A New Day Dawning

My gawd this room is hot. It's closing in on me. My underarms are sopping wet and beads of sweat are dripping from my hairline down my cheeks. And that isn't the worst of it. My clingy blouse is pressed against my breasts, obscenely marking the curvy contours of my C-cups and emphasizing the plump, taut nipples seemingly attempting to slice their way through the front of my soggy blouse. And the moist-hot inferno between my thighs is making sitting here, acting like a proper woman but shaking like a leaf in the wind, while listening to this sordid, sexual situation a torturous, titillating endeavor.

Then the sultry looks that I'm receiving from my nineteen-year-old daughter are burning holes through my heart and leading my corrupted brain to envision evermore lewd situations that would set my poor, naive body aflame and causing that illicit tingle to stir in my uterus. The way she stares at me and scans my trembling body while lasciviously and obviously, petting and circling her pussy is seductive yet depraved. I am fighting to keep my thighs clenched and to smother the vulgar moaning noises that I am so tempted to voice. I should be better than this; and still, as Christy knows all-too-well, it has been only a few scant hours since I sheepishly crawled out of my own bed disheveled and dripping, having surrendered my body to the perverted wishes of her brother- my son. And now, even sticky-wet and hyper-stimulated, I wanted to hear more salacious testimony about her incestuous tryst with Jason.

Obviously, the temperature in the room was just fine, it was my body generating the heat that unsettled me. My breathing was rapid and shallow forcing my heavy bustline to heave and fall on my chest. She caught every motion of my body and her brown eyes bored into mine. I spied her own tits swelling and the firm. plump, points becoming pronounced. I don't know why or even when I started looking at this young woman as a sex object, the lust for her enticing figure began to fill my thoughts.

My mind was dizzy from the sudden rush of warm blood speeding towards my pussy causing a thumping sensation in my loins and then violently reversing course to help my conflicted brain process what I've been hearing from Christy. Then the blood hurtles back to my over-heated snatch as I ponder the various entanglements involved with all of my children fucking one another and crudely picturing my 47 year-old frame being a centerpiece of the attraction, not just for my son now, but with both of my sensuous daughters. And again, my brain, starving for a nourishing supply of fresh energy, needs to confront someone-anyone- about the moral and psychological impact of the family's unique little perversion, while hungrily and distastefully wishing for more.

The thing that confused me most was exactly how "unmotherly" this whole thing made me feel. If I had learned first, that my older daughter and son were fucking, I would have felt righteous anger. But that wasn't the case. Then to hear that my younger daughter had not just watched and lusted over their debauchery but joined-in on the degeneracy, I would have been suitably incensed and indignant. But not only was I late to the party; as far as I knew, I was the one who indulged in this corruption though not by initial choice, but certainly with little compunction and then a trashy willingness to accept and wantonly participate in this sexual depravity.

The only actual moment that had me re-evaluating my motherly instincts was when Jason called me his "mommy-slut" and told me he would "suck on my plump nipples like when he was a child," or that I "should have been sucking his big cock for years." Yet the emotion that filled me was lust. To hear him call me a slut as he forced his angry cock past my vulva and into the fiery depths of my pussy was disgraceful and chastening. Then he gathered my wavy locks in his grasp and tugged my neck back to arch my spine so that he could squeeze my bouncing tits as he drilled his length into me. All I could do was moan and grovel. Initially I was frightened by his nocturnal incursion and actually tried to fight him off but unfortunately, my willpower was defeated by a lecherous abandonment.

And when he triumphantly left my bed this morning; with me wallowing in the dank sheets and still recovering from many hours-worth of surrendering my submissive form to his lusty and aggressive commandeering, he blatantly asserted that my former marital bed would now belong to him whenever he wanted to fuck me and he laid-down his next rule, stating that though he would be home late tonight, I should be naked and on my knees when I heard him come in, and ofcourse I understood my role in that scenario. And I only nodded my assent and asked if there would be anything else he wanted.

And now, having listened to Christy's erotic account of voyeurism and incest concerning her siblings and seeing how she eyed my figure lustily, while openly toying with her warm, wet cunt and me, being unable to draw my own eyes away from her obvious come-on, I felt a horrible but titillating desire to make her an invitation of my tortured anatomy. She made a point earlier, that Jason was not just suave and sensual he could practically read a woman's mind and feel when her hormones were in an uproar. It seemed evident that having discovered the depths of my own degradation, and following the example- or possibly an order from her Rasputin-like brother- she jettisoned her timidity and was sending the first non-verbal clue that she would also like to have sex with her mother. I was feeling impotent and paralyzed with a longing for sexual gratification. I was beginning to live through my pussy.

The fact that I was squirming in my seat with my nipples enlarged and my thighs clenched shut while sweat oozed from my pores and both my heart- and pulse rates were pounding audibly in my head, only signaled how close I was to a second incestual seduction- this one bi-sexual- in the space of twelve hours. I was shivering with fear and excitement over the prospects of losing control of this exotic situation and of losing my mind. I wanted to call for another "time-out" to compose my thoughts and to bring-down the temperature in the room, but that would only have been a clear answer to her unspoken question. She knew that I was on a hook.

It was already becoming obvious to the second member of my family, that I could be easily seduced and readily conquered. When was this character flaw revealed? Why, after nearly five decades have I abruptly but unexpectedly, discovered this erogenous emptiness in my sexuality? Maybe it wasn't a flaw, but a distinguishing quality? Maybe this is what I've always really lusted for? All I know is that I now ache for this feeling, the one I had last night with Jason. Possibly a new sensation with Christy, or Linda, maybe all of them? What is happening to me?

In an effort to change the subject to a minor degree, and not knowing where or what this may lead to, I asked her to continue her narrative and get to the part where she entered the "arrangement." This is when I noticed the alluring smile on my daughter's face and understood that retelling this story was like walking through a wet-dream for Christy. Her warm hand now emerged from the waistband of her dampened undies. She eased closer to me on the sofa and took another sip of the brandy-laced coffee that we had been sampling. And she agreed to further inform me of the peculiar family machinations, with one "simple" request. She explained that our closeness would make this easier to get through, so she asked if we could hold hands.

I felt no reason to withdraw and allowed her to place my trembling hand in her warm, moist grip and she held our coupled palms to her heart as she began. There is still the strongest possibility that I've misjudged this entire situation. I felt instantly more tender to her anxiety and softened to her predicament as my wrist sensed the thumping of her heart. Her tale started and as I once again, fell under the spell of the bewitching reenactment to this carnal affair, I perceived our hands slowly drifting closer to her breasts, and the warmth and softness of her enticing body. My eyes closed and my body went limp. Control and reason were slipping away from me. Our interlocked fingers brushed against the rounded, soft flesh of her curvy mounds. I knew what was happening but was helpless to restrain my impulses. I let-out a breathy, yearning sigh. I never attempted to release my hold and allowed our joined hands, under her loose guidance, to explore and roam over the entirety of her luscious body as I was swept into the daring descriptions of her highly erotic chronology.

[ Christy's descent into incest]

After that night, and until I found out later, I wasn't certain if Linda had spotted me and/or if she told Jason that they had been watched. But now I carried around a guilty secret that was eating me up all day long and whenever I was with either one of them. Especially when one or the other seemed to be studying me as I pretended to not notice. Or when they made little "inside jokes" to each other as they often did. Remember that Linda is four years older than me and Jason one year older than her. Since I was so much younger as they were physically maturing, and that "playing doctor" was almost a "rite of passage" to adulthood, I was uncertain as to whether they had explored each other before this. But in that six-week period when you were helping Aunt Ruth with her baby, they certainly became freer and more intimate with their bodies.

(At this sentence, my mother loudly protested that when she left us alone in the house, she had felt confident that she was relying on the intelligence and morals of three adults whom she assumed could be trusted to know right from wrong. I was rightfully impugned by her accusations but after dropping my head in shame, I was greeted with a similar expression of remorse as she silently reflected on her own incestuous fall from grace. Our hands remained coupled and now nestled in the smoldering confines of my moistened thighs which were allowing a more accessible but discreet pathway towards my volcanic "Y". We both measured the electric current flowing from that direction and our eyes met through misty tears, but she merely gripped my palm a bit tighter and permitted my hand to inch closer to its steamy destination.)

I knew what I saw that evening was incest. And I knew, even with the prompting of alcohol, that it was consensual. I needed to reason with myself that they didn't hurt anyone. They weren't "in love" and had no plans to get married. Plus, they continued to date other people, though I had a good idea that they still fucked each other whenever the mood hit. I also regretfully understood that I couldn't approach you about them and being unsure if they knew that I spied on them, I couldn't easily broach the subject with them.

But I would now begin to notice that when they sat together under a blanket on the couch watching a movie, there was alot going-on under the covers. And often when one would slip-out of the room, the other disappeared a short time later. If you had observed them closely like I started to, you would have seen the smudged lipstick or tussled hair. Sometimes they would come back with their clothing inside-out or all red-faced and obviously no longer wearing underwear.

But the true torment began late at night. In the darkness of my room, I would listen perversely for the sounds of footsteps or worse. Usually, accompanied by my probing fingers bringing me to startling levels of indecent and vulgar provocation. I would picture in my mind, what they might be up to or imagine myself as an eager participant in their erotic affairs. This was all very new to me and over-the-borderline depraved and dirty, but something erotically stimulating about this secretive seduction and lewd rendezvous crept into my brain (or vagina,) and took harbor there. And nothing about ethics or morals could dislodge it.

I sometimes felt lonely or ugly that I was not included in their fun. I have nice tits and I'm in good shape. I would need to be shown or instructed about how to proceed with the reticence of expressing pleasure but not displaying indelicacy. And I would have to accept that my body would be used for the purely sexual gratification of people that I could never speak about. But my aching and curious body, twisting and writhing as I conjured these abhorrent images, was telling me that I needed to approach this next step. I would never tell on them or preach, and I would even comply to a request to take part in a threesome, though I've never been with a woman before. Or maybe even accede to a private coupling with just my sister. Ofcourse, the whole thing is about incest, so what further sin would bi-sexuality be. Many sleepless nights passed like this for me, with my sweaty body tormented by guilt but compelled to explore and experience this intoxicating and decadent life-choice.

As the days drew by, and you were gone for so long, they became much more open, flaunting their lewd encounters and acting as if I didn't exist. If the three of us were watching TV, those two would steal away and I could hear them laughing and moaning. One day when I came home from class, I asked Linda if her or Jason needed the shower, because I wanted to change clothes and go out. She just giggled and replied that they had both already showered. When I went into the bathroom, I could see the two pairs of wet footprints on the rug and the small pile of used towels on the floor. I didn't even want to touch the tiles, but later that night, I remember rubbing my pussy and imagining how it must have looked when Jason bent her over the faucets and fucked her from behind while standing up under the warm water.

One morning, I must have surprised Linda as she was walking out of her room, because she hurried to close her door. But Jason must have been right behind her because I heard him say, "Hey, watch that door, you almost slammed it shut on my cock." She caught my eye this time and laughingly mumbled something about his cock always getting in the way. From that point, the groping became much more open. I think she told him that this was possibly the second time that they had been caught.

She would sit on his lap and I would watch them dry-humping while his hands kneaded and molded her pliant breasts. I would always act as if I wasn't watching but even the little moans and groans, or the silenced sound of a zipper opening or the lewd gasp of a surprised touch, would make my ears pick-up. It was almost as if they desired to be caught or questioned. They would both turn to see my expression or just how much that they could get away with, before I asked some obvious or incriminating question. These open displays became raunchier and more revealing each time.

Then I came home early one afternoon and there they were in the living room. Linda was splayed across the arm of the couch with her knees on the sofa effectively facing the door. Her head was bent forward with her long black hair covering her eyes but entirely naked. She was rocking violently back and forth, her heavy boobs clapping together and sweat and drool running down her sensually haggard face. Jason was directly behind her appearing as a half-male torso towering above the inclined, partially hidden body of Linda like some demented version of a Centaur. He was pumping his gigantic cock between her spread thighs and drilling his big tool as if pounding a wedge into soft clay with a sledgehammer.

His glistening, alabaster column was already etched in my brain and here it was again, finding its happy landing in the squirming, wet hollow of his sister's welcoming pussy. This time, I was even closer to it and could hear the squishing sounds and observe as it forcibly infiltrated and reluctantly withdrew its tremendous length and girth. Each time, covered with a filmy white layer of dew and eliciting throaty, horny moans from my sister's gaping mouth. Their rhythm was hectic and torturous to watch but they reveled in its sensual catharsis. They were both shiny with sweat, showing that I had missed the foreplay. She was impaled on his slick tool and taking the pounding avidly by swearing and shrieking every time his strong pelvis drove into her recoiling hips.

At each time that she lifted her head, I saw that her brown eyes were glazed and dilated, not exactly seeing me though staring in my direction. Her head just bobbled loosely and her mouth hung open, foamy slobber dripping from her lips.

Her body just absorbed the rough slamming and her big tits wobbled and the wet flesh slapped together as she was being rocked. Jason was mostly interested in her bare backside as he concentrated on his solid pole while it pistoned in and out of her slippery cylinder and he slowly inserted his lubricated digits into the darkened opening of her meaty ass. The indelicate intrusion registered on her alarmed face but she quickly reacted to the newer dimension and shifted her curvaceous body accordingly. It heightened the sensation for both and pushed them closer to the edge. She tensed her muscles and grimaced with her lips as he pushed forward in each tight orifice.

The intensity of his dual injections increased in pressure and her moans and swearing increased in volume. The old sofa was rocking on its stubby wooden

legs and she was chewing a wet hole in the fabric when she wasn't engaging all of the gods and urging him on, at the top of her lungs. His hips moved like Elvis on steroids and his fingers poked back and forth at her pleasantly plump bottom. He roared, "take my big cock, you horny little slut." And she answered by calling for more and for him not to cum until she had reached her peak. They were both awash in decadent, lascivious bliss building to a monumental climax.

I had casually walked-in taking no precaution at being quiet, yet I could have been shooting-off fireworks for all that they noticed. I was instantly mesmerized. My brother and sister were fucking like farm animals, their language would have made coal miners blush. There was no longer any reason for subterfuge or excuses.

For whatever reason, they had decided to fuck in the middle of the afternoon, right in the living room. Not concerned about me or the rough usage of the room.

And even if I had intended to go back outside and make a big commotion about entering or if I pretended to act surprised, they would still need about twenty minutes to disengage and untangle. Then to cool down, get washed and dress, and fumigate the air and Scotchgard the furniture.

So, I just stared in open-mouthed awe at their boldness and then sensing an infectious obsession; I reenacted my Peeping Tom pose and hurriedly slid my shorts and panties down my wobbly legs, then proceeded to glide my palm through the short ebon curls to tickle and poke at my swollen snatch, marveling at how quickly it had become hot and wet. It appeared that my body was beginning to melt. The viscous fluids seeped down my thighs and my pussy was sloppy-wet, allowing my twin fingers to quickly delve into my constricted cunt. I also dropped all pretense at shock or guilt.

Now, I was in it simply for me. As the erotic floorshow continued to accelerate at a fevered pitch, my wandering digits found their mark. Two fingers swiftly rubbed the reddened nub of delicate flesh that plumped with excitement. My outer lips blossomed like the petals of a rose, spreading the warm lubrication from inside that would allow for the seesaw motion of my fingers as they searched for that hidden spot at the roof of my sensitive cavern.

It wasn't long, with the steamy, sensual display infront of me, and the moistened tips of my fingers jabbing at the tingling, high-voltage passageway to delight, that my legs began to quiver and turn to jelly. My abdomen tickled and then the spasms began, rippling my tight belly and bringing-on the sensation of a flood about to be loosed from my uterus. My misty brown eyes were clenched shut, my brain envisioned me on the receiving end of my brother's thunderous poundings. I realized at this point that I was moaning and swearing, too. My shaky voice hardly rising above the tumult. As my entire body began to shake, I felt the silky warmth begin to flow. Something subconsciously told me to squint my eyes and take a final look at the other drama playing-out and I watched for the eruption.