Wiced Submission: the Collection

Hey readers, thanks for stopping by. In my writing, sometimes I like to dive headfirst into a scene, with no preamble, no backstory, nothing. This is a small collection of said scenes. I'll give a list of tags before each scene so you can skip it if you think it'll be triggering/unenjoyable for you.

This is the third in this series, and for the theme I've decided to dive headfirst into the taboo with incest! This time there's only three shorts, but I've expanded on each to make them a little more descriptive and exciting.

Like always, if any of these stories particularly piques your interest, please let me know in the comments. I may build it into a full story.

***

The cabin retreat:

Uncle, Cousin, daddy daughter, incest,

***

Snowflakes were falling like a blanket of white outside the cabin window. Inside, we had firelight, whiskey, and a growing sense that we were probably gonna get snowed in for days. No signal. No roads. Just three people, a lot of liquor, and way too many unresolved issues.

"Uno?" my cousin Jess offered, sprawled across the bearskin rug like the absolute menace she was. Tank top, boyshorts, and the kind of lazy confidence that made it obvious she knew exactly how much skin she was showing.

I eyed her. "Is that code for something? 'Cause I remember the last time we played Uno and it somehow ended with you flashing a ski instructor."

She shrugged, unbothered. "Not my fault your face says 'easy target' and your thighs say 'open for business.'"

"JESUS." I clutched the whiskey glass like it could protect me. A normal person might've been dumbfounded, but this was just Jess. She had no filter, no shame, and the kind of sex drive that could start wars.

She wiggled her eyebrows. "I'm just sayin'. It's a shame to waste a weekend stuck inside with nothing but cards and you pretending to be a prude."

"I'm not a prude," I muttered.

She leaned in, conspiratorial. "Okay then, answer me this: you ever notice how fucking hot your dad is?"

I choked on my drink. "What the fuck, Jess."

"I'm serious," she said, all wide eyes and mock innocence. "Like, objectively. That man is carved. He looks like he chops wood shirtless for fun and eats danger for breakfast."

"He's my dad!"

"Well that doesn't make what I said not true!"

"That is still not a normal thing to say!"

She just smiled. "Come on. You've never thought about it? Not even a little? You telling me you've seen that man with a beard, in a flannel, and those arms and didn't get even a little curious?"

I paused. Just a beat. Just enough to say too much.

Jess grinned. "Knew it."

Before I could deny it again--because, like, that would have been the smart thing--my dad walked into the room.

Shirtless.

Towel slung low.

Fresh from the shower, smelling like soap and trees.

Jess whistled low under her breath. "Speak of the lumberjack."

I turned into a statue. A blushing, panicking, hormone-overloaded statue.

"Y'all playing cards or gossiping?" he asked, voice deep and gravelly with that slow southern drawl that could melt better women than me.

Jess recovered instantly. "Bit of both."

He nodded, towel still slung criminally low. "Cool. I'll grab a beer."

And just like that, he strolled back out of the room, unaware he'd detonated two pairs of panties without even trying.

I turned to Jess, eyes wide. "That feels illegal."

"Only for you," she said, sing-song. "He's only my uncle."

"Jess--"

She cut me off with a look. One of those wild, gleeful, chaotic looks that meant she was already planning something unhinged.

"I bet I could get him to fuck me," she said, casual as anything.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I bet you I could get him hard in under five minutes. Give me a shot, and he'll be begging to bury that cock between my thighs before the fire burns out."

"That is the grossest thing you've ever said."

She just smirked. "You don't believe me?"

"No, I do. That's the problem. I know you. You'd blow a guy for a dare."

"This isn't a dare," she said, stretching slowly, deliberately, like a cat in heat. "This is science. Observation. Hypothesis. Testing."

"Jess--"

"And here's the fun part," she continued, crawling across the rug like a predator. "If I win? You have to join in."

I stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

"If I win, you're in," she repeated, grinning like a devil. "You let me seduce him, and if he bites, you don't get to run off with your moral high horse. You play along. You help. You join."

"That's not how bets work!"

"It is now," she said sweetly.

Dad walked back in, this time in gray sweatpants that should've been illegal. They clung to him like they were custom-made for ovulating women, hanging low enough on his hips that I could see the shadow of his abs, and a very noticeable outline beneath the waistband that made my knees consider giving up entirely.

Jess sat up straighter, smoothing her hands over her thighs like she was about to present herself for judging.

"Cold in here?" Dad asked, glancing toward the fire--but his eyes flicked over Jess first, then briefly--too briefly--landed on me.

I sat up straighter, trying to look normal. Chill. Not like I was seconds from combusting.

"Nope," Jess purred before I could answer. "But it's about to get real warm."

Dad quirked an eyebrow.

Jess tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lip with a coyness that, on her, looked lethal. "You always walk around dripping wet and half-naked, or is that just a special treat for us?"

"Didn't think anyone would mind," he said, voice gravel-dark. But there was a spark in his eye now--amused, maybe even curious.

Jess leaned forward, chin in her hand, legs still sprawled like she'd invented the word inviting. "Oh, I don't mind. I'm just wondering if it's the whiskey or the company that's got you looking that relaxed."

Dad let his gaze travel slowly, deliberately, over her body. "Probably both."

I stared into my glass like it might save me. My face was hot. My thighs were hotter.

And yet I couldn't stop watching.

Jess tilted her head. "So if I told you I've been thinking about you since the minute we got here, would that make you uncomfortable?"

He gave a low chuckle. "Depends on what you've been thinking."

She smiled like a shark. "How hard you'd grip my hips if I climbed on your lap right now."

I forgot how to breathe.

Dad didn't say anything for a beat. His jaw flexed. His eyes dragged over her like he was picturing it. Exactly that.

Jess just waited. She didn't rush it. She didn't back down.

And me? I felt like I was watching something I wasn't supposed to see. Heart pounding. Mouth dry. Heat pooling between my legs and spreading fast. This was not the way this weekend was supposed to go. But damn if I wasn't completely hypnotized by the way Dad was looking at her now--eyes darker, smirk gone.

Jess licked her lips. "You want me to say please?"

Dad stepped forward. Not much. Just a little. Just enough to make the air shift and the tension spike so hard it hurt.

Jess leaned back on her elbows, stretching like a cat, and my gaze flicked automatically to the place between her thighs. Still bare. Still so fucking hot. I snapped my eyes away like they'd been burned.

Dad's jaw was tight. He was clearly doing some internal calculus.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered.

Jess smiled sweetly. "You're not saying no."

"I should," he replied, but he was already moving closer.

She shrugged. "Then say it."

He didn't.

My heart was in my throat.

"Jess..." Dad's voice dropped low, rough and warning. "You're my niece. Fucking hell, my daughter is right there. This is insane."

Jess glanced at me, all wicked grin and zero shame. "Yeah. And?"

Dad gave her a look, like, are you serious right now?

"Sarah doesn't care," Jess said, waving dismissively in my direction. "Do you, babe?"

My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"I mean, I..." My voice cracked like a teen boy's. "I don't-- know?"

Jess rolled her eyes and crawled toward me--on all fours, tits jiggling in her tank top. "Sweetheart, I know just how much you want to fuck your dad's sexy cock,"

She cupped my chin in one hand and tilted my face toward hers. "Ever since your mom ran away, I know you've wished you could take her place."

My eyes widened and my heart rate increased to a frightening level. My cheeks burned like they were on fire. She wasn't wrong.

Dad watched the two of us, lips pressed tight, expression unreadable--but the tent in those sweatpants? Loud and clear.

Jess stood, turning her back to us for a beat, then peeled off her tank top and tossed it into the fire like she was offering it to the gods.

I nearly died.

Dad's breath caught, and I could see his restraint crumbling like a sandcastle under a wave.

"Still think it's a bad idea?" Jess asked, walking toward him slowly.

"I know it is," he muttered. "This is fucking crazy. Terrible idea."

But the tent in his pants only continued to grow. He had two gorgeous nineteen year old girls drooling over him. What man would turn that down? It didn't matter that one was his niece and the other was his daughter.

Jess smirked and placed his hand right on her hip, skin to skin. "Oh shut-up, I know you want to."

His gaze flicked to mine briefly before returning to Jess. His mouth turned into a scowl. An I'm-going-to-hell-for-this scowl.

And then their mouths collided like magnets. Desperate. Rough. Like they'd already been edging toward this for days. Jess made a sound--low and filthy--and climbed right up into his lap like she owned him.

And me?

I sat frozen on the couch, brain melting into syrup.

Dad's hands were everywhere--her thighs, her waist, palming her ass like he needed to memorize the shape. Jess moaned into his mouth and rolled her hips down against him, and his breath hissed out sharp and needy.

"Shit," he muttered, grinding up into her. "You're trouble."

Jess leaned back just enough to smirk at him. Then--like it was the most casual thing in the world--she looked over her shoulder at me.

"You're really just gonna sit there?"

My mouth went dry. "I--uh--what?"

Dad stiffened. "Jess..."

"Oh relax," she said, still grinding on his lap. "She's into it."

I was absolutely into it.

"She's my--"

"It's okay," I blurted out. "I can decide what I want."

Jess's eyes glittered. "And what do you want?"

Dean's gaze locked on mine. That same unreadable stare. But there was heat under it. Curiosity. Hunger.

And God help me, I wanted to be devoured.

My wish was answered. For hours. Non Stop.

***

Now, the air smelled like woodsmoke and joy.

Also sex. Mostly sex.

I couldn't remember how many times I'd come. Somewhere between "lost track" and "dehydrated," I was sure. My thighs felt like jelly, my brain was like microwaved frosting, and I was currently pinned beneath my cousin's hand while my dad--

God, it felt so wrong to say that--was doing things to me that would get him burned at the stake in at least thirty-seven states.

And I loved it.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, breath hot against my ear as he drove into me again, and oh god, that voice. That voice had been with me since I was born.

"You're takin' it so good now, aren't you?" he murmured, grabbing my hip with one of those big, rough hands that he used to cradle me with. "So tight, so sweet. Like you were built for me."

"Oh my god," I choked, because what the hell else do you say when your daddy has you folded like a cheap napkin and his cock is hitting your cervix like it owes him money?

"Say it," he rasped. "Say you love your father's cock."

"Jesus Christ," I whimpered. "Daddy, I--fuck--I love your cock, okay? It's like, five stars. Would ride again. Probably addicted now."

My cousin laughed from beside me--because yes, she was still watching. Correction: she was watching and fingering herself, like this was a goddamn premium cam site and I was the headliner.

"You're such a little slut now," she purred, licking her fingers, eyes shining. "Told you he'd ruin you."

"You didn't tell me it'd be this good!" I hissed, as dad slammed into me again and I saw stars. Literal constellations. Orion's Belt just bitch-slapped my g-spot.

He leaned down, kissed the back of my neck, and whispered, "You want her to join us again, sweet thing?"

I should've hesitated. I really should've. But my brain was basically a pornhub comment section right now.

"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, yes, god, please--let her ride my face or something, I don't care, just don't stop fucking me."

Dad chuckled low in his throat, the kind of sound that should come with a warning label. "You heard her, sweetheart," he said to my cousin. "Why don't you give her a taste?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she smirked.

And then she was on me, thighs warm and slick as she straddled my face, and holy hell, I barely had time to catch a breath before her sweetness was smothering me and her fingers were tugging my hair like reins.

Between her grind and dad's thrusts, I was just a human flesh toy--soggy with spit, slick with sweat, reduced to moans and gurgles and frantic tongue movements like I was trying to win the horniest spelling bee of all time.

Dad's rhythm got rougher--like savage, primal, I'm-gonna-break-you pace--and I screamed into my cousin's cunt as my orgasm detonated like a grenade made of glitter and sin.

"You gonna cum for me again?" he groaned, fingers digging bruises into my hips.

"Y-yes!" I cried, muffled and drowning in girl juice. "Fuck, please, don't stop--"

"I'm gonna fill this sweet little pussy," he growled, voice all grit and danger. "You want that? You want your father's cum dripping outta your cunt for days?"

I nearly sobbed. "Yes, god yes--breed me like the filthy little family whore I am!"

He snapped.

I felt him explode inside me with a grunt that shook my bones. His grip bruised. His hips stuttered. And still, still, my cousin was riding my mouth like it was the last vibrator on earth, until she came with a squeal that sounded like she was being murdered by pleasure.

We collapsed in a tangled heap of limbs and sweat.

Silence. Only the crackle of the fire and our ragged, post-orgasm breathing.

And then I mumbled, dazedly, "So... family game night's cancelled, right?"

***

The birthday present:

Brother and sister, incest, virgin,

***

I should be panicking.

I mean, there's an entire folder of her on my hard drive now. Big and bold, capitalized title, sitting smack dab in the middle of my desktop. And the stuff inside? It's not accidental. She wanted me to find it. She made sure.

There's a video--her, on my bed, naked, fingers working like she's playing the moonlight sonata. And she moans my name. Full-throated, breathy, filthy my name.

So no. I'm not panicking.

I'm rock hard.

And she's in my doorway now. Bare thighs, wet lips, that shirt hanging just below the curve of her ass. It's my shirt. She knows it's my favorite. She smells like my shampoo.

"Happy 18th," she purrs, and something flips in my chest. Like lust punched love in the face and said, my turn.

"You got me a cake?" I ask, trying to stall, trying to breathe, trying anything to not do something stupid.

She bites her lip. "No candles. Just one thing to blow."

Fuck. Me.

My brain short-circuits. I think I laugh. It comes out strangled. She takes a step forward, then another. The door closes behind her with the softest click, and now it's just us. My room. My rules. Except apparently she's been using it too.

Her fingers trace my desk. That's where she left the USB drive. Like it was homework. Like this was some kind of assignment.

"You watched them all?" she asks.

"All of them?" I choke. "There's more than what I saw?"

She nods, and I swear her nipples perk up through the fabric. "There's one where I wear your hoodie and rub myself and cum into your sock."

My cock is already throbbing, painfully, traitorously eager. She notices. Of course she does. Her eyes drop and linger, her mouth twitching into a grin that's equal parts devil and goddess.

"Wanna know what I wished for?" she asks, stepping between my legs, climbing into my lap like it's hers by birthright.

"I--" I swallow. "If it's 'a family therapist,' I'm all ears."

She laughs, then leans in, nose brushing mine. "I wished you'd lose your mind over me. That you'd get addicted. That you'd fuck me so hard, you'd forget I'm your sister."

Jesus Christ.

Her hand slips down, curls around me like she already knows the exact rhythm I like. And then her lips are on mine--hot, messy, desperate. She tastes like heat. She tastes like yes.

Her hips grind into me, slick and eager, and the moment her clit drags against my cock through my boxers, she gasps in my mouth like she didn't expect it to feel that good.

"You've been thinking about this for how long?" I pant, gripping her ass like it's a lifeline.

"Since prom," she moans, rolling her hips again. "You looked too good in that tux. I wanted to sit on your face in the photo booth."

"Oh my God," I groan. "You're fucking insane."

"And you're hard for your sister," she purrs.

Touché.

I yank my shirt off her like it owes me money. Her tits bounce free, perky and flushed, nipples already begging for attention. I suck one into my mouth and she whimpers, clutching my hair, grinding against me like we've done this a thousand times.

She drags my boxers down and my cock springs up, smacking against her inner thigh. Her eyes go wide--like she forgot how real this was about to get. I grip her hips, angle her down, and feel her soaked folds parting over my swollen enraged tip, slick and ready and wrong in all the right ways.

"You sure about this?" I manage to gasp. Because I'm a gentleman. A trembling, feverish, horny gentleman.

She leans down, lips against my ear.

"I wanna be your favorite video."

And then she sinks down onto me, inch by inch, impossibly tight, impossibly wet, and my whole fucking soul leaves my body. She's my sister goddamnit!

My sister.

My fantasy.

My birthday present.

Fuck, if it's not the present I've ever been given.

She's so tight, I can't even think straight. Like my brain's buffering, spinning wheels, waiting for the loading bar to catch up while my body is already in meltdown mode.

She's riding and she knows what she's doing. Like she's trained for this.

Her hips roll slow and deep, grinding with this precise little tilt that brushes her clit against my pubic bone every time she drops down. She gasps on each thrust, these needy little whimpers that hit me harder than any porn ever has.

"Fuck, you're big," she whispers, forehead pressed to mine, sweat-slick and wild-eyed. "Why the fuck are you this big? That's so unfair."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I groan, driving my hips up to meet her. "Would you prefer I shrink?"

Her nails dig into my shoulders. "Don't you fucking dare."

I laugh--because I'm delirious--and grip her ass hard enough to leave fingerprints.

She pants, grinding harder now, her body starting to shake.

Then she leans back, plants her hands on my chest, and starts bouncing--wild, hungry, no trace of hesitation left. Tits bouncing. Thighs trembling.

I'm gonna lose it. I'm gonna snap.

"Fuck, sis--" The word slips out, unfiltered, and her eyes light up like a struck match.

Oh no. That did something.

"Say it again," she moans.

"Sis..."

Her walls clench around me so hard I nearly black out. "You like being my dirty little birthday present?" I pant, gripping her hips, slamming her down harder, faster.

"Yes--yes, I'm yours--I'm fucking yours, I want you to fill me, ruin me--"

And that's it. I'm feral.

I flip her over, pinning her to the bed with her legs splayed and her hair a total mess across my pillows--my real pillows, the ones she's been secretly moaning into for months.