Editor's warning: this story contains incest content.
*
Lucia stopped the car, but Meagan didn't get out. "What's the matter?" Lucia asked. "You're going to be late for class if you don't hurry!"
Meagan sighed. "Mom, it's just..."
"Just what?" A mischievous smirk decorated her face. "The teachers don't like you anymore? Some boy in class giving you heartache?"
"Mom, ever since you got laid off, it's like you've been rushing me out the door every morning. It's like you're in a bigger hurry than when you actually had a job!"
Lucia frowned, and began struggling to come up with an answer. "I just have... I'm trying really hard, to find a new job, to support you and your sister..."
"Mom, I'm eighteen now, and Isabelle's twenty. We're old enough to support ourselves, and we don't need you shielding us anymore. You can tell me."
"There's nothing to tell," Lucia insisted, a little too quickly. "Just have a good day, okay?"
Meagan sighed again, and got out, not sparing a backward glance as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and shut the door behind her. Once she was gone, Lucia also sighed—in relief. Her little girl was getting a lot closer than she wanted her.
That thought was a dampener to her usual mood on the drive home. Usually just thinking what she was going to do once the girls were gone was enough to thoroughly moisten her panties by this point. But the worry of Meagan knowing too much was curbing her excitement a bit. Not that she wasn't still excited.
She'd at least managed to work up a decent lube by the time she pulled back into the driveway. But as always, she couldn't rush things. She had to make sure the house was empty first. As soon as the front door was shut behind her she called up the stairs: "Isabelle, are you up?"
"Yes, Mom," a voice from upstairs muttered back, moments before Isabelle appeared, descending the stairs in her work clothes with the usual dour look on her face. People were often surprised to learn that Isabelle and Meagan were sisters, given their obvious differences (though the fact that they were only half-sisters may have contributed to that). Isabelle was tall and athletic where Meagan was rather petite, and Meagan's hair was short and light brown while Isabelle's was long and a shade darker. But the part that really threw people off was the angelic sense of innocence Meagan conveyed that Isabelle just, well...
"All right, Mom, I'm leaving, so you can go ahead and fuck that bank teller you've got tied up in your study."
"Don't you talk to me that way!" Lucia snapped. "And I do not have a bank teller tied up in my study!"
"Maybe not, but I'm probably not far off. Bye Mom."
Again, once the door was shut, Lucia sighed, but for a different reason. She was still holding out some hope that sweet Meagan didn't see her that way, but there was no question that Isabelle considered her mother a complete slut.
Given what I do while they're away, she's probably right.
But even as she moved off to her private "study," Lucia knew she was thinking in the smallest terms. The simple fact that she was only thirty-six when her oldest child was twenty was basis for calling her a slut. But that was still just the beginning.
Her family had gone completely apeshit when she became pregnant at age sixteen; she thought her father was going to disown her. Despite the barrage of advice to put the child up for adoption, Lucia had insisted on keeping it. The family had all pitched in to help care for baby Isabelle, but her parents had made her promise to make more careful choices from then on. Then she got to be eighteen, and WHAM: Meagan was born, by a completely different father. She hadn't learned a damn thing. Her parents made her pack her bags, and her two bastard offspring, and booted her out.
Somehow she'd managed to get by thus far. Meagan's father, God bless him, had helped some with that in the beginning, but something about Lucia just wouldn't let him stay with her. Like maybe what she was now stepping up to the locked doors of her private "study" for.
Lucia picked up the key to the room from where she kept it hidden, and turned it in the door that concealed the room her daughters had never seen. And if she had any say in it, they never would.
This is my pit that I've chosen to live in, and I can feel guilty about enjoying it as long as they don't have to,
was her last thought before she stepped inside and shut the double doors behind her.
***
Isabelle punched out her card, breathing in the brief freedom that was her lunchbreak. She had only forty fleeting minutes to enjoy this escape from the store counter, and she intended to savor it. She probably wouldn't spend much of it eating, though. She never ate much anyway; just the contents in a small Tupperware container in the staff fridge that she was content to eat cold anyway. She was just going to use this time to relax.
Starting it off with Sean's hand making sudden unexpected contact with her ass and the words "Shall we?" whispered in her ear was not exactly what she had in mind.
"Hands off," she said sharply. "We're not there yet."
His hand recoiled. "You could've fooled me," he said. "Or did I imagine what we've been doing for the last week-and-a-half?"
"That's one thing," she said. "I'm not talking it to the next level yet."
He shrugged, looking very puzzled. "I don't get it. What's the big difference?"
Isabelle rolled her eyes, and pulled him by the arm into the empty changing room and locked it behind them. "Try to understand this, Sean: a few blowjobs, which I'm only giving to bribe you, is not the same as actually having sex, which I am not prepared to do with you now. Especially since you've still got a girlfriend. So if you want to actually do me, then you can break up with Shelly and ask me out properly and maybe we'll get there. Otherwise just shut up and let me work."
With that she dropped to her knees and unzipped his fly. The thing in his pants sprang forward as if it were spring-loaded. She fisted the stiff member without a second's hesitation and plunged it into her mouth. She'd been working on perfecting her technique with him; she rotated her head around while sliding back and forth, moving her tongue in circles around the helmet, and periodically moved off to the side using only her tongue.
And as she thrust is cock in and out of her mouth, one particular thought kept echoing in her mind:
why do I keep doing this?
At first, it was true that she was just trying to bribe him; some of her friends enjoyed playing hockey with her in the store's back alley on her off days, and these blowjobs were her way of persuading Sean, who personally knew the owner, to get the man to keep letting them do that. But now she trusted him to keep doing that anyway; she considered him her friend, after all. She didn't think the oral service she gave him was still necessary.
As horrible as it was for her to admit, she sucked him off because she liked it. It wasn't that she found the act itself especially pleasant—at least not totally—but the act of giving pleasure to someone she personally knew just made her happy. It excited her. And God help her, sometimes when she did it she really did want to just forget about her personal ethics and let him fuck her. But she never crossed that line with him; not here, not like this.
She got all the right sounds from him that he made to tell her she was doing a good job, though as always he made sure to keep those noises down. He was also good enough to stroke her hair during the act; always a point-winner. Under different circumstances, she'd do it with Sean in a heartbeat.
Thus far there had been three guys Isabelle had had sex with. The first time had been on the night of her junior prom, her one and only time with Derek Weston on her one and only date with him. The dance ended, they got in his car and he drove to a lookout. Since then she had reviewed the sequence of events in that care with him millions of times, and to this day she still couldn't figure out how she ended up with her dress on the floor and his dick inside of her. She considered it the biggest mistake of her life, which she told him the next day, perhaps a little too adamantly.
