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Subject: Title story: "A YOUNGEST SON'S STORY" Author: Incest Son 60907144
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Thu, 01 Dec 2005 03:04:28 +0000
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/
"A YOUNGEST SON'S STORY" A true recollection by Jack Barton. THIS IS MY STORY,
and I promise you that it's absolutely true. My reason for telling it is twofold
firstly just to get it out of my system after all these years and secondly, I
wonder if I am twisted by nature or by the events of my life. I am the youngest
of four children, two sisters and a brother. My father was a kind and loving
man, a baker by trade, on permanent night work, but mother was a different
story. She used to get drunk and beat us mercilessly, the girls getting it worse
than the boys I recall. Because of the size of the house we lived in I had to
sleep with my sister June who is 5 years older than me. This situation didn't
last for many years because my elder sister, May, got married and moved abroad
and June got a bedroom of her own, but I remember the childish experimentation
on my sister's part, though nothing much to tell. The maternal beatings
continued and I remember June running away from home a couple of times to get
away from the violence. For some reason mother beat me noticeably less than the
others, but I certainly didn't get away with it. The last time that June ran
away was when she was sixteen, and she didn't get in touch with us for about a
year, by which time she was living with a man in his forties, thirty years her
senior. He was an unsavoury character, but at least he was good to her. He was a
long distance lorry driver and occasionally had to stay away overnight. It was
at these times that I stayed with her to keep her company. This is the time we
are speaking about. Barry was away on an overnight trip and as usual I was
stopping over to keep June company. She was having a bath and I was in the front
room watching the television. After her bath she came into the room, naked and
carrying a towel. My mouth turned to cotton wool and I could actually feel the
blood pounding through my veins as she stood in front of me. June had a good
figure and I couldn't take my eyes off her nakedness. She had a smile playing on
her lips and I just knew that tonight was going to be like no other night in my
life. "Dry me please," she asked, offering me the towel. She stood as still as a
statue while I patted her dry, all the time my mind racing with the thoughts of
what is going to happen next. I had a sort of distant guiltiness, but at the
same time I couldn't stop the inevitability of the situation and by now I wanted
it so badly that I just couldn't have stopped myself if I had wanted to, and I
didn't want to do anything that would jeopardise what I knew was going to happen
next. As I patted her breasts dry I tried my hardest not to seem overkeen and
spoil everything, but I couldn't help but linger on my first touch of a woman's
breasts, even if they were my sister's. She then took the towel from me, threw
it onto the back of a chair and held my hands in hers. She pulled me to her and
gave me a kiss that I can remember to this day. My first real kiss and my head
was spinning with a mixture of lust, expectation and downright horniness, but by
now there was no turning back. It was a juicy, wet kiss and her tongue explored
my mouth, slowly rolling and mingling with my tongue, until I thought I'd
explode. She put her hand behind my head and whispered in my ear, "come on, get
undressed, I've got something to teach you". Even the feel of her hand behind my
head and the warmth of her breath in my ear were the sexiest things I'd ever
felt. I stripped naked in a trice and she held me close to her. The feel of her
body next to mine was incredible and I didn't ever want it to stop. The softness
and heat of her body had my head spinning. She lowered herself to the floor and
pulled me down next to her on the carpet. She took my hand and placed it on her
vagina, directing my finger to her clitoris. "Now just rub me there gently for a
minute, until I get moist and then you can put this in". She had a firm hold of
my prick and I was almost on the verge of coming there and then. After a second
or two she pulled me effortlessly onto her and inserted my hardness smoothly
into her waiting vagina. I began pumping and after about the third thrust my
body became as stiff as a poker as I shook long and hard in the throes of my
first ejaculation inside a woman. "Sh, sh," she whispered, "don't move, stay
there a minute," and she held me very, very tightly until after a moment she
shuddered and with a sigh she kissed me lightly on the lips, a strange,
satisfied smile on her face. Of course I didn't realise it at the time just how
incredibly prematurely I'd ejaculated, but I was to improve my performance a few
times later that night! We lay on the floor, kissing and stroking for a few
minutes and then she started fondling my prick. It became poker stiff again
almost instantaneously, (the power of youth, eh), and this time she rolled over
and straddled me, her hands on my chest, taking her weight while she guided my
prick deep inside her luscious body. It was like sliding my prick into warm
liquid velvet. "Lie back," she purred, "let me do the work". She slowly began
rocking back and forth on top of me, her breasts swaying tantalisingly in front
of my eyes. I reached out and fondled them, rubbing my palms across her rock
hard nipples. June was in charge of the rhythm now and set a steady cadence. A
couple of times I thrust my pelvis up at her but each time she calmed me down.
"Easy John, easy," she cooed, taking charge of the proceedings, "there's no
rush, let me do the work." I couldn't believe the pleasures that ran through my
young body. I didn't ever want it to stop but I also wanted to ejaculate so
badly. I was much more in control of myself this time but I don't think that
anyone could last for long under such stimulation. I suddenly reached the point
of no return and it was like the sweetest torture imaginable. I know that in
films everyone shouts out when they climax but I promise you that I couldn't
keep quiet! I Oohed and Aahed, moaned, writhed and bucked like the wildest
bronco until I held my sister so hard I'm surprised I didn't break her ribs.
June fell on top of me and we hugged each other tightly, exhausted, and we both
began laughing gently together. We sat together on the floor, naked, watching
television for some time, sometimes kissing, sometimes stroking, holding,
fondling, but all the time engaged in a loving embrace. We fell into each
other's arms again later that night and once again made the most beautiful love,
long into the night. Our lovemaking went on for years after that fateful night
and we became accomplished lovers, but one or two things perplex me still, even
after all these years. Firstly we never made love in her bed although we often
commenced our foreplay there, we always moved into another room for the actual
act. Secondly we never engaged in oral sex of any form although we were quite
experimental in every other department and often spent ages kissing each other's
bodies, licking and sucking, but never oral sex. Finally, and perhaps the most
upsetting, what I thought was going to be the pattern for the rest of my life
came to an abrupt end. The day I got my first steady girlfriend was the last
time we ever indulged ourselves or even spoke about it, but it was great while
it lasted and I still miss it terribly, she was the first and the best.
Unfortunately, June died in her twenty-second year due to a drug addiction.
It was when I was about fifteen or sixteen that I started going out with girls
on a regular basis. Unfortunately that's all I did, take them out! This was in
the sixties when everyone was into free love and at it like knives, or so I
thought. Truth to tell, nobody was actually getting it, but they all claimed
they were. I returned home on this particular night after an evening of trying
it on with the girl of the moment. You know, petty fumbling, stroking her breast
outside the bra, getting my hand slapped, "I'm not that sort of girl," type of
thing. When I entered the front room, I could tell immediately that mother was
both drunk and in one of her nasty moods. Short and stocky, a powerfully built
woman with short grey hair, she was well endowed with a large matronly bosom.
She sat in her chair in her pyjamas and as I entered the room she started
moaning about the time that I'd returned home. She raised herself from the chair
and started hitting me, screaming and shouting for no good reason that I could
see but this time it was different. She was swinging her arms like a windmill
and I found it easy to dodge or parry the blows. She couldn't hurt me! Anymore!
For the first time, I was in charge. The harder she fought, the easier I found
it to avoid the flailing arms and gradually I began to find it amusing. Like
most bullies, confrontation deflates their bravado and when I grabbed mum's
wrists and held her immobile, she quickly realised that she had lost it and
began to lose her venom. I quickly threw her arms around my neck and pulled her
close to me. I wrapped my arms around her back and blew a raspberry, (Bronx
Cheer), into her neck. We then slid to the floor, mother now laughing and
wriggling with me still blowing. I was on top of her, lying between her legs. I
still held her wrists to her side and now I slid down and started blowing
raspberries into her navel. My chest was now rubbing her mound and I let go of
her wrists, preferring to tickle her sides. As she squirmed beneath me I rubbed
my chest into her groin and her soft breasts plopped into my hand, first one and
then another as she rolled from side to side. It was about this time that I
realised I was getting aroused, and I thought perhaps she was too. The tickling
had now stopped and I cautiously cupped her breasts and slid up her body until
our groins were grinding together in slow circular motions. I took my weight on
my left arm and tweaked her nipple between my finger and thumb, our faces inches
apart, I pressed my lips to hers. Mother opened her mouth slightly and ran her
tongue along my lips. My Prick was as hard as it had ever been and I continued
to dry fuck her. She kissed me lightly again and said, "that's it son, it's time
for bed." She rolled from under me made her way upstairs. I sat for a moment,
slightly bewildered, slightly angry and completely horny. I took myself to my
room and immediately wanked myself silly. As soon as I finished I felt ashamed
of myself, wanking over your own mother but it would have been nice, wouldn't
it? Now it was not for a couple of years later that it suddenly dawned on me.
When she said it was time for bed, did she come to her senses and call a halt to
things before they got completely out of hand, or did she mean me to join her in
her bed:? Oh shit!
That leaves one female member of the family, May, that I haven't hit on:yet.
I'm now 50 years old and May is 65, and it is this part of the story that
reminded of the can of worms that is my family life. She emigrated to Canada
when I was five years old and I've not seen much of her in all these years. Her
husband died after a long illness and she decided to make one of her infrequent
visits home last year. During her stay, in the second week, we all ended up
reminiscing and the alcohol flowed freely and we all ended up silly pissed. Now
everyone drifted off to bed, extremely the worse for wear I might add, and we
settled down for the night. About a quarter of an hour after retiring there was
a loud bump, May had fallen out of bed. "Your sister, you sort her out," was my
wife's solution. I went into May's room and found her trying to climb back into
bed, picked her up and put her back and pulled the duvet over her. That was all
that was required of me but no, I had to sit on the edge of the bed and ask for
a goodnight kiss. We were both drunk, I know, but that kiss was 100% sexual.
Our tongues played with each other with plenty of deep breathing and panting
etc. My hand immediately locked onto her breast beneath her top and her hand
went straight to my prick and began wanking furiously. So there I was, about to
jump into bed with my elder sister with my wife in the next room waiting for
me. Reason prevailed and I managed to pull myself away and return to my own
bed, but again, I know that I could have done it with another of my female
relatives. The opportunity didn't arise again on that holiday, but she's coming
over again this year and I am determined that we'll get it on this time, I'm
not going to keep missing opportunities like that. I'll now repeat my initial
question, am I the victim, the abused or the abuser. Given the circumstances of
these three encounters, what would anyone else have done? Perhaps I am sick,
please let me know.
End
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