Triple Secs

Author's note: The following contest entry is quite fictional. Do not expect much reality. All sexual participants are aged 18+. Tags: mother-son, father-daughter, mother-daughter, siblings, cousins, grandparents, uncle-niece, airtight, Trianon Club, SUMMER LOVIN CONTEST 2018. If you object to any such, stop reading now. Views expressed are not necessarily the author's. Enjoy!

Contents:

Triple Secs; Two Nieces Apiece; My Three Sons; Triple Play; Unraveled DNA; The Trifecta

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Triple Secs

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(Triple your family fun, and more)

*****

"The next thing I knew, my daughters Cheryl and Carol were licking my dick, and the other, Crissie, had her pussy in my face. I didn't know how to react. At least, my conscious brain didn't. My body sure knew! And then Crissie traded with the others -- I think Carol went next.. My cock bucked. My tongue... "

His long tongue licked into his cocktail glass. He was noticed.

"...oh god, I've never tasted anything so good! I mean, I ate and fucked dozens of girls before we were married and a few after, but nothing like this. Especially when they lay on their backs, side by side, their legs wide open, and I moved from one to the next, licking, licking. I tell ya, nothing tastes better than a daughter's pussy -- except three daughters' pussies, all in a line! And it was no dream!"

"Then they fucked me. That took all night. And the next day. Good thing their step-mom was visiting her sister. She'd have killed me. Or maybe she'd have wanted some too. Life is funny. Should I ask her?" He waved for another drink.

The Trianon Club's circulating drink-mistress aka barkeep refreshed any Triple Sec drinks running low. A rare new variety infused their Curaçao orange cocktails. All the flavors seemed to drive patrons to tell their stories.

The florid, faded blond man at the triangle table took a slow slug and stared into his glass's melting ice. He looked up.

"I thought I would feel guilty. My own daughters! The girls I'd raised from diapers to graduation and beyond! But a decade after their Mom died, ten years of me raising them and sending them off and never having time for anyone else, they just pounced on me. Carol, the oldest, said it was an act of mercy. Cheryl, the next, said I seriously needed to get my rocks off. And Chrissie just said I had the best cock she'd ever seen and sucked and fucked. My own little girls! What the fuck was I supposed to do?"

The others sitting at the oaken table in the exclusive Trianon Club nodded. They all had similar tales.

"At least they were all your own girls," a lean, dark man said. He sipped his drink. It got kind of weird with my two brothers' girls."

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Two Nieces Apiece, At Least

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The brothers Glen, Len, and Ben Stevens were not interesting fellows. But they had beautiful, playful daughters. That means trouble.

The guys were uninteresting because of their less-than-fascinating family business. What, a minor regional chain of construction supply yards? Not very sexy.

Old-timer Larry Stevens had expanded a marginal operation in Sacramento to a small thriving network including Stockton, San Ramon, Suisun City, San Rafael, and Santa Rosa. Larry had hoped to expand to Yuba City, Sierraville, and South Lake Tahoe, but he ran out of sons and nephews to manage the yards.

Larry's dull sons had each been born a year apart, back when his balls still worked. They survived Sacramento public schools and state college. Each took an adequately attractive and compliant wife and a dull, secure place in the family firm.

The sons started as crap-schleppers and worked their way up through the ranks. That was old Larry's plan -- get the kids to know the business from the bottom up. And 'up' meant that they eventually each ran a store.

Glen and his wife Linda thought their Santa Rosa yard had the best weather. Len and his wife Sheila loved the Marin County ambience in San Rafael. And Ben and Mila felt right at home in Suisun City's mixed-culture hustle. Each couple had a daughter and a son who would probably have been happier down in San Francisco, but what ya gonna do? Support family, that is what.

Family was close but not TOO close. Glen, Len, and Ben's three cities were each about forty-five minutes apart, depending on traffic. Different counties, different schools -- their kids, all "kissing cousins" for sure, knew each other mainly from family gatherings. Would the girls mind kissing their male cousins? Probably not!

Family businesses are 7-day operations but the bosses insisted on leaving Sundays to their willing, somewhat-trusted assistants, to be with family. The three brothers' mobs, and sometimes the San Ramon, Sacramento, and Stockton cousins, often gathered at Ben's big home behind the Suisun City yard Sunday afternoons for food, games, and chatter. Chicken, ribs, spuds and veggies on the grill; beer in the cooler; horseshoes, bad mitten, touch football, Frisbees, and sneaked joints on the back lot. Sunday afternoons were for re-connecting.

Weekdays, the brothers' similar-age daughters were separated by miles, and by their local matters, but were tightly linked by the magic of digital communications. Texting, tweeting, pixing, chatting... With mobile schoolmates constantly rotating in and out of their lives, the three had been a solid base, best friends for as long as they could remember.

"So for that Sunday, you're sure you want to..."

"Shit yes! This may be our only chance! It's not Father's Day, but..."

"Hey guys! The timing's gotta be just right. But I've got the room together..."

"You sure nobody will notice?"

"Nothing's 100%. But it's covered, for sure."

"Okay, just so nobody..."

"C'mon, who does it better? We have no problems here."

"Well then, I guess we're on with Plan A!"

Spring and early summer crept along in the greater Bay Area. Memorial Day, and warming June, and flashes of July heat after fireworks for the Fourth and the approaching dry months. And a family Sunday ten days later -- Bastille Day, and national days in many countries, and National Nude Day in the USA.

The family Sunday went about as usual... except the back lot games. At some point in the play, each of the brothers found themselves being led off by their bouncy daughter.

"C'mere dad, I've got something special for you." She tugged him along to the utility building out back. "Right in through here."

And then a hand over his nose holding an aromatic cloth, and a whiff of some spicy chemical, and then darkness...

He awoke on a firm mattress feeling especially logy, dazed, zapped. And naked. And restrained by soft cords. He tried moving bare arms and legs. No way. And his head... he was not blind -- something covered his eyes. And his mouth. He tried speaking but only grunts emerged.

His ears were not obstructed. He heard shuffling sounds. And then a voice, next to his ear...

"Hi, uncle. You're one of the best uncles in the world. The other best ones are right here too."

He strained to recognize her hoarse whisper but was unsure just which niece this was. Did it really matter?

Other faint young female voices nearby murmured similar words.

"Your nieces want to let you know how much we appreciate you. We'll show you in the most persuasive way. The best uncles in the world get some nice treats today. Officially it's Nude Day -- that's why you're naked and so are we. But we've declared it Uncle's Day."

A hand stroked his flesh. And another hand. Fingers touched his throat, trailed down his chest, circled his nipples, moved on his belly, tickled his pubic mound, and taunted his exposed cock. He was instantly erect. Other fingers danced along his foot soles and ankles and calves and joined those on his cock for a double-jerk before they walked up an arm, traced his chin line, nodded his ears, softly massaged his scalp -- but without releasing his dick.

"Feel nice, uncle? I bet this feels even nicer."

A tongue moistened the underside of his steel-hard shaft. He moaned into his mouth gag.

"Oooh, I though you'd like that. And how about this?"

Flesh moved on his blinded and gagged face. Fluffy nipples dragged across his imprisoned lips. Bare breasts crept along his naked torso and gathered around his straining stovepipe. The mouth returned to his cock and slurped wetly, quickly replaced by enveloping breasts.

"Ever had a tit-fuck, uncle?" the hidden niece asked. "How is this?"

Oh fuck, that felt good! But her mouth and tongue felt better. A mix of sucking and tit-fucking was even more stimulating. She noticed his reactions.

"Looks like I've got you in a good place, uncle. Now, you're REALLY gonna love this! And so am I."

Bare legs straddled his hips. One hand pressed on his naked chest. Another hand took his cock and guided him into a warm, wet space -- a niece's pussy!

The mystery niece moved on him slowly at first, gently rolling and rocking, then moved to more strenuous plunging and bouncing. Her butt slapped against his imprisoned thighs. Similar sounds echoed in the small room -- wet, fleshy sounds, and moans, and sighs. And little squeals as nieces came quietly on their uncles' uncut cocks.

And then a finger-snap, and quiet. The pussy pulled off his cock. The body moved away from his -- and her place was taken by another. He could smell the difference, could feel she was wet as hell when she slid down on him, could sense the difference in her hands and weight and bearing.

"My turn with you, uncle," the new voice whispered. Her mouth was at his ear. Her breasts pressed into him. Her cunt swallowed him, squeezed him, drowned him. She sat up to willfully ride him. Yippie-ki-yay!

More gasps and moans and flesh-slapping sounds from around the room. A quiet electric fan circulated thick, sweat- and pheromone-loaded air in the small space. Girls hyperventilated and vocalized with more small orgasms. And then another finger-snap, and another swap of fuckmates.

"I'm back again, uncle. And don't worry, we're not doing our dads. Probably. That is just too kinky. Probably. But you'll get both your nieces over and over till one of us can drag a big climax out of you. We'll just take turns till you get there. Hang on and enjoy the ride."

This body banged atop him, and banged and banged, and squealed. Then 'pop' -- off came that pussy, and on came another one. More bouncing and squealing and changing. Did one body feel different than the first two? Was his dick inside his daughter now? He had no way of knowing -- and no, he did not really

want

to know. He resigned himself to enjoying the pervy, frustrating experience.

Enough was enough. A body bounced especially nicely on him. Fingers tweaked his nipples. He exploded like a fountain of fire into whichever girl rode him. This pushed her over the top, too -- she leaned forward to kiss him, to crush her young breasts into him, to smother her scream into his shoulder (avoiding bite marks), to collapse on him.

What he heard told him his brothers, and their riders, were achieving release at about the same time.

"Oooh, uncle, that was just so damn hot!" his secret niece muttered. "I'm so glad it was ME who got you. You really are my favorite," she giggled, "and you'll never know who or why. Just know that we all love you."

The girls stayed on their uncles until drained dicks fell from cum-filled cunts. Then they stood. Mouths moved in to clean up evidence. Cocks re-stiffened a bit, but the brothers, now all in their late thirties, did not have a chance for recovery, and the girls did not really have time for extended sessions.

"You guys are the best," voices whispered. "Now let's go back to the world."

A hand pushed on his belly. He grunted, and inhaled, just as an aerosol tip sprayed something up his nose. He blacked out.

He groggily awoke fully dressed in a lounge chair beside the back lot's horseshoe pit. His snoring brothers occupied adjacent lounges. A ballcap bill shaded his eyes from the fading sun.

The cap shifted on his head. Light poured in.

"Have a nice nap?" his wife asked. His sisters-in-law similarly attended his brothers. "I guess those burgers and beer really got to you. Come on, it is about time to shut down this show."

His eyes opened. His wife was topless. So were his brothers' wives, and their daughters, and all other women in view, even his mother. He blinked.

"What, you forgot it's National Nude Day? This is how we kick-off summer, now." She laughed. "We're a pretty conservative family, y'know, so only our wild-ass girls got all bare-ass naked, but the rest of us had fun, too. It's cooling off now and we're about ready to get dressed again. You sure missed a good one! C'mon, you men, up and at-em."

*****

"That was about the weirdest day I've had, except for a time... well, I won't go into that, it's got nothing to do with this, but I never expected those girls to do anything like that."

"Did your family notice anything? Like you and your brothers being gone awhile?"

The lean red-headed woman across the table was curious. The man continued.

"They thought we'd wandered off after too much food and beer and passed out in the lounges. It's happened before, but usually not with all of us. If anyone saw daughters leading daddies to and from the lounge chairs, nobody mentioned it. Just a normal Sunday -- except for the topless gals."

He grinned. "Probably lots of-em were distracted from minor details."

Their server returned. The drinks were refreshed -- yet more Triple Sec confections. The rangy redhead eyed her companions and took a deep sip before speaking.

"I really shouldn't drink this stuff. Well, the Curaçao by itself isn't bad, but... with the rum in it... I react badly with rum. I get kinda crazy, go into a zone. Especially if I'm thinking about... about what I had that's gone now."

She took another sip and shook her head.

"I don't mope anymore, at least I try not to, but it's a habit, been there so long, and... and I'm still trying to put myself back together. I don't know how good I'm doing. Not the greatest, I guess, but... would I be better if I hadn't spent that night with my boys? I don't know -- what if, what if?"

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My Three Sons

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I was more than moping, I know. I was fucking flat-out miserable. All those years since Karlo died, on this very day, this very fucking miserable day, the worst day of the year. The day I could not forget. The bad karma day.

It did not start bad at all. We drove from Santa Rosa for a long summer holiday weekend at Lake Tahoe, way up in the Sierras. Water-skiing was great till I pulled muscles in my leg. Karlo kissed me, told me to "get ready for tomorrow, Mama!" and went off for another run.

Then, the terrible collision. And Karlo was gone.

The funeral was awful. Everything after that was awful. My boys were just kids and I had to raise them myself. They were pretty good kids but they were just boys. And I did not have time for men then.

Their boyhoods passed. One, two, three, each a year apart, each done with high school and off in the world on their own, to college or trade school.

There is an old joke. A man runs to his rabbi. "Oh learned rebbe, you must help me! I raised my son right, to study Torah, to learn to be a righteous man. Then I sent him out into the world, to learn the ways of the world, and he returned as a... a Christian! What am I to do, oh learned rebbe, what?"

"Funny you should mention that," the rabbi replied. "I, too, raised my son to be a righteous man. And I sent him into the world, to learn the ways of the world, and he became a Christian! Oy! Let us pray to the Lord and ask for His advice."

The man and the rabbi knelt in prayer. "Oh Lord, we are most miserable. Here we are. We raised our sons to be righteous, and then we sent them into the world, and they returned as Christians. What should we do, Lord? What CAN we do?"

"Funny you should mention that," came a mighty voice from on high.

You can laugh now.

So I sent my sons into the world, and they learned the ways of the world, to become whole men. But they learned not to bother with ridiculous religious stuff, which is like bed-wetting: it is warm and cozy but it stinks. My boys Tomás, Ramón, and Eduardo, started on firm paths, as good as I could do, and stayed good without excuses or dogmas. I am so proud of them.

Eduardo was the last to go, leaving me with a totally empty nest and no further exhausting commitments.

All through those bad years, I kept my strength up by running everywhere I could and always exerting myself. Now I had time and space to run even more. I tried joining a jogging club but damn, those jog-guys I met were only self-absorbed ass-hats, all arrogant about their lean, oh-so-studly physiques and great endurance. Some put moves on me by being 'helpful', by 'teaching' me how to run right, or 'advising' me on the best footwear -- which they might be trying to sell. Hah!

The women were almost as bad. Buff but boring. Yackety-chatter about trivia. Feh.

I looked good despite my years because I had no time to be lazy and grow fat and comfortable. Yes, my work: Overseeing is easy, but stacking crates on higher shelves sure keeps my upper body tight! I always ate and worked and lived as healthy as I could, for me, and for the boys.

But now they were all gone. Now I had time for a social life -- but all I found were loser guys, living on delusions of adequacy. Nobody at the shop had interested me, and those I met at clubs or tours or whatever all seemed so empty inside.

The summer holidays came again. The anniversaries of death and burial. Fuck that. I just wanted to get drunk.

SURPRISE!

I sure was surprised! All my boys back home, back from the lives they had been building! Sure, we emailed, and talked on the phone, remote stuff, but we did not see each other much. Travel was expensive, and I still had my job, and they had theirs, and we just never got around to anything close, to being together again.

And then they were all here! Just the boys; they left their brooding home lives for this long weekend. Sure, their girlfriends are okay, but they do not have much meaningful to say, either.

It is hard to talk to unharried women. Anybody without scars is immature and dull.

But here were happy-go-lucky but studious Tomás; and the deadly-serious wisecracker Ramón, so much like his father; and cute little Eduardo and his inventive fantasies. All like little pieces of Karlo. And all right here! Here at my front door that bright morning! With kisses and flowers and more kisses! And plans for the day at least.

Today! Playtime in Summerfield Park, them pushing me on swings and the old merry-go-round, and us bouncing on teeter-totters! And eating dirty hot dogs and evil giant pretzels without guilt, and raspberry snow cones! Then a more somber time, yes, to the Montecito cemetery that afternoon; yes, to put a flower on Karlo's grave, and stand quietly, and remember.

But then to the koi gardens. And next door to a wine garden.

I think that is where it started.

"What are you doing now, Mama?" Eduardo asked.

Nothing special. The usual. Work, run, sleep.

"Are you seeing anyone,, Mama?" Ramón asked.

Nobody here has anything for me. Nobody interests me.

"How long can you stay like this, Mama?" Tomás asked.

I had no good answer.

I must have shown it, let it out that my life was a runaround. I had nothing to look forward to but years and years of more years and more years. Maybe they would send grandkids my way someday. That should put a sparkle in my eye! Unless they're all lazy monsters. Which could happen, what with how young mothers practice childrearing now.