For D.K. - This is a strange story and grew out of a couple of different suggestions. One person suggested I write a story of a boy who seduces his mom and then his sister. This story started there but then morphed into something completely different after I spent an afternoon reading a series of unconnected stories by the same author, stories that all starred a strange heroine named Danielle, an always beautiful girl who invariably is taken against her will but somehow survives. When I resumed writing my story later, my sister suddenly became Danielle and forced me to write what follows. Maybe some day Danielle's creator will write this same story from Danielle's viewpoint…..
WARNING - This story is properly labeled 'Incest' but also includes 'Non Consensual Sex' - so if this offends you please read no further.
FINDING DANIELLE
It was a typical August day in South Florida, 99 degrees Fahrenheit with 99% humidity, the air so hot and wet it seemed to shimmer in liquid layers above the pavement as my Honda powered up the ramp onto I-95, a first, small step in a 1400 mile quest to find my missing sister Danielle.
'Danielle,' I whispered wistfully to the empty car, an indistinct, still blurry vision of a beautiful twenty year old girl drawing me inexorably northward.
I hadn't even known she was missing twelve months ago, in fact I hadn't even known that I had a sister named Danielle until Mom had let mention a family secret she had kept from me for some eighteen years. I was still angry at her for never letting me know I had a sibling, a baby girl abandoned days after her birth, a child who could have been my childhood companion.
There was only one picture that existed of Dani and Mom, a picture taken just hours after Dani's birth and just minutes before Mom's Doctor and Priest arrived to take the baby away. I had a copy of the picture hanging from the mirror as I drove; a good luck talisman that I hoped would lead me to my sister.
As I drove northward, each hour growing closer to solving this twenty year old mystery, my mind replayed what had led me to today's action…………
Mom and I had arrived in Miami thirteen months ago, in June 1999, I to attend first year at the U, and Mom to start teaching at a girls private high school, 'Miss Ritchie's', English Miami's most exclusive. We were really both fleeing from Dad, a mean drunk whose violence to Mom had finally exploded into recrimination and divorce.
I was born nineteen and a half years ago, on January 2nd 1981, in the small town of Goshen, Indiana, the son of Madeline Scouries and Jimmy Jones, two months after their hastily arranged wedding. Mom was just eighteen when she had me, a young girl who had been seduced by my Dad, a twenty-five year old whose charm and sweet talk masked a mean streak and a propensity for too much alcohol.
I was christened Roderick Scouries Jones and grew up the only child of an unhappy couple in an environment that grew increasingly poisoned as the years passed. Surprisingly in spite of our problems, the family prospered economically, Dad's gift of the gab and selling skills leading eventually to his owning a company that distributed car parts over a six state area.
Mom, who had struggled to get an education in the face of her husband's continued denigration, finally got a degree and taught English at the local high school, and became both an inspiration and a guide for me as I explored the world of knowledge………..
……….I had just turned eighteen years old when I finally got the courage to act, a boy who had been terrified of his violent father for years. He was yelling when I returned home late that cool February evening and as I walked upstairs to my room, I couldn't help but hear him throw Mom against the wall, her cry of pain the final straw to my tortured brain.
He was stunned when I crashed open their bedroom door, Dad standing naked and holding Mom by the throat, his hand ready to strike. "Get the fuck out you little prick!" he snarled, spittle exploding from his mouth.
"Dad….."
Letting Mom go and moving toward me, his fists now clenched and his face red with rage, he screamed, "I kill you, you little Momma's boy."
It really only took one blow, an uppercut that connected with all my force into his soft stomach, a blow that put him on the floor gasping for breath, to make me into a man. I suddenly knew that my fear of him had been stupid; I was already bigger and stronger than my suddenly old father.
"Go, just go," I finally screamed at him, "And if you ever hit Mom again I'll kill you."
He saw immediately something in my eyes and retreated warily, understanding instinctively that I was better avoided that night. After grabbing his clothes and keys he moved to the door, his parting comment, "We'll see about this junior. I'll be back."
Mom was on her knees in the corner, one breast hanging bare from her torn nightie and with blood dripping from the cuts on her nose and lip. Rushing to her, I lifted her and took her in my arms, holding her gently as both of us sobbed quietly.
"I sorry Mom, I'm so sorry," I cried. "I should have done that a long time ago."
"It's my fault honey, I should never let him………..it's just he's so strong………..he hurt me Roddy………."
"I love you Mom. He'll never touch you again, I promise, I'll kill him if I have to."
Its strange how one small blow can change the world, but Mom and I changed our whole life that night. Within twenty four hours Mom had ordered new locks for the doors, had seen a lawyer and also got a restraining order against Dad.
They were divorced three months later, in May of my senior year of high school, and the settlement provided a lump sum amount to Mom, a settlement that acknowledged the twenty million plus value of Dad's business.
Mom sold the house immediately and we were packed and on the road to Miami a week after I graduated, both of us wanting to get away from the hate filled face that Dad had turned on us when the Judge ordered him to stay away from his ex-wife and give her half of the families assets.
But it was during those last months before my graduation, as we planned our escape, that Mom and I crossed into forbidden sexual territory, with a physical joining that challenged all the conventional societal norms.
It started so innocently, that night when I threw Dad out of the house, when I took my bleeding Mother in my arms. I carried her to her bed and laid her down after removing the blood stained gown from her body. I washed her bloody and bruised body gently as she lay crying and then finally tucked her naked under her sheets.
"Don't leave me Roddy," she pled as I turned to go, "Please stay with me tonight."
"I won't go Mommy," I promised, and after taking off my top and shorts, joined Mom in the bed, my only covering a pair of white boxers. I held her in my arms as her tears fell softly on my shoulder and chest, caressing her lovingly until they finally slowed and then stopped and her breathing deepened into the rhythms of sleep.
As I watched her sleep that night, her breasts rising and falling softly, lust for my Mothers body was born in my heart, my penis arcing upward in desire for this woman who had borne me. A bedside lamp dimly lit the room, providing ample light for me to examine Mom's body when I stealthily lifted the sheet away from her skin.
