were less tanned than I’d have expected from beach-bunny Sandy (one of the reasons she’s named ‘Sandy’ in these stories).

Either way, these breasts were smaller but higher and more firm than Mum’s – though the way my sister’s arms were stretched upward did rather pull them into a different shape than Mum’s were, laying almost horizontal, arms down by her sides. The areolas were less distinct, too, and the nipples definitely less hard.

But that exact moment when a t-shirt is peeled away and breasts do that awesome ‘boing’ bounce… Yeah, that’s when I walked in.

Sally and I stared at one another when we realised what had happened. Okay, she stared at me, my eyes were glued to her breasts. I hadn’t seen her topless since she was twelve and damn, how she’d grown. My brain was still parsing what I was looking (again, rather stupidly) at when Sandy’s squeal of surprise at the scene basically brought us both down to earth.

They rushed upstairs. I was mortified. I hadn’t even seen Sandy walk straight up at me, about to say something that I later worked out was going to be an apology, so startled by Sally’s breasts had I been. Deer in the headlights, indeed. I heard a door slam, hurried conversation and then the door opened again.

When Sandy came back down at full speed I was rubbing my eyes. Here it came.

“Shitburgers, what are you doing home? I thought you were working late,” she panted at me. She didn’t seem to know if she wanted to laugh, yell or both.

“I…” Shit, how to explain this? “My boss told me to come home and work late a different night. Something about him, uh, being late for… Cross-Fit training..?”

That seemed just ridiculous enough to trigger laughter reflex and in a second Sandy was bent over, hands on knees, giggling breathlessly, a hand clamped over her mouth to stop the noise. I thought that was a bit weird, really, as if she didn’t want Sally to know she wasn’t angry. Then again I’ve seen her burst out laughing when she was furious before so it’s hard to tell with Sandy.

Then without warning the energy just seemed to go out of her and she sat down heavily at the table. I sat opposite, taking it as my cue that things were about to get serious.

I’m not sure if I can adequately explain how strange it is to talk to only one of my sisters. Typically they’re thick as thieves, so close to each other that Mum’s accused them before of being Siamese twins rather than the regular sort. When you get one of them on their own you kind of keep expecting the other one to materialise out of thin air nearby.

What Sandy was thinking about it is hard to say. Do they miss each other when they’re just in the next room? I don’t know. Sometimes they seem more like lovers than sisters.

Then the thought of my mother sitting there all… exposed, you know, that thought ran through my head and I couldn’t help but blush. I ducked my head but Sandy had seen it. Of course she’d seen it. The day was turning out to be too fucking weird for me to be lucky enough to have that blush go unnoticed.

“Yeah, that was weird,” Sandy admitted, clearly thinking I was thinking about seeing Sally topless. And then she pulled her t-shirt up and flashed me.

Just like that. One moment, talking. Next moment, boobs.

And I did exactly the same thing – eyes wide, I stared in shock, my mouth falling open. It took me a few seconds to tear my eyes away and when I did I screwed them up tight and rubbed at them, sighing heavily.

“Did you really have to do that?” I asked.

“You don’t like them?” Sandy sounded hurt but I wasn’t biting.

“Trick question. Next.” I could hear her t-shirt move and, risking a glance, saw she’d pulled it back down into place. “So what was that for?”

Sandy shrugged carelessly. “I wanted to see if you were some creeper leching over his sister or whether you were just stunned by headlights.”

“Thanks,” I smirked. “And it had nothing to do with you specifically wanting me to perve at you.”

“Maybe,” she offered, deadpan. She tilted her head to one side slightly as I blushed and then grinned widely. “I’m joking, Dane. I prefer my guys less related to me.”

“That’s a mercy,” I muttered, trying without success to forget that my sister had just flashed me. And possibly stealth-hit on me. “Got a verdict, then? Am I a lech or just a boy?”

Sandy tilted her head this way and that as if undecided. “Jury’s still out, I think, though I guess you could be both.” There was a slight pause and what came out of her mouth next almost floored me. “Would you like to fuck me? Really quick, before Sally comes back down?”

I know my mouth opened and closed more than once. I know my face – which was already red from embarrassment – felt like it was on fire. But I also know my eyes dropped to her shirt-clad boobs for just long enough.

“What? No, eww.” I meant it, too, even though my hormones were starting to kick in and my mind was awhirl with a potent mix of confusion, anger, humiliation and a deep, secret undercurrent of arousal.

“Shit, you could’ve just said ‘No thanks,’ Dane,” Sandy huffed, crossing her arms over her body (which only pushed her breasts together and upward a little more, though I think she was genuinely hurt enough that she didn’t realise). “‘Eww’ is a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

I rubbed my hand over my forehead and sighed. “Sandy, if you were any other girl, if you weren’t my sister, it’d be a totally different mater.” And I meant that, too.

That’s the Westermarck Effect. Even though you’d normally want it, you don’t. Even if you actually do. Especially if you actually do. Weird, huh?

Sandy gave me a kind of side-eye smile at that. I’d soothed her hurt pride and that perked her up a bit. I mean, don’t take that as meaning my sisters are facile, but don’t most people like to feel desired, even if by people they don’t have desire for back?

Then again maybe she did desire me, even then. Shit, I hadn’t thought of that before. That’d change the whole tone of that conversation.

No. No. Can’t be.

I think.


Anyway, back to the story, which has already turned out to be a lot longer than I suspected it would.

Sandy took me upstairs almost forcibly, by the hand as it happened, and pulled me down to kiss my cheek and whispering an apology about that morning in my ear. She smelled of young woman and sporty deodorant. Then she turned me toward her door and pointed.

I could hear Sally on the other side doing something, presumably with clothing. No way was I going to walk in on her – I’d already done that to Mum and her both once today – so I knocked especially loud for me, which is probably a normal knock for anyone else.

“Come in, Dane,” she called back, sounding distracted. Of course she knew it was me. Sandy would’ve just gone straight in.

She was checking herself out in a mirror, eyeing how she looked in this little black dress that I recognised as one of her going-out-so-don’t-even-try-to-dissuade-me dresses.

The conversation that followed, well, it didn’t go the way I’d expected. I think Sally understands me a bit better than Sandy does so that makes her a bit more dangerous, in a way. I apologised, she hit me for apologising, then she got angry about double standards. I walk around the house topless a fair bit, you see, so she thinks there’s no reason she shouldn’t be able to.

No, that’s not right. There is no reason she shouldn’t be able to, but society is stupid and does lots of things for no reason. Mind you, in this exact case, if she started going topless around the house right then I think I’d blush myself into combustion.

Nowadays we pretty much all go around topless from time to time and the funny thing is that it’s sort of normalised the human form for us. Back then I’d have died of embarrassment. Nowadays it’s just one more thing my family does when we don’t have visitors.

But there was one point in the conversation, brief as it was, where I almost completely lost it and told her everything.

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” I’d said. Seemed simple and innocent enough to me but it confused her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she’d wanted to know. “You saw me topless, it’s not the end of the world.” And then she’d looked at me and it was as if she’d been able to look inside my mind and had seen an image of our Mum fucking herself in her chair with me standing in the doorway watching her.

I panicked, said something lame – I don’t remember what – and backed out, leaving Sally staring after me.


I sat in my room for a while with a head full of fuzz and confusion. Whatever I was doing, thinking about these things so obsessively, it wasn’t helping me. I tried playing on my Playstation. I looked up some pretty serious (non-incestuous) porn on the net. I got two pages into a book I’d been meaning to read but the events of the day just kept going around and around in my head.

Then I got a phone call that I thought might just save me – it was my boss, calling me in to work. Could I work? Sure I could. Did it bother me he’d sent me home the same day? Nope. I hadn’t been paying attention. I’d be more careful this time. Besides, someone had called in sick who was supposed to be working later than normal hours.

A knock on my door as I was getting dressed for work (again) had to be my mother’s, I’d guessed, but it turned out to be Sandy with Sally in tow.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sally had snapped at me (or maybe just snapped at the world in general) as they came in, seeing me topless. Well, topless isn’t quite accurate. I was in boxers and that’s it. “You can wander around almost naked but if we do -”

“Hey,” I quipped, forcing my voice to remain light, “bikinis work on you so we’re even. Besides, I’m not ‘wandering around,’ I’m ‘getting dressed’ and you happen to have come into my room.”

I struck a rather indignant pose, one fist on my hip, and noticed that both of my sisters were looking somewhat southward of my face. I flushed slightly when I saw my boxers weren’t doing a damn thing to disguise my dangling cock but I wasn’t hard so I just looked back at them with that ‘Well?’ expression they’ve used on me so many, many times.

“Um…” Sally swallowed visibly and looked up at me. “We’re off. So’s Mum. What’re you getting dressed for?” They’d all thought I was back for the night.

“Work,” I answered, still standing there, but I turned and bent over to pick up my pants, keeping my back to them as I pulled them up my body. Hopefully they hadn’t seen me start to react to their stares but if they had, well, too late now. “I got called in again.”

“Oh, well, have fun!” Sandy said, her voice just a little too bright and quick. I flushed; yeah, they’d seen.

Then they bustled out and I got dressed.

What else could I do?


Work was shit, by the way.

I mean really shit. Everything went wrong that could go wrong and I can proudly say that none of it was my fault. Oh, the slouch of the office was going to try to blame me, of course, but I’d kept all my work orders and receipts. I’d obtained signatures everywhere I had to and some places I didn’t. No, I wasn’t going to go down as easily as that fucker Bryant thought I was going to.

When I got home, though, it was in a temper.

A man coming home and slamming doors, stomping about – it can be intimidating, to say the least, but my family finds it ‘cute.’ They know I’m not the violent sort so my sisters just kind of giggle at me which, of course, only makes it worse.

They were still out on the town when I got home, though, and found Mum drinking wine from a shot glass. Now that’s cute. It’s like pretending to be a hardcore whiskey drinker but wanting to avoid smelling like kerosene.

Man, was she drunk. I mean, really drunk. We’re not talking falling-off-your-chair wasted, here, but definitely loss-of-inhibitions drunk. Funnily enough she could still string words together just fine and I remember wondering at the time if she was pretending to be more drunk than she was… but I doubt it.

We tried to talk, I got some vodka for myself (because ‘Hey son, you remember how you saw me fucking myself?’ isn’t a conversation to have sober) and then… I don’t know what happened. One minute she was worried, then she was telling me how horny she’d been and then she was crying like she’d been left by Dad all over again.

And then she was kissing me, and I was kissing her back and…

I’m not going to go over the whole event because I know for a fact that Mum’s already written about it. But I will say this:

Mum is better at giving head than Amanda could ever hope to be and if she was that good at actual sex while half-crippled with guilt and alcohol then I’m outright scared at the kind of good time she must have been able to show my Dad.

And he’d still walked away.

So that’s how the weirdest day of my life ended – with my mother’s pussy dripping my cum and neither of us knowing what the hell to do about what had just happened.


I put her in her own bed after we’d slept the night away, before I went down to get some coffee. She was still fast asleep but she mumbled my name and the words ‘lovely fuckin’ cock’ as I did so. So yeah. That was odd.

Not sure how long I sat there thinking. My first cup of coffee grew cold, untouched, the milk doing that weird skin-growing thing that it does when it’s just left to sit. I made a face and then a new cup of coffee and was staring off into space again when Mum came down. She took my coffee away and gave me tea – I only really drink coffee when I’m stressed out – and told me she had no regrets.

I have no words for how much relief and guilt I felt right then. Mum had no regrets about begging her only son to fuck her – and having him agree… The idea was surreal. So was the bulge growing again in my pants which, gladly, Mum couldn’t see.

She’d never seemed so beautiful.

Then we agreed we’d talk about it later, chatted about shit that doesn’t matter and I left for work.

I had a hard-on for the whole day. It freaked me out, not because of the fact of it but because it was over my mother. My mother! What the hell, Dane?

* * * * *

Not until a week later did we get time alone to discuss things.

Sally and Sandy spent a lot of time either hanging around the house or going out on the same nights either Mum or I did (yes, I do go out from time to time). Part of me felt frustrated because I just wanted the conversation done and dusted while the other half was relieved for the reprieve. I think Mum felt the same way.

I don’t know what Sandy and Sally thought but whatever it was they seemed a lot more clingy than normal. Maybe Mum didn’t notice but I sure as hell did and for a few reasons.

Then again maybe I was just watching harder than I normally would.


Then, one sunny morning, Sandy used my ensuite.

That’s actually not too unusual. Sometimes Sally takes her sweet damn time in the shower and Sandy comes in and uses mine – but typically she doesn’t do it while I’m still in the room. She’ll wait until I’m downstairs. But that day? Nope.

“Hi,” she said that morning, bustling into my room in her cute owl pyjamas and carrying a couple of towels. “I’m using your shower, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, or for me to leave the room, she went and I heard the water running soon after.

I went downstairs and made a sandwich. It was weird, given the last few days, so I needed some space from the idea that one wall away my sister was stripping down and getting wet. Nothing quite like a sandwich for grounding yourself, I always say. I lingered over its construction for a while, chose just the right ingredients and then cut it into four pieces, diagonally (sandwiches taste better when they’re triangles, it’s scientific fact). When I went back up I listened at my door and, hearing nothing, headed back in to sit on my bed.

A clunk of something in the bathroom made me roll my eyes. I thought Sandy would be out of the room by now but no, she’d just been doing whatever it is she does after her shower. Well, dammit, it was my room so I was staying put.

It was a rebellious, stubborn decision but it was the one I made.

Sandy came out soon after wrapped in a towel from the waist down. Not the breasts down – the waist down. The way it was folded really didn’t cover much and as she moved it looked like it might fall down at any moment, but it didn’t. The second towel was draped around the back of her neck, the ends hanging down to cover the front of her breasts but not the sides.

Lots of side-boob going on. It must have been intentional, it must have been, and aimed to make fun of me. I’m a bit of a boob-man, you see, and my sisters know it very well.

“Oooh, sandwich,” she bubbled, leaning down to grab some of it. Yes, you guessed it, the towel ends dangled forward and I got a good view of her breasts, thankful for the plate my sandwich was on. Munching happily she went out.

That sick, giddy feeling of arousal and guilt raised its head and I slapped it down as best I could – which is to say, barely at all. I was tired of feeling it, tired of my sisters making it rise in me and really damn tired of not knowing if it was intentional or not.


Barely a minute later the door opened and Sally poked her head in.

“Have you seen Sandy? Oooh, sandwich!” Her eyes lit up. I make good sandwiches. You know that whole ‘get in the kitchen, woman, and make me a sandwich’ bullshit that sexist dweebs bandy about? Yeah. My sisters tell me that all the time. So does my mother, when she’s feeling playful. And I do it, too.

I let out a groan and held the plate up, not standing from my spot on my bed. I’d been watching television, not really comprehending it, mind still working over the sight of Sandy’s breasts (oh, and that whole I-had-sex-with-my-mother thing).

Sally came in, eyes alight with greed, and it turned out that she hadn’t bothered with a t-shirt – or shorts, for that matter. Her panties – probably some species of thong, I don’t really know the right terms – were that kind that you pull up high over your hip bones and they looked really good. I could see the shape of her mound outlined in the cloth and she wasn’t bothering to cover it or her tits.

“Sally!” I protested.

“What? You make tasty – oh.” She looked down at herself. “Well, I figure you’ve seen my tits now and these panties don’t show any more than most of the bikini bottoms I wear, so no big deal.”

That was actually a good point, so I didn’t argue it. Still, I saw her eyes glance, double-take and then slide across my crotch and knew that growing lump was betraying me. Funnily enough she didn’t say anything about it. Either of my sisters failing to take the opportunity to make fun of me – at least when I’m not obviously upset – is rare and it surprised me.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” she grinned, and then walked out of the room. There was a roll to her hips I hadn’t seen before – maybe it’d been there but I hadn’t noticed it. The fact that her panties were showing off her bum might have made it more obvious, I don’t know.


Soon after that my Mum knocked on the door. When she came in I just held up the plate; I could see where this was going. She laughed at my weary expression but accepted the triangle of food, watching me as she bit into it. She was looking me up and down, too, but at least I understood why she was doing it.

“The girls are going out,” she informed me, sitting by my side on the bed.

“Oh, are they?” I asked, sounding much more cheerful than I intended to. Mum gave me a real funny look then and it took me a few seconds to realise that we’d agreed to talk about the whole incest thing when they’d gone out. “Sorry,” I blushed, “they’ve just been teasing me a bit. Getting a break from them would be, you know. Welcome.”

“Really?” Mum asked, tilting her head slightly to the left. “How have they been teasing you?”

What could I say? My cheeks went bright red and I mumbled something, I don’t recall what.

“Dane,” Mum began, utilising that Mum-voice that means ‘I’m not leaving this alone so you just bloody well tell me, young man.’ After a few seconds I just shrugged and took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

“I accidentally saw Sally take her top off last week. The same day we… you know.” I swallowed hard. “Then Sandy flashed me, said it was a test to see if I was some kind of incestuous creeper.” I laughed, sounding bitter even to me. “Turns out I guess they were right, in a way.” Yes, Mum had told me not to blame myself. As if.

“Oh?” The word had an odd note to it, amused and slightly… I don’t know. Heated?

I just shrugged and made a hand gesture as if to say ‘you know.’ I know she knew. Maybe she wanted to hear me say it but she let it go for the moment.

“Have you fucked them?” She didn’t say ‘either of them.’ She didn’t have to. Sally and Sandy are a package deal and I couldn’t see that happening with one and not the other. But maybe that was just me being weirdly wishful.

“Mum! No!” I stared at her in blatant shock. I’m not sure what surprised me more, that she suggested such a thing or that she’s said ‘fuck’ without a belly full of alcohol.

She laughed and shook her head. Her red fringe flipped across her forehead. Reaching out she bridged the space between us and wrapped her arms around one of mine, hugging it and shifting closer so we were sitting hip to hip. She rested her head on my shoulder and we sat there for a while.

“I’m going to start by saying it first,” she began in a careful tone. “We had sex. I was very drunk and frustrated but that aside what happened was that I seduced you, my own son, and we lay in this very bed and fucked.” There was a long pause. “And it was really damn good.” Another pause. “And I want to do it again, so damn badly.”

Her tone was low and soft but smoky as well, seductive without ever meaning to be. That was the most deadly thing about my mother – she could seduce you without ever meaning to.

“I want to pull out your cock and suck on it until it’s rock hard,” she added.

“Too late for that,” I interjected, and she giggled.

“Then I want to push you onto your back and impale myself on you. I want you to turn me over and stare into my eyes as you pound me, then stand up and bend me over your desk, pull my hair as hard as you can while you’re fucking my drooling cunt from behind…”

“Holy shit, Mum,” I protested, and she slapped my arm lightly.

“Language,” she admonished, completely hypocritically. Then she sighed sadly. “What’s wrong with me, Dane? Why am I so fucked up?”

This shook me a little. She and I have discussed a lot of things before, particularly finances – we’re the only two earners in the house and my sisters don’t want a say in how the money’s spent anyway, insist that it’s ours so why don’t we stop bothering them about it.

What I realised, though, was that in that moment she wasn’t Mum talking to her son, not even having a mature conversation with her son. She was Zinnia talking to Dane, two adults having a talk that would probably change things forever between us.

“I don’t think you’re fucked up,” I suggested, and she didn’t tell me off for swearing this time. “I think you’re sick of feeling alone and you wanted someone to be close to. I think you were drunk and got a bit excited and it was me who was sober – well, almost sober,” I allowed, “but I should have stopped it.”

There was a pause as she considered this.

“Why didn’t you?”


“Truth,” she nodded.

“Because you have no idea how sexy you are,” I told her. “You were there and you wanted me and before I knew it I was just overwhelmed by you.”

“And you think that I’m not fucked up because…” She fished around for the reasons. “I was drunk and sexy and lonely?” I could tell I’d made her happy with my comments about her attractiveness, even if she didn’t believe me.

“More or less.”

“Then explain why I want this,” she challenged me, moving one hand down from my arm and across the bulge in my shorts, “in every damn hole you can manage to shove it into.” The rub became a caress, then a grip and squeeze. I didn’t stop her and, emboldened, she slid her hand down the front to grasp at my rod. “Even when I’m stone cold sober.”

I groaned as she pulled it out, somehow knowing that it was always going to come to this. I throbbed in her fist, bringing my hand up to run through her hair as she slid away from me a little, then leaned over my lap.

“Explain to me why I’m doing this,” she added, engulfing my cock in her mouth so suddenly and so deeply that all the air seemed to be squeezed out of me. She paused to make a specific show of running her tongue around the head, planting the softest of kisses on it before drawing back and sitting up.

“Um,” I suggested, confused as she reached into a pocket of her tracksuit. My eyes widened when I saw her pull out a tube of lipstick and watched her grin, popping the lid.

“You love lipstick, don’t you? Every last one of your girlfriends has had a taste for it and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” With expert skill she applied a deep red tint to her beautiful mouth, making kissing motions at the mirror to check the effect before turning back to me. “I’m putting it on just for you, Dane, especially for you.”

Then she opened her mouth wide and licked the palm of her hand, ran it over the head of my cock and down the shaft, following it close behind with her painted, stunning lips.

I’m putting it on just for you, Dane, especially for you…

I’m still not sure how I managed to avoid exploding in her mouth right then and there. Her eyes never left mine as she slid down, swirled up, sucking and dipping. When my hand found her hair she leaned against it slightly and I gripped it. That caused a faint frown to flicker across her face and she released my cock with a wet pop.

“Hard,” she insisted. “Make it sting.”

I gave her a little shrug and, with an apologetic smile, grabbed a fistful of her beautiful hair, tugging it in a sideways, twisting motion. I expected her to back me off a bit but she let out a low, shuddering moan, slurping in my shaft with renewed enthusiasm. My eyes went wide but I didn’t stop, moving her head up and down experimentally.

She gave a small, frantic nod and relinquished control, letting me fuck the red O of her mouth as I pleased. One hand ran over her breasts and the other went straight down her tracksuit pants, relying on me completely for control of depth and speed. At first I was cautious, worried I might hurt her, but slowly I came to terms with it. I fucked mer mouth shallow and quick, deep and long, before pulling out suddenly.

I remembered her little sad whine from that night a week earlier, our first night, and it made me smile but I shook my head and pulled her up for a kiss. There was a faint lipstick ring near the base of my cock and that made me hornier than ever.

My hands sought and found the hem of her tracksuit top, pulled it up and over her head, eyes widening as her magnificent breasts bounced free. Rounded, heavy and generous, they begged to be sucked and I obliged for a while, rolling the puffy nipples in my mouth and biting them to see how much she could take. Quite a lot, it turned out, and she especially loved having them twisted.

There was something very freeing in that moment – the house to ourselves, my mother’s impassioned moaning, the way she turned with a saucy grin to let me pull her tracksuit pants down to find she had no panties on – that made the whole thing seem… right. She wasn’t my mother, she was a seriously hot woman who, by some miracle, wanted me. I wasn’t her son, I was some lucky dumb bastard who had his chance at pleasing a redheaded Goddess.

Or maybe that wasn’t it, that we both knew damn well what we were doing but didn’t care any more – or at least didn’t think we’d get caught. Either way it was fun.

No, fun’s not the word.

I kissed her arse as it slid into view, revealed little by little as her tracksuit pants were pulled down. There, squeezed between her thighs, and set beneath her tempting butt, was the wettest damn pussy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was just the sheer wind-up and the strange lack of guilt this time around but Mum was as wet as the proverbial shag. I could see a few drops of her fluid running down one leg and a glance down at the crotch of her pants proved them dark with her honey.

I ran my fingers over her sex, wanting nothing more than to push her over and bend her over my desk like she’d purred to me earlier, but I wanted to taste her first. Down onto the bed she went, laying with her legs coyly shut and with a surprisingly shy look on her face. A memory arose of her fear that last time, begging me to be careful with her, a worry so at odds with the vibrant sexual being who had moaned as I’d man-handled her head on my cock.

Slowly, so that she could stop me if she wanted to, I spread her long, shapely legs, unfolded her to my sight, and began to kiss my way up one foot to her ankle, then to her knee, then up along her inner thigh as her hand ran gently through my hair.

I don’t pretend to understand what happened next but something about her scent drove me wild. Her fragrant smell triggered something in my brain and the next thing I knew I was lapping at her like I was a dying man and her pussy the most precious of mountain springs. A dimly aware part of me wondered if it was because we were related, some kind of chemical compatibility, but frankly I didn’t give a shit. I needed to lick, to swallow as much as she’d give me, and she gave me a lot.

She got close as I sucked on her clit but what drove her over the edge was when I slipped a couple of fingers in her and teased her, pumped her, fucked her cunt as I suckled on her button and as much of her sweet labia as I could. When she came it was hard, creaming into my mouth, a sudden gush of fluid that didn’t entirely surprise me. I lost most of it, though, and she made a lovely mess on my bed.

Mum let out a shuddering moan as I started licking again and tugged on my shoulders so, reluctantly, I moved up her body. I’d planned on flipping her over but something about her stare made me rethink. Soon we were face to face and once I’d locked eyes with her…

“Please fuck me,” she whispered needlessly, arms around my neck and legs splayed to grant me access. It was a begging plea and there was real need, almost desperation in her gaze. “My beautiful boy, fuck your Mum,” she added, tilting her hips to rub her pussy up and down my shaft, tempting it. Hearing me let out a low groan she grinned a long, slow, lazy smile and her voice dropped. She pulled my head down to whisper in my ear.

“Your lovely cock, please, I need it, slide it in, fill my perverted, wet cunt up with your magnificent cock…”

“You like dirty talk,” I whispered back, almost scared to look her in the eye as I rubbed my rod against her pussy, tapped the head on her clit, felt her twitch and jump with every impact.

“I love it,” she purred, “and I just loooove cock. I love sucking it and having it in my hands and feeling it invade my arse, I love cum dripping out of my pussy, your Mummy’s such a filthy slut…”

That jarred me a bit but I tried to roll with it.

“You want a cock right now, then?” I asked, trying out a deep and husky voice. Just to see if it’d work.

“No.” She pushed at my shoulders slightly until we were eye to eye again and I saw her looking into mine, first the left, then the right, then the left again. “I want yourcock, Dane. Not because it’s here, not because it’s hard, but because it’s yours.” She paused and let that sink in. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I want my wonderful son to fuck his mother. I’m turned on by you like crazy both because you’re a magnificent man but also because you’re my magnificent man, my son, and you’re going to fuck me.” Her expression became pained. “Please fuck me? Don’t think of anyone else, please, fuck me.”

“I guess,” I said after a pause, “that it’d be stupid to ask if you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m suu-uuu-uure…” Her voice trailed off into a moan as I chose exactly that moment to sink my cock into her, right up to the hilt. Her eyes flickered back briefly and when she looked into my eyes again it was with the gaze of a lover, heated and hungry.

I love doing that.

My rod was already gliding in and out, not stopping until I was in as far as I could get, resting against her back wall before pulling out almost all the way. Every last thrust got a gasp of appreciation, fingernails digging into my shoulders, legs tightening reflexively.

She let one of her hands leave my shoulder for a while, running it down to my backside to pull me in harder, encouraging me to powerful, hammering thrusts. Soon I was pounding her, stuffing her cunt full of my cock, my balls making a slapping sound and the wetness of her pussy loud and lurid in the small room. Mum made a low, long, keening groan in the back of her throat and I could feel her fumbling under my sack – she was fingering her rear hole with one finger, then two, working up a froth as she writhed on the bed under me.

“Do you like anal?” she gasped, suddenly vocal once more. “Do you want my arse? Please fuck it, fuck it deep, I made it clean for you…”

Yeah, Mum knew how this was going to end way before it began.

I nodded wordlessly and pulled out of her pussy, angling myself down. Her hand grabbed my bulk and manoeuvred me to the right spot, nodding when she was ready. Even though she was already slick from her own pussy juices I was amazed at how easily I slid inside. My mother, I realised, must have had a lot of experience in this field.

She was hot, so hot when I sank into her. As I did I felt her legs twitch convulsively either side of me; the sensation must have been incredibly intense.

“Shove it in,” she urged quietly, “shove it in me.” Her fingers paddled her clit as I began easing in and out, far more cautious than she needed me to be. Under her urging I sped my timing, went from thrusting to pounding, amazed at the silken sensation of her rear. I’m no stranger to anal but it’s always an amazing thrill.

“Yes, yesyesyes,” she urged quietly. I could feel the trembling run from her legs throughout her body and knew she was close. I drove into her harder, my own orgasm approaching and she nodded furiously when she heard my rising groan.


“Yes, Dane, yes – FUCK! FUUUUCK! YES!” Her scream rocketed around the room as she came over my cock, her arse clamping down like a vice through her contractions. “KEEP GOING, FUCK IT! FUCK MEEE!”

I couldn’t hold it long after that and I bit into her shoulder in a vain, pointless attempt to muffle my own groan, slamming home once more and letting my cock pulse and jerk as spurt after spurt of my cum splashed into her arse.

We hadn’t even gotten as far as doggy.


Mum and I lay there for a few moments staring into one another’s eyes, her legs still locked around me, my cock still deep in her cum-filled rear. It was a moment of peace and tenderness, her expression something I’d never seen before.

“Hello, you,” she whispered, her tone full of the smile on her face.

“Hello yourself,” I chuckled, laughing quietly at the absurdity of it.

“You came in my arse,” Mum noted. “I haven’t had anal in a long time. Your Dad…” She frowned, then and shook her head. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear comparisons during afterglow.”

I shook my head and kissed the tip of her nose. “Tell me,” I urged.

She hesitated and then nodded. “Your Dad hated anal. He thought it was filthy. Then after a while he just didn’t want sex any more… And then, well, we all found out he just didn’t want to be with me in particular.”

“He’s insane,” I stated flatly. “Utterly fucking mad.”

“Dane,” she tried, a vaguely admonishing tone, but there was no force behind it.

“Mum, I’ve had sex with you. If what you offered him in the bedroom was only a fraction of what you’ve given me then he’s just a mindless worm, utterly stupid to ever leave you.” There was heat in my voice and I knew it. “You’re beautiful and intelligent and giving and loving… And if he didn’t like this arse,” I added, shifting my hips just a bit and making her moan faintly, “then he was outright insane.”

Mum smiled, a sad-but-happy smile that I didn’t really understand. I suppose she might have said something then – disagreement, most likely – but at that point the door opened and my sisters stood in the doorway, watching us.

Both of them were sucking lollipops. Sandy extracted hers with a pop from between plump, brightly-coloured lips.

“Dane, there’s a call for you.” She gave a shrug. “I think it’s that dweeb friend of yours.”

“Hi Mum,” Sally added cheerily, as if she’d walked in on us discussing the finer points of architecture. “We’re going to order Chinese tonight, just FYI.”

Then they were gone, closing the door quietly and stepping down the stairs. We could hear them talking.

There was silence in my room for a long while.

“You’d better take that call,” Mum suggested in her far-too-calm voice, “and I guess there’s going to have to be a family meeting.”


It was, in fact, my ‘dweeb friend’ Ross. He was annoyed I’d kept him waiting on the line for so long and more annoyed when it became clear that I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. What was he saying?

“Are you listening?” he demanded?

“No,” I said, actually in response to something he’d asked a minute previously. “I mean, what? Of course I’m listening.”

“You’re fuckin’ not. What’s wrong with you?”

‘If you want to know I just came really hard in my mother’s arse,’ is what I was awfully tempted to say but, of course, I didn’t. I’m only stupid in comparison to the rest of my family, remember.

“I, um, I’m feeling a bit spaced, is all.” It was a lame excuse but not, technically, a lie. Standing at the kitchen phone watching my sisters in the lounge room pretend that they hadn’t just walked in on me fucking our mother was surreal, to say the least. ‘Spaced’ was an understatement.

“Uh huh. Well, get your head in gear, we’re going out tonight.”

“I can’t.” That answer came very easily and very quickly.

“What? Sure you can.” Ross wasn’t good at comprehending the word ‘no.’

“No, Ross, I can’t. Actually can’t, as in, cannot no matter how much you tell me I’m going out.” I kept my voice low and firm. It was only about a fifty-fifty chance that it was likely to have the desired effect but this time my luck was holding out.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?” He might be a dweeb in my sister’s opinions but Ross is my friend. He does actually care about me.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just a family, um, family meeting thing. Serious conversation time, you know how it goes.”

“Ahh, well,” Ross said in the tone of someone who knows better than to cross my sisters, “Good luck with that, eh.”


The meeting, which Mum and I were both dreading, didn’t go at all the way we’d expected.

For a start neither Sally nor Sandy seemed to think it was necessary. Once the Chinese arrived and we all sat around the table Mum said she thought a meeting was called for.

“What?” asked Sally. She seemed surprised but I doubt she really was. “What for?”

“Because of what you walked in on,” Mum responded coolly.

Sandy shrugged carelessly. “We walked in on you fucking,” she said, a little indistinctly through a mouthful of plum duck.

“Sandy,” Mum scolded automatically, blushing a crimson shade.

Sally piped up then. “Technically I think they’d finished so we walked in on them just after -”

“That’s it,” Mum announced, rapping her knuckles on the kitchen table. “Meeting’s started.”

Family meetings in our house have only one real main rule: nobody leaves untileveryone agrees the meeting’s over, except for bio breaks. That probably sounds simplified but it works surprisingly well. If you can’t leave until the meeting’s done then you’re less likely to lose your cool and lash out, as an example, because you’ve got no idea how long you’re going to be sitting across from the person you’ve just insulted.

“What’s the point?” Sandy asked, her usual blunt self. “You were having sex. From the way you were screaming,” she added, pointing her chopsticks at Mum, “it was particularly good sex.”

“Yes, but,” Mum began. Sally cut her off.

“But it’s wrong? It’s wicked and evil and naughty?” Her tone was teasing. “We get that, we do. But whatever it is, it’s also happening. And Sandy and me, we’ve got no intention of stopping it.”

“Yeah,” Sandy agreed, “feel guilty on your own time. Me, I say it’s well past time you both got fucked and now you are, so that’s…” She shrugged.

“That’s what?” I ventured, not sure I should.

“Better than either of you going out and screwing someone that’s no good for you,” Sandy put in.

All three of them turned and looked at me.

“What?” I demanded. They ignored me.

“I don’t understand why you’re so calm about this,” Mum protested, turning her attention to the girls. “I mean, if I’d just found out about – oh, shit.” She covered her face with her hand.

“Yep,” Sally nodded.

“What?” I said again, not expecting an answer.

“No,” Mum groaned.

“Yep,” Sandy chirped.

I tossed my hands in the air and sat back, annoyed beyond words that not one of them was explaining whatever it was to me. Luckily Mum took pity on me.

“They heard us, Dane,” she explained, “that first night.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. All of a sudden the teasing my sisters had been levelling at me over the last week – the close brushes in the hall, the kisses on the cheek that lingered a little too long, that friggin’ stunt with the shower and the panties – it all made sense.

‘We know,’ they were saying.

“So why haven’t you said anything before now?” Mum wanted to know, but I answered that one.

“Because they’ve been teasing me with it,” I glowered, “and having a grand old time, haven’t you?” I snorted with disgust at their self-satisfied grins and crossed my arms over my chest, sitting back in my chair. My cashew chicken was momentarily forgotten.

“That, yeah,” Sally admitted readily, “and we’ve been conducting an Experiment.” She said it so clearly that the capital E was obvious.

“Explain,” Mum said, her tone stern enough to make it clear she didn’t approve thus far.

“Well,” Sandy began, “we got back late that night and we were really drunk and really horny, partly because – okay, well,” she amended, “never mind that, but we heard you giving it to someone.” She nodded to me. “We worked out that it was Mum pretty quickly.” She looked sad at that and Sally’s expression was her mirror.

“How?” Mum asked, suspicious.

“Because we all know what it sounds like when you cry, Mum.” I was the one that said it, that little piece falling into place. “We were both a bit, um, freaked out by what was going on and you were crying a bit. Am I close?” That last was directed at my sisters.

They nodded as if they had one mind. Mum bit her lip and looked down at her lap, ashamed. We knew she hated not being stronger for us. We also knew she could never understand that we never wanted her to be stronger.

“We were a bit freaked out, too,” Sally noted, “but we were also in the middle of fucking each other just then so -”

“Wait, what?” I asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Hey now,” Sandy started, visibly bristling, “considering everything I don’t think it’s fair for you to get all high and mighty.”

“I’m not,” I protested, “I’m just… surprised.” ‘Surprised,’ right. That was a serious damn understatement. “How long have the two of you…”

“Only that night.” Sandy shook her head. “We’re new to this too.”

I coughed and shifted in my seat, drawing a strange look from Mum. I don’t know what she thought of the idea of her daughters entangled in a twincest encounter but I was sure affected by it. Then a thought caught my brain and I coughed again.

“Wait a second. Do you mean,” I queried, “that you were having sex while listening to us have sex? Because we were having sex, even?”

Sandy went quiet and twiddled her thumbs. She looked over at Sally, who shifted from side to side. Eventually they both nodded.

“So all of that teasing, this ‘Experiment’ you were doing,” I realised, light dawning, “you were testing the waters to see if I was into you. Were you doing it to Mum as well?”

“We tried,” Sally offered, “but it was easier to test the theory out on you.”

“Oh, great,” I muttered and shifted again. My growing hard-on was getting tangled in my boxers and let me tell you, that isn’t fun. “So what now?”

“That depends on you two,” Sandy said, sitting up straight. “We’re fine with you two having sex as much as you want,” she explained generously. “And we hope you’re okay with us fucking each other. Frankly I’m surprised we didn’t start a while ago but there you have it.” She shrugged. “Weird.”

“But, um…” Sally squirmed in her seat. It only just dawned on me then that she might be moving like that for the same reason I was. “We kind of want to… have sex with you guys as well.”

We sat still for a while. They were taking a chance, I knew that. Offering it to me behind Mum’s back, that wouldn’t have surprised me. Okay, it would have, but not this much. Keeping it away from the authority figure, you know. But just outright saying they want to fuck both of us? I don’t know, it just struck me as being very brave.

And it was an important moment. My mind went to Tina, bright and funny Tina, with whom I shared some real but hesitant chemistry. I wasn’t so dense that I didn’t realise the likely opportunity I was missing by staying home instead of going out with Ross. She was pretty, Tina, with a sharp mind and a wicked sense of humour that I thought even my family would like.

I could say it. I could say I wanted a normal life. I could escape the weird, messed-up place my life had gone to. All I had to do was say the words.

“Dane?” My mother watched me carefully, her expression unreadable. Well, unreadable to me. Not that that’s really saying much. I deliberated a bit, shrugging, but she shook her head firmly. “No, say what you’re thinking. Not what you think is right or what you think any of us want to hear. Say what you’re thinking.”

“Then I think it’s fucked up,” I told them. “I think it’s weird and bizarre. But,” I added, once Sally and Sandy had deflated a bit, “I’m not gonna lie. Yes, I want it. Yes. I’m probably going to Hell for it -”

“You don’t believe in Hell,” Sandy pointed out. I ignored her.

“- but I want it.”

We all looked at Mum. This was the big moment, and the silence before it lasted a long, long time. None of us were willing to break it and the more I watched my mother the more I could see her wrestling with herself. She’d already fucked me. If she’d been made to decide before it happened she’d almost certainly have said ‘no,’ so this situation was almost as far from the one between her and I as it could get.

“You girls are stocked up with the pill?” she asked my sisters, finally.

“YES! Um, yes,” Sally nodded.

“That covers Dane,” Sandy noted, “but…”

Our mother shrugged. “You can’t get me pregnant so I doubt that’s going to be a concern,” she stated in a rather arch tone, raising an eyebrow delicately.


We paired up. I’ve got no doubt that my sisters had discussed what they’d do depending on the possible outcomes. As it was Sally was soon hidden under the table, freeing my cock from its twisted prison and massaging it to full girth. Sandy, meanwhile, was straddling Mum’s lap and the two were kissing like they’d been lovers for years. Guess I wasn’t the only one getting wound up.

Watching the two of them, Sandy and Mum, there were hints of hesitation despite their passion. Mum’s hands hovered a little before touching her erstwhile daughter’s shoulders, then her back, lingering there as if scared to dip lower. Was she worried about Sandy’s reaction? I doubted that, considering the way my sister was drinking in her kisses. No, my mother’s consternation was on her own behalf. She’d passed a threshold when I’d slid my cock into her a week ago; now she was about to pass another.

Sandy moaned through their kissing and pushed back against those hands when they finally slid over her buttocks. Her own hands, though, rested on our Mum’s belly and drifted over her ribs, reluctant to move higher. It wasn’t until our mother took one of Sandy’s hands in her own and very deliberately placed it over her breast that my sister was willing to fondle.

How many times had Sally and Sandy explored one another’s bodies? I had no idea. I still have no idea. The twins might very well lie, even if asked directly, just to keep us guessing. Either way, I knew, it was ultimately none of my business.

The sensation of incredible warmth that suddenly engulfed my cock and making me moan in pleasure, now, that was my business.

I looked down to see Sally staring up at me, mirth sparkling in her eyes, mouth stretched wide around the girth of my rod. The twins were no strangers to giving head, a fact that I was already dimly aware of thanks to the rumour mill around town, but the reality of having my impossibly beautiful family in such intimate contact with me… Well, I mean, it was overwhelming.

I ran a hand through her hair as Sally sucked me in and then lifted up from me, head rising and falling in a steady, enthusiastic motion. She wasn’t as skilled as Amanda or our mother, I realised, wondering (and not for the first time) exactly how many cocks Mum had treated to those stunning lips of hers.

One thing Sally had over Mum, at least in terms of blowjobs, was the shape of her lips. A little softer and more plump, they curves like a Cupid’s bow and even stretched into an erotic ‘O’ their outline was pleasing to the eye. My cock jumped in her throat involuntarily as I imagined her with Mum’s deep red lipstick on.

Her eyes widened at the sensation and I felt the resultant giggle right down to the core. Encouraged, even if she didn’t know what my reaction was about, she tried to take me deeper, faster – which worked for a while, until she hit her gag reflex without warning and had to bring herself to an abrupt halt in order to keep from a nasty accident.

A soft thump on the table next to us announced the arrival of Sandy’s backside. Soon after Mum lay her back and sank between her legs, lapping at my sister’s intense pink-red folds. From my vantage point I could easily see Sandy had no underwear on; considering the two of them that meant, I was willing to bet, that her twin didn’t either.

Sally didn’t object when I pulled at her, extricating her from under the table and gathering her into my lap. At once I felt wetness and heat slide along my shaft as Sally shifted her hips, rocking her pelvis back and forth, the nectar of her arousal smearing along my length.

We kissed deeply, hungrily, as brothers and sisters don’t. She’s a fucking incredible kisser, by the way. If she ever lets you kiss her I strongly suggest you take the chance. You won’t regret it.

Her arms around my neck, my hands running down and under her short skirt to play with her bare rear, Sally broke the kiss long enough to whisper in my ear.

“Take me away,” she breathed, “please.”

It struck me as being a bit surprising, that she wanted to be alone with me – specifically, without Sandy in the room – but I stood up and cradled her, still straddling my hips, the head of my turgid cock resting just at the opening of her sheath. I could have lowered her just an inch and I’d have started sliding into her, a fact that her breathing told me she hadn’t missed.

“House meeting’s over,” I said aloud, voice coming a lot more hoarse than I’d have expected. I moved off toward the stairs and, up them, my bedroom.

Mum’s head was still trapped between Sandy’s thighs, who was shifting and bucking on the table like a landed fish. If either of them heard they certainly weren’t in a state to care.

My bedroom was, thankfully, warm when we got in and shut the door firmly behind us. It had been a precarious trip up the stairs, kissing and panting into one another’s mouths, her hips trying to lower themselves and my hands wanting to let her but neither of us truly wanting to start this in the corridor.

With her legs still locked around my hips she leaned back and athletically pulled her top off in one smooth motion, letting her breasts bounce free just inches from my face. Those dark little nipples were like rocks and when I sucked one of them into my mouth without even thinking I was treated to a low, jagged moan of need. Her head fell back and her chest pressed out, presenting herself to me, maintaining the posture even as I lay her down on the bed.

Licking and sucking on one, I pinched the other between finger and thumb, rolling it and twisting. Sally loved that, though not as much as Mum did.

I sat up. She did too, her body following mine. As I started to pull my shirt up she slapped my hands away – quite hard, actually – and shook her head. The effect was like a rippling of lava around her face as her red hair flowed and settled.

Taking my clothes off, it seemed, was something she’d decided to enjoy herself. She took her time with it, licking at my nipples when they came into view in the same way I’d licked at hers, then shifting to pull my pants down and off. It wasn’t until I was naked and laying on my back that she stood, tugged at the zip on her short skirt and simply let it fall to the floor with a sexy little wriggle of her hips.

Then my sister was back on the bed, straddling me, tilting her hips again to run her dripping pussy along my cock. Her face was flushed, not unlike Mum’s, eyes wide and dark with hunger. Mine can’t have been much different.

Our lips met again, a trio of hard, desperate kisses, before she was whispering to me again as if worried someone might overhear.

“Do you want me?” came that breathy question.

I nodded, mute.

“Tell me,” she urged. It wasn’t like Mum’s seductive purr. It was a tight plea. I think she was scared, much like I was, swept up in the need to fuck but still conscious of the line drawing close. She needed permission, I think, or she thought she did – to be aroused by me? To want me? To fuck me? I’m not sure. Whatever the case, as far as I was concerned she already had it.

“I want you, Sally,” I whispered, and felt a familiar little wriggle of pleasure. She liked it when I proved I could distinguish between her and Sandy. “I want to pull you down,” I added, resting my hands on her hips, “and feel myself sliding right into you.” Another wriggle, for a different reason this time.

“Not like this,” she murmured back, urgently. “Underneath.” She tilted her body as if to roll us over but she was so light that if I wanted to I could have kept her there.

I didn’t. I rolled with her, shifted, made room for her. Then I pulled the blanket over both of us so we were cocooned in our own little world. Even the distant moaning of Sandy was muffled almost into complete obscurity.

Sally’s eyes gleamed with some deep emotion in the darkness of our nest. I saw her lips move – ‘thank you’ – and I leaned down to kiss her. My hips shifted and now it was my turn to rub up against her, cock already slick with her nectar. As I found her clit I felt her hips rise and heard her gasp almost soundlessly.

Then she brought her hands up and, unexpectedly, caught my face. Held it still. Stared into my eyes, searching for something, unsure if she’d found it or not. As I wasn’t sure what she was looking for I was no real help.

“Make…” Sally stopped, breath hitching. “Make me yours,” she urged.

“My what?” I asked, stopping my rubbing. This seemed, suddenly, very serious. I mean, you know. More serious than it already was. Which was pretty serious, considering I was about to fuck my own sister.

“Your…” Her breath caught in her throat and she let it out, visibly forcing herself to breathe. She looked on the edge of panic. “Your lover. I don’t… I don’t want to be just a sister any more. I want to be that and more. I want to watch you fuck Mum, I want to get Sandy’s help in blowing your mind, all of that,” she added, as if she were talking about watching the cricket together, “but right now, between you and me, I want you to make me your lover.”

Her tone caught me and my lust fought with my caution.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, I’m so sure I’m leaking a puddle in your bed,” she laughed quietly, “but this moment is never going to come again.” She shook her head to emphasise her point. “This is the only time we’ll be right here, right now, doing this for the firsttime.”

I had to admit it was a good point.

“I want to make you my lover,” I admitted, feeling my chest tighten and my heart swell as I said the words.

“Then do it,” Sally nodded, “please.”

She was tight when I pushed into her, muscular and strong, but I felt almost no resistance thanks to how damn wet she was. The walls of her pussy tightened and relaxed around me, accepting me in, as she bit her lip and watched my face with an intensity that I couldn’t look away from. I settled deep in her, kissed away a few stray tears from her flushed cheeks and then pulled back again.

Each time I slid home my sister’s lithe body arched, pushing her firm tits up toward me. Each time my balls met her arse she let out a soft gasp. Every time the head of my cock got deep enough to bounce off her rear wall I felt her cunt clamp down as if trying to trap me there.

We kissed and I settled a hand on her shoulder, keeping her steady, as I began to speed up.

“This… is so… fucking… surreal,” she managed, a high-toned but quiet laugh behind the words, arms circling my neck before sliding downward.

“Tell me about it,” I agreed, adding in a prerequisite “fuck!”

“You like?” she giggled, stretching her legs a little wider and higher. The angle was perfect to drive deeper into her and so, obligingly, I did.

“I fucking love,” I countered. Now I was plunging in to strike her back wall with more frequency, a little faster and a little harder. I could feel her fingers convulse around my butt as I struck her sensitive interior but not once did she say ‘too deep’ or ‘stop.’

Sally was quiet but nonetheless little groans and sighs escaped her mouth as we fucked. Finally I felt her hips tilt up against my thrusts, the hands on my rear pulling me in with an insistence that quickly built to a fevered pitch. Tremors ran along her legs, curling her toes, as her orgasm fast approached.

Only just before it hit did she drag a pillow across her face and bit into it, screaming through her climax at a volume that would easily have made it downstairs if she hadn’t taken precautions to muffle herself.

“How… How close?” she asked me as she got control of her breathing, my strokes slowing.

“Not far,” I admitted; my sister’s tightness, along with those breathy approvals and her stealth-scream, had me fast approaching climax.

“Up, get off,” she ordered, pushing suddenly at my chest.

I sat up again, a little baffled, watching her open my bedside drawer and rummage around. Shaking her head she turned to me and made a somewhat obscene gesture with one hand, as if she were giving someone a handjob.


“Oh, uh, right.” I guessed she wanted to jerk me off over her tits or face or something. It took me all of three seconds to locate my stock of lube and hand it to her.

She nodded and poured some into her hand, slicking it around with her other with a rather wet, erotic noise. One hand cupped my balls and the other began spreading the slick stuff all over my rod until it glistened – and then Sally did something I wasn’t expecting.

Rolling into a doggy position she pulled at one butt cheek, exposing her tight pucker for me. Looking back over her shoulder she gave me a look of pure need that made my cock jump again.

“I love anal,” she explained, “and I really want you to cum in my arse.”

How could I say no? Especially considering I didn’t want to say it.

I drizzled a bit of the lube on my own hand and then a bit more between her cheeks, right over that inviting rosebud. Rosebud, that’s the right word, isn’t it? Her arse, in any case. I heard her gasp and saw her but wiggle slightly; when I looked at her face I saw her wink at me.

Easing forward carefully I slid a finger over, against and then into that tight ring of muscle. It relaxed almost immediately and I was surprised not only at how easily she took one finger (and then a second), but also by how hot she was inside.

Sally pushed back against my digits, wanting more. I heard a low keening whine, a plea, which made me grin; it was so much like Mum’s. More lube was smeared over my cock and then, aiming it carefully, I pushed against her.

My sister pushed back – hard – and I sank with a soundless pop into her bowels way, way quicker than I’d intended to. Her sphincter clutched about the base of my cock and still she pushed back, making it clear I wasn’t going anywhere yet.

Then she let out a breath and nodded at me.

“Fuck my arse, fuck it hard,” she ordered.

I have to admit that I didn’t last as long as I wanted to. Sally didn’t let me slow down, not for one second, urging me on with whispering and groaning. She pushed back when I slowed, fucking herself on my cock as often as my cock was fucking her. Her first orgasm surprised me but by the second and third I’d worked out that when my sister said she loved anal she was deeply understating the facts.

All three of them – Sally, Mum and Sandy – are lucky enough to find orgasm pretty easy. Additionally they all know roughly (or, in Sally’s case, precisely) what gets them off. Still, Sandy and Mum just don’t cum as much as Sally does with something up her arse.

By the time I was almost there she was screaming and laughing into my pillows, ecstasy overtaking her, two fingers stuck deep in her cunt. I could feel them against the underside of my cock, through the meaty wall inside her, and as the pressure in my balls made them lift my hands curled – one around her hip, the other at her shoulder.

Still biting the pillow she nodded frantically, shrieking noises that were probably ‘Yes, yes!’ and ‘Do it!’ but muffled into incomprehensibility.

“Sally,” I warned, panting, feeling my cock swell.

“Frrrgh!” she muffle-moaned back.

“Sally, I…”

I didn’t get any further. I hit home as hard and deep as I could, raising a pillow-stifled shriek, and just let myself fill her with cum. Every muscle in my body tensed and then, as my orgasm reached its end, I collapsed on to of her.

Sally burst out laughing, letting go of the pillow, flattened underneath me.

“Fuck,” she moaned softly, “fuuuuck, so good, so damn good…”

“Yeah,” I agreed, shifting half-off her and feeling my cock slip out of her. “You really are.”

“Shut up,” Sally grinned, twisting and pulling at me until we were lying next to one another, her head on my shoulder, leg over mine. I could feel her pussy on my thigh and her hand on my balls.

We lay there for a long while. It was comfortable, the afterglow, despite it being with my sister. Maybe because of it, I don’t know. But what I did know then and do know now is exactly what she said next.

“That’s it. That changed everything.” She stared at me in the dark, watching my eyes. “We’ll never go back to what we were. Closed door.”

“You’re okay with that?” I asked. Again, something about her words brought me up short.

Sally made a so-so gesture. “I’m your lover now. You’re mine. And I love that, and Ilove this cock,” she added with a giggle, pumping that topic of conversation despite its flaccid state, “but there’s a certain, um…” She shrugged slightly.


“Yes, innocence,” she agreed, nodding. She was still playing with my cock and we could both feel it start to stir. “You’ll never just be my big brother, who taught me how to tie my shoes and helps Mum bring in the shopping. You’re my big brother who has a delicious cock which feels really fucking good in my arse.”

“Though I’m probably going to have to bring in the shopping still,” I noted. Sally laughed and drew the covers back, tugging at my dick.

“Come on, then, let’s go have a shower. We’ll see if you get hard enough to fuck me some more.”

And we did, and I was, and it lasted a lot longer the second time.


When I woke up my arms were tightly about Sally, my cock resting against her arse. She was already awake, tapping on her mobile phone. I have to assume she went and got it before coming back while I was still asleep. It was some kind of game, the ‘hidden item’ kind, I think.

“Morning,” I said, giving her a kiss on the neck.

“Almost noon, actually,” she giggled, tilting her head to expose her neck some more. “Do that again.” She giggled again when I obliged.

“Like you said,” I added, realising one of my hands was on one of her breasts, “a little, um, surreal.” I could feel the nipple hard and attentive against my palm.

Sally nodded. “Yeah. Still.” She was quiet for a while and then she put her phone down on the bedside table. It overbalanced and dropped to the floor with a clatter. Sally ignored it.

“Your phone…”

“Whatever. I wanted to say something.” Sally turned over to face me, still wrapped in my arms, face millimetres away from mine. Her breath smelled of gum. “Only… I think it’s going to sound stupid.”

I shrugged and kissed the tip of her nose. She blushed bright red and looked down, eyeing my collarbone. I waited; there’s nothing to do but wait when my sisters aren’t ready to say something yet. Sandy or Sally, that’s something very true of both. Still, it took a while. The longer it took the more nervous I got; this was serious stuff and for once she wasn’t just delaying for the sake of making me sweat it.

“I, um. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nono, no,” Sally shook her head, “I don’t just mean as a brother. I… love you. As a lover. I don’t want this to be a once-off.” She leaned forward and kissed me lightly, just once, before continuing. “I don’t want to be exclusive, I don’t think any of us are really aiming to fuck family members and that’s it forever, but I don’t want you to think…” She shrugged. “I dunno. I want more of this.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “So do I.”

Sally opened her mouth to say… something, I don’t know what, but settled for just nodding. She snuggled closer and we stayed like that for some time before emerging to a quiet house. Sandy and Mum had gone out somewhere, Sally informed me, but she wasn’t sure exactly where. We were both ravenous so I made sandwiches and after that…

Well, after that we found ways to burn off some of the food.


I’d like to say that was that – a bit of fucking, a bit of food – but it wasn’t. Sally was right, nothing was the same. Nothing had been the same since I walked in on Mum fucking herself in front of her computer.

But now I’d crossed a line. Fucking Mum, that was one thing. Fucking Mum andSally, completely different. If Sandy wanted her turn, well… I knew myself well enough to know I’d give in.

I didn’t think of Tina even once the whole day. Not as a friend, not as a lover, not as anything.

Not even as an escape route.

I was trapped – and I didn’t mind at all.

— The End.

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