My Incestuous Summer of 1996

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What follows is my true life experience during a Sunday and Monday in the summer of 1996. It was during the summer of ’96 that I had three different encounters sexually with three different members of my family. I had never touched a family member sexually before that, and haven’t again. It was a unique set of circumstances that led to these events, and the perfect storm has never arisen since.

As best as I can remember, the details in this account are factual, though the emotions I record here are probably a mixture of what I felt in 1996 peppered with what I feel now. So, I would say the story below is 80%-90% reality sprinkled with imagination. It is my hope to write about all three experiences from that summer when I had incestuous sexual encounter with my mother, my older sister, and cousin. As you can imagine, names and places have been changed to protect the identity of all parties involved. And I have not asked their permission to share these stories.

I hope you not only enjoy, and are aroused by my experience, but if you have experienced things similar to this, that you’ll reach out to me. This is also my virginal attempt at writing erotica. There is incest, apparent non-consent, and rough sex in this story. I’ll assume that everyone is ok with that, because, well, this is Literotica, all parties were well over 18 when this happened, and I think it’s a hot true life story. I appreciate all feedback. But, please be truthful and kind in your feedback.

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July 1996

My name is Scott, and I am only son in a family of five. I have an older sister and a younger sister, and both my parents are alive and still married. Among my friends, the fact that I have parents who are still married makes my family quite rare. We are also quite functional – we don’t fight among each other, we trust each other, we help each other out, and all in all, it’s a great middle class, professional, educated family of fairly decent individuals.

My mother and I have always been close. I think it’s because I am the only son. There is a bond between us that doesn’t exist between my sisters and mother, or between my sisters and dad for that matter. I can’t put my finger as to why we are so close, but we are – and we always have been. But the summer 1996, the closeness became intimate beyond the norm. My mother is one of my best friends. I could then, and still can tell her anything. And it was this openness between us that led to us taking what I imagine is an unusual leap forward between a mother and son. It was the fact that we could tell each other anything that led to us experimenting with the sexual desire we obviously had for each other.

Every summer I would come back to my hometown so that I can save up as much money for the upcoming college year as possible. And I would do anything to make a buck. Two summers before, I dug trenches for irrigation systems that were being installed on wealthy people’s properties. Amazingly hot work – Jesus, I thought I’d die on more than a few days when the temp reached 110 degrees in the shade. The year before (1995), I caught on as a bar back at this really cool joint. The tips were far better than the wage I got from digging trenches, and it got me out of the sun, plus being a night owl, it was so much easier for me to work until 3 am than it was to get up at 5 am. That summer (1996), I returned to the bar and the manager promoted me from bar back to bartender. So, Monday thru Thursday nights I bartended and I had my weekends free. There was no better set up for a college boy. Plus, my parents always welcomed me home every summer which allowed me to live rent free for three months. That summer I save about $5,000, which was a king’s ransom. I mean, a kid can save up pretty quick when he doesn’t have to pay rent or food or alcohol.

And it was while I was working the bar that I met Marianne. Marianne was a lifer at the bar. She started out as a hostess for the restaurant area, worked her way to waitress, and now was the superstar weekend bartender. Not only did she make a mean cosmopolitan, but she was so slutty hot. Sex just dripped off of her every movement. Every toss of her jet black hair, every lick of her red panted lips, every drag on her clove cigarette, every shake of her ass that was barely covered by her mini-mini-mini jean skirt, caused guys (and I would venture some girls) to instantly cream themselves. For these reasons, Marianne killed every night at the bar from tips. Guys would buy a $2 beer and leave her a $20 tip in hopes that they could buy some time with her. Everybody wanted to be with her – at least for one night. And lucky for us, Marianne’s sexual needs were vast. So most of us got our chance to satisfy her. The problem was, if a person was not up to her expectations, Marianne never sampled seconds from that person again. I have to say, the girl had standards – even for a slut.

Marianne had quite a reputation for being a huntress. Once she had her eyes on you, the chances were you would to end up in her bed. The summer of 1996, Marianne had chosen me to be her summer conquest. I don’t know why. Other guys beşiktaş türbanlı escort who worked at the bar, or frequented the establishment were better looking and probably better lovers than me. But I suspect Marianne needed fresh meat. She had already tasted all the other cocks in the bar, so now she wanted to try out mine. The one thing I had going for me was I was the new guy. It’s one of those glad ironies that as her prey I was only too happy to be caught. I was a gazelle and she a lioness. And I wanted her to dig her teeth into me all summer long.

And on one fateful Sunday night, that time was to come, Marianne and I were going to have sex. Glorious. Nasty. Dirty. Sex. I just knew it.

A co-worker of mine at the bar, Ernesto, was throwing a party at his uncle’s house. I didn’t wok Sundays so I had the day off. Marianne had heard of the party, and asked one of our co-workers to cover for her. She didn’t need the tips – she made so much jack anyway. So, we knew that te other one was going to be at the party. And about 9pm, as I washed off the day’s sweat in the shower, starting to get ready for the party, my mind kept racing back to the words Marianne had spoken to me as I went to pick up my paycheck from my boss on the Friday before, “Scott, are you going to Ernesto’s party tomorrow night? Because I’ll be there, and I WANT you to be there. I really WANT you to be there.” Oh, my God. I knew what that meant. And the more I thought of her words, the more excited I got about my anticipated fuck session I was going to have with Marianne. Standing in the shower, in my mom and dad’s house, water running over my body, I reached for the lotion that my parents had sitting just outside the shower. My lubed up hand went to my cock, and the combination of the lotion, warm water, and excitement swelled my dick until it was a throbbing brick. I closed my eyes. As one is to do in fantasies, I jumped from image to image without any consistency: I pictured Marianne’s tits bursting out of her red and white Daisy Duke checkered top; I pictured the volleyball coach from my high school; I remembered fucking my high school girlfriend for the first time and how much she screamed; but then I focused on Marianne, bent over the jukebox in the bar, her skirt lifted, I fantasized about my cock sliding in and out of her curvy ass, going balls deep on the very first thrust – which I imagined was 10 times tighter than her pussy; I visualized reaching around her body to grab her tits roughly with one hand, as the other hand twisted and pulled on her long black hair, as I rammed her as hard as I could in her ass.

My hand closed in tight around my cock, and I thrust my hips into my fist – harder harder harder harder faster faster faster. Oh My God, it felt so good to masturbate to this fantasy – knowing full well it was going to become reality – a fantasy I knew was only a tenth of how good the real thing was going to feel like. I must have jacked off for close to 10 minutes. My cock was numb from it but the sensation of ejaculating was feverish. The climax from my masturbation session would have sent my cum streaming twelve feet across the room if not for the clear shower curtain stopping it from hitting the mirror. I let out an amazing deep breath. My heart was racing from the fantasy masturbation session. That had to be the most magnificent beating of my meat in days. I was ready for Marianne.

I opened my eyes and I could see through the clear shower curtain – HOLY SHIT!!!! My mother was rummaging through the cabinets. I didn’t hear her come in. Did she see me masturbating through the clear shower curtain? I wasn’t shocked to see her in the bathroom – to be honest, my family’s house is not strict on privacy. It wasn’t uncommon for us to walk in the bathroom while someone was showering. I’d seen all my family members naked thousands of time thru the clear shower curtain. I was more shocked that I was in such a trance fantasizing about Marianne and my sexual adventures to come that night that I didn’t hear her come in.

“Whatcha looking for?” I asked. As I turned off the water, and grabbed a towel to cover up. My dick still 85% hard from cumming so violently.

“Why I’m looking at you, dear.” She replied smiling.

“What?”

“Your dad needs his shaving bag. Remember he’s going to be leaving for Houston tomorrow morning. And he needs his shaving bag. Do you know where it is? You were the last to use it when you went down to Austin a couple of weeks ago, and now no one can find it.”

“It’s not in here. I left it in my gym bag that I used for my trip. Which is still in the trunk of my car.”

“Along with all your dirty clothes too I imagine.”

“You would be correct.” Finally, this all too normal conversation between mother and son had allowed my post-masturbation hard-on to subside. My paranoia eased, and I started to breath regularly.

“OK. I’ll go and get it along with your clothes. But do me a favor . . . clean up the shower curtain. I had to replace it last summer after you went back to school because of all the streaks you left on it from beşiktaş ucuz escort playing with yourself in the shower.” And with that, she gave me a slightly wet kiss on the cheek, spun around, and left the bathroom closing the door behind her. She also left behind a soaking wet, shocked son who was crimson colored from embarrassment, and who’s penis was suddenly springing back into a semi-hard state for a reason all of its own. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrived at Ernesto’s uncle’s house at 11pm. And the place was hopping. The music was bumping. People were everywhere. Guests and party-goers had spilled out into the front lawn to be closer to the kegs. This is where I found Ernesto. I gave him a bro-hug, and thanked him for inviting me. He told me where I could find the harder alcohol, the pot, and the honeys, and told me to “get jiggy with it.” Ah, the mid-90’s, how I miss you.

And, with that tidbit of timeless advice from Ernesto, I went in search of my lioness. I am probably the first gazelle who wanted a lioness to catch its sent.

I walked through the front door of the house and people were dancing in the living room where the strobe lights barely illuminated it enough for a person to walk through without tripping over someone else. The kitchen drew the hard drinkers, the shot takers, and their groupies. The kitchen counters were covered with every type of hard alcohol that a person could imagine. I loved the hard drinkers and shot takers. They always enjoyed the parties the most. And their laughter and congratulatory high fives after each round of shots was infectious. They seemed like such happy drunks. Outside, next to the swimming pool were the hot chicks and their tool boy toys. Boring plastic boombahs and their douche bags boyfriends.

After gauging the situation and getting a lay of the land, I made an educated guess that Marianne would be dancing. And . . . I . . .was . . .correct.

There she was dancing in the middle of the living room. Ernesto’s strobe lights making her smoking hot body shot in and out of my view. She pulsated with the rhythm of synchronized fucking. Her hips went in and out, in and out, and she would run her fingers through her hair, hair that was wet from sweat, and she would make faces as she danced that I imagined she would make when she climaxed during an orgasm. God, I wanted to take her right there on the living room floor.

Marianne was wearing a sheer white tank top. And her body sweat from dancing had completely made her shirt transparent. Her breasts were plain to see. And her long nipples protruded through the shirt to reveal that the music and dancing was turning her on. The only thing sexier than seeing her tits through her wet tank top was watching her ass jiggle in her black leather mini-skirt. Add some “fuck me” knee high black high heel boots, and my dick was pointing me right in her direction.

I took a deep breath. Calmed myself. And walked up behind her in the dance floor. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “you’re so sexy tonight.” I could tell that she smiled when I said that to her. As an act of approval that I was so close to her, she grabbed my hands wrapping my right arm around her waist, and placed my right hand on her tit. I was molded to her. And everyone else in the living disappeared. It was just me and Marianne.

My hard on was sticking straight up in my jeans. And my boxer shorts couldn’t hold my penis in. If I unzipped right there, my cock would have come flying out. And trust me, it wanted to. I grinded Marianne from behind on the dance floor. And she could feel my bulge in my pants riding the crack of her ass through her skirt. My grip on her waist tightened. My hand on her tit squeezed. She titled her face back toward mine, and pulled my head down to kiss me hard, her tongue pushing into my mouth.

After she broke off the kiss. Marianne swung around in my arms with the skill of a viper to face me, and wrapped one of her legs around me which lifted her skirt up to her hips. And right there in front of everyone at my buddy’s party, I released the hand off her tit and moved it to her pussy. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. Oh my God, and she was soaking wet. I slipped one and then two fingers quickly inside of her.

“You’re going to fuck me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. She kissed me again. Her tongue explored the top of my mouth and then the deep recesses of my throat.

“Now?” I asked. Once she let me up for air.

“Now!” she affirmed as she stuck her hand down the front on my pants, and gave my cock a squeeze, kissed me again, this time biting my lower lip.

I stopped finger fucking her, and led her away off the dance floor in the living room through some double glass doors that led to Ernesto uncle’s dining room. I only let go of her hand to lock the door that led to the kitchen. Those doors were wooden. And some people yelled, “Hey,” as I gave them a smirk and closed the doors. Bolting them. Marianne had already closed the glass doors that we had entered through. They had frosted beşiktaş üniversiteli escort glass. And because of the darkness of the living room, no one could see through. Even if they could, I’m sure Marianne wouldn’t have minded, but I had already been the victim of voyeurism that night at home by my mom.

I couldn’t believe I was about to fuck Marianne and I just thought about my mom watching me masturbate. Shit.

“Come here.” Marianne said in the sexiest tone. I crossed the room with a lustful determination, stopping inches from her. She was standing next to formal dining room table. It looked expensive. Walnut maybe. Much nicer than the one my family owned.

“Fuck my pussy. Lift up my skirt and fuck my pussy from behind. Bend me over this table, and fuck the shit out of my pussy. And don’t you dare cum until I tell you.”

Marianne whirled around, her hair falling to both sides of her face. She slowly bent over the table like she was doing some stripper dance, and she laid her breasts on top of it. Oh, I wanted to be that table. To this day, I still remember Marianne’s tits. She reached around to her skirt and slowly lifted it exposing her ass and her fattened and swollen pussy lips. My fingers had done a number on them for they were red. I undid my belt and unbuttoned my jeans. My cock already was sticking thru the front opening of my boxer shorts. It was longing to be inside her and feel the slippery walls of her cunt. I pulled down my shorts, stepped out of my jeans and boxer shorts, and approached her greedily.

I ran my cock shaft up and down her ass crack, flicking the head of my cock on her pussy each time. She moaned. I gained confidence. After a few more passes up and down her ass cheeks, I grabbed the base of my dick and guided it into her wet pussy. Marianne giggled. I didn’t know if that was a giggle of pleasure or of the fact that my dick wasn’t as big as she thought and she was now rethinking this conquest less in terms of being with a man than in terms of me being a little boy.

Either way, with three jabs of my cock head, I was fully in her. Her juices were already flowing regardless of why she giggled. And her pussy felt so good. I can’t relay that to you enough. Marianne’s pussy is still one of the best pussies I have ever had the pleasure of being inside of to this day.

I stood behind, one hands on her left hip, and the other on the small of her pack. Moving slowly back and forth in and out of her amazing cunt. The walls of her cunt vaginal canal were flexing around my shaft, pulsating with the bump of the music coming from the living room. I concentrated so hard on not cumming. I had to fulfill her command not to cum until she told me to.

“Fuck me, Scott. Harder. Faster. But don’t cum until I tell you.” I increased my speed. I was her slave. I would do as she asked.

“Harder. Harder. Harder. Good boy. You’re such a good boy. You feel so good in momma’s pussy.”

I was trying to increase speed without shorting my thrusts. Long and fast was my motto at that moment in time. Her ass jiggled as my balls slammed into her with every one of my thrusts, and she made sounds “uuugh. Aaaaawwww. Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh. Mmmmmmooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre,” each time my dick slammed into her, my balls colliding with her ass faster than the time before.

I had been standing up straight until now. But then, I went to fulfill my masturbation fantasy. With one hand I reached for her jet black hair that was soaked with sweat – from dancing and fucking. I got a good hold of it and twisted it. I must have shocked or scared her a bit, for Marianne made a sound that made me think that I hurt her. But I didn’t let go. By then I was leaning forward, laying my stomach on her back, and I reached around and took hold of her tit in the palm of my hand. I squeezed. Placing her nipple between by thumb and index finger, I squeezed and twisted it as well, until her let out a little squeal of delight.

But then my long and fast thrust caused me to exit her pussy completely. I was sloppy. But my leaning forward had caused the angle of our bodies to change. I didn’t let go of her hair and nipple. I didn’t reach down with my hand and guide my cock back into her pussy hole. Instead, I tried to guide my cock back in blindly. And the cockhead found her gloryhole. And with a not so gentle push, I entered her ass.

“No.” Marianne yelled back at me. And she started to try to get up. But I forced the entire weight of my body down onto her, pinning her against the table.

“Sorry,” was all I could say. But I didn’t relent. Instead, my pelvis pushed forward and with her pussy juices acting as a natural lubricant, I drove about half the length of my shaft into her ass.

“Please. Stop.” Marianne was truly uncomfortable. She grimaced from the pain of me being inside her ass. I remained motionless, my body flush against her, my manhood slowly and surely engorging her anal cavity. Marianne was incredibly tense. And super tight. But she began to relax. The tenseness of her body softened, and I could feel her anal muscles unclench. And I started to fuck her ass slowly with the same methodical elongated motions as when I was in her pussy, but much much slower. I was right though, her ass was ten times tighter than her vagina, and the excitement of being inside it drove me over the edge. S he kept saying, “stop. Please stop Scott.” But in between each plea to stop was a moan of deep pleasure.

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