To start let me thank my editors from the volunteer editor program, brucru, kenjisato, and MaryFrancis. They helped turn my musings into a story. Any errors in spelling, grammar, or otherwise are mine by virtue of not taking their excellent advice.
That said this is the first of an unknown number of chapters in an interracial, group sex, and female-to-female incest story. Not every story will include every theme, with the exception of interracial sex. If you aren't comfortable with some of those themes this series may not be for you.
Chapter 1
"Momma! Hey momma, you gotta come quick and look at this."
The voice crying out was a high soprano, with a harsh edge. As the young woman was rocking on the porch swing and felt well-worn wood rub against her thigh. Her soft mahogany skin stood out in sharp contrast to the sun-bleached planks that cupped her denim-covered butt. She twisted in the swing and leaned over the arm, to look back into the house. Pressing her large breasts against the arm, which pulled her faded black T-shirt tight, she cried out again, "Momma!"
"What you yell'n 'bout?" An irritated voice preceded a woman, as she walked to the door. She leaned her hip against the chipped white paint of the door frame, and looked down at her daughter. A quick pull at her own ratty pink T-shirt down over her exposed midriff which stretched the thin fabric tight over her own well-endowed chest. Even though the older woman had a darker complexion, and a slightly smaller bust, it was clear to anyone that they were related.
"Look what is moving in across the street." The girl pointed with a long finger tipped by a gaudy red nail.
Directing her attention to the house across the street, she saw a man her age come walking out the front door and down the steps toward his truck. He was tall, with broad shoulders filling out his shirt, carried by thickly muscled calves. With a glance in their direction, he waved and then grabbed a box, before turning away from them and going back toward the house.
"Daaamn, look at his ass!" the younger woman half whispered.
"Nice muscular legs too," responded her mother. "Question is, what brings a white man down to an all-black neighborhood to live?"
"He crazy or stupid." She paused for a moment before adding, "Or damn desperate."
"Who is desperate?" A voice, not unlike the young woman sitting on the porch, floated over the older woman's shoulder.
The woman jerked, startled, "Damnit Deandra! Gonna make you wear a bell, the way you walk up on people. Never know where you are."
"Sorry momma. So, who was Daisha saying is desperate?" She pushed past her mother onto the front porch. Unlike her sister and mother, she was in a short, yellow, floral sundress with a low-cut front, showing ample cleavage. The dress showed off her curves and smooth legs, just the same. Aside from how she was dressed, she looked identical to her sister.
Daisha cut in, "White guy that just moved in across the street."
"Why?" Deandra looked across the street, as he came out again to grab another box from the car. "He is cute and I like the dirty-blond hair and how tall he is. Wonder how long he gonna last."
Daisha chuckled, as she asked, "You talking about in the house, or something else?"
"Don't be nasty Daisha." Deandra looked at her sister with mock severity.
Daisha met her sister's look with a wicked smile, "Don't be a prude Dee-Dee."
Waving her hands at her daughters their mother quieted the girls, "Both of you shush, he is coming over here."
"Good morning. Since I saw you ladies out here chatting, I thought I would come over and introduce myself." His voice was loud and confident, even cocky, as he addressed the women. "I am James, and as you can see, I am just moving in. I normally would have waited until I was a bit more cleaned up, but I didn't want to seem rude, either."
"Don't worry about that, it is nice to meet you, James. I am Maya and these are my daughters, Daisha and Deandra." She smiled broadly when she met his frost blue eyes, sparking out from a suntanned, deep ivory hued face. She was only able to do so, without looking up, because he was two steps down on the porch stairs.
"Daughters? Not possible." He met her smile with an easy grin, while looking into her nutty brown eyes and was not shy, looking her over with clear admiration.
"It's true, momma got an early start." Daisha piped up from the swing, and her mother shot her a dirty look.
"What Daisha is trying to say is, I was a young mother. Hard to believe these two turned eighteen last Saturday. Means I can kick they asses out, if they get to be too much trouble. Willful and stubborn as they are."
"Good thing for you I didn't have that attitude when you were their age." Another woman said as she appeared behind Maya. She was dressed in bright orange culottes and a black sleeveless, blouse that was only a shade off her obsidian arms. A streak of silver ran through midnight black hair, that cascaded down her back.
When she spoke, the three other women seemed to straighten up immediately, and Maya scooted out of the doorway, clearing the way for her. Daisha slid to the far end of the swing, making room for the woman who was clearly the matriarch of the home. The older woman ignored it and walked to the edge of the porch instead. She stood with her arms folded under her sizeable bust, looking at James like a schoolteacher trying to decide if a student was going to be trouble, or just a rascal.
"My daughter never has learned to watch her language in front of strangers. Granted, I didn't have a lot of time, being a young single mother myself. Would have thought she would have figured it out by now, though."
"Sorry momma," murmured Maya from behind her.
"Now Mister..."
"James will do." He held her gaze for several seconds, before having to look down, "Temple." Seeing her frown he quickly added, "Ma'am."
"Well Mister Temple this is my house, and while I thank you for coming by, I have some work for my daughter and grandchildren. We will see you around the neighborhood." With that she turned, the other three women preceding her into the house.
"Oh, well it was nice meeting you all then. I didn't catch your name... ma'am."
Stopping in the doorway she looked him in the eye, "You did not catch it because I did not give it Mister Temple. My name is Gisella, Gilly to my friends. You can call me Miss Berry." The door shut leaving James standing on the stairs.
* * * * * *
James sat in his recliner, utterly exhausted after finally unloading the last few boxes from his truck. It had been a long day and closing his eyes for a moment, the sun tracing a line across one wall, as it dipped lower. His eyes flew open at the sound of a loud knock on his screen door. It took a moment to realize that the sun line was gone from his wall, and his living room was dark.
"Shit." He twisted as pain shot up his back from sleeping in an awkward position.
Another knock at the screen prompted him out of his chair. Shuffling forward in the dark, he tripped on a box and swore again. He could make out someone framed in the doorway. Finally finding a light switch, the room flared, and he swore again. As his eyes adjusted, he could see Maya standing there watching him, with a bemused expression.
"Going to let me in, or leave me standing here all night?"
"Sure. What are you doing over here?" When he pushed the screen door open, Maya gave him a sour look, before stepping inside with a plastic bag in one hand.
"James, this is not the kind of neighborhood where you sleep with your front door open. You especially don't do it, with only your unlocked screen door between you and the world."
"Huh? Oh, I just fell a... sleep. Where are you going?"
Maya walked across his living room heading toward the kitchen. Her hips were swaying with each step in the same ass-hugging shorts she had been wearing earlier. When he followed her to the other room, she had put a bottle of rum on the counter and was going through his cabinets. Even though each cabinet was empty, she kept raising up on her toes in a way that flexed her toned legs
