Note: All characters in the following story are 18 years of age or older. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 2: A Family Comes Together
It was a peaceful night in Blanton. The crickets chirped mindlessly. A full moon shined down on the sleepy town. Lights flickered on as people settled into their houses for the night, families gathered and talked about their day over dinner, and nothing disturbed the relaxed order of things.
Stanley DeVille stepped out of The Michelson's house, grinning at the work he'd just accomplished with his receptive next door neighbors. He strolled down the path from the front door, whistling a tuneless melody on the way home. Jared Michelson's car pulled into the driveway as Stan casually waved to the man inside.
"Hey, Jared. How's the ticker?"
Jared stepped out of his car, cocking his head. A cautious look came over his face.
"How'd you hear about that?"
Stan pointed back to the house. "Steph just told me. Crimony, you should've seen how nervous she was. I saw her grab the mail, one thing led to another, and we ended up talking about you for hours."
"Ah." Jared pulled a file folder from the passenger seat of the car, and headed back to the house.
"You take care, old buddy. Wouldn't want you clocking out early on us, eh?" Stan waved to his neighbor's back. Jared just marched straight into his house and slammed the door shut.
***
Inside his own home, Stan slipped off his loafers and stepped into the kitchen. His girls had finished dinner, but left him a plate of turkey and mashed potatoes. So quaint. He nibbled at a drumstick as he walked about the house, closing the curtains and latching the windows shut. He locked the doors and turned off the TV left running in the living room. With the laugh track from the mindless sitcom gone, he could quite clearly hear the moans and giggles coming from his bedroom.
The lights in the bedroom his daughters shared were out, but light from the master bedroom shone down the darkened hallway. Stan polished the meat off the drumstick as he undid his pants. Entering the bedroom, he smiled wickedly at the sight before him.
Unlike the previous residents of the house, he and his wife's sleeping habits demanded a less conventional bed. The king-sized boxspring that used to occupy the room was fine, but they soon found they needed more room and converted most of the space into a large cushioned area. Black satin draped over the plush bedding, and large red velvet pillows with gold trim littered the area. It was clear to any person with half a brain that the setup wasn't there to encourage sleep. This was a Fuck Room.
As it so happened, that was just what Stan's wife Rachel and their daughters Jessi and Christina were doing. Their voluptuous forms slid over one another, luxuriating in the feel of smooth skin without hair or blemishes. Rachel reclined on a pillow, golden brown hair fanned out around her beautiful face. Her long lashes fluttered as her young daughters suckled her pierced tits and pussy.
All Stan's sluts bore the decorations he found so beguiling, and his own offspring were no exception to that rule. Though only a little more than a year ago his chaste daughters resembled average teenagers, they had long since evolved into sexual entities. Their hips and heart-shaped asses complemented their small teenage waists and long, womanly legs. Blessed by something other than nature, the girls quickly developed firm large breasts which rivaled their mother's mouth-watering orbs.
But, while Christina still had yet to enter high school, her sister Jessi had graduated and hastily found work at a strip club in the next town over. Her father's lust had shaped her into an undeniably erotic creature, but work at the club prompted her to add even more sensuous decorations to her body.
In addition to the runed "tramp stamp" her father marked all his conquests with, Jessi was dressed with numerous tattoos. Some held intricate patterns of people fucking, like the one that decorated the back of her neck. Angel wings stenciled onto her shoulder blades mocked the image of the virginal maiden she once had been. Other symbols scrawled onto her flat stomach forever labeled her as an agent of lust and corruption. Numerous customers and fellow dancers could vouch for that.
The golden nipple rings, clit piercing, and tongue studs her father had gifted served as the basis for further adornments. The numerous rings which spiraled through both of her ears. The loops that stuck through her bald pussy lips. She knew her mother and sister envied the freedom her life as a stripper gave her. The black and blonde locks and heavy makeup Jessi sported clearly marked her as a sexual predator.
Christina and Rachel would have given much to follow her example, but it was more important that they remain undetected. Still, Stan was not so cruel as to deny them some marking, and the first night he saw them all sporting inverted pentagrams and ornate letters reading "SLUT" on their hairless pussy mounds, he fucked them past sunrise.
"Daddy " Chrissy squealed. The baby of the family, her face made her appear more childlike than her mother and sister. Her luscious curves told a different story, however. Raising herself from her mother's cunt, she licked her pouty lips with a triple-pierced tongue. Despite being the most conspicuous accessories she wore, Christina was often able to keep people from noticing her symbols of sexual excess.
Her buxom boobs jostled with every slinky step she took towards her father, setting the nipple rings to swing teasingly. The golden bar piercing her devilish "SLUT" cunt peeked out as her hips swayed seductively, and her mother and sister admired the way her bubble butt jiggled under the rune that slipped down into her asscrack.
Chrissy melted against her father and opened her mouth to welcome his tongue. Her nimble hands grasped his pulsating rod as it repeatedly doubled in length, pumping the glands with smooth, velvety strokes. It quickly rose between them, poking into the undersides of Chrissy's jugs as she passionately sucked on her father's thick tongue. Her dazzling green eyes opened lazily and looked upon her father with the ultimate sexual hunger. Not so long ago, they sparkled with love and admiration, finding safety in her father's embrace. Now, they told an equally simple story: she existed to fuck. All the beautiful things that once lived behind that glance had died and been replaced by nasty, sinful desires. Fucking her family, copulating with teachers and kids at school, even seducing her friends...
