This incest story's characters are wholly fictional. There are bisexual females and straight males. They are young, good looking, and uncommonly well-endowed. There are erotic passages amidst a plot that tries to put all of the incest within a halfway believable framework, accompanied at times by alcohol. The plot is meant to be believable, yet not incredibly realistic.
The plot mentions a history of father-daughter incest, some of it is non-consensual. No actual love scenes. No one was a minor when it took place. I sympathize with all victims of rape and abuse. There is a time and place for social crusades that address these problems, just as there is a time and place for stroke smut. Rest assured that this is the latter, and enjoy if you will.
Also, I would like to thank Rex Brookdale for all the time and effort spent editing this story.
Women were a mystery to Sam. He could see exactly what his dad, Victor, found so appealing about a character like Lilah, but he could only guess at what made her tick. Sam had grown up in the house in which his step-mom now lived with Victor and himself. She had moved in just after marrying his dad the previous December. At first, her overt sex appeal had upset Sam on so many levels, only some of which he'd, as yet, become aware. Victor's work took him abroad on business, leaving his son to nurse a few grudges against his dad's new flirty second wife. It seemed up to Lilah to help him understand, and to teach him some valuable lessons.
First on Sam's list of grudges was Lilah's replacing Gloria in the family nucleus. Gloria was his mother who for the past two years had had to live in a nursing home in Chicago, a two-hour drive away. The situation seemed as simple as a banner on a billboard that announced in huge letters, 'My dad tossed my real mom to the curb, to bang this hot piece of ass'. To Sam it was obvious that Lilah was using Victor; but then, Sam sometimes wondered if perhaps it was mutual. As if to show her off, when Victor was home he always threw parties or took her out. After they had married, Sam had supposed she might tone down her attire. He'd wanted to believe in his own father's good judgment, and had stayed out of Victor's business. Thus, during their engagement, Sam had kept his mouth shut. After getting to know her better over the past months he wondered why he had ever imagined that she might wear something as tame as a pair of 'mom' jeans. She was almost twenty years his dad's junior. Some days, while sifting through all of the things on his list, maybe that was the biggest problem.
During the first days after she'd moved in, Lilah was everywhere no matter which way he turned, wandering around the house, standing out like a rainbow lollipop in a diabetic ward. When he thought she wasn't looking, he gazed at her sexy, pouty red lips, big dark eyes, and long eyelashes. She wasn't tall, yet there was nothing to complain about. He'd taken as many surreptitious glances as he could of her large firm breasts, long legs, and tight butt. She wore a lot of sexy outfits, and enjoyed fiddling around with her hair, changing her look several times in one day, from cute to fabulous, depending on her mood. Sam's mood often made him prefer to describe her as someone who enjoyed dressing like a slut.
Once, in a fit of exasperation, he had actually told her to her face that he couldn't tell the difference between her and a whore. Granted, she had been a major distraction to him all afternoon, strutting around the house in her heels. He'd turned up the volume on the tv to try to distract himself from staring at her, when he had first heard her approach. Then she had stopped next to the sofa; he'd looked at her, and just blurted it out. Lilah had been shocked at first, but then asked why. Another woman might have brought the matter up to the boy's father, but Lilah seemed too self-assured to be afraid of a nineteen-year-old boy. Instead, she had shut off the tv, sat down across from him on the ottoman, leaned forward, and for the next hour had had Sam's undivided attention.
Lilah knew she was sexy as fuck (if you asked her, she would have used the terms 'young' and 'attractive'). She had spent years grooming herself for Mr. Right. In the process, she had discovered that she really enjoyed the feeling of looking her absolute best. Thus it had become more than just a habit of arranging her hair and applying makeup. She no longer felt comfortable if she looked even the slightest bit shabby, and worked hard to maintain her toned physique of which she was unabashedly proud. To his credit, Sam tried to put himself in her shoes, figuratively speaking, and had realized that perhaps she had a point. He himself liked to work out and was proud of his own burgeoning muscles.
***********
It had been a brisk and sunny Saturday. Sam was on Spring Break. With nothing to do nearby, given that they lived in a rather rural suburb, his plans for the day had been simple: to kick back and watch a few of his favorite movies, and maybe nab a swig of liquor when no one was looking.... Hot damn, he thought, suddenly looking up from where he lounged on the couch, watching the initial credits and title roll across the tv screen. She looked drop-dead gorgeous in a frilly skirt and purple blouse.
"Hey, want to watch that movie in the bedroom?" she asked.
"Nah it's okay, I've already started."
"Are you sure? You can't really watch it with all that glare in here. Come on, I'll watch it with you."
"Sure." They had a nice projector in the bedroom.
A few minutes later, they had moved into the bedroom and were watching the movie's opening scene. Then, when they were only ten minutes into it, Lilah excused herself to go take a shower. He was a little disappointed, but chalked it up to the mysteries of the fairer gender, for which he was gaining a new-found respect.
As she showered, his attention drifted from the movie, and he began to listen to the splatter of hot water in the shower just beyond the door. He envisioned it cascading off of her perfect curves and then pelting the marble floor. He imagined seducing her there, and in his mind's eye he watched the two of them fucking like porn stars under the hot spray, first with his cock deep in her pussy, then fucking her glorious tits. As he fantasized, he stroked his growing erection; there seemed no harm in having a little chubby while she was away in the shower. He imagined her mouth on his dick, struggling to take in his shaft. Then she would confess that she wanted anal, and he would vigorously oblige her. Her shower had ended. The door opened, and Sam quickly drew his hand away from his crotch. Had she seen? He doubted it.
"Sorry, Sam, I forgot to get some clothes first," she said, as she emerged from the shower room amidst a cloud of vapor. She hurried past the screen with only a bath towel wrapped around her body. Her toned legs carried her gracefully and swiftly across to the walk-in closet, where she'd stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her. Much of her wardrobe of skimpy outfits, elegant dresses, and lingerie, hung at the ready. She dropped her towel to the floor and turned on a fan. Cool air rushed over her body, and she sighed with pleasure.
Lilah couldn't help but feel a strong attraction to her stepson. He worked out, and he was handsome. He minded his schoolwork, but found time to listen to her talk. The more they talked, the more their rapport seemed to grow. He eschewed pop culture in his pursuit of social and political awareness, which was very important to Lilah. She liked to talk to him, and no matter how long she went on, he never seemed to tune her out. She wasn't positive, but she thought he was into her. Maybe he even thought about having sex with her. She only hoped that it was true, because she was going to make it happen if she could – Victor be damned. Lilah convinced herself for the umpteenth time that Sam had to be secretly attracted. Who was she kidding, doubting herself? He had never mentioned that she looked pretty, yet she had felt his eyes on him whenever her back had been turned. Had he been watching her out of suspicion, or admiration? Was the sexual tension entirely her creation, or was he hiding his own impulses and desires? She had known that a strait-laced boy like Sam, who still hung his honors graduation certificate in his room, wasn't going to make a move on his own step-mom, no matter how she looked or dressed.
Slipping on a comfortable bra and checking herself out in the mirror, she perused her now-substantial rack thanks to some augmentation surgery last year, and marveled for the thousandth time at her glorious globes. They had been a labor of love, literally. A plastic surgeon had done them for free while carrying on an affair with her. She fondly remembered the first time she had locked the door to his office and bent over his desk. He'd almost had a heart attack, and then subsequently had given her breasts the utmost care. They were full and round and soft, and she absolutely loved them. As for the rest of her body, she took care of that at the gym and by careful dieting. She reached for a fuchsia t-shirt and pink boy-shorts covered in lace frills. They matched her pink and purple nails. She put on a pair of lavender leg warmers, then checked herself in the mirror once more. Something was missing – she needed heels, and opted for a pair of four-inch stilettos, then pulled her leg warmers down over her ankles leaving her toes and the edges of her heels visible. She took a moment to apply some quick makeup and turned off the fan. After a final review in the mirror, turning and twisting to make sure her boy shorts weren't riding up too high, she strolled into the bedroom, casually plopping down on her side of the ultra-soft king-sized bed.
"I hope you didn't expect me to pause the movie," Sam said.
"It's alright, I've seen this movie before. Still love it, though."
"Me too."
