What follows is my true life experience during a Sunday and Monday in the summer of 1996. It was during the summer of '96 that I had three different encounters sexually with three different members of my family. I had never touched a family member sexually before that, and haven't again. It was a unique set of circumstances that led to these events, and the perfect storm has never arisen since.
As best as I can remember, the details in this account are factual, though the emotions I record here are probably a mixture of what I felt in 1996 peppered with what I feel now. So, I would say the story below is 80%-90% reality sprinkled with imagination. It is my hope to write about all three experiences from that summer when I had incestuous sexual encounter with my mother, my older sister, and cousin. As you can imagine, names and places have been changed to protect the identity of all parties involved. And I have not asked their permission to share these stories.
I hope you not only enjoy, and are aroused by my experience, but if you have experienced things similar to this, that you'll reach out to me. This is also my virginal attempt at writing erotica. There is incest, apparent non-consent, and rough sex in this story. I'll assume that everyone is ok with that, because, well, this is Literotica, all parties were well over 18 when this happened, and I think it's a hot true life story. I appreciate all feedback. But, please be truthful and kind in your feedback.
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July 1996
My name is Scott, and I am only son in a family of five. I have an older sister and a younger sister, and both my parents are alive and still married. Among my friends, the fact that I have parents who are still married makes my family quite rare. We are also quite functional – we don't fight among each other, we trust each other, we help each other out, and all in all, it's a great middle class, professional, educated family of fairly decent individuals.
My mother and I have always been close. I think it's because I am the only son. There is a bond between us that doesn't exist between my sisters and mother, or between my sisters and dad for that matter. I can't put my finger as to why we are so close, but we are – and we always have been. But the summer 1996, the closeness became intimate beyond the norm. My mother is one of my best friends. I could then, and still can tell her anything. And it was this openness between us that led to us taking what I imagine is an unusual leap forward between a mother and son. It was the fact that we could tell each other anything that led to us experimenting with the sexual desire we obviously had for each other.
Every summer I would come back to my hometown so that I can save up as much money for the upcoming college year as possible. And I would do anything to make a buck. Two summers before, I dug trenches for irrigation systems that were being installed on wealthy people's properties. Amazingly hot work – Jesus, I thought I'd die on more than a few days when the temp reached 110 degrees in the shade. The year before (1995), I caught on as a bar back at this really cool joint. The tips were far better than the wage I got from digging trenches, and it got me out of the sun, plus being a night owl, it was so much easier for me to work until 3 am than it was to get up at 5 am. That summer (1996), I returned to the bar and the manager promoted me from bar back to bartender. So, Monday thru Thursday nights I bartended and I had my weekends free. There was no better set up for a college boy. Plus, my parents always welcomed me home every summer which allowed me to live rent free for three months. That summer I save about $5,000, which was a king's ransom. I mean, a kid can save up pretty quick when he doesn't have to pay rent or food or alcohol.
And it was while I was working the bar that I met Marianne. Marianne was a lifer at the bar. She started out as a hostess for the restaurant area, worked her way to waitress, and now was the superstar weekend bartender. Not only did she make a mean cosmopolitan, but she was so slutty hot. Sex just dripped off of her every movement. Every toss of her jet black hair, every lick of her red panted lips, every drag on her clove cigarette, every shake of her ass that was barely covered by her mini-mini-mini jean skirt, caused guys (and I would venture some girls) to instantly cream themselves. For these reasons, Marianne killed every night at the bar from tips. Guys would buy a $2 beer and leave her a $20 tip in hopes that they could buy some time with her. Everybody wanted to be with her – at least for one night. And lucky for us, Marianne's sexual needs were vast. So most of us got our chance to satisfy her. The problem was, if a person was not up to her expectations, Marianne never sampled seconds from that person again. I have to say, the girl had standards – even for a slut.
Marianne had quite a reputation for being a huntress. Once she had her eyes on you, the chances were you would to end up in her bed. The summer of 1996, Marianne had chosen me to be her summer conquest. I don't know why. Other guys who worked at the bar, or frequented the establishment were better looking and probably better lovers than me. But I suspect Marianne needed fresh meat. She had already tasted all the other cocks in the bar, so now she wanted to try out mine. The one thing I had going for me was I was the new guy. It's one of those glad ironies that as her prey I was only too happy to be caught. I was a gazelle and she a lioness. And I wanted her to dig her teeth into me all summer long.
And on one fateful Sunday night, that time was to come, Marianne and I were going to have sex. Glorious. Nasty. Dirty. Sex. I just knew it.
A co-worker of mine at the bar, Ernesto, was throwing a party at his uncle's house. I didn't wok Sundays so I had the day off. Marianne had heard of the party, and asked one of our co-workers to cover for her. She didn't need the tips – she made so much jack anyway. So, we knew that te other one was going to be at the party. And about 9pm, as I washed off the day's sweat in the shower, starting to get ready for the party, my mind kept racing back to the words Marianne had spoken to me as I went to pick up my paycheck from my boss on the Friday before, "Scott, are you going to Ernesto's party tomorrow night? Because I'll be there, and I WANT you to be there. I really WANT you to be there." Oh, my God. I knew what that meant. And the more I thought of her words, the more excited I got about my anticipated fuck session I was going to have with Marianne. Standing in the shower, in my mom and dad's house, water running over my body, I reached for the lotion that my parents had sitting just outside the shower. My lubed up hand went to my cock, and the combination of the lotion, warm water, and excitement swelled my dick until it was a throbbing brick. I closed my eyes. As one is to do in fantasies, I jumped from image to image without any consistency: I pictured Marianne's tits bursting out of her red and white Daisy Duke checkered top; I pictured the volleyball coach from my high school; I remembered fucking my high school girlfriend for the first time and how much she screamed; but then I focused on Marianne, bent over the jukebox in the bar, her skirt lifted, I fantasized about my cock sliding in and out of her curvy ass, going balls deep on the very first thrust – which I imagined was 10 times tighter than her pussy; I visualized reaching around her body to grab her tits roughly with one hand, as the other hand twisted and pulled on her long black hair, as I rammed her as hard as I could in her ass.
My hand closed in tight around my cock, and I thrust my hips into my fist – harder harder harder harder faster faster faster. Oh My God, it felt so good to masturbate to this fantasy – knowing full well it was going to become reality – a fantasy I knew was only a tenth of how good the real thing was going to feel like. I must have jacked off for close to 10 minutes. My cock was numb from it but the sensation of ejaculating was feverish. The climax from my masturbation session would have sent my cum streaming twelve feet across the room if not for the clear shower curtain stopping it from hitting the mirror. I let out an amazing deep breath. My heart was racing from the fantasy masturbation session. That had to be the most magnificent beating of my meat in days. I was ready for Marianne.
I opened my eyes and I could see through the clear shower curtain – HOLY SHIT!!!! My mother was rummaging through the cabinets. I didn't hear her come in. Did she see me masturbating through the clear shower curtain? I wasn't shocked to see her in the bathroom - to be honest, my family's house is not strict on privacy. It wasn't uncommon for us to walk in the bathroom while someone was showering. I'd seen all my family members naked thousands of time thru the clear shower curtain. I was more shocked that I was in such a trance fantasizing about Marianne and my sexual adventures to come that night that I didn't hear her come in.
"Whatcha looking for?" I asked. As I turned off the water, and grabbed a towel to cover up. My dick still 85% hard from cumming so violently.
"Why I'm looking at you, dear." She replied smiling.
