[Hey, everyone! Here at last is chapter 6 of Hiding in My House. Sorry it's taken so long ... apparently 3 years since the previous chapter, 2 since I last commented. From my perspective, this is the final chapter in the series. I've brought the characters to a point I'm content with, and these days I just don't have time to write free incest porn stories anymore. I'm very grateful to those who have followed and commented on my stories over the years, and I hope you enjoy how this one wraps up.]
[All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older.]
***
Part 6
So there are some things that don't ever cross your mind until, you know, they
do
. And then they hit you like a freight train, right? Things like,
Oh my god, I've just turned eighteen and now that I'm legit an adult, holy fuck, the universe did not instantly turn into an easy-breezy cakewalk where I can totally control my own life and do whatever the shit I want.
Or like,
Yes! Here I am in the voting booth ready to change the world! But ... wait .... why are the only choices here complete shit?
Or like,
How could I have completely missed the fact that my dad and sister have been fucking each other's brains out for five years and why is that getting me so incredibly horny and what am I doing setting up all these spy cams to try to catch them in the act?
Things like that. Those happen to us all, right?
Oh, and,
Hmm, kind of thinking I might be bi, maybe ... probably ... GOOD GOD, how can I get in Seong's pants RIGHT THE FUCK NOW?!?
There's also a related kind of thought that doesn't occur to you at all, but once someone else suggests it to you, your brain is
all about it.
Lying in my bed with me, both of us still fully clothed, her legs wrapped around me and our groins mind-bendingly plastered to one another, Seong hit me with that second sort of idea.
"Suppose," she said, looking up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, with her sleek black hair fanned out across the pillow, "we go into the master bedroom, strip each other naked, and make messy, passionate love amongst the sheets where your father and sister usually lie?"
Gulp.
I looked over at the bedside clock. It had taken us a while to get all the hidden cameras set up in my room, in hopes that Dad and Kell would take some bait we meant to plant and get it on where we could video them. And then it had taken us a surprisingly short while to fake our way through some incest-sex roleplay to make sure the camera angles worked - getting me to a very
not
-fake orgasm in the process.
But if Dad and Kell stuck to their usual Sunday-morning routine of tennis followed by eating lunch out, the clock said we still had at least an hour before they'd be home.
So I didn't have to think about it very much (i.e., at all) before looking back down at her and saying (or, more honestly, kind of squeaking), "Um, sure?"
"Excellent." She unclasped her legs from around me and patted my shoulder, and I made myself lift up from where I had her crushed to the mattress.
A couple of minutes later, we'd hidden the bin of extra surveillance gear in the top of my closet and made our way into what I'd spent years thinking of as "(Used-to-be-Mom-and-Dad's/then-just-) Dad's room" - but now saw was pretty clearly "Dad and Kellie's room." They'd left the bed a jumbled mess, sheets and comforter thrown back, pillows lazily askew. A nightie of Kell's sprawled across one corner at the foot of the mattress. Other small signs of my sister being a regular occupant: both nightstands had phone chargers on them, and the right-hand one was missing Mom's trinket dish, where she'd put her rings and bracelets at bedtime. Spotting that made me look over at the free-standing vanity along the opposite wall. Except for dusting, Dad had left it untouched the last ten years, with the cozy little stool always pushed in. But now I saw the seat had been scooted out from its niche beneath the vanity, and a compact and some other accessories I recognized as Kellie's sat along the top shelf in front of the mirror - not displacing Mom's things, just next to them.
Seong's hand slipped into mine and wove our fingers together as I digested it all.
"Should we go back to your room?" she asked quietly.
"No," I said, blinking and surprised at how easily the word came out. "Seong, I don't know if I can explain, but ... well, it's ..."
"Yes?"
Still holding her hand, I pivoted, turning to take in the whole room.
"This is finally ... it's a
living
place again." I felt electric suddenly - alive and myself in a space that had always demanded I think of someone else. "Half my life, it's been, like, a shrine or a memorial. And now it's just their room, with a few little reminders of her."
She squeezed my hand, and then her free hand came lightly over to my shoulder. I turned my head to look at her and saw that beautiful, serene Seong smile - but also saw in her eyes a vitality and joy almost shocking in their vibrance.
"What?" I asked.
"The light in your voice," she said. "It is a beacon that draws me into this safe and familiar harbor where you wait. I feel ... blessed, to behold you in this moment, seeing this room anew."
I took in a deep breath - not so I could say anything, maybe just because something inside me felt so expanded right then.
"Also," she went on, gliding her hand from the curve of my shoulder along my collarbone, past the hollow at the base of my throat and up and around to my cheek, "I am incredibly horny. I want to bask in your emotions, but I also want to tear the clothes from your body and possess it, wholly and viscerally in a burning tangle of limbs and sweat."
I laughed. "You know, somewhere between those two, you could just kiss me and let things develop from there."
"I could," she admitted, her hand still cupped to my face, palm along my jaw, fingertips just under my ear, thumb brushing gently across my cheek. "But I have spent two years unable to speak these desires, and now I can feel bold and wanton in giving voice to them."
"Well, go right ahead and voice them then, I guess. Here ..." I let go of her hand and raised both arms above my head. "... talk me through the whole tearing-my-clothes-off part, why don't you?"
She stepped closer, easing her hand down along my neck until its heel rested on my collarbone and then on the upper curve of my breast. Her other hand settled in at my hip, let her fingers tease the empty belt loops of my shorts, then made its way upward to the ticklish-tender curve of my waist, laid bare when my arms had lifted the hem of my tank top.
Quietly, she said, "There will probably be more removing than tearing. I have weak-ish hands, and the fingers should save their strength for other purposes."
"Hmm," I said, rolling my hip beneath her touch. "I guess my clothing budget is okay with that, but I hope you weren't exaggerating the part about the tangling limbs and sweat."
"I promise we will both perspire adequately." The hand at my waist moved up as the other slid down and around, thumb drifting lazily across the hollow of my armpit, making me giggle and flinch. Farther down, and around, to the small of my back, it too found the hem of my top and ducked under. Then with both hands cradling my lower ribs, she leaned in and kissed me.
My eyes closed. I floated in her grasp, in the wet adoration of her lips. Whatever fragments of simple heterosexuality still loitered around in the back of my head now shrunk and slunk away into an embarrassed nothingness. I felt between my legs no wanting hollow waiting to be filled, but a swollen heat eager for the press of her fingers or her liquidly attentive tongue. Her palms and the curtain-kiss of my top rose up and up until the hem tripped over the nakedly erect tips of my nipples, exposing them, in a sharp moment, to atmospheric bliss.
Her lips left off their fluid clutching, let themselves slip down and open until her teeth grazed my chin, turned its corner, silently suggested a backward tilt of my head. I let my face turn sightlessly skyward, felt her kisses float down my throat like a petal dropped loose from its bloom. Her thumbs hooked into the gathered cloth of my shirt and lifted just as her head eased back and down, returning her lips to my skin right at the hollow above my breastbone. Up and past my elbows, the fabric rose; down and leftward across my breast went her mouth. I brought my arms and hands out from the soft-draped grasp of my top. She found my nipple with her mouth, with her teeth, with her tongue. I dropped my head, and after a tug to free the silky bell of my hair, she tossed my shirt away and left me naked from the waist up.
Have you ever had a slow, steady kiss drift all the way across the span of your chest, with your lover's mouth open the barest width, half-parted lips tracing gently from a nipple to your breastbone, where a wet tip of tongue eases languidly through those lips to your flesh, and then lips, tongue, and a track of quick-fading saliva ride in grace up the curve of your next breast, patient and true on their way to the waiting, lust-roused swell of your areola and the fiercely erect nub at its center?
Let me tell you, it kicks
all
the ass.
I opened my eyes and watched her halfway through that journey. Her face and gaze stayed turned to the pale contours they traveled, right up to the point where she captured my tingling areola with the ring of her mouth and subtly sucked it in. Then she looked up at me and lifted her brows high, her eyes wide.
"God damn, you're beautiful, Seong."
She laughed and eased a little lower to the floor, finding and flicking my bellybutton with her tongue. Finding and freeing the actual button of my shorts with her fingers.
Shit, this is so totally happening
, I thought. It felt unreal, dreamlike, in that way weird-ass shit seems normal to you when you're dreaming. Like,
Of course Ryan Reynolds is taking me to the dance but for some reason I can't find my Deadpool-pattern prom dress in this closet the size of Poughkeepsie, I should definitely be terrified that he'll take Carla from across the street if I can't get dressed and downstairs in the next 30 seconds.
She took hold of my zipper and teased it down, then parted the front of my shorts like a magician fanning out cards for the audience volunteer to pick from.
Any card, Seong. All the cards. Whatever cards you've got.
Gripping the side-seams, she tugged with one hand, tugged with the other, tugged again with the first. My hips and ass seemed stubbornly determined to keep my pants on, even though I wiggled them to try to help. Seong sucked hard at my navel and yanked, and just like that I was down to panties.
Her hands groped my butt cheeks, kneaded, squeezed, as she kissed her way lower, to the waistband of my underwear, and got the elastic between her front teeth. Again, her eyes looked up into mine. She leaned back a little, her bite peeling the front of my panties away from my belly and pubic hair, her nostrils flaring just above that gap as she breathed in, deep and steady. I could already smell myself from up where
I
was, so I didn't have any doubt what that breath was about.
"I feel like I'm getting a whole lot nakeder than you," I said, trying to sound chill but screwing it up with a heavy swallow right after I got the words out.
She let my waistband snap back into place. "I'm entirely open to direction if you care to voice any."
"Okay. Stand back up and get your top off while I take care of your bottom half, then."
"Happily."
