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From: IncestMan <incestman@graffiti.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.incest,alt.sex.incest,alt.sex.stories,alt.stories.incest
Subject: Incest story: "The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane" Ch.3C
Date: Thu, 30 Jun 2005 08:33:30 -0700
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http://www.incesttabooo.com
The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane
Part 3C
At the time, most of this went right past my very young level of
awareness-- -but I clearly understood that she was troubled. I knew
that I somehow had to stay with her and believe in her and help her in
some way. I wanted to bring indescribable pleasure and comfort to her.
She was making me feel loved and tickly now, and I wanted desperately
to do the same for her. I found the folds of her skirt and tried to
gather them up, but had a hard time; my hands were too small. She
stepped back, not letting go of my cock, and used her free hand to lift
her skirt. She spread her feet apart and looked down while I massaged
her mound over her panties.
"Ah, hon," she breathed. "You remembered just exactly how I like you
to do that."
As she had done, I slipped my hand under her waistband and found her
pubic hair and her soft folds. She was not wet yet. But she moved one
foot to open her legs more so I could find her crease.
I whispered, "I want to make you feel good." Now I hoped I was
learning to talk to her as she talked to me. I was beginning to
comprehend the nature of my own very young sensuality, realizing how so
much of it was mirrored by Martha Jane, and learning to try and contact
those elements within her. I was not yet very certain about any of it.
But now I had glimmerings of the giddy adrenal rush generated by the
allure of the forbidden that held us and our secret world together. And
I was beginning to understand as well the paradoxical, inexplicable
comfort we both experienced by giving in to, rather than resisting, our
hunger. In short, I was getting older and more sexual, and I realized
more than ever how complex were the emotional and physical needs that
bound us. It was scary. It was a lot like rushing blind across the
avenue the way I used to, traffic headed at me in all six lanes, not
sure if or how I could make it safely to the other side-- -but knowing,
from where I stood at that moment, I would not and could not run back.
Martha Jane moved her head slightly, toward me. Her lips touched my
ear. Her mouth opened and I heard the thin saliva break as she licked
my earlobe. And then my neck. Under one hand I felt the skin on the
back of her neck move and flex as she reached farther with her tongue
and licked behind my ear, then down, then into my neck again. Under my
other hand, she was getting wet.
She pulled her head back, smiling and looking down to watch my hand
working between her legs in the dark. She spread her knees apart a
little more. She softly hissed, "Put your finger in me..." I found her
hot opening, now growing wetter, and slowly inserted what came to me
naturally-- -my longest finger. She urged quietly, "All the way in,
hon, deep..." Her eyes closed as she sighed a trembling, breathy
"Aaahh..."
"Like that?"
"Yes, baby."
I flexed my finger in her. I never ceased to be amazed at the way the
inner Martha Jane could suck on my fingers in her. "Did that feel
good?"
"Bend your finger again, inside...Yes...keep doing that..."
We continued for a while, but it soon became uncomfortable standing
up. She broke away and got undressed. Before climbing into bed she
removed my T-shirt and underwear and had me sit up against a pillow
that she placed against the headboard. Then, naked in the moonlight,
she lay before me on her tummy with her head in my lap and started
sucking me. She sucked gently, wetly, slowly, immersing me in her very
hot mouth and holding me there. Then slowly she withdrew, sucking
upward, and came off me with a loud swallow of the wetness she had
re-sucked off me, and sighed lasciviously. "You feel so good in my
mouth. You fit all the way inside."
She licked her lips and sucked me again in the same way, gently but
fully, flattening her tongue along the underside and pressing slightly,
then started bobbing her head slowly and rhythmically. I was amazed and
hypnotized. I began to be aware of her physical beauty and the depths
of the desperate lust that lurked in both of us, there in the dim shaft
of light that fell across her naked back as she licked and sucked.
She stopped and asked, "Do you know what I'm doing?"
I just stared at her. Of course I knew what she was doing, though she
had never done it so gluttonously. But I didn't know what it was
called.
"I'm suckin' you off. Do you like it when I say that?" Once again, her
eyes had a strange glint and her voice sounded inordinately wicked.
"Yes," I whispered back, suddenly realizing how breathless I was. And
I was doing some hard, nervous swallowing of my own. "You know I do.
Especially the way you do it." I was truly flabbergasted that there
were so many ways to bring pleasure to each other.
She returned to her sucking, which she continued for quite some time,
breaking to gently fist my wetted cock. The cloying sensuality of her
motions and words caused me to make what I know to be a seriously
wicked grin as I watched her pump me. "That's good," I whispered.
She looked up. "Yeah?" She grinned back.
I grinned again too, into her eyes. "Yeah. Keep doin' it."
"Yeah, honey."
"Ah..."
"Feel it, baby...enjoy it..."
And once again, her eyes and her words and her voice held me
mesmerized. She herself seemed hypnotized by my own spellbound
reaction. We fell into unalloyed devilishness, as if demons within us
had generated a chain reaction neither of us could not stop. She
wouldn't let up. The lust in her eyes and her voice met mine, mine met
hers, and they fused. We were glued to it, tangled it in. I kept
hearing the nuns and the aunts and relatives warning me, but all their
screaming voices together could not drown the tantalizing whispers of
Martha Jane. And the more my eyes lit up with pleasure, the more Martha
Jane saw it and gloated on it.
She gave a low, dirty chuckle and breathed, "You like it. You like
being like this with me." She kept looking into my eyes, directly into
them, into my cornea and through the optic nerves and into my brain. As
she wetly stroked my twitching cock I heard only the wet slush of her
hand in the hot spit she had left on me, and her endless, libidinous
whispers. "You like it just as much as I do, don't you, I can tell. I
like it too. I like watching your face while I make you feel good. I
love your dick. I love touching it. I love milking it, and sucking..."
She pumped and then sucked and then pumped me again. I was feeling
extremely strange and giddy and I knew she did too. A dark wicked wave
seemed to wash into the room and lick me squarely in the scrotum under
my balls, then lick upward along my spine and settle in the back of my
head. I could see the reflection of these new and growing impulses in
her own eyes, I could hear her voice echoing my own rising lechery. We
fed it, and fed on it, helpless in the dark and the moonlight. She
fisted me loosely now, looking up at me. Distinctly I felt and saw her
own eyes catch the glint of lust in mine, and she leered and fisted and
kept whispering. "I feel you liking it, I feel you jumpin' in my hand.
Such a beautiful, hard, sweet little cock. It gets so big. How does it
get so big from being so little?"
"I like you making it big," I managed to whisper back, but only after
fighting for the breath to say it. I took a deep breath and gasped
brazenly, "I like watching you watch me."
Her eyes rose, surprised and please that I was joining her in this
hypnotic whirl. "I'm so glad you like this. Want me to suck you some
more?"
"Yes, it feels so good."
"I want to suck you and I want you to finger fuck me, like last time."
Uh-oh! A new term in the ever-expanding lexicon. I was taken by
surprise. Another Martha Jane word. At that point I somehow knew there
would be an explanation forthcoming. Contented, and learning for the
first time what the word "turn-on" would later come to mean, I let her
suck me and we continued our lurid whispers and glances. Of course, I
did not cum. This was fortunate, in a way, since literally I didn't
know what I was missing. But at one point a pang of sensual tickling
shot through the length of my shaft, and I felt an oozing from me that
mixed with her spit and slickened it. I wondered if that meant I was
cumming.
But the feeling passed too quickly for me to stop and ask questions
about it. For Martha Jane had risen to a half-sitting position beside
me, her head against the headboard. Her left leg lay on the mattress
between us, bent at the knee toward me so her inner thigh was spread to
expose her slit; and she bent her right knee upward, keeping her foot
on the bed, using her heel to spread her right leg wide and exposing
even more of her nakedness. She shoved her hips forward so that I,
lying beside her, could fully see her auburn tuft and the widening,
smooth-lipped slit below. With one hand she spread the silken hair that
partly covered her, and wantonly instructed me on how to touch her clit
and how to insert my finger and how to search far up inside her and
find a magic bundle of muscle and nerve that made her arch her hips and
sigh lustily and made her nipples swell in my mouth, and she looked
down, leering and watching me please her and holding herself open for
me, telling me this was her cunt, and she said that when she felt
really nasty as she did now that she wanted me to call it her cunt, and
as I pulled her clit and stroked the tender place far inside her
wetness, her words and her voice and her sighs slid into a barely
audible stream of hissed obscenities.
And I remembered doing this to her before and making her cum, but now
I knew she wanted me to call it finger fucking and that she liked the
word and so did I, and she liked me watching her on her side with one
leg bent between us and the other with one knee raised and resting
spread away from her so that she could use the leverage of that leg to
raise her cunt toward me and we could watch me finger fuck her, and she
liked watching while I did it, and her raised knee soon fell and she
dropped back into the pillows and spread herself flat and gave herself
over to the long cum that seemed to be on its way, and for a long while
she simply lay and enjoy it and sucked on my finger in her. And finally
I gave her the smashing, paralyzing orgasm she wanted, her head pressed
far into the pillow and her neck straining, her arms and legs stiffened
against the white sheets and her nipples jutting upward as she threw
her head back and suffered silently the sweet agony I was giving her,
taut and stiff for what seemed to me a perilously long time. Her hips
gave a slight jerk, and I expected her to slide into her swooning
relaxed state, but instead her head snapped farther back into the
pillow and her teeth showed in the dark and she whimpered "Oh!" in
sudden surprise, and then "Ah!" and she came again, again, again as I
moved my fingers in the way I knew was just right for her, never for a
moment wanting to lose my way in giving her pleasure, caring for her,
protecting her in her utter nakedness, striving to make it perfect and
right for her. And finally, with a great sigh and a whimper that I know
could be heard out in the dark street beyond our window, she relaxed
with a final lurch of her hips, and began breathing in waves, then
breathing regularly and deeply, and she made the same sounds she made
when she cried, but now they were sounds of exhaustion and release.
I licked her nipple, my soaked hands now lightly massaging her outer
lips and inner thighs, and she put a hand on my arm and cried, "so
good!", and on reaching down to touch my cock she found wetness there,
a smear from inside me, and she opened her eyes and looked at me and
then looked at my cock and reached down and kissed the tip, moaning "oh
your cum, your sweet cum!" She licked it off me and it tickled terribly
and I felt deep in my balls the oozing of another smear, which she
milked out of me with a long slow pull upward on my dick, and she
licked that off too with tender relish, as if even the smallest
beginnings of my cumming were as precious as water to a parched throat.
And then, out of breath and with a final gasp, she literally fell into
me and hugged me and held on and went straight to sleep.
We slept like that for a while, with her splayed over me as if knocked
unconscious. She awoke with a start and looked at the clock. "Darn!"
she whispered frantically, "they'll be coming home!"
Quickly she dressed. As she did, she caught me smiling at her from my
pillow and she told me, "Speedy, you are remarkable. My god, I wish I
could tell someone about this. They'd never believe me..." She looked
at me as if she were in shock. "How do you do this to me? Where did you
learn to do this?"
"Do what?" I asked, truly puzzled.
"You know what I'm talkin' about," she scolded mildly, hopping a
little to get her shoes on. She sat on the floor and tied her laces.
"You made cum in my mouth, too, didn't you?"
"I...think so."
"Listen," she said earnestly, finishing her shoes and getting up to
bend over me. "I want you to grow up and cum. I can't keep doing this
all by myself. Do you have any idea what you just did to me?" She
gathered up the wads of Kleenex and started straightening the place
quickly, mumbling, "I didn't even know anything like this was possible.
Where in the world did you learn how to do it like that?"
"You taught me," I said.
She caught herself, pausing as if startled, and went back to her
hurried straightening. "I'm just talking, hon. You go to sleep. Your
Mama will be home soon."
She returned to the living room and her books. The light in there
snapped on. I rolled over and looked out the window. I did not
understand the significance of this nor the problems it would cause
later. But I had experienced an unusually intense level of eroticism
which I feared and yet didn't fear, something apparently as new and
exotic to her as it was to me.
Continued...
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