Isabellas Fella

WARNING

: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately.

Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.

This is a fantasy of consensual incest between adults. It is intended for adults who are interested in reading about consensual sex between relatives. If this offends you, do not continue any further.

*

"Mail call! Last mail call."

Lance Corporal Michael Faso was conversing with fellow Marines in their Baghdad base when the yell caused them to all break for the military postal carrier. They ran toward the center of the base where other Leathernecks were converging. Mail call for all the troops was like ringing the dinner bell to a recently rescued castaway. He eagerly waited, hoping, for his name to be called next, and the envelope he had longed for the past two weeks had arrived.

"Simmons. Stanley. Williams..."

Michael maintained a big grin, which prevented him from jumping up and down like a puppy when everyone comes home.

"Faso. Klein..."

He saw the envelope in the hand of the Marine and grabbed it. He recalled those commercials of people winning the Publisher's Clearing House award. As he jogged to an area of the camp less populated, he felt he now had some more privacy. He tore open the envelope. Faso pulled the letter out of the envelope and flipped it open.

My dearest Mikey,

My heart jumped for joy when I received your note saying you were coming home from Iraq earlier than planned. I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am you are coming home!

We have so much to celebrate—you being alive and well. We also have some things to discuss. I was very relieved to read in your first letter that said when you got home it was very important to discuss about what happened between us. I agree. We need to talk.

I have missed you oh so much. I cried. I cursed. I longed. Well, let me stop there and save that for our discussion. I also don't want the military censors blowing a gasket.

J

I will take a flight out and meet you at Camp Pendleton. Until then: be safe, my love.

Love, hugs, and kisses,

Isabella

Faso had finished the words of the letter but he still stared at the paper. He was a combination of happy, sad, guilt-ridden, and aroused. His image was of the statuesque Isabella: the long black wavy hair that reached down to the large, bountiful breasts; deep brown eyes that were piercingly dark; a friendly smile that could melt a drill sergeant's toughness; slightly flared hips that when she walked had more rolling motion than the Atlantic Ocean; and legs that seemed to go on forever and then some. His minds eye was starting to form a lovely picture of the succulent nether lips and neatly-trimmed hair between those smooth thighs, when a hand on his shoulder shook him out of the oncoming X-rated image.

"Hey Mikey!"

Faso blinked his eyes. It was his battery mate, O'Grady.

"She wrote you, didn't she?"

Michael just looked down at the ground and sheepishly smirked.

"Ah, look at that face. Hey Carlson! Carlson!" The Irishman called to the hulking Private First Class who was commiserating with other Marines in a nearby group. Carlson turned to the caller and looked at O'Grady and then the Italian.

"Hey Fatso! It's from Isabella isn't it?"

Fatso was a nickname to Michael's last name, but he was far from anything fat. He was 6' 1", lean, muscled, and ripped thanks to the US Marine Corps' infamously tough training. The jet-black haired, 21-year old rolled his eyes when his other buddy plodded to him and O'Grady. Carlson gave a southpaw punch to Faso's right shoulder. As if on cue, O'Grady puckered his lips.

"I miss you Isabella." He began kissing the air.

Carlson joined him in the fake mockery of his friend. "Oh, Isabella. I miss you. I have been playing Spank the Monkey for so long, I forgot how to fuck." He too puckered his lips and air kissed. The two were a chorus of fake kisses, and "Isabella, I miss you's". The targeted Michael just laughed.

"Ten-hut!"

The three soldiers came to immediate attention, their backs razor straight, and promptly ceased joking. It was their Sergeant Major.

"Just what the hell on God's green earth are you puss-nuts doing?!"

The three remained straight as arrows and silent.

"O'Grady and Carlson! Step forward." The two Marines move forward in front of Sergeant Hauser.

"It looks like you two sheep-dips should be getting a room at the Baghdad Hilton." The muscled-bound drill instructor moved so close to the troopers that their three noses formed the points of an imaginary triangle.

"Knowing how your ears must be encrusted with earwax, I will repeat my question!" He boomed into their faces. "Just what the hell on God's green earth are you doing?!"

O'Grady and Carlson eyed each other. Carlson offered up first.

"We were breaking Faso's balls, sir, Sergeant Major Hauser, sir!"

The highest ranking soldier remained silent, not taking his eyes off the other two. After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only a few seconds, Hauser replied.

"Ohhhhhh, you were breaking the balls of Lance Corporal Faso! Is that the truth, Private First Class O'Grady?" He now peered at the other ramrod-straight Marine.

"Yes, sir, Sergeant Major Hauser, sir!" O'Grady yelled his answer.

Hauser cast his steely glare at Carlson and O'Grady, and then Michael. Silence hung in the air amongst the four Leathernecks. For Carlson, O'Grady and Faso it felt like forever. But again it was actually only seconds.

The sergeant responded: "Well, then, carry on!" and walked away. The three friends slumped in relief and chuckled.

That night, his last night in Iraq, Michael was lying and waiting for sleep to overtake him. His long, strange trip was almost over. He mused on how this all started.

It was almost three years ago. Michael had turned 18 and just graduated high school. He had the house to himself, and just received a brisk blowjob from his 20 year old girlfriend, Luz. The sexy senorita's mouth had worked its usual oral magic on Michael, bringing him to his 7 ½ length in joyous fashion.

"Hmmm, papi," the naked Latina purred in between tongue lapses of his cock's frantic head. "Your penga tastes so goooood. Please fuck me now." Her livid tongue slid up and down the engorged blue penile vein.

Michael had his eyes closed during most of the event, his entire nervous system alive with sexual glee. He opened his eyes as he felt pre-cum start to bubble out. He watched the whitish liquid slide down his pole to the tip of Luz's tongue. Keeping her brown eyes on his, she dragged her tongue straight up along his cock, the pre-cum dissolving on her slithering mouth organ. She then dropped her ruby red lips on his helmet, tightening the hold on his crown, and then once again sent out her tongue. She tickled Michael's penis hole and enjoyed more pre-cum coming (pun-intended) forth. He felt as if he had been struck with a cattle prod.

"Oh, fuck!! Luz, you do that so good!"

She sat up in front of the recent graduate. He could not help watch her big, light brown breasts, capped with pointy eraser-like nipples, jiggle. Next his eyes were drawn to her open mouth as she slowly licked her lips, first the top then the bottom.

"Tu mammi needs to be fucked now," she stated in dirty Spanglish. It was a cross between a plea and a command. She repositioned herself, swinging her sexy right leg over Michael, so that she was now on all fours. Her curvy ass, smooth cheeks spread lewdly apart, was a mere inches from Michael. Luz's in-heat aroma hit him like the preverbal Mack truck. Her back curved, causing that luscious ass to stick higher in the air. She spread her left knee a little further on the bed, causing everything else of her lower region to spread. This seemed to release more, and stronger-scented aroma.

Michael was like a deer caught in the headlights. His girlfriend's sex scent wafted rapidly into his nostrils. Her splayed pouty, pink slit was very moist. The white bikini tan lines on her buttocks against her brown skin was also sexy. She began to swirl those buttocks in the air, forming slow erotic circles.

"Mucha cliente," Luz hissed, as her right hand when to her right ass cheek and rubbed it. The pads of her fingers and the palm caressed the fleshy buttock, while the entire butt continued its sensual, circular dance. The manicured fingernails trailed along the curve of the cheek, perilously inward to the damp lips of her spread vagina.

"Tu mammi wants your big canoli and all of its cream."

That was it for Michael. He lunged forward, pushing aside her hand.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, not expecting this. She wanted to fuck, but always liked to tease and entice her boyfriend as much as possible.

He got up on his knees and slid his eager prick into her well-lubed snatch. She backed up that sweet rump and sealed the deal.

"Ayyyyyy, papi!!" the sexy Dominican cried.

"Ugh!" he responded sounding like a beast on Animal Planet as he started boning his girlfriend at a furious clip.

The carnal slapping of flesh against flesh began. The fired-up Italian took hold of those Spanish hips and started pounding Luz from behind. The flesh slapping was soon joined by their pillow talk. She was stuttering "Ahhhh! 's" and "Ah, yeah! 's", while he moaned "Fuck yeah!"

A third sound was added to the mix: the bed started squeaking.

The lusty Latina met the virile teenager thrust for thrust. Michael was moving like a jackhammer. He rapidly, hungrily motioned his steel dick in and out of her receptive, oily orifice. He looked down at her. Luz on all fours was always a hot sight. He focused on her round, smooth ass cheeks which rippled and jiggled. Her wailing, sometimes in Spanish and sometimes in English, spurred him on. He particularly liked when she combined the two languages.

"Ay, si! Si! Pappi! Si, fuck me, pappi. Fuck your mammi!"

He obliged his girl by picking up his pace and drove into her, over and over with the ultimate in physical speed: teenage sexual energy. His young, stiff cock was incessant as it shoved in and out of her soggy twat.

Then, something made Michael' eyes tear away from the convulsing female below him and look in a 10 o'clock direction. Standing outside of his bedroom doorway was Isabella, his mother. Their eyes were locked on each other. Luz, her head in the pillows and turned to the right away from the door, was lost in the delirium of this good fucking and had no idea there was a visitor several yards away.

Isabella was a striking brunette, 5' 8", 122 lbs, with a curvaceous figure and beautiful face. On more than one occasion she was told she looked incredibly like Catherine Zeta-Jones. Many had suggested to the single parent that she should try out as the actress' stunt (or body) double. A Hollywood job was not for this 41 year old, her only preferences being her son and her accounting career.

Michael's mother was in a state of shock. She had done so well with one of her firm's newest and largest clients, that her boss gave her the afternoon off. When she had opened the house door seconds ago, the throes of love-making filled her ears and ignited her Italian anger.

"I TOLD MICHAEL, NO VISITORS! And no screwing in my house!" were her first mental reactions. Her next physical move, after locking the door, would be to break up the copulating couple. Next she'd toss Luz out—Isabella wasn't sure if she would allow the girl to get dressed first, and then read the Riot Act to him in full hi-def sound.

But that all unexpectedly changed when Isabella reached her son's open door. Upon seeing her son and his girlfriend in a doggie style position—one of her personal favorites—she was stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes were met by Michael's.

Instead of being shocked at discovery, Michael continued fucking Luz. The unbridled lovemaking was just too much to stop. He and his mother just looked at each other. They were both taken back at their individual reactions to the surprise and the situation. Isabella stood at the entranceway with her mouth open as if she wanted to say something but nothing came out. Michael was letting out low guttural sounds as he continued his piston-like motion. The sounds were the same as before: Michael's grunts, Luz's moans, and the bed squealing. To the young Italian, the sound of his mother's silence was the most deafening.

Isabella, maintaining eye contact with her son, tilted her head to the left in a quizzical manner. She felt paralyzed.

Where is my anger from a few seconds ago?

I heard them when I came in the front door and was ready to rip them both new ones. But now that I am here, seeing and smelling this carnality—I can't do anything but watch. Why?

Her brain was on maximum overdrive trying to figure out the sudden change in her own behavior. She visually flickered away from Michael's eyes to the whole scene: her son, her only child, was naked as the day he was born and fucking his pretty girlfriend, who was also nude, from behind. The room smelled like a whorehouse during Fleet Week. The flesh slapping had a porno film sound effect. And the squeaking bed was like one in an hourly hotel.

Sex. This room, this whole scene, was a raging image of sex.

Sex was something that had been missing from the divorcee's life for over a year. Prior to the breakup, she had a very healthy sex drive. After the disintegration of her marriage, Isabella had thrown herself into her career and being the best single mom possible. She had ignored all her own physical needs and desires for fifteen months. Now, here was all of that suppressed sexuality right in front of her...live! What was compounding the mental revelation was that her own son was one of the participants, and she didn't care. In fact, she felt a little...

Michael sure does have a very nice body

, she dreamily critiqued.

Whatever moral restraint that would have materialized, was repulsed back by everything X-rated in front of the raven hair beauty.

"Oh, Michael, you fuck so good!" Luz complemented loudly, her face thankfully for Isabella, was still opposite from where she stood. The mother's eyebrows rose at the lusty appraisal.

Michael was a mixture of sex-crazy, and confused. He still looked at his mom. Passed was his initial shock of discovery, replaced now by wondering why she just stood there silent. He saw her nose twitch.

Luz sure has some sex scent. I could smell it in China

, summarized the parent.

Isabella, head still tilted, lowered her eyes to where Michael and Luz were joined together.

I can't see the whole thing since he's screwing at a steady pace, but it would seem my son has one hell of a schlong.

Michael noticed the break in the mutual gaze and where her eyes had ended up. That someone was watching him fuck, albeit it was his mother, seemed to spur him on. He began shoving his ecstatic, sex-sap covered pole even faster into the Latina's yearning chasm. He readjusted his grip on her hips, and moved like there was no tomorrow. He was like a pile-driver.

"Ohhhhh, baby!" Luz announced. "That's it! Fuck me like that!"

Michael's hips and Luz's bottom were a frenzied blur. His swaying testicles kept bouncing off her like a wrecking ball while his sleek, hard dick pummeled non-stop. Her stretched, gooey snatch spouted love juice like a cracked damn. As Luz was shoved back and forth on the bed, her big hard-capped tits swayed furiously. Her moaning ended up a crescendo of stuttering.

"Fuccckkk my pussy! Fuuucckkk your mami's pussyyyy!"

The sound of Luz's louder groaning made Isabella blink and snap her head out of the tilted position. The single mother's body began doing things she never expected: her nipples were starting to harden, and moisture was growing between her legs! Isabella was getting aroused, the first time in a very long time, watching this scene of raw sex.

Her dormant sexuality was released like a caged tiger and oversweeping her. Her brewing lust seemed only encouraged and heightened by the depravity of the situation: a mother voyeuristically enjoying her son having sex with a pretty girl. The brunette remained motionless, not because of a state-of-shock, but because she didn't want to interrupt this phenomenal scene of mad love making...and didn't want to stop watching.

Michael noticed a change in his mother's face. She was no longer aghast at the sight before her. Now her eyes were lowered...and focused on his member sliding in and out of Luz's frothy and open slit.

Mom is enjoying me see fuck Luz?

Michael increased the tempo of his hip thrusts, much to the X-rated applause of his girlfriend who was now crooning in Spanish. He eyed his mother and saw a small quiet sigh escape from her mouth.

Or is she just enjoying seeing me nude and hard like an ironing board?

Michael withdrew his hard-on completely out of his girl's cunt, and moved backward so his manhood could stand proud...for his mother to see!

The withdrawal made a sloppy "pop" sound that rang in Isabella's ears. Upon suddenly seeing her son's penis, solid, on an angle, covered in Luz's secretions, Isabella's instinctively licked her lips.

Michael caught her eye and grinned proudly. A teaspoon of guilt came to the mother's mind but she was too far gone in wantonness to care.

"Hey!" The Latina protested at no longer feeling her boyfriend inside of her.

Getting turned on by this unexpected visitor, Michael began to rub his dick up and down the wet Dominican pussy. He was teasing Luz, but in effect, was teasing his mother. He felt like he won the lottery when he saw his mother lick her lips again, this time more hungrily at seeing his manhood full length, and teasing Luz.

My mom is a freak!

He concluded with unexpected glee and more horniness.

She likes what she sees!

Luz was about to pick her head up in the direction of Isabella. The 18 year-old quickly plugged back into the yearning orifice—hard.

"Ay Dios mio!"

Luz returned to her original head position away from the bedroom entrance. Michael resumed drilling his girlfriend senseless. But that was primarily a physical reaction. His mind and visual focus was on his mother.

I never noticed before, but Mom is hot.

His eyes trailed over her. She was in a navy woman's business suit, white blouse, and black pumps. The suit jacket was closed thanks to one button, but a blind man in Canada could see Isabella had a rack, which was slowly ascending and descending as her breathing increased. The blouse was conservatively buttoned, showing not a hint of chest flesh. The skirt portion of the suite reached just about the knees with a modest slit on the side. She had her weight shifted to her left side, which stretched out the skirt over her slightly parted legs and suggestively accented her left hip.

Oh those legs

, Michael summarized,

oh those lovely, long legs.

The patent leather shoes, 3 inches high, completed giving Isabella a corporate but sexy look.

He had lost count how many times she was told she looked like Catherine Zeta-Jones. Michael knew the actress was gorgeous but he never equated the two...until now.

My mother is definitely a MILF!

Isabella meanwhile was like an M-80 on the Fourth of July: lit and ready to go. Her nipples were aching against her bra. She undid the jacket button and shimmied her shoulders to widen the lapels.

My son likes showing off. Then two can play that game.