Go West Young Man!

I am receiving a condensed education in the subtle arts of oral sex. My skills are becoming prodigious, though not always by my design. And my aptitude in bringing on the climax from either sex is what keeps me in such high demand, and is causing the frazzled nerves that I fear may bring the disunion of my family.

If there were such a thing as a Master's Degree in the combined fields of Fellatio/Cunnilingus, I would be working on my thesis. Through prolonged practice, I have nearly perfected the erotic discipline of teasing a woman's clitoris with my serpentine tongue. I believe that with just the delicate touch of the pointed tip of my tongue, that I could steal the cheese from a mousetrap without the spring-loaded arm catching me in it's deadly clutches.

And with the powerful suction developed by the extended practice I've been given lately, my cheeks and lung capacity have reached a point where I could probably draw a bowling ball through thirty feet of garden hose. Where most women find even the act of accepting a man's cock into their mouths, (and I was one of them,) and only do the quickest, most compulsory function, I actually take pride in my ability to bring pleasure to someone that I want to be with.

I guess now that I am considered bi-sexual, when just months before my social life could be called "non-sexual." But the many ways to experience pleasure have been opened-up to me, and I took full advantage, with only one small hindrance, which I'll get to in a moment. In my desire to please, it heartens me that my partners do not consider me as just a wench, used as a one-trick whore. My oral skills have been honed and fostered for their benefit, and even as I play a subordinate role in these sordid trysts, they also give me pleasure in sharing the mutual orgasms we experience.

You might think that I would be praised for my efforts and accomplishments, or if I were in the sex industry I would be a headliner (sorry,) or the star of porn flicks. Maybe in a society that was more tolerant of the type of relief and satisfaction that I provide, my abilities would be characterized as medicinal. But mostly what passes for encouragement and the promotion of effort, is a phrase that has some unilateral yet distinctive wording that sounds something like this: "Suck it, you filthy slut. Eat me and make me cum until I fill your dirty mouth. I want you to taste my juices and swallow every drop of my cream. Lick it all over and then clean me up, I'm going to bathe you in my fluids and watch you suck it all down." And I love every crude syllable.

Insulting, degrading and dehumanizing you might say, what kind of people would ever use such unsavory terms or stoop to the gutter-level of human dignity to abase someone in that manner. In my case it was my sister and nephew.

This might reasonably be expected to cause friction between family members and rip-apart the sacred bonds that hold people together. But again in my case, things were not always what they seemed. The dissonance in my situation and the growing appetite for antacids was triggered by the need for total secrecy and pure dishonesty.

Though I was having torrid, vulgar but consensual sex with both of the people who lived with me, this was no conventional threesome, (if such a thing even exists.) The two other parties to this incestuous debauchery were mother and son. And even though I accommodated them both on a near-nightly basis, by allowing them to treat my body as their personal sexual playground, for the immediate time being, I needed to keep both of them satisfied but completely unaware of each other's proclivities. And in such close quarters as we occupied, the strain was magnified.

My nephew Jeff relished his scorching nightly romps with me. Usually signaling to me at dinner that I should be ready, after my sister has gone to bed, to tip-toe down to his room in the basement, where we engaged in every form of crude sexual gymnastics available to two willing people whose only caution was to be quiet. I was routinely used and violated in every manner of deviant sex imaginable. And my orgasms were too numerous to count.

My older sister Tracy, who lives with me also and whose bedroom is only ten steps down the all from mine, has just recently discovered her mastery over my enthusiastic body. When Jeff goes out at night, it is she who usually leads me by the hand to her room, where I display my new-found passion at bi-sexual submission. The sensuous sensation of her silky, supple form undulating and squealing at my tender manipulations thrills me to a heightened climax.

She uses my tingling body as both giver and receiver of the lustful arts. We've experimented on each other with tongues, fingers and strap-on toys. I have learned that my hormones are erotically stimulated by both sexes, and I get a special jolt from playing a submissive role to either a dominant male or female.

This would seem to be a perfect scenario where the three of us would live and dine together in harmony by day, and at night we would lay together in a big pile of naked, wriggling flesh. The problem here is that despite the fact that Jeff fucks me, and that I fuck his mom Tracy, and that he would really like to fuck her and I together, one little ingredient to our incestuous cluster-fuck, just doesn't mesh. Jeff and I, though we talk about it, and even fantasize about it, can not figure any serious or even drunken way to suggest to Tracy that her son may want to shove his swollen prick down her gentle throat.

Meanwhile I get double action and hardly leave the house, and if either of these two had their way, I would spend my evenings naked and harboring an extra ten pounds of cum inside of me. Many undersexed people might consider this to be just one step short of sexual heaven. But I am losing sleep, I worry constantly about my family dynamic, and my pussy and mouth are being worn-out.

On most nights after dinner with Jeff already gone, I am ushered into Tracy's room where I am compelled to disrobe. Then completely naked, I am told to slowly strip the clothing from her alluring body. With our passions simmering, we start with a lewd, furious "69." One of us climbs on to the other, head to toe, and our legs are spread and the kissing and licking begin. The speed varies so that our emotions rise and fall, never knowing exactly when the thrill will hit. Our nerves are at a fevered pitch, then the warming flood takes hold, we are awash with scintillating, cascading desire. Heartbeats soar and spasms overtake us, it takes a few minutes to recover. When our tongues are sufficiently exercised, we take turns with a harness and dildo. Tracy acts the dominant role, and I usually am on my knees staring up at those sharp, brown eyes while the shadow of a bold, pink column of hard synthetic cock darkens my face. I never imagined that I would take to sucking on a cold, plastic dick, but I've found that anything that's about to plunge into my lower orifices should first be well-lubricated.

We play various sex games and engage in role-play romances both dressed and undressed, and nothing is off-limits. I've been made to beg, bark and bargain. And that flexible phallus has found it's way inside of me from every opening. Both of our assholes lost their virginal status long ago. Tracy is certainly the "top" in our sex life, but she likes me to explore all of her lovely body parts too. We are very enthusiastic and energetic when in bed, and often only stop because we're exhausted. At about ten o'clock, she usually wants to shower and lay-out her work clothes for the following business day. We work together, and ironically I'm her boss.

After a spirited escapade with Tracy, I need to stagger back down the hall where I can stumble into a refreshing and revitalizing shower. I need to rinse my mouth, brush my long hair and spritz a little cologne. Then throw my clothes in the hamper and make certain that nothing in the room smells of sex with my sister. Normally, I retire to the living room with a hot cup of herbal tea, and am there when Jeff wanders through the door. Sometimes I fall asleep on top of the covers in my room.

In either case, Jeff is known to check on his mom, then take me by the arm and drag me down to his basement lair, where round two takes place. It's as if some demented pervert got hold of the directions on a shampoo bottle, "Strip, Fuck and Repeat." It would be easier on me genitalia-wise, if I could simply tell Jeff about me fucking his mother. He would think it's great- he already schemes for it- but I worry about the fall-out on all three of us, if Tracy is not onboard for fucking her son!

Jeff is just too impulsive and horny. And it plays-out in his sex. There is nothing subtle or passionate like his mom, but the energy is the same. And he is only peripherally concerned about my orgasms, figuring that as long as he continues to satisfy me, that I'll keep coming back, and he's probably correct. He does enjoy the power that he wields over me, having discovered my weakness for submission and how it excites me to be "forced" to pleasure him. And he gets a major shit-eating grin when he watches me shake and twitch when he brings me to an earth-shattering climax. And he isn't even aware of the many ways he allows me to reach that point.

When he fucks me now, I am told to pretend that there is another woman in the bed with us. We have already passed the stage of calling "her" by a fictional name. We say plainly that we wish we were having a three-way with Tracy. Jeff really wants to fuck his mom, and enlist her as another of his sexual slaves, as I am.

He describes to me in graphic detail as he plows into my cunt or ass, whatever deviant fantasy that he envisions his mom and I to be participating in. As he takes turns fucking us and we would be expected to share the opportunity to suck and fondle his magnificent tool. He pictures us as harem girls in his palace as we cavort in gossamer outfits bedecked with sparkles and jewels. Or we are business women trapped in a bank that he robs and holds us hostage, he then rapes and sodomizes us both. His exotic dreams fill me with enough erotic temptations that I perform all of the sexual gyrations that bring our orgasms to the surface. His powerful thrusting has increased in velocity and duration just thinking of the three of us. And his orgasms have multiplied in volume and intensity as they flood into me as if shot from a firehose.

When he fucks me I'm told to imagine that my cheeks and tongue are buried between her velvety thighs. I have to narrate the sights, sounds and smells that I would notice while I lick my sister's sweet pussy. I relate to him the close-cropped, fuzzy black curls that grow increasingly damp and matted as her juices and my saliva rain over her pubic triangle. When I first go down on her, I spread her pink lips with my fingers watching the tender folds separate and sense the fresh bouquet of lavender soap or French perfume. Soon I taste the warm, tart cream of her essence that starts with a light watery coating but builds to a rich, soupy sauce.

What Jeff doesn't know, and what I can't dare tell him yet, is that I know these specific, erotic details to be true. Because I have spent many wonderful evenings with Tracy's hand guiding me by my long, dark locks and pressing my face into the moist confluence of her thighs. But I can not let Jeff in on our sisterly secret. Not to keep Tracy for myself or to counter my submissive position in each pairing, but to maintain the delicate peace in the family.

I tease Jeff with steamy stories of how I would service his mom with my digits or tongue. Then I say that while he grabs her soft ass and plunges his solid rod into her trembling backside, his hands groping at her pendulous breasts, she would be taking hold of my squirming hips and assaulting my ass with a huge strap-on dildo. It's enormous head banging away at my puckered, little anus. His imagination and excitement are in overdrive, so he fills my lusty cunt, and reaches around me to grab my boobs. My own hand is busy diddling my pouty clit. We both explode at the thought. But if he knew the truth behind the fantasy, and said or did something around his mother, I fear the resulting conclusion would place the survivors in jail.

Things have grown dangerously tenuous recently. When I'm with Tracy the passion is so intense that our better instincts are compromised. We love each other of course, but we're not in love. Still though, she assumes the dominant role and often fucks me like a man would. And on my turn she often wants to be rough-fucked too. I am not as inclined to be aggressive, but I try to satisfy her wishes. She also likes to be penetrated softly and slowly sometimes, and even when she is suckling my breast or licking my mons, there is a tenderness that warms me. After we have thoroughly explored each other from front to back, and shivered through many rippling orgasms, we fall into a sweaty mass of arms and legs, and cuddle together. We brush fingers through the other one's hair and caress each other's bodacious breasts. We have collapsed exhausted into a sleepy, contented embrace laying on the other's chest just listening to a wildly thumping heartbeat.

As tender and loving as it feels, there is still the element of a forbidden affair. We must constantly be alert for the sound of her son arriving home unexpectedly. And no matter how we would enjoy the chance to occasionally cuddle after sex, we need to allow time for us each to shower, launder clothes or burn incense, or do whatever it takes to ensure that there are no telltale signs of an encounter.

We tried once to huddle under a blanket infront of the TV with Jeff in the room. But our soft-spoken giggling and roving hands petting nervous thighs, were not the behavior normally seen of two grown women, and Jeff looked at us askance. He missed the significance of the moment, but anything could trigger his warped fancies. When he would take me to bed I was told to tell him a "story" of how I would seduce his mother in the shower, or while doing laundry that we shed clothing and drop it in the wash until we were naked, or watching television together under a blanket my fingers would inch their way under her panties. These "imaginary" scenarios of seduction would arouse him to the point of "forcing" me to my knees and making me take his hard, throbbing cock in my mouth and hearing just how he intended to rape me in the same manner that he wanted to fuck his mother. For Jeff, it was purely physical. There was no gentle cuddling or seduction, merely a power-trip to capture and enslave us. When he used me to his total gratification, I was free to go. What could possibly drive me to continue with this master/servant compact I often pondered? Obviously it filled a gaping need in me.

It would have been easy to choose a relation with Tracy over Jeff except for the fact that I was not a lesbian. And an open affair with my nephew's mom would not have played well for any of us. Plus, I liked fucking Jeff. I relished his command and dominance of my sex. No man has ever brought-out my inner-slut in the way that my nephew has. There is something insanely liberating about consenting to sex with a family member that permits you to explore every taboo dream without fear of exposure or ridicule.

Most of all, I cherished his gigantic, pulsing cock. A dildo or vibrator was fun and it never went limp or got sore, but the feeling of something warm and alive, pumping it's juices into me and roughly plundering me with abandon was an overwhelming desire. My fluids flowed at the mere thought of him tossing me on the bed or bending me over the arm of the couch, and flipping me over like browning a pancake, depending on which hole he intended to fill. He was much more aggressive than Tracy could be and would never consider us to be on equal sexual status. I was his, I belonged to him, My mouth, pussy and ass were his to enjoy and that excited me. With him, I wanted him to just use me like a whore. They had different styles and I liked the change, but I would not give-up my place with Jeff.

I could bring them each to a fantastic climax and I valued that. They would grunt and moan with their orgasms and my pliant body would shake and quiver along side of them. And it might have been my tiny sense of rebellion to move secretly from one to the other, often on the same night.

But the logistics and necessary privacy of our sordid triangle, especially considering the living arrangements and family ties, were fraught with complications. We all understood that it was incest, and we each played our roles in the sliding scale of power rankings. But if the entire delicate circumstance would ever come to light, serious concessions would have to take hold. And it seems that in the throes of our forbidden lust and the comfort level we were beginning to feel with our respective arrangements, our little house of cards was facing a stiff wind.

One evening Jeff and Tracy were having a typical mother/son discussion concerning his education and social habits, so I decided to give them some space. I went to my room and watched television, then took a shower. Jeff eventually went out and Tracy found her way to my room just as I emerged from the bath. My hair was still wet and I was wrapped only in a towel. She said that she liked my warm, rosy glow and the perfumery scent of the shampoo. She calmly stripped the terry cloth from my silky frame and gently eased me back on the bed. In a second she was between my legs and wetting her fingers with her lips. Tracy kissed a path from one thigh to the other, sending shock waves through my torso. My outer lips were parted and her tongue flicked at the soft nub of flesh just peeking from it's protective hood. With each light stab, the ripples shook my whole body. Goose bumps sprouted on my thighs, my nipples hardened and the tiny body hairs on my abdomen stood on end.

Jeff often plays with my pussy and teases my clit until I'm on fire, to enhance my playful mood. But he rarely eats my twat. Tracy knows how a woman likes to be touched and what little things can send her into orbit. She delights in using her tongue on me and watching me squirm and hop to her light kisses and smooth manipulations. Then she'll gradually raise the tempo, adding the ministrations of her long fingers to playfully explore both my pussy and ass. When she has licked and fingered me to an explosive series of orgasms, she either lays back to receive her reward or proceeds to fuck me with our growing collection of playthings.

On this night I was almost delirious in my ecstasy and I watched in stunned silence as she buckled a huge knobby-headed dildo to the leather belt at her waist. Her hands reached for my perky nipples and she pinched and twisted them between her thumb and fingers. She slathered some sloppy kisses around the bumpy areolae and nibbled at the tips. My zest warmed and the energy flowed, every touch sent sparks through me. She grabbed two handfuls of my shiny wet locks and pulled me to her pelvis. I was made to look up into her moist brown eyes and the shadow of the enormous artificial cock darkened my features. My mouth was put to work moistening the giant tool in preparation for it's insertion. I kissed and slobbered down the obscene length of the shiny rubber toy. I moaned and squealed as the saliva coated the sturdy circumference of the big cock, anticipating it's coming immersion. She thrust her hips back and forth, wedging the gigantic spear past my lips and further into my throat. I gagged and sputtered at how it completely filled my gaping mouth, wondering how such an object could ever fit in my tight pussy without ripping me apart. She withdrew the sleek, slippery rod and touched it to my labia. I was laid back again and my jittery legs hoisted over her shoulders. I stared in amazement as the helmeted tip of the glistening tool entered my orifice. Inch by inch I was stretched wide, the big snake disappeared inside of my hot hole and the excitement overpowered my trepidation.