Author's note: Personally, I am against incest. I think it destroys the delicate relationships of respect within the family, harms the social development of the young generation and sometimes borders on exploitation. Not exploitation through authority, but exploitation of innocent love.
But like everyone else, I also enjoy fantasizing about incest. The story below is the result of my fantasies. None of it really happened.
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My name is Tim, and I'm a detective with the Philadelphia Homicide Division. I am 6'5, I have brown hair and blue eyes. I am broad shouldered, muscular, and train twice a week at the police gym. A homicide detective is not child's play. I am required to have a high physical fitness, and a physical ability much higher than average.
Not always have I worked in the homicide department. Before that, I was in the vice department, and I got to know all the human garbage that Philadelphia has to offer. My patients were prostitutes, pimps, drug addicts, rapists, and pedophiles. Like I said - all the human garbage. I saw what poor morality and excessive permissiveness can do to a person.
My wife, Lena, is a teacher at the local high school. She is almost a foot shorter than me, handsome, and shapely, with black hair and green eyes, but she is modest and doesn't emphasize her beauty. She always wears elegant clothes, wider than her size, and puts on makeup with restraint.
We are a Catholic family. Not really religious, and except for a Sunday visit to church, there are no religious symbols in our house. I also don't confess regularly, and visit the confession booth only if I was involved in a shooting that resulted in someone being injured or killed. We also do not usually bless the food at every meal, only on holidays. Sometimes. But after seeing all the dirt on the streets, Catholic conservatism seems very logical.
We have only one daughter, Helen, 19, who is only a few inches taller than her mother. She has her mother's black hair and my blue eyes. Helen received a standard Catholic education, including Sunday seminaries. With my encouragement, my wife volunteers at the local church, and more than once Helen joins her.
Happily, Helen does not socialize with boys, and is also very picky in choosing her girlfriends. Her closest friend is Paige Hanna. Paige comes from a Muslim family, and her father is a detective in the vice department. Muslims have a high standard of modesty, and I was sure Sam, Paige's father, would not approve permissive behavior. So, I definitely liked that Helen and Paige got together.
Over time, a very unique relationship was formed between Lena and Helen, especially on Helen's part. With me, she always behaved in a curt manner, and at least at first, I attributed it to gender embarrassment. Still, that's the education she received. But it bothered me, that at every opportunity, she hugs her mother, not a mother's hug, but a tight hug, with her hands hugging Lena's waist, as if she was her lover, and plants a kiss on her. Sometimes even on the lips. Lena didn't pay much attention to it, but I did.
"Hello, young lady, control yourself. That is your mother," I scolded her more than once.
"Am I not allowed to hug my mother?" Helen defended herself.
"He's just jealous," Lena added. "Maybe you'll give him a kiss too?"
But Helen never kissed me, and I began to develop a phobia of the possibility of the girl showing lesbian tendencies. Lena, of course, dismissed my concerns saying: "Girls sometimes act like that. It doesn't say anything about their sexual orientation." It didn't calm me down.
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In the movies, being a homicide detective is a glamorous job. In the NYPD, a murder committed during the night is solved by the end of the following day. At the end of the day, the detectives close the case and go home at five o'clock. Sometimes they even allow themselves to linger for a quick drink at the local bar.
The reality is completely different. Sometimes it takes months to solve a murder case. It's painstaking work that requires dealing with many details, small findings, and a lot of rummaging through trash cans. If you're lucky, then it's a small bin that you can pour on the sidewalk, rummage through, and finally collect all the trash back into the bin. Yes, you read that right - collect all the trash back. This is another thing they don't show you on TV. If a detective leaves the trash on the sidewalk, he faces a fine penalty and disciplinary hearing.
When you're not lucky, then you have to enter a garbage dumpster, and that's a real disgust. You don't enter the dumpster with a suit, and after rummaging through the trash, you can't go back to the office, and only receive a few crooked noses and comforting pats on the back. When you enter a dumpster, the smell and filth is so terrible that you need a long shower, serious scrub and clean clothes.
And that's exactly what happened to me that day. Someone reported that a man, whose description resembled a homicide suspect, threw a bag into a dumpster. My partner and I took off our jackets, put on disposable overalls, and entered the container. Even so, when we left, we smelled like a horny skunk. We labeled the findings we found, and hurried each to his house to take a shower and change clothes.
It was at noon, when my wife and daughter were at school, so I was alone at home. We live in a small apartment, with a small living room, a kitchen, a service balcony, and two bedrooms, one for me and Lena, and one for Helen. The parents' bedroom does have an attached toilet, but no bath. We have only one full bathroom, shared by both rooms.
I took off the clothes I was wearing and threw them in the washing machine. I added a few more dirty clothes that Lena didn't have time to wash, turned on the machine and went naked to the bathroom. I filled the tub with hot water, added bath oil, and laid down in it.
It was the end of the semester, and Lena was endlessly busy reviewing term papers and exams, so she barely had time for me. I think it's been two weeks since we last had sex. The hot water boiled my blood, and I lay in the water, poured liquid soap into my palm and masturbated, as I imagined what I would do to Lena when the dry season was over. I came hard, shooting jets of sperm into the water, and then I laid down with limp limbs and fell asleep.
I woke up to restrained screams coming from Helen's room. I panicked. I got up quickly, put a towel on my waist, and went to her room. What I saw completely stunned me.
In fact, the first thing I saw was a black, round, smooth butt. So smooth, it looked like flawless granite. Perfect. The second thing I saw was a beautiful cunt peeking out from between two black, chiseled legs. The cunt was open, and a shiny reddish slit peeked out from between its folds. It took me a moment to realize that what I was seeing was Paige's butt and pussy. In response, my cock began to erect.
Paige was on her knees, and her head was between the legs of my daughter, Helen. Helen's white thighs were spread on both sides, folded slightly, her pelvis was raised in the air, both hands grasped Paige's head and pressed it to her crotch. Helen's eyes were tightly closed, and her open mouth drew in air and let out screams.
The sight was so surreal, so absurd, that I looked at it as if I were looking at a picture, not at my daughter's best friend who was giving my daughter a blowjob. It was the first time I saw Helen's breasts. They were medium sized, and so erect, that her pink nipples actually pointed towards the ceiling.
Suddenly, I realized what I was seeing, and the fire of hell began to burn in front of my eyes. Without thinking, I walked to the side of the bed and hissed in a subdued voice: "What the hell is going on here?"
Paige jumped up, while Helen let out a whimper: "Daddy!"
"So it's as I thought, dammit. My daughter is a lesbian."
"I'm not a lesbian," Helen defended herself.
At that moment I didn't really digest it, but neither of them tried to hide their nakedness. At the first moment they looked frightened by my attack, but very quickly they came to their senses and their eyes wandered towards the towel on my waist. Until this moment, I was not aware of the magnificent erection that was there.
My daughter straightened up, sent a quick hand to the towel on my waist and pulled it. "I'm not a lesbian, and I'm ready to prove it to you," she said.
Hellfire still danced before my eyes, but so did my daughter's beautiful body. Nevertheless, I came to my senses and said: "Damn it, you're my daughter. I'm sure you've heard of incest. That's not the education you received at home."
Paige's hand was sent to the rod that stuck to my groin and said: "Mr. Gaunt, I'm not your daughter."
As Paige's hand touched my erection, I felt dizzy. I'm a big, strong man, and I've gotten out of a lot of dangerous situations, but at that moment, my legs were shaking.
"You," I pointed towards my daughter. "Outside."
"It's not fair," protested the little nymph.
"Outside!" I commanded.
