Incest erotic

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His name was Ted and he was by all means a nice guy. He treated me as if I was his son. My story starts many years ago.

My name is Bobby and I was getting ready to turn sixteen that summer. My parents had just purchased a small motor home for our vacation that year.

It was nice, but very confining. It was supposed to sleep six, but four people in it at one time, seemed very crowded to me. It had a bunk above the passenger compartment that would sleep two people.

They would be a little cramped, but two people could fit there. In the back of the motor home was a small room with a full size bed.

That was where my parents would sleep. I will tell you a little about my family before I move on to the events of our first vacation in the motor home.

My father Jim worked the third shift in a local factory. He had worked there for as long as I could remember. He went to work at p. My mother Melanie was a homemaker, and sold Avon on the side.

My younger sister Melissa was fourteen years old that summer. One night while my father was working. Two black men broke into our house, and then took turns raping my mother all night long.

My sister was a result of that night. My mother and father had been trying to have another child, so my mother was not using any type of contraception at the time.

They hoped that the child my mother was carrying had been conceived before that night. However, that would not end up being the case. And when Missy was born, although she was a black baby, my parents were not willing to put her up for adoption.

I fought my way through most of my school life. Kids always made fun of her for having a white family. My sister felt very close to me, and looked up to me as her protector.

Missy was a very pretty little girl. Although she was born black, and very dark skinned, she had the facial features more like a white child. The rest of her physical attributes were more characteristic of a black woman.

She had long slender legs; flat little stomach and a nice round bubble butt like most black women seem to have.

Ernie watched as Melba crossed the street. The way her hips swayed as she walked and the way she unconsciously flaunted her breasts was a sight to behold.

Mentally undressing her, he was down to just her panties as she walked through the door of the gas service station. Melba looked at him and smirked, knowing full well what he was thinking or at least to Ernie it seemed that way.

Hi, my name is Andi! I have green eyes and freckles. And oh, yeah, I have red hair on my privates too! And a little around my butt hole.

My butt hole is my favorite part of my body, and I spend a lot of time playing with it! But anyway, I wanna tell you about the first time I fucked my brother.

It was so hot. Mom and dad were fighting and it always made me scared. So I got in bed with my big brother Ryan. He was used to me climbing into bed with him, because mom and dad were always fighting.

This was not too long before they got a divorce. When I get scared or sad, I usually like to play with my butt. I start rubbing my fingers in the crack, and after a while I put my hand inside my panties and feel my bunghole with my fingertips.

This usually makes me fall asleep after a while. He was snoring softly, and his chest was moving up and down, and I could feel his breath on my neck.

It was so nice. I figured it would be okay just to put his hand on my butt crack. Read the story. I was fourteen before I had experimented with masturbation, so yeah, I was a late bloomer.

But, once I tried it and realized how pleasurable it was, I felt the need to catch up on what I might have missed.

Since that first orgasm rocked my world, I was constantly occupied with what sex with women would feel like. I so wanted to feel a pussy wrapped around my cock that I felt that I could do anything for that.

Perhaps this is true but for me it was incest. My mother waited for me to take the first move. She did, of course, present herself to me in an attractive way but in waiting for me to make the first move she smeared me with the guilt.

If I had not made the first move then she would have ignored me and eventually I would have been homeless. But in the process of becoming homeless my mother would have insured that my father and all others around her would have thought it was my fault.

My mother, in public, is a regal figure and has fooled most people and her opinion holds weight. And I needed female attention so why not pay attention to my mother.

The rewards were great-up to a point. I was spoiled and spoiled and spoiled. But my mother would sometimes have to stop spoiling me because the situation would be too obvious to everyone else.

Though I gave her emotional security, my father gave her financially security to a point, but much more than I could and so she had to please him for this reason also.

My mother taught me adultery. This was the worst thing about the incest. If I had not been emotionally involved and had somehow just remained aloof then it would have been different.

My parents taught me to go into any other relationship and stick my noise in where it did not belong. I would go into other marriages and start talking deeply with the woman about very personal things concerning her husband-things that were none of my business.

Again, this caused many problems with others and sometimes men would become very angry with me. There were women, as well, who would avoid me, who knew what was in my heart.

Sexually I went far beyond women, for my mother had introduced me to enough feminity for a lifetime. I was not only revolted by women-I was bored!

But that is another story. Life, though, teaches us many things and with the help of my God, a different kind of father than my own, I have straightened my life out.

I no longer speak with my parents. They want to continue in the old patterns. Someday I will marry and be devoted to one woman and reap the benefits of a healthy relationship.

But I am thankful that I have changed and I am thankful that at least my mother let me live. Hello, I came across your story earlier today and finally got a chance to read it just now.

I was blown away with your detailed claims. They are extremely close; so close that it actually pushed me out of the picture.

These were just some of the things that led me to believe that there may be something more deep than a mother-son bond. One time the young man went as far as laying in the bed with us as we were cuddling.

This led to an argument between myself and her. I still have no closure as to the true nature of the situation. If you have time to response please email me biggctime yahoo.

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MY OLDER SISTER

It was supposed to sleep six, but four people in it at one time, seemed very crowded to me. It had a bunk above the passenger compartment that would sleep two people.

They would be a little cramped, but two people could fit there. In the back of the motor home was a small room with a full size bed.

That was where my parents would sleep. I will tell you a little about my family before I move on to the events of our first vacation in the motor home.

My father Jim worked the third shift in a local factory. He had worked there for as long as I could remember. He went to work at p.

My mother Melanie was a homemaker, and sold Avon on the side. My younger sister Melissa was fourteen years old that summer.

One night while my father was working. Two black men broke into our house, and then took turns raping my mother all night long.

My sister was a result of that night. My mother and father had been trying to have another child, so my mother was not using any type of contraception at the time.

They hoped that the child my mother was carrying had been conceived before that night. However, that would not end up being the case. And when Missy was born, although she was a black baby, my parents were not willing to put her up for adoption.

I fought my way through most of my school life. Kids always made fun of her for having a white family. My sister felt very close to me, and looked up to me as her protector.

Missy was a very pretty little girl. Although she was born black, and very dark skinned, she had the facial features more like a white child.

The rest of her physical attributes were more characteristic of a black woman. She had long slender legs; flat little stomach and a nice round bubble butt like most black women seem to have.

Ernie watched as Melba crossed the street. The way her hips swayed as she walked and the way she unconsciously flaunted her breasts was a sight to behold.

Mentally undressing her, he was down to just her panties as she walked through the door of the gas service station.

Melba looked at him and smirked, knowing full well what he was thinking or at least to Ernie it seemed that way.

Hi, my name is Andi! I have green eyes and freckles. And oh, yeah, I have red hair on my privates too! And a little around my butt hole.

My butt hole is my favorite part of my body, and I spend a lot of time playing with it! But anyway, I wanna tell you about the first time I fucked my brother.

It was so hot. Mom and dad were fighting and it always made me scared. So I got in bed with my big brother Ryan. He was used to me climbing into bed with him, because mom and dad were always fighting.

This was not too long before they got a divorce. When I get scared or sad, I usually like to play with my butt. I start rubbing my fingers in the crack, and after a while I put my hand inside my panties and feel my bunghole with my fingertips.

This usually makes me fall asleep after a while. He was snoring softly, and his chest was moving up and down, and I could feel his breath on my neck.

It was so nice. I figured it would be okay just to put his hand on my butt crack. Read the story. I was fourteen before I had experimented with masturbation, so yeah, I was a late bloomer.

But, once I tried it and realized how pleasurable it was, I felt the need to catch up on what I might have missed. Since that first orgasm rocked my world, I was constantly occupied with what sex with women would feel like.

I so wanted to feel a pussy wrapped around my cock that I felt that I could do anything for that. It was a Saturday and mom had gone shopping like she does every weekend.

Usually, she would back her car into the carport and would open the trunk and start unloading the groceries.

That day I was watching her from the kitchen window overlooking the carport. She was close enough for me to see her ass clearly as she bent over the deep trunk reaching for stuff.

Things were clear enough that I could see a deep cameltoe formed between her pussy lips. But, what turned me on the most was seeing some of her pubic hair peeking out the sides of the soft cotton short shorts she was wearing.

Within the family, there was no peace. My father had turned to religion when he was eighteen but with little effect other than to quit smoking and drinking.

My mother had come from a strongly religious family whose father was quite well-known as a preacher and she had learned how to act in such a way as to receive the admiration of all around her.

My mother had bitterness deep within her heart that she never faced. She hated authority, she hated men, she hated almost everyone and she delighted in the downfall of others so that she might feel good about herself.

She should never have married my father and he her. They were very incompatible, my father sometimes being angry all of a day.

My mother had no chance to introduce me to her body until I was around five. This was because of the people that were around us continually in the early years.

For about three months she was able to introduce me to her body in privacy. Then it was that my father decided to remain at home to do all of his studying.

It was a strong emotional relationship. I was her confidante and sympathizer. I thought that my father was an evil, awful man.

I felt that I was closer to my mother than he was. I would tell my mother what to wear, what to cook for supper, what to say etc. I was always complimenting her on her looks and her person, demeanor, etc.

She wanted this from me she needed it from someone , and in return for this personal attention she would pay attention to my wants not needs. If I wanted a chocolate bar she gave it to me.

If I wanted pizza, she made it for me. She spoiled me and made me first in her life. This, of course, created tension with my father who was supposed to be first in her life.

The problem was that he wanted me to be with her because he knew it made her happy he even told me this and so for the most part I spent time with my mother and he left us alone.

My mother, before and after the actual incest, did dress in a revealing way toward me and would allow me to see her in her lingerie. Who needed Playboy when I had my mother?

She was not interested in my body; she only wanted me to be interested in her body. I call what happened with my mother incest and not rape.

There is a big debate among psychologist as to whether a man can be raped. Perhaps this is true but for me it was incest. My mother waited for me to take the first move.

She did, of course, present herself to me in an attractive way but in waiting for me to make the first move she smeared me with the guilt.

If I had not made the first move then she would have ignored me and eventually I would have been homeless. But in the process of becoming homeless my mother would have insured that my father and all others around her would have thought it was my fault.

My mother, in public, is a regal figure and has fooled most people and her opinion holds weight.

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