Unique & Complicated

FOREWORD: READ THIS FIRST!

Well, my wife has challenged me to write something a bit more "taboo" and outside my usual comfort zone, so this is what I've come up with. Since I don't have any female family members that I find attractive, and I have always been attracted to black women, I've decided to write what I know... sort of. But seriously, I love black women in general and my wife in particular. So, I've decided to go with an interracial "blended" family idea for my first (and possibly only) foray into the Incest/Taboo Category. I've also never written a "harem" tale before, but I did have fantasies about it when I was a teenager. I mean really, what guy hasn't? Anyway, trying something a bit different is good, every now and then.

This tale has a LOT of sex in it after a little buildup. I've decided to combine my love of Ebony Beauties with my penchant for older women. Even my wife is a couple of months older than I am. lol

FAIR WARNING:

While part of this tale has a very loose basis in reality, based upon something I saw on the News some years back, this tale itself is purely a work of

FICTION

.

That means it's

NOT REAL

, for the "super-realists" out there. It contains romantic interethnic incest between an 19 year old white man and his sexy ebony female family members. If that offends you, do yourself (and everyone else) a favor and move along to something that you won't find so offensive.

All characters engaged in sexual antics are at least 18 years of age.

Oh, and this is going to be a very long one, folks. I mean

VERY LONG

, too. We're talking longer than any of my other standalone tales and even a few of my novels. I thought about splitting it up into separate chapters, but then I decided against it. Instead, I put chapter sections in the tale itself, to help separate the different parts for anyone who doesn't have time to read it all at once.

You've been warned

.

Any complaints due to the content of this tale are now officially NMP

[Not My Problem]

as usual.

One last thing. I promise. I really mean it this time! Swear to God! It is kind of important for setting, though. This tale takes place in my own literary universe. There isn't any supernatural stuff in this one though, for those of you familiar with my work. Same universe as my

Equalizer

tales, as well as several others on this site. It's still basically our Earth. However, it's just a teeny tiny bit different.

So, without further ado, please enjoy the ride! :)

I.D.

__________________________________________

Main Cast of Characters

Colin "Cole" Calhoun: 19 years old. 6' tall. Light brown hair and blue eyes. High School Track star.

Alicia "Mom" Calhoun: 38 years old. 5'10" tall. Dark, rich mahogany skin, long straightened hair and dark brown eyes. Cole and Caity's loving and beautiful mother. Manager at Bank of America.

Jasmine "Aunt Jazz" Monroe: 38 years old. 5'9" tall. Dark chocolate skin, shorter loosely curled hair, long legs, and dark brown eyes. Cole and Caity's gorgeous aunt and Alicia's ex-sister-in-law. Website designer.

Caitlyn "Caity" Calhoun: 19 years old.5'7" tall. Milk chocolate skin, shoulder length straightened hair and deep brown eyes. Cole's sexy slightly older adopted sister and a Girls' Track star at their High School.

Prologue: A Smoldering Ember

I knew I was dreaming, as I looked up at the beautiful ebony princess riding my hard cock up and down. I reached up, and grabbed my sister's dark and perky B-Cup tits and felt her hard nipples digging into the palms of my hands.

I closed my eyes tightly as I felt her pussy clamp down on me, but when I opened them again, she wasn't there. She had been replaced by my Aunt Jazz, who was riding me even harder than my sister had! I squeezed Jazz's somewhat larger breasts with the sexy sag to them and leaned up to suck one hard Hershey's kiss nipple into my mouth. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of suckling her.

When I opened my eyes again, it was Mom riding me slowly, as I filled my hands with her D-cup titties. She whispered things I couldn't quite understand as her pussy contracted around my cock. I could tell by her face that she was enjoying the ride on my big thick dick, but what almost overwhelmed me was that I thought

this is the pussy I came out of when I was born!

I know, I didn't say what cup size Aunt Jazz is. That's because I've never seen her wear a bra, much less put one in the laundry. If I had to guess, I'd say she's either a high C-cup or a low D-cup. All I know is that Mom's tits are slightly larger, and her bra says Cup Size D.

The spell was broken as Mom's voice got a lot louder in a hurry, and I could clearly make out what she was yelling.

"Cole! Caity! Breakfast is ready, sweeties!" she shouted, which woke me up in a hurry.

I sat up in bed quickly, wide awake and hornier than a 20 point buck!

"Ok, Mom!" I shouted back groggily. "Be right out!"

*****

By the way, I'm white. Mom, Aunt Jazz, and Caity, my sister, are all black. Yes, Mom gave birth to me eighteen years ago. Are you confused yet? Good! Just kidding. I'll explain everything shortly.

I guess you could say that this is a unique situation. Well, not unique because I have the hots for my mom, sister, and aunt. A lot of guys have the hots for some of their female family members. Hey, if she's hot, she's hot! Am I right? Ok, moving on.

No, I mean because I'm white and Mom is black, and

YES

, she's my Birth Mother. Ok, ok. I know. Now you're

really

confused. Ok, I promised to explain everything, so here goes. Deep breath, and... Go!

I never knew my biological mother. Not a big deal, right? Lots of kids out there don't know their biological mothers. Some are Prom babies, or the mother can't take care of them. They are put up for adoption, or left at a hospital, firehouse, or whatever, where they're sent to a hospital and

then

put into foster care or up for adoption.

My situation is much more unique and complicated than that, though. Just bear with me, here. It's a little hard to explain without confusing myself, even.

Ok, so my biological mother was Jennifer Calhoun, formerly Jennifer O'Brien. She married my father, Rob Calhoun when they were in College together. He wasted no time getting her pregnant once they were married. Nope, that kid wasn't me. She miscarried the baby that time, but they kept trying.

About three months later, she got pregnant again. Unfortunately, she miscarried that baby too. This time, the doctors did a full workup on her to figure out what was wrong. They found that while she had good eggs, her uterus was scarred from the first miscarriage, and the second miscarriage had exacerbated the issue. They also found that the wall lining, where the egg attaches itself after conception, was bad. She had some sort of illness when she was a child that caused the malformation of her uterus lining. At least, that's what they think happened. We'll never know for sure.

When Jennifer lost her baby for the second time, her best friend Alicia was there to help, after visiting her parents. They commiserated together, and Alicia told Jennifer not to give up hope.

By this time, Jennifer and Dad were desperate to have a child somehow, but she couldn't carry a baby to term. When she told Alicia this, her best friend volunteered to act as a surrogate mother for Jennifer and Dad.

They went to their OB/GYN, and she said that it was possible. They could do the conception in the lab with Dad's sperm and Jennifer's egg, and place the zygote inside Alicia. It seemed to be a win/win all around.

Ok, so, long story short, Alicia moved in with Dad and Jennifer. They went to the doctor, and everything checked out so there would be no problems with the pregnancy. The OB/GYN did what she had to do to implant the zygote (me this time!) into Alicia (Mom).

Dad worked two jobs while going to Flight School to support Jennifer, while Alicia worked her job and went to college up until her ninth month. Mom took maternity leave, and Jennifer called her parents in San Francisco to come down to L.A. for the birth. Dad managed to finish Flight School in Colorado and make it back in time, too.

Well, Jennifer went to LAX to pick up her mother and father, but they never made it back to the house. Dad was at his job that day, so he couldn't go with her. Alicia was due any day, though, so they decided to bring the grandparents down to stay with us and help out.

That went out the window when the tractor-trailer driven by a sleep-deprived trucker ran them off the 101. The only good news was that they didn't suffer, according to the investigators. They died instantly when Jennifer's car exploded.

Dad was heartbroken, as was Alicia. The shock from her best friend's death sent Alicia into early labor, and I came into the world kicking and screaming. That was when Alicia really became Mom.

She promised, as she held me in her arms, that she would love me as if I was her real son. As far as I knew though, she always thought of me as her real son anyway, and that was that. Dad named me for an ancestor who fought in a famous Union regiment during the Civil War. He gave me the name Colin Kieran Calhoun, but I always go by Cole.

Dad sued the shit out of the trucking company after I was born. They'd had complaints from drivers being forced to drive non-stop for 18 to 20 hours at a stretch. It all came out in court, since the driver of the 18-wheeler died in the crash too. He had amphetamines in his system, which the coroner found during the autopsy Tox Screen. When the suit went to trial, many of the truckers came forward to testify against the company. In short, Dad ended up with 2.5 million dollars, after all was said and done. I wouldn't find out about the actual settlement until a lot later, though.

For Mom and Dad, the grieving process included falling in love with each other. According to what they told me growing up, their grief over Jennifer's death hit them both extremely hard. Their child together (me again) kept them going, though. Dad, being the practical man that he was, asked Alicia to move in full-time, so that they could raise me together. He didn't want to be an absentee father, and Mom didn't want to give me up after her best friend died.

It wasn't very long before they fell in love. They ended up getting married a month after my first birthday. Dad found out that he couldn't father anymore children, though. Something about his swimmers not swimming anymore. One training flight, he'd had to eject, and his nuts got wracked pretty good, from what I heard later on. The trauma to his testicles made him sterile. That part kind of stung, but they adopted a baby girl who was only a week or so older than I was.

Now, Dad had been in Air Force ROTC in college, and then went to Flight School in Colorado Springs, CO to get his pilot's license. Then he came back to California and ended up in the Air National Guard there. Life went on, and we became a real blended family.

Dad flew F-15s during his time in the CANG, and I grew up to worship him! How many kids get to say that their father is a

fighter pilot

? For his day job, he became an investment banker. He kept in shape, and took his duties in the CANG very seriously. He was there every 2 weekends a month, and 2 weeks in the summer. Yeah, life was pretty sweet when I was a little kid!

But then 9/11 hit, and Dad went active duty. He wanted to fly in the War on Terror, and he got his wish. After a couple of years at Luke AFB for training on the new F-22 and flying training missions, he was deemed ready for combat. He flew for seven years, over Afghanistan and Iraq, before he took a direct hit from a SAM and didn't even have time to punch out before his F-22 exploded. Dad was killed instantly.

His older brother, Frank Calhoun, was already in the Army, serving in the Special Forces. While Dad was in training, he found out that Uncle Frank had been KIA. Two weeks after Uncle Frank died, his commanding officer, a Captain Drake, visited us. Caity and I were only 3 years old at the time, but the Captain made a lasting impression on us. He told Mom and Dad that Frank died a hero, helping to literally save the world from a terrorist threat. Caity said there was something different about the Captain. I agreed with her, but we couldn't quite put our fingers on what was so different about him. Mom and Dad appreciated the visit, though.

Dad was flying out of Bagram Airbase when he was shot down, but we were still living in Litchfield Park, close to Luke AFB. My sister, Caity, and I were 12 years old. I will always remember that Saturday in early June, though. Mom, Caity, and I were all swimming in our backyard pool, having a great time, when the phone started ringing.

Mom ran inside to get the phone, while Caity and I continued to splash each other and laugh. Then we heard the wail of grief from Mom, followed by the sound of her body hitting the kitchen floor.

We looked at each other with wide eyes, and then went inside without even drying off. Mom held the cordless phone in her hand, but she was curled up on the floor and crying softly.

"Mom?" Caity and I asked at the same time.

Mom looked up at us with tears streaming down her face. She got into a kneeling position and enfolded us in her loving embrace. Then, through her tears and sobs, gave us the bad news about Dad.

The dam burst on our tears too, and we all held onto each other for God knows how long. All I knew was that it was dark outside by the time we all regained our composure. It hurt, badly.

Mom, God always bless her, regained her composure first, and we did our best to get on with our lives. She knew she had to stay strong for us kids, so she did it. She had her job as a bank manager, so she threw herself into her work and being Mom to Caity and me.

The para-rescue airmen sent in to search for Dad found his charred corpse and burnt dog tags in the wreckage, but that was it. The funeral was a closed-casket service, but at least we got to say goodbye that way.

Mom seemed to be in a daze, for the two weeks between the news of Dad's death and the funeral service. The day of the funeral itself, she finally broke down and

really

cried.

Aunt Jasmine, or Jazz as she likes to be called, Mom's sister-in-law, drove us back to our house. She was there for the funeral, but her husband, Mom's brother Shawn, stayed back home in Ventura. He never liked the fact that Mom married Dad after Jennifer died, and he warned Aunt Jazz that if she went to the funeral, she might not have a marriage when she came home.

Aunt Jazz really lit into her husband, asking how he could turn his back on his own sister. He'd replied that she wasn't his sister anymore, since she married "that white boy." He told her that if she went to help us out, he was going to file for divorce. She told him "fuck you, asshole" and came to see us anyway.

Sure enough, my shithead "uncle" decided to follow through on his threat. He had Aunt Jazz served at our house, the day after the funeral service! Talk about adding insult to injury! He had the fuckin' process server come all the way to fuckin' Arizona to have her served! Who the fuck does that?!

Jazz opened the envelope and got mad. Mom got mad too, and told the woman who was more of a sibling to her than her own brother, to make the sack of shit pay!

Jazz did just that, and took him to the cleaners. She knew he'd had an affair, and used that to countersue his Irreconcilable Differences divorce with an Adultery Divorce, while naming his lover as co-respondent. Sure, California is a No-Fault state, but Adultery is still kind of a big deal. With proof, a judge with leeway might award more to the offended spouse. Jazz had been trying to reconcile with Shithead, but that was the last straw.

When the dust settled from her nasty divorce, Jazz moved in with us in Arizona. We welcomed her with open arms, of course. She's family, after all.

Shortly after Jazz moved in, I woke up one night to hear Mom crying in her bedroom. Caity had heard her too, and we went in and got into bed with her. We just held her, and she held us. We all fell back asleep, that way.

That went on for almost a year. Whenever Mom started crying at night, I'd wake up and go to her, holding her as she cried. Caity and/or Aunt Jazz would come in too, and we'd comfort Mom as much as possible.

Near the end of that first year after Dad died, was when I first discovered that I was irrevocably in love with all three of them! Fortunately for Mom, she finally got counseling for Dad's death. From then on, she slept with her door closed, though.

So unfortunately, there was no more mass cuddling to comfort Mom. I really missed that.

Life went on, but now I had more on my mind than I had, before. At 13, being in bed with two beautiful women and one pretty girl my own age, all dressed in either PJs or long night shirts, drove my hormones into overdrive. I felt like a heel for how I was feeling towards them.

It started off as lust at first, of course. Hormones, remember? I sure as fuck couldn't tell them how I felt, though! We were a FAMILY! Mom was Mom! She gave birth to me, for Christ's sake! Caitlyn Calhoun, Caity, was my sister! I knew she was adopted, but that didn't change my feelings. I already loved her as a sister. Then there was Aunt Jazz. She was my aunt, and I'd been raised to believe that you aren't supposed to fall in love with the women in your own family.

So, I did what I could to keep my feelings to myself. It was hard, in more ways than one. At least I found other outlets for my urges, one of which was videogames!

When I turned 18 in my Junior year, after being held back along with Caity during our Freshman year of High School due to a case of Mononucleosis, I'm kind of ashamed to say that I started... ahem... "Borrowing" their used panties. Videogames just weren't enough anymore!

Their scents never failed to make me hard, and my cum shots were even more powerful when I held Mom's, Aunt Jazz's, or Caity's panties to my nose. Mom thought it was cute that I volunteered for permanent laundry duty. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't think it was cute if she knew what I was doing with her unmentionables, though.

Also at the age of 18, I started dating. It's harder to find what you're looking for, if you're a different ethnicity. Very few black girls were willing to "cross the color barrier" at our school. I did end up dating one, though. Her name was Sherri, and she was fun to be with. We didn't have sex, but I found myself having real feelings for her. It wasn't just that she was black, but we clicked on quite a few levels. I wouldn't call those feelings "love," but I really,

really

liked her.

Then the curse of all military brats hit, and she had to leave for Great Britain. Her dad was Air Force, just like mine had been. She taught me how to kiss, and taught me other things, even though we didn't go all the way. We'd been close until she left.

Sooo, it was back to beating the meat, choking the chicken, spanking the monkey, milking the eel, making the bald man cry, or whatever you want to call it. Then the dreams started. It wasn't always the same one each time. Usually, it was just one of my female family members riding me, or sucking my dick. Sometimes, like the dream I had at the beginning here, it was all three of them! Those were the wet dreams that made me come the hardest! I'd have to clean up in the morning, every single time.