Sophia’s Incestuous Choices

Author's Note:

This is the second part of an ongoing story with multiple chapters, and it picks up without a recap from the first part. This Part fills in previous events, and reveals the origin of Sophia's nude pics and the family's latent sexual desires. Although you can probably jump in and still enjoy the narrative, I recommend you start at the beginning with Part 1 to get the full background and context going forward. Either way, I hope you take some time and enjoy the journey.

If you're just joining us, this is a story involving parent/offspring incest, but one that takes a circuitous, sexy, non-traditional path. It is a work of fiction; any resemblance to any person or event, past or present, is unintentional and coincidental. Everyone involved is over 18 years old.

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Chapter 5:

My cock was ramrod hard—I didn't know why. I floated, warm and comfortable, relaxed and aroused at the same time. My mind drifted, and all I felt was a sense of euphoria.

Many nude women—young, fit, and curvy—stand in an open room with multiple showers. Lathering each other's naked, smooth, bare skin with soap. Laughing. Voices echo in the cavernous shower room. Spraying water playfully, nipples hard, tits impossibly firm. Like nubile cheerleaders in an old 1980s sexploitation movie. I am with them, now naked as well; I don't know how. I don't know who they are. The women tease me, lifting and offering bare nipples, bending over, and exposing their pussies from behind. Pulling on my hard cock.

Then, space distorts and shifts, and the women flatten and become two-dimensional. Become photographs. Very sexy photos. Explicitly posing... in pictures.

My erect dick lurched, cocooned in warm, wet tightness. No, not wet, just tightness—more like pressure. Pressing against something. Wanting to cum. My mind filled with images again. Surreal, flowing dream impressions.

I'm now in a movie theater—some film is playing, but I don't register what it is. A beautiful woman's lips envelop my dick with her talented mouth. A stranger's mouth. My wife Angeline's voice asks if I like that... like something, but I don't know what she means. I look and see my wife; she stands on a theater seat in front of me naked, watching me. The light of the movie screen flashes behind her, making her look like a silhouette with rays of light shining from her body. Then, our 19-year old daughter Sophia is standing on the seat next to her mother. Angeline is pressing her bare nipples against our daughter's equally bare nipples. Sophia looks at me, and I hear her, but her lips don't move—I'm hearing her in my mind. She asks if I like seeing her naked. If I like her pussy.

The world warps and Sophia is lying naked outdoors on a picnic table, spreading her legs. Showing her pussy to three or four men who stand watching her. The men clap as if she'd performed something. I wonder what my daughter did, who the men are, and why my daughter is showing her naked body to them. But—I see it isn't Sophia—or isn't anymore. She is now Angeline. And then no men are standing by her; only one person watches her wanton exhibitionism. A woman. Fully dressed. I don't know her. I hear the woman speak even though she does not move her lips—as Sophia had done. The woman tells me that bodies are natural and it is normal and healthy to masturbate. Good to be outdoors, in public, naked. Good to cum. Good to fuck. My cock is suddenly inside her; she feels so good. I'm feeling the churning in my balls of pending ejaculation. I want—no, need—to fill her. Feel the pressure.

I felt my balls contract and a rush of semen shot up and out of my shaft. My cock throbbed and spurted with intense spasms. But my dick wasn't in a warm, wet vagina or a succulent, talented mouth. It was mashed against something damp and soft, and I was confused. I swam up from the depths of my dreamy underworld towards the shimmering daylight of consciousness above me as if approaching a water's surface.

My senses engaged, and I woke up. Angeline was sleeping soundly with her back to me, curled up. We were spooning with my dick smashed firmly against her back just above her ass. A sticky, cold clamminess was smeared on her back and my cock and belly. I'd just cum between our naked bodies. Without any stimulation. While asleep. I shook my head as I realized what had happened. A wet dream.

Seriously? I can't even remember the last time that happened—not since I was a teenager. A dream about... something I can't remember. But I'm sure Freud would have a field day based on what bits I still recall.

It seemed like early morning—getting lighter but not yet daylight. I'd cum, but surprisingly, I was still mostly erect. My residual arousal from learning about my wife and daughter's mutual masturbation sessions, morning wood, having to piss, or the fast-dissipating sexy dreams I awoke from got me hard, brought me to climax, and kept me hard. Not a typical state for me to be in.

I got up, stood and stretched, then went to take a leak. I reflected on the fantastic events I'd recently learned about and tried to will my tenacious hard-on back down. The latter was a challenge, mostly due to the former. But since I couldn't piss with an erection, my urgent need to empty my bladder won out, and I was able to soften enough to take care of business.

Angeline stirred when I crawled back into bed; I wiped her back with a warm, moist towel. "What time is it?" She asked sleepily, then rolled onto her back. She squirmed and made an odd face—she was likely confused by the wetness she'd just pressed into.

"Early. I didn't look." I smiled as I gazed at Angeline. She looked tousled and sleepy and adorable. Oh, and very sexy. I slid the sheet that she was snuggled into down to her waist. She was still naked. I kissed her. Then, I kissed each of her soft nipples, because I'm just that considerate. I ran my hands along her body, boobs, and through her hair. "I want to hear what happened next with you and Sophia. You won't believe all the sexy dreams I had last night."

"Oh, you're wrong there," Angeline smiled. "I'm sure you had a bunch of sexy dreams last night. Your hard dick was pressing against me most of the night." Her eyebrows furrowed. "And this morning." She narrowed her eyes and tipped her head quizzically as she slid her hand under her back. "Did you... did you cum on my back a little while ago, or was I dreaming?"

"Urm, well... yeah, I kind of did."

"Kind of?"

"Ok, yes, I did."

"Were you asleep?"

"Yep," I nodded with a smile.

Angeline laughed. "Well, that's a new experience for me. I thought only younger boys did that."

"You and me both." Then I held up an imaginary microphone and sang,

"Everybody had a wet dream; everybody saw the sunshine."

Angeline pursed her lips and shook her head. I don't think she fully appreciated how The Beatles somehow had song lyrics for almost every situation.

Angeline grinned. "What's surprising to me is that you were able to cum at all just hours after cumming twice with me. I believe that's considered an indication of remarkable stamina and impressive sexual prowess."

But before I could take pride in her compliment, Angeline added, "For a guy your age."

I searched my brain for a suitably sharp-witted retort. Came up empty. Angeline cut off further banter by flicking off the thin sheet covering the rest of her nude body and standing up. I sighed.

Damn, I loved seeing that woman naked.

"Be right back—gotta pee first," Angeline said. "And wipe my back, which still has damp, cold, and clammy places, but I appreciate your effort to clean up after yourself." She chuckled. "Then, I'll regal you with unbelievable tales of your naughty wife and daughter's sexy fun."

My cock sprung to attention at Angeline's words. I felt like a horny teenager again, ready, willing, and able. I wasn't complaining. I was secretly pleased with my unexpectedly speedy recovery.

When Angeline returned from her morning "constitution," I held open the sheet, and she flopped down next to me on the bed. She leaned on one elbow, looked down at me, and smiled. I waited expectantly, a slight grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"Ok, so, where were we?" Angeline began.

"She watched, you watched, formed an unspoken, sexy connection, a bunch of things you haven't told me yet, then face-to-face naked sexy masturbating and dirty sex talk that was walked in on by your tolerant, accepting, horny husband and father of our equally horny sexy daughter." I bopped my finger playfully on her nose, then on her nipple for good measure.

Angeline swatted at my hand but missed. I gave her a smug look. "That about right?"

Angeline chuckled and smiled wryly. "I guess that about sums it up."

"Please continue then; I'm waiting with bated breath."

"Ok." Angeline took a breath and gathered her thoughts. "So, after that second time, when I watched Sophia masturbate while telling me how hot it was watching

me

masturbate, nothing happened for a couple months. Sophia and I hadn't mentioned or discussed what happened or how we felt about it. I'd reached the mindset that our two masturbating incidents were random flukes instead of the start of something more."

I nodded with what I'd hoped was an understanding expression. "Assuming you thought about it, how did you feel about what had happened?"

Angeline's face reddened slightly. "Personally, er, well, when I thought about either time... I, um... usually got horny. I occasionally re-lived one time or the other, sometimes mixed them up or mentally embellished them as I masturbated. Now and then, pangs of guilt would temper my erotic feelings because Sophia was my daughter, and I'd been taught that it was wrong to feel that way."

"You'd been taught that, but is that how you really felt?"

"No, to be honest. Deep inside, I disagreed that anything we'd done was actually wrong. And as I said, I thought then that our two experiences were one-time events."

"What changed?" I asked.

"Sophia. We were lounging by the pool, getting some sun. Topless, of course. You were home but inside doing something. I'd put suntan lotion on Sophia's back, and she was doing mine when she tentatively asked me if she could ask me something."

"I've always found it amusing when people ask permission to ask a question; they've already done what they were asking permission to do," I said unnecessarily.

Angeline—bless her—didn't chide me for my irrelevant statement of the obvious. Instead, she paused, ignored my interruption, and continued her narrative.

"Ok..." Angeline said slowly. "Anyway, I told Sophia she could ask me whatever was on her mind. I figured, without any particular thought, she would ask about a boyfriend or my opinion about something. I was wrong. She asked for masturbatory guidance. Specifically, about my preferred clitoral stimulation technique when I used my fingers."

I barked a laugh, then clamped my mouth shut. "Sorry, just caught off guard. Go on."

"Sophia said that sometimes she didn't feel like she was getting the right pressure or angle on her clit when playing with herself, and when she watched me get off, it seemed like I must have done something amazing. She straight out asked how I rubbed myself."

"Good grief," I muttered quietly. "That girl. Is something."

Angeline smiled and nodded in agreement. "I foolishly asked Sophia what she meant."

"Why was that foolish?"

"Foolish because naturally, she wasn't satisfied with just a verbal description... though I tried."

I quirked an eyebrow at Angeline. "Tried, did you? How hard?"

"Ah, well, yeah. Ok, I did try, but not very hard. We moved pretty quickly to the 'just show me' stage."

"Fill me in here a bit," I said with crinkling eyes. "I'm curious about your relationship, but also about different female masturbation techniques."

"Of course you are," Angeline laughed. "Ok, so we talked about using one finger or two on the clit to circle and rub, next to or directly on it, adding thumbs, adding pinching, using circular or side flicks, fast or slow, tickling just inside the vaginal opening, playing with labia or butt—pretty much all the options. I told her about using two fingers straddling the clit so that you can pinch and slide while circling and rubbing. Sophia picked up on how I liked that best and asked me why specifically I did."

I just chuckled silently, shook my head, and rolled my eyes.

"I said yes, I liked two fingers to trap my clit when I rubbed because I had more control, and I could kind of stroke it like a tiny cock while circling it at the same time. Sophia looked perplexed, then came right out and asked me to show her what I meant because she needed to see to understand."

"Right out in the open by the pool?" I interjected. "Sophia wanted to watch you get off there in broad daylight? What if I'd come out?"

"Yes, by the pool, but I didn't masturbate completely out in the open or to orgasm. I still don't know why I did anything at all, why I never drew a line during our 'special times'; I guess it seemed natural after our previous far more sexual encounters. Anyway, I agreed to demonstrate my favorite digital technique to her."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Angeline held her finger up to stop me. Her eyes twinkled, and she quirked her head to the side. "And yes, to your unstated assumption, I think we both knew I didn't actually need to physically demonstrate—and Sophia didn't really need to see—to understand how I masturbated. We played along with the pretense and got turned on. Played a game governed by unwritten rules that hadn't been conceived of yet."

I nodded, storing that information in my brain for future contemplation. "So... what did you do?"

"After making sure the coast was clear, I pulled my bikini bottom to the side, giving free access to my pussy, so I could touch myself as I explained what I meant."

I whistled quietly as I vividly pictured Angeline topless by the pool, her thick dark hair shimmering in the sunlight, exposing her bare labia and trimmed patch of dark pubic hair to our daughter. "Fuck, Angeline; have I ever told you how damn hot and sexy you are?"

Angeline grinned. "Often. You're a horny devil, that's for sure."

I feigned surprise. "

Moi?

I think you need to check yourself out in a mirror sometime; you'll find a much hornier, kinkier devil than me."

Angeline gave me a mocking air kiss and grinned. Said nothing.

I smiled. "So, back to what you were saying. You didn't play until you had an orgasm—what did happen?"

"I showed her how I used my fingers when I masturbated, told her what felt good, where I liked to be touched, and what got me off the best. Sophia occasionally asked questions at the same time."

Angeline glanced sideways at me. "And, the answer to your not-yet-asked question is yes. Yes, I got majorly turned on, both from touching myself and because Sophia was a foot away, staring intently at my wet pussy as I played. My daughter watching me—and I showing myself to her—was hot as fuck."

I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Hot as fuck is putting it mildly."

My mind was filled with images sparked by Angeline's description. My toned, tanned wife rubbing her pussy for our gorgeous daughter—a younger, equally hot version of her mother—in the open in broad daylight. My balls contracted, and my swollen dick twitched.

"What did Sophia do when she watched? She must've been turned on seeing you like that... I am, just hearing about it. Did she touch herself along with you?"

"Not then," Angeline said. "We didn't get that far."

"I'm surprised you didn't, actually," I said. "It sounds like by that time, you were both comfortable touching yourselves in front of each other, so why not just let yourself go again?"

Angeline grinned. "You."

"What?"

"I stopped because we heard you slide the patio door on your way out to us." Angeline's eyes crinkled as she watched my expression. "You might have caught us months ago—that might've even prevented Sophia and my continued playtimes."

I sat looking at my hot wife, my mouth slightly gaping and myriad thoughts racing through my brain. "Huh," I managed to mutter.

"As you approached us, I calmly removed my fingers from my pussy and pulled my bottom back into place," Angeline said. "Sophia and I simply greeted you as if nothing unusual had happened. The three of us hung out for a while, and by the time we went back inside, my arousal had subsided. I will add, though, later that night, you and I had mind-blowing sex—twice."

I chuckled, "Lucky me. I must thank Sophia for getting you all ready for me."

Angeline bit her lip through her smile. "Maybe you should; it wasn't the only time my connection with her sparked fabulous sex with you."

"So, then... this was an ongoing thing after that? But you've never had sex or touched each other sexually this whole time?"

"Correct," Angeline said. "That experience set a precedent, I guess, so over time, openly talking about sex and masturbating around each other became accepted and no longer awkward or weird. We didn't explicitly decide that or make plans to do anything—things just evolved and happened naturally."

As I considered that, Angeline ran her hand along my arm and took my hand. "We also didn't plan on having some big, secret sex thing going on behind your back. I especially didn't like keeping something like that from you—that was the one thing that felt wrong to me, far more than the naked masturbating and sex talk with my daughter."

I nodded. "So, were you planning to tell me at some point? Before I accidentally caught you two, that is."

"Yes, absolutely. I didn't like keeping secrets for one thing, and the other thing was I wanted to share with you this strange, arousing, taboo, sexy part of my life. See what would happen going forward. At least bring you into the know, if not possibly more."

My mind swirled with thoughts and images as I processed what Angeline meant. The photo incident flashed through my mind, mixed up with Angeline's cryptic and off-hand "possibly more" reference. But before I could sort through and formulate a question or idea, Angeline refocused my attention by continuing her narrative.

Angeline explained that, over the next several months, her talks with Sophia grew more sexually explicit—how things felt, what they fantasized about as they touched themselves—and their actions became more sexually overt. Every few weeks or so, one or the other would end up touching themself or masturbating in front of the other—mostly taking turns, usually with some clothes on—sometimes having orgasms, other times stopping sooner.

The circumstances seemed fluid. A session might stem from a massage triggering a discussion about erogenous zones or discussing—and then trying—different toys such as vibrators and dildos.

Once, they experimented with food after a particularly quirky talk, which included inserting small cucumbers, carrots, and bananas. I asked Angeline how the fruit and vegetables felt inside her vagina. Without missing a beat, she simply said, "cold."

Eventually, they masturbated at the same time together, sitting next to or near each other. It became a comfortable, albeit arousing, activity—but commonplace enough to be almost unremarkable. They both got worked up, turned on, and usually climaxed, but typically, the liaisons had some element of exploration; they focused on shared experiences, emotions, and ideas.

I was wholly engrossed in learning all about my wife and daughter's extraordinary and incestuous relationship. During that early-morning chat, a description would occasionally stir erotic feelings, but mostly, I was just intrigued and fascinated.