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From: garth.1.rahim@spamgourmet.com
Newsgroups: alt.support.incest,alt.sex.incest,alt.sex.stories.incest
Subject: Re: did bill or hillary ever seduce chelsea?
Date: Sun, 06 Jul 2003 12:23:37 -0700
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old story from ASS in which hillary bangs her daughter (not my work):
senator clinton signed another thank-you and wearily looked at the laptop.
it was a late night of thank-yous, and she wanted to talk to chelsea when her
daughter got back from a night of dancing in the clubs with her girlfriends.
with all the chores of being a senator, face time was hard to find.
a pair of headlights washed up over her bulletproof office window. chelsea
was back from manhattan; like a good daughter, she'd honored her promise to
come back before 1 so they could talk.
Chelsea strode in, vibrantly grinning, and Hillary noticed with a guilty thrill
that her outfit flattered her figure: a very tight, tan t-shirt worn thin
from many washings and a pair of indecently tight-crotched jeans which draped
over black, square-toed, knee-high boots. the worn t-shirt was so tight that
chelsea's pleasing nipples were defined against the fabric and circles of sweat
from the night's dancing had spread out under her arms.
hillary found herself struggling with thoughts that she considered sinful--
thoughts of seducing not only her own child, but a daughter at that. chelsea
had grown tall and confident in the past few years--slender but busty,
her mother thought enviously--and nothing was as sexy as that confidence.
they lightly hugged and chelsea took the visitor's chair facing the senator
at her desk. they talked easily of the girl's night out, the boring trip between
new york and washington, and graduation. chelsea leaned back uninhibitedly
in the chair and laced her hands behind her head, making her breasts strain
against her t-shirt and exposing the dark pools under her arms. casually,
she propped one booted foot on her mother's desk, which hillary somehow found
exciting.
eventually chelsea yawned and got up. sorry mom, she said, i have to go to
bed. i had a long night-- she crossed over to kiss her mother goodnight.
well, there was only one thing to do--be bold. as the girl leaned to kiss
her seated mother chastely on the forehead, the latter suddenly tilted her
face and sealed her lips against chelsea's. with a light hand, she guided
chelsea's head into the kiss.
the startled girl gasped and initially tried to pull back, but hillary held
firm. for a few seconds, the girl resisted; then with a sigh of surrender,
her lips parted for her own mother's insistent tongue. they kissed slowly,
gently, curiously, for a few minutes. hillary thought offhandedly that her
daughter's lips were soft and giving, in a way that a man's could never be.
she thought back to college and wondered if chelsea had ever experimented,
had ever eyed her girlfriends' lips, thighs, breasts...
hillary lazily traced a circle around her daughter's braless breast. moaning,
the girl understood what was up and raised her arms over her head. her shameless
mother gently peeled off her shirt. unexpectedly, there were abundant red bushes
under the girl's arms, but far from being repelled, hillary was made to think
of the other bush between her daughter's long, trim legs.
wait, said hillary to her groaning daughter. she unfastened the button of
the tight jeans and began pulling them down. to her considerable surprise,
there were no panties covering the sodden mass of curls.
they're too tight for panties, chelsea groaned, lying on her back, as her
incestuous mom rolled down the jeans. she wanted to immediately plunge her
tongue into the sexy girl's treasure, but she steeled herself. it took some
doing, but she rolled the pants off chelsea's legs. now, she ordered, stand up.
chelsea stood before her, now dressed in only her fuck-me knee-high boots.
her breasts hung in a way that suggested the heaviness of fruit, and a
lazy smile spread across her face. with a gasp, her mom slid her tongue
and then 2 manicured fingers into her youthful, steaming quim. the ecstasy
was too much for the girl to bear; she toppled over. as they lay on the
floor writhing, hillary's face was embedded in her crotch and her booted
legs were wrapped around the senator's shoulders.
orgasm came satisfyingly a few seconds apart--the two women's shrieks did
not pass beyond the soundproofed door. shaking, the seduced girl slipped
into her t-shirt, too addled by her volcanic incestuous experience to
remember her pants. mom, she gasped, finding it hard to say the word, i
never dreamed--
hillary smiled, so different from the insincere smirk that the public saw.
chelsea, you're so beautiful and i love you so much-- she shakily moved to
her desk and scoured the drawers while her daughter looked on quizzically.
after a minute or so, hillary produced what she had been seeking--a pair
of handcuffs--and pronounced what she never dreamed of saying to her own
child. chelsea, would you mind putting your hands behind your back?
'Please put your hands behind your back.'
Chelsea hesitated. What could her mother mean by this? Hillary repeated the
request, more threateningly, so the girl uneasily turned her back to her mother,
knelt, and extended her hands. Hillary snapped on the handcuffs. As the cold
steel clamped onto her wrists, Chelsea felt a tingling wetness in her crotch.
'We're going for a ride, and we're going to use your car,' Hillary remarked.
She whistled piercingly.
The Secret Service driver came out of nowhere, apparently used to driving the
senator around at all hours in the bizarrest circumstances. He led the way to
Chelsea's little car, oblivious to the sight of a clearly just-fucked girl
in handcuffs, a tight T-shirt, and knee-high boots.
'Wait!' the horny senator commanded in the driveway. 'You have to be presentable.'
She produced a pair of scissors and hacked the sleeves off the manacled girl's
shirt. What was left were 2 gaping armholes, giving the mother a great side
view of her daughter's plentiful armpit hair, so erotically similar to her
bush down below, and her plump, free-hanging breasts. Steering her by the
chain on her cuffs, Hillary marched the girl to the car. The tail of the shirt
was too short--Chelsea's butt, abundant bush, and puffy labia were accessible
to her mother's active, groping hand.
Chelsea squealed in pain as her grinning mom suddenly twisted a hairbrush
handle into her vulnerable anus. She literally shook in her boots and almost
fell over, but Hillary roughly pushed her into the back seat. She landed on
her back and manacled hands, her legs spread wide. Before she could close
her sprawling legs, her mom was raping her with the same brush. Under the
dome light, it dripped with the bound girl's cunt juices.
The expressionless driver wheeled them down a deserted country road where
Hillary could happily work out her sick fantasies on her own daughter. The
older woman's eyes gleamed with pent-up lust; Chelsea was both excited
and a little afraid. Out came the hairbrush.
What with her mother vigorously deflowering her frontally and anally, the
pungent odors of her armpits and quim filled the car. 'It smells like a
goddamn fish market in here,' Hillary said in mock disgust. 'It's a good
thing your father's not around.' To accentuate her remark, she reached into
Chelsea's armholes and fondled the helpless girl's lush breasts.
The spasms of Chelsea's tight young body rocked and shook the whole car. The
driver stared straight ahead, ignoring her moans and cries and the ecstatic
drumming of her boot heels on the floor.
Between bouts of being pleasured by her mother, now that she had no secrets
, Chelsea gasped out that to her mother's insistent interrogation that yes,
she had thought about fucking another girl but hadn't yet dared. So far
she'd done more than flirt with a Spanish girl in her dorm. They had gone
no farther than overly long embraces so far; Chelsea was intimidated by
the invitation in that girl's eyes. The same Spanish babe had suggestively
urged her to go braless under her tight, thin T-shirts and to let her armpits
grow out.
Hillary, the experienced seducer of women, brought the handcuffed, booted
girl to a second orgasm and leaned back, spent herself, against the door.
Chelsea lay exhausted in her own sweat and cum, her nostrils filled with the
odor of sex. Suddenly her mother reached down and Chelsea felt a sharp twinging
pain. Hilary triumphantly held up a tuft of yanked-out reddish pubic hair.
'Hope you don't mind my taking a souvenir,' she crowed. 'Home, James.'