Introduction
Tucked away in the seedy corners of the Dark Web lies a site called Taboo Confessions. On this site, people come to tell of their past encounters with members of their family, to confess to their incestuous sins.
Or is it to brag? To have an audience to tell their dirty secret to? To come to a place where rather than being vilified and condemned for their actions, they receive encouraging comments from people who see nothing wrong with what they did.
Truth is, it's a mixture of both. People who feel badly over what they've done are posting for catharsis, a confession made to the faceless masses to unburden themselves of long repressed guilt.
For others, the confession has a different tone. Perhaps their story is a fun, sexy, albeit forbidden, memory, or could even be something they are still enjoying to this day. But who could they tell their story to without being demonized for their betrayal of societal rules?
Thus, Taboo Confessions is a mixed bag of sinful, yet sweet and loving encounters, as well as those that are truly shameful acts that the perpetrator deeply regrets. It's not a site for those who find any tale of incest disturbing, but for those who have either experienced it, or wish to; using these tales to live vicariously through others.
To be titillated by that which we know is wrong and gain a form of comfort in knowing they are not alone in their craving for the ultimate in forbidden fruit. Even within that group there are those here for different reasons.
The ones who smile at the fun adventurous romps between siblings, the tales of forbidden love and desire for a parent and their adult children. But also, those who's cravings are a bit darker, who are aroused by tales of blackmail or taking advantage of the object of their overwhelming lust.
Regardless of your motivations and reasons, or whether you have come to confess or voyeuristically enjoy the confessions, or even if you're here through morbid curiosity, you are here. Now do what you came here to do.
Click Enter
What Mommy and Daddy do
Chapter One
To all who read this, my name is Royce. I am seventy three years old and have visited this site many times since I discovered it two years ago. I have been intrigued by many of the tales here, but never felt the need to share my own.
That is until today which marks the golden anniversary of the event that forever changed my life. I hope for any who are, or have been, in this situation it rekindles your own fond memories of that magical time when you first experienced the pleasure of knowing that what most people deem wrong, can feel so unequivocally right.
It was the summer of 1968 and for myself and my twin sister Rose, a truly miserable one, making it pretty much like all the ones before it. Our father was a minister, a fire and brimstone, everyone's going to burn in hell for the sin of just about everything unless you spent 24/7 on your knees praying and repenting.
Because of our parents' view that most of what the world offered was sin, we were homeschooled by our mother while our father spent his time on the church. It wasn't a big congregation and the tithes he received were barely enough to keep the church afloat and support his family. Mom helped by giving piano lessons and tutoring some of the neighborhood kids. We didn't have much, but we had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and decent clothes.
Not that we needed many seeing we didn't go out much. Rose and I were the definition of sheltered and to the point it would be seen today as unhealthy even in today's Pentecostal Church, but back then not so uncommon for the God fearing bible thumping evangelical.
Every year since I could remember, my father would leave the church in the hands of the assistant pastor, so he could teach and preach at a six week summer camp slash revival down south.
The event was sponsored by the home office and not only paid well, but my sister and I were able to attend camp for free. I know, exciting, right? What boy or girl would choose a summer of hanging out with kids our age and having fun over a chance for more religious education?
I know, you're thinking it was still camp, there had to be some fun to be had. I suppose there was, but it was in between Morning Prayer, an early afternoon bible study, and of course the nightly service.
Yes, there were kids our age there, but raised in the same one notch above the Amish way we were, so it was as if we were just talking to our own reflections. Or, perhaps not, as both of us had grown weary of this archaic puritan lifestyle. Maybe some of the other kids were as well, but afraid to say it.
Making this summer worse than the ones prior is that at eighteen we were now part of the adult prayer and bible study and no longer allowed in many of the activities for the younger kids.
Goes without saying that when we helped our parents pack the old Country Squire wagon with our bags and suitcases, it was with less enthusiasm than ever. Now that I've gotten some of the mundane details out of the way, let me turn the topic in the direction of what you came here for.
As you can imagine the topic of sex was verboten. Other than each of us being told-I by my father, and Rose by our mother, that sex was only to be had once we were married in the eyes of god, nothing was discussed.
No details, no birds, and the bee's stories of how it happens, and not even a talk about being 'safe' if we did have sex because it was unfathomable to our parents that either of us would be curious about the sins of the flesh.
Not that it should have been that way on their part. I asked my father several times about it, and his answer was that once I met a good god fearing young lady and fell in love and married for all the right reasons, I could spend the rest of my life enjoying the "fruits of marriage'.
There was nothing to be discovered about it outside our home either. We didn't go to school to interact with those awful 'worldly' kids who did know about it. The kids we interacted with at church were as in the dark as we were, and same went for the camp crowd.
I know this is hard to believe to any younger people reading this post, but keep in mind there was no internet back then. No porn hub, Only Fans or 24/7 access to adult material. There weren't even VHS tapes yet, and unless you were old enough to go an adult theater, little access to any type of film.
Heck, back then the only porn most kids could get their hands on was if your old man had some Playboys or other skin rags lying around, which of course ours didn't. Eighteen and I'd never seen a woman naked, or even a picture of one.
But the last few months that had gone by I found myself thinking about it more and more. No amount of isolation from the 'world' can stop raging hormones and a very natural curiosity about the opposite sex, and sex itself.
I'd been waking up with erections for some time, and recall having dreams of random girls I knew from church or around the camp lifting their long dresses or unbuttoning their blouses.
Even having little to no reference point for what a woman would look like didn't stop my mind from trying. If you're a man reading this, you know how frustrating it is to be aroused and helpless to get any relief but imagine my situation where there wasn't even a chance to find that relief.
Yes, you guess it, masturbation was a sin, and this, of all things, my father touched on (pardon the pun). He mentioned how the devil tempts us through desires of the flesh and instills them in us as temptations and we must resist and never succumb because in his mind, touching one's self was in itself a form of premarital sex.
Yeah, and just think, some kids today think their parents are strict LOL.
But I believed him and dealt with what I'd now refer to as an epic case of blue balls. Rose on the other hand...We are fraternal twins, and like all twins we were exceptionally close, and in our case even more so due to our lack of social life. We were the clichéd pair you read about in taboo stories.
Siblings, playmates, friends, partners in crime, confidants and basically everything to each other. In many of the tales you read here, as well as what you see in movies and erotic stories is a sister is a boy's first experience with what a girl is like because generally at some point there's a mishap that would involve a look at her in some stage of undress.
But not in our case.
Around the house we dressed as properly as if we were outside. Rose always in a knee length skirt, properly loose fitting blouse or t-shirt that my mother always bought a size to big, and always having something on her feet (are toes sinful? Apparently)
I was always to wear jeans or sweat pants, but never shorts because even though we were brother and sister we were still not supposed to show an improper amount of flesh around each other.
Honestly speaking, I had no real idea of what my sister had going on beneath her dresses or almost as severe around the house look. Other than her legs from the ankles to her knees and her arms up to her elbow I saw nothing, and my only conclusion was she seemed a bit on the thin side.
But I did find myself somewhat enamored with my sister just for her amazing features. Despite women in the church not being allowed to wear make-up or jewelry other than a wedding ban, Rose's natural beauty was undeniable.
Her red hair was brighter than mine-fortunately mine was more of a reddish brown as bright red hair on a man isn't nearly as attractive as it is on a woman- a fiery red that caught people's eye from across the room. Like most of the church women and young ladies, she wore it either up or in a braid, but when it was down?
Her long naturally curly locks were like liquid flame and her stunning pale blue eyes were an incredible contrast of fire and ice. As pale as any girl with pure Irish heritage, her cheeks and the area surrounding her nose were dotted with freckles which worked to tone down her model quality beauty to a more wholesome girl next door look.
That was Rose, a wholesome young lady, living the good Christian life, but I always had a feeling my sister was much more of a free spirit than most of the kids in our church and myself as well.
One of our many rules was that by nine at night, after the hour of television we were allowed to watch with our parents, (and only good wholesome family content) we were to go to our rooms and remain there for the night other than if we had to use the bathroom, and even then we were encouraged to 'go' before we went to bed.
But Rose had been caught slipping out twice at home and once during last year's camp. The story she gave to my parents was the same she presented to me, that she simply walked around and enjoyed the night air and a sense of freedom she felt we were denied by always being in the house, at church, or surrounded by the same people all the time.
Our parent's response was to lock her in her room at night for a month long stretch which I think in these modern times would get the authorities called as she was told if she had to use the bathroom, she had to either hold it, or be prepared to have to wash whatever she soiled.
Rose had also slipped off here and there from group activities at camp, but always reappearing in time for roll call before heading back to the meal hall, the church, or the cluster of cabins where everyone stayed.
Once more, she told me that all she did was walk around on her own and try to see things for herself without being told how they should be seen. It was the final instance of her doing this that leads us to the part of the story you've been waiting for..
Chapter Two
It was Friday night, the biggest service of the week, where people from neighboring churches would come to attend. During the week our father spoke at all the services and led them, but let other pastors deliver a message, but Friday was always his.
