Immaculate Inception Pt 01

Copyright TabooFruit 2021. All rights reserved.

This is Part 1 of an incestuous journey. If this subject matter offends, please don't stress yourself by reading further.

All characters are over 18 and entirely fictitious.

*

Prologue

.

The Dom spoke with a well-practiced, controlling voice.

"So, it seems you have a thing for taboo fantasies. Don't you?" Her tone was purposeful. Mocking.

I was lying on my bed tugging at my cock. This one

felt

like it had potential. Something about the wicked note in her voice. The way she looked.

"...And not just any old taboo fantasies. No. You're into brother and sister incest roleplays. Aren't you?" Again, that mocking tone.

My God, yes. Yes, I am. My fist worked lovingly up and down the shaft.

"What is it about them that gets you so worked up? The forbidden? The wickedness of it? The risk of getting caught? Of impregnating your own flesh and blood?" She chuckled. A look of condescension as she stared at me through the screen of my laptop.

Yes. Yes. Yes, and fucking yes! All those things and more you saucy vixen. She had read my mind. Christ, she even had dark brown hair and big tits. Just my type.

"But we're going to do something a little different today. You're not going to just jack off to some pretend brother and sister fantasy."

I'm not? I glanced back at the screen. My fingers paused momentarily on the head of my cock. Well, that was what I was expecting, that and getting off from you talking utter depraved filth, you naughty minx.

"No. You're going to jack off to your own sister's photo. Don't worry, you're not going to actually fuck your sister. She's never going to know. But I'll know; and you'll know."

The Dom shifted on her bed, crossing her pink-panted legs.

"It's not

real

incest, but you'll be doing the next best thing. You filthy," she paused for effect, "perverted, incest lover."

Despite the stab of sheer thrill effected by her words, those very same words were now crashing headlong against a barrier in my mind. Tearing away at the structure. She was artfully blurring a line between fantasy and reality that had been emblazoned for years. A line I was approaching rapidly. Yet the Dom's expert delivery and the fact I hadn't got off for a couple of days had made me dangerously receptive.

"Now, where can you get a picture of your pretty sister from? I'm sure it can't be too hard. Do you have one of her on your phone? Perhaps from that last family gathering when you were together? Perhaps you have one of her in a pretty photo frame? What about Facebook? I'm sure you

have easy access to her

pictures there. Now, in a minute, I want you to pause the video and go and find a really nice one of her. Can you go through with it? Go now."

I dutifully paused the video. How utterly wicked this sorceress was in weaving her magic. She wasn't even leaving me with the excuse that it was she instigating the thrill that was now lighting up my brain and loins. Uh, uh, this was my show. Sure, she was goading me, but she wasn't exactly pointing a gun to my head.

The silence seemed to hang accusingly in the air. Well?

To my disbelief, as though on auto pilot, I took out my phone my eyes flicking from the laptop screen to folders within the photo album. Scrolling down and down until, with a sudden jolt, I saw a folder simply entitled 'Em'.

Em, short for Emily, my sister.

I froze, momentarily, dealing with feelings of guilt and emotions of an altogether different kind. My pulse was racing.

My hand hadn't left my cock the whole time. The digits on my left hand gently playing over my tip while the forefinger of my right was moving slowly back and forth on Em's folder. Hesitating.

The Dom's words came floating back, as though in a whisper, goading. 'Can you go through with it?'

Six. Little. Words.

Six ballistic missiles. What vestige remained to the foundation of that great barrier of which, by the way, I had done nothing to rebuild in the intervening seconds, were now sent crashing, pulverized to dust. Fantasy and reality entwined to form a new neural tryst; a new, forbidden pathway.

The dopamine-induced spark that flooded my brain now served to overcome any lingering doubt and besides, the Dom was waiting.

I double tapped Em's folder, a myriad of images instantly manifesting.

There...is...one.

Deep down, I knew there was a picture of her that offered tantalizing glimpses of forbidden fruit. When was that? With increased haste I scrolled down the list, my thumb whipping the glass of the screen. The photos slowed, then stopped abruptly. Yes.

Last Summer's barbecue.

Over the generations, our family had been fortunate enough to do well for itself. In the distant past successive progeny had spawned a line of engineers and doctors and more latterly my mother had been a property developer and 'flipper' taking astute advantage of real estate booms over the years and making a not inconsiderable fortune.

Why do I mention this? Purely because our parents' pile happened to be a pretty big affair set in the East Anglian countryside, replete with swimming pool and an accompanying bar. That same said swimming pool had my sister donning a white two piece. That same said bar had my sister smiling, laughing and relaxed as that hot Summers, day wore on toward evening.

Before I had become too intoxicated by the copious amounts of easily accessible booze, I had actually had the presence of mind to take some shots of Mum, Dad, brother, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, friends and...Em.

Picture, if you will, two siblings who look so much alike, they could be identical twins. My sister is 2 years' older than me but there is absolutely no mistaking we are borne of the same parents; of the same womb.

We both inherited deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, the same aquiline nose. Where I have a broad chest, she has large breasts, where I have tight buns, she has a pert bottom, particularly well-sculpted for someone who had just turned 30. Our height differed and our hips, of course. Hers, wide and perfect for childbearing, mine, designed to nestle in between.

Considering I had been half-cut at the time, by a happy accident, the picture I had taken was well-composed. More by luck, than judgement, the afternoon Sun had been behind me, the light framing her curvaceous body and maximizing her pleasing curves to full effect. The sun must have been just at the right aspect to reveal diamonds in the water behind her. In the background a large willow appeared to reach forward with its myriad arms as though trying to enfold and hug her. Her easy smile was complemented by the brightness of her eyes. Her pretty features framed by dark, lustrous, mid-length locks.

I drank her in; utterly aware of just how wrong it was. How did It feel to gaze upon my very own sister as a sexual being for the very first time? It...was...intoxicating. Exhilarating. Those full, succulent breasts (she took after Mum in that department) and those wide, flared hips. My cock began to pulse, as I greedily scanned for any hint of the cleft between her white-clad thighs, alas, that part of her body remained a stubborn secret.

Above all, though, what made my throbbing cock fit to burst was her effortless, natural smile that went with her features. A picture in symmetry.

Oh my God. Those deep, deep brown eyes.

My deep brown eyes

. What would it be like to be close enough to gaze deeply, connect meaningfully, with those eyes?

This one. This is my incestuous inspiration, Dom.

I hit the play button. Once again, the Dom took charge of my World.

"Did you find a nice one of her? What does she look like? Is she with friends? Is she all alone? Does she look slutty? Does she look innocent?" that mocking, pitying chuckle again, "is she gagging for it?

I tugged my cock, my eyes caressing my sister's body, looking at her face and those eyes, searching for answers to the Dom's questions.

"Look at the photo;"

"Look at her body;"

"Look at her face;"

"Now, I want you to come to your sister."

"Jerk that cock and come to your sister."

"Would you, Em?", I murmured to her image, drowning out the Dom. "Would you want it? Are you as much into incest as me? Would you feel terrible if you looked into my eyes knowing it was me, your brother, buried deep inside you? Possessing you?"

I began to work furiously on my cock. This cum exists for you.

I came with an ecstasy that I had not experienced for a long, long time. My eyes rolled back as though seeking refuge within. I could picture her beneath me, hip to hip; eye to eye; her face etched in abandon; mewling like a cornered kitten; breasts heaving; nipples erect; the whole incestuous deed ripping carnal sparks within and between us.

I panted with exertion like some animal. Mind fuck. Fuck. By degrees, my pulse slackened.

Oh fuck.

What had I done?

I cut the Dom off amid pangs of guilt. Even though she wasn't done yet, I couldn't face her or that pitying, mocking tone anymore.

Yet, laying there, as the moments passed, the guilt soon wavered then evaporated altogether erased by an afterglow of well-being as I fast-forwarded and rewound images in my mind.

I had found a new drug that gave a hit I had not had for years.

Inception. The very first hit. So exquisite; so pleasurable. No other hit can compare to the first. It forms the reward system upon which all other hits are experienced, compared with and judged by. The foundation for the addiction which must now be fed by going down an ever-deepening rabbit hole.

That is how this particular brother crossed the line between fantasy and reality and embarked upon an increasingly perilous journey. Through circumstance, my inexorable path toward incest with my sister,

in vita reali

, began with a photo of my sister.

Awkward

The first two or three times you meet up with your sister after you have committed fervent, imaginative incest with her are tough. Believe me.

Since inception, a battle royal of conflicting emotions had fought for the control of my mind particularly so whenever a familial get-together had been suggested, then diarised. A battle based on a spectrum of emotions somewhere between fear and heady excitement.

She was my Em. We were of the same blood. The sister whom I loved as only a protective brother could and should love. Yet now my love exceeded those boundaries with dangerous passions that I knew had the power to destroy our close bond. If she ever came to the realization that she was an object of desire as opposed to innocent, fraternal love, I felt sure it would destroy her. Destroy us. I would rather die than let that happen.

I had resolved that, no matter what, those deep primal emotions invoked by the imaginings of my willing, incestuous Em would always remain firmly locked away. Chained to a wall deep within the dungeons of my mind, only to be released within the privacy of my bedroom where they could do no damage. It was a noble rationale, albeit the only viable one, but rather easier to formulate than to apply practically.

The text had come through on a Sunday morning during the last throes of Winter.

The phone beeped forcing my eyes from the book I had been reading to glance at the screen. 'Emily.'

My heart skipped.

'We're meeting @ Mum's for Spring - mid April, poss. Sat 14th r u coming? Xx'

How I wanted those two simple letters at the end to mean more.

'Of course. Would luv to Xxx'

A while later the phone beeped again.

'OK. Will conf. when finalised. Be nice to see u again, been ages! TTFN Xx'

The text was the easy part. The meeting up, I knew, would be awkward.

As the weeks passed and the date grew in importance, I began to have doubts. Big doubts.

By the time I found myself sitting in the lounge of my parents place I was a nervous wreck. In the intervening weeks since those texts I had worked my mind up into a frenzy and was now attempting to pacify it with Jim Beam and Coke.

To make matters worse, Em, and her husband, Alex, had been delayed by roadworks outside Norwich. The delay had only served to heighten my feelings of foreboding as I awaited their arrival in nervous anticipation.

Fuck. What if she could read me? What if I blurted out something? What, and this was worst of all, what if my words or lack of words, even, gave me away and betrayed my guilty secret? We had grown up together and knew each other so well.

Get a grip. You chose to cross the line, but no-one needs to know.

Finally.

She arrived in a blur of form-fitting cornflower blue. A chic, Spring dress that perfectly accentuated her femininity without being too revealing or smutty. I stole a glance at her hourglass figure for as long as I dared; at her shapely legs; her curvy hips, those generous breasts, then guiltily looked away.

Alex appeared behind her.

She did the meet and greet thing eventually getting round to me.

"Hi, Ben! How are you?" She lent in, proffering her cheek for a peck. Her perfume a floral variety. I performed my fraternal duties, adequately, if a little nervously. I nodded to Alex.

"Hey Em. I'm good. You?"

"Oh, you know. Good. Give me a sec." She placed her matching blue bag and other paraphernalia she had bought with her by the seat next to me. I never could work out why women felt the need to carry so much stuff around with them.

She sat down, satisfied, and turned to me. Eyes bright. Pleased as Punch to see me.

We began chatting, catching up with all the events and news we deemed of relevance and import from the intervening, what? eight months since we'd last met, here at the...

"When did we meet up last?" her face became thoughtful, "oh yes, the barbecue last Summer! That's it. God, doesn't time fly?"

I shifted a little in my seat mentally blocking out sun-formed diamonds and a vision in white. "Hmmm."

She paused to look at me. Then carried on. "Anyway, how's it going with you and Andrea?", she looked around, "is she here?"

Now this was a question that I had anticipated but did not particularly want to answer. I had not even told Mum yet who had made no secret of her wish for marriage and grand-kids.

I shook my head, "she had other things to do."

My sister processed this, considered, then probed further. "Oh, I thought this would have been more important?" She leaned towards me a little conspiratorially, and lowered her voice some, "is everything OK with you two?"

There it was. I sipped my drink. "No. Think the relationship is on the ropes, Em. It's been properly heading downhill since, well, the barbecue, I guess. I'm not sure what will happen, but I don't think we're coming back from where we are now." I shrugged, looking at her. Sipped again.

"Oh. That's a shame, Ben." She rubbed my arm, concerned, but left it there. Perhaps she realized that there was nothing to be gained by delving any further. At least not here, not now, anyway. Whatever her reasoning, I was grateful.

We continued to catch up, however, whether it was down to the feelings I was desperately trying to bury in bourbon, or the sheer will to keep my composure, I knew I was coming across as aloof.

The only time I allowed my emotions to rise somewhat was when Em let it slip (much to Alex's embarrassment) that they were trying for a baby. Within seconds the news had spread throughout the room and Em, her cheeks looking slightly flushed, had taken centre stage, surrounded by excited chatter. There is nothing like the talk of a baby to bring a family together. I looked at Alex acutely aware of my jealous feelings fomenting just below the surface.

I needed another drink and got up. "I'm pleased for you, Em, really" my voice sounded dull; my eyes were unconvincing.

Later, she sought me out in the Study.

"Are you OK, Ben?"

I had been browsing the bookshelves. I do so love books and my parents' collection was extensive. Some of the hard backs must have been hundreds of years old judging by the way they were bound.

"Hmm?" I looked up from an early edition of David Copperfield. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why, what's up?"

She shook her head, "you've seemed, oh, I don't know, really distant today."

I sighed. The gotcha moment. Awkward.

If I have learned anything about women over the years, it is that they are incredibly perceptive and most intuitive. I was afraid that if this conversation went on for long enough, a heady cocktail of Jim Beam mixed and shaken with feelings might have me blurting out the most inappropriate of things for a brother to say to his sister.

I quickly brushed her off, "oh, it's nothing, just this whole thing with Andrea, I guess."

I could tell she was weighing things up and whatever equation she was attempting to balance within her mind she was not entirely convinced with the argument. She had clearly sensed there was more to it but, thankfully, left it there.

"Oh, my poor brother. Here, come and give your sister a hug."

She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing tightly. My arms reciprocated, enveloping her, hands meeting on her back; chin resting on her shoulder. Her scent was a medley of Ylang Ylang, lighter florals and mystery citruses. I could feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her dress, the swell of her breasts. I had left an exaggerated gap between our hips.

She initiated the break. "You always were a big strong lump." She giggled then kissed me on the cheek. As an afterthought, she added "you know, you can always talk to me if you're going through a hard time. You know I'll always be there for you." She toyed with the lapel of my blazer, then looked up, genuine affection in her eyes. The moment was unbearably intimate, sweet.

If she had happened to look down at that moment my body would have been most treacherous in betraying my thoughts.

I needed a hit.

Upon arriving back home I wasted no time in releasing my pent-up emotions. The house was deserted, Andrea having arranged the whole weekend away with friends.

I lay on the bed, eyes closed. Hand playing slowly on my cock. I wanted to edge. Make it last.

Again, we were holding each other in the Study only this time there was no music, no incessant background chatter. We were utterly alone.

She kissed the side of my neck and whispered into my ear, "You know I'm here for you."

I drew back from her enough for our eyes to be able to focus on each other. The look of unconditional love she gave me was intoxicating. Our hearts completely open. Our energies connected.

She sculpted her fingers to the contour of my face, "I'd do anything for you, Ben." Her voice was seductive, "anything." Her full lips were so inviting.

I leaned in, closing the distance, until our lips touched delicately, then pressed with more urgency and finally yielded. My hands instinctively pulled her lower back toward me until my hardness pressed between her cornflower clad thighs.

Those first, tentative kisses escalated, fueled by increasing fervency and hunger. Our passion became more frantic as our tongues danced together and around each other.

Her lips remained parted even after I broke off the kiss.

Just for a moment I paused, basking in her beauty, then looked at her, seeking meaning from those deep, deep brown eyes and finding hunger within them.

Her full breasts rose and fell rapidly.

I looked down, watching my fingers as they slipped down her thighs toward the hem of her dress. She followed my gaze and shivered as my fingers applied slow, upward pressure bunching and creasing her dress to reveal increasing amounts of upper thigh.

My sister helped me, taking the fabric and raising it up above her waist revealing white, satin panties stretched taught across her pussy revealing the outline of her treasure beneath. My breath caught in my throat.