r/IncestTabooStories

The dots blinked for almost a full minute.

A whole minute. I sat there counting it, watching those three little gray bubbles pulse and pulse and pulse, and my cock throbbed so hard against the fabric of my slacks that I swear I could feel it pounding against the seam of my underwear.

The office blurred out around me. The hum of the lights. The squeak of someone's chair. The guy two cubicles over still droning into his headset about quarterly numbers. All of it went soft and far away.

Then it came.

A photo.

I opened it before I'd even decided to.

She was in the stall. The school bathroom, that pale institutional tile, the kind I remembered from my own school days a lifetime ago. Legs spread on the toilet seat. The plaid skirt rucked up to her waist. Her white cotton panties dragged to one side by a thumb hooked in the waistband.

And there was a hand.

Not hers.

A second hand, slender, with long nails painted a glossy candy red, and one of those red-tipped fingers was pressed flat against that tight little pucker between my daughter's cheeks. Not in. Just resting there.

Someone else's hand on my daughter's ass.

I made a noise. An actual noise, low in my throat, and I had to slap my own palm over my mouth and glance over the cubicle wall to make sure nobody heard.

The text came under the photo.

"Gotta go back to class 🙈"

Then, a beat later:

"But there might be more challenges later. 😘"

And that was it. The dots died. She was gone.

I tried to work.

God, I tried.

I had a two o'clock with the regional team and I sat through every minute of it with a raging hard-on tenting my lap under the conference table, gripping a pen so tight my knuckles went white, nodding at slides about logistics and supply chains and not absorbing a single word.

My boss asked me a question. I answered something. He moved on. I have no idea what I said.

The whole time, the photos kept replaying behind my eyes. That red nail. The skirt. The little gasping question still sitting unanswered in my chest—

who's taking the picture.

Somebody was in there with her. Somebody was kneeling behind my daughter with their hand on her body and a phone in the other hand.

Three o'clock came. Another meeting. I went hard the whole way through that one too, shifting in my seat.

Then, at almost three-thirty, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I was up out of my chair before I'd even read it.

"Bathroom," I muttered to no one. I picked the big stall at the end, the accessible one, and I shot the lock and leaned back against the cold tile and finally let myself look.

"Okay so there's another one," she'd written. "But this one's different."

"Different how," I typed. My thumbs were unsteady.

"This one needs your approval. Like, official approval. From the partner."

I stared at the word. Partner.

"Why does it need approval," I sent.

The dots came and went.

"In the Butt Challenge there's levels," she wrote. "The harder ones, you can't do unless your boyfriend or your partner says yes. It's a rule." Then: "You're my partner. You already accepted. You said you wanted more."

I read it twice. I felt the floor tilt under me.

I didn't deny it.

"What's the challenge," I typed instead.

The dots danced for a long time.

"You have to give permission for another girl to lick my butthole," she sent. "For forty seconds. On camera. And I send you the video."

I read it standing up and I had to put a hand against the stall wall to steady myself. My cock was so hard it ached. My mouth had gone bone dry. Some distant rational part of me was screaming.

Of course I was going to say yes. We both knew I was going to say yes. The only thing standing between me and yes was the few seconds it took me to type it.

But a question crawled up out of the dark first.

"Would you do it too," I sent. "To another girl. Lick hers."

The reply came fast.

"If you let me. Yeah. 😏"

The image hit me like a fist. My daughter on her knees behind some other girl, her face buried in another ass, that bratty pink tongue working—

"I'll say yes," I typed, and my hands were shaking so bad I had to retype it twice, "if I get that video too. Both of them."

There was a pause. Then:

"Omg."

Then:

"You're so naughty Daddy 😈"

That word.

Daddy.

She'd never typed it like that before. It landed somewhere deep and it twisted, hot and shameful and electric, and I had to grip the base of my cock through my slacks just to keep from coming right there in my pants.

"Give me a sec," she wrote. "Have to find Mia."

Mia.

So that was who'd been in the stall. That was the red nail. That was the hand on my daughter's body. A name now, a real girl, somebody Brooke went to school with.

The dots disappeared.

I waited. I stood in that locked stall with the AC vent blowing cold air on the sweat at the back of my neck, and I waited, my phone clutched in both hands like a man holding a live wire.

Five minutes. Eight. Ten.

Then it came.

A video. The little frozen preview was already obscene—pale skin, dark stall door, the shape of bare thighs—and my thumb hovered over it for one last second, that last useless gesture toward the man I was supposed to be.

Then I pressed play.

The picture jumped to life. Probably the handicap stall, more room in it, room enough for two. The camera was angled up from low, propped against something, or held by a third—no. Held. Someone was holding it, because it moved.

My daughter was front and center, and she was naked from the waist down.

She'd taken everything off below. No skirt, no panties. Just the white button-up shirt of her uniform, half-open now, the tails of it hanging loose around her hips, and below that nothing at all. She was bent forward at the waist, hands braced flat against the tile wall, that perfect heart-shaped ass pushed back and up toward the camera, toward me, presented like an offering.

"Hi Daddy," she said.

Her voice. Soft and breathy and dripping with that bratty sweetness, looking back over her shoulder right into the lens.

"You wanted more, so." She bit her lip. "Here's more."

And then a second voice, off-camera, low and amused:

"Is that him? That's your guy?"

"Mhm," Brooke hummed.

"He know it's you?" the voice—Mia—asked. "He know whose ass this is?"

"He knows exactly whose ass it is," my daughter purred, wiggling it back and forth, slow, taunting.

I had my cock out before I even registered unzipping. Standing in that locked stall with my slacks open and my fist already moving, watching, helpless, gone.

Mia stepped into frame.

I couldn't see her face yet—just a body crouching down behind my daughter, dark hair tied up, those candy-red nails I recognized now spreading across the pale globes of Brooke's ass, thumbs digging in, pulling her wide open.

"God, look at this," Mia laughed. "Look at this little pucker. You weren't kidding."

"Told you," Brooke giggled.

"He's gonna love this," Mia said, and then she leaned in, and the camera caught the side of her face for the first time—pretty, sharp little chin, smudge of dark lipstick—as she put her mouth right up against my daughter's spread asshole.

And she licked.

A long, flat, dragging lick, tongue laid wide, from the bottom of that puckered little hole all the way up, slow, wet, deliberate. The sound of it came through the phone speaker tinny and obscene and unmistakable. A slick, sucking, lapping sound that I felt in my balls.

"Ohhh," Brooke moaned, pushing back into it. "Ohh fuck, Daddy, she's licking my asshole."

"Mm," Mia hummed against her, the vibration making my daughter shudder. She pulled back just enough to talk, lips wet, tongue still flicking out. "Your girl got the tightest little hole I ever tasted. You know that? You raise her right, Daddy?"

She buried her face back in before I could even process it. Tongue working now, circling that tight ring, flicking over it, pressing against the center of it. Brooke's whole body rolled with it, her spine arching, her ass grinding back against Mia's mouth like she couldn't get enough.

"She's putting her tongue in my ass," Brooke narrated. "Can you see, Daddy? She's pushing it in. Right in my little hole. Oh my god—she's tongue-fucking my asshole right now—"

Mia's tongue pressed forward and the pucker gave, just barely, that tight ring fluttering open around the tip of her tongue, and she pushed it in, and Brooke cried out, high and broken.

"Look at this slut," Mia said, pulling off, smearing her wet lips with the back of her hand and grinning straight at the camera now, straight at me. "Look how she takes a tongue. You got no idea, do you, Daddy? Your sweet little girlfriend?" She licked one finger and pressed it slow against the hole, sinking the red-nailed tip inside, and Brooke whimpered and bucked. "She's a total ass slut. Total. She loves it. Tongue in her ass, finger in her ass, she begs for it. Don't you, baby?"

"I love it," Brooke gasped, pushing back onto Mia's finger, fucking herself on it. "I love it, Daddy, I'm such a slut for it, I love having my ass played with—"

"You hear that?" Mia laughed. She crooked her finger and Brooke yelped. "Your girl's an ass slut. Bet you didn't know that. Bet you didn't know what a filthy little hole she's got back here." She sank her tongue back down alongside her finger, lapping, slurping, and my daughter dissolved into a long shaking moan.

I was right at the edge. Standing in an office bathroom with my pants open and my daughter's voice in my ear calling me Daddy while another girl ate her ass, and I was right there, hanging off the cliff, fist flying—

The video cut.

Forty seconds, exactly. It just ended, mid-moan, the screen going dark, leaving me panting against the tile with my heart slamming and my cock raging and a string of pre-cum hanging off the tip.

The text came a second later.

"That's just the beginning."

Then:

"You'll get more soon, Daddy. 😘"

---

This is just the beginning. More chapters are available at storiesbyfiction.com

Mom[39] liked my cock when I showed her and jerked me[18] part 2

After that first time I couldn't stop thinking about mom jerking my cock. Couldn't stop thinking about how horny it was making me. Loved showing my cock off, enjoyed flashing my sister and her friends but now I was thinking about mom, her big tits, and my cum running down her chest when I came on her.

Heard her come home and waited for her to settle in. My balls weren't swollen but my cock sure was and throwing on my pj's I went to see her. I pushed the door open and found her in bed. I told her I had another problem and she told me to come in.

Her eyes were fixed on my hard cock as I approached her and she said it looked like I did. I walked over to her as she sat up on the edge of the bed. I dropped my pants and heard her say oh my, so big, we'll have to fix that! She said she was happy to help but said the last time I'd made such a mess of her nightgown. With that she pulled her top down freeing her huge tits.

Grabbing the baby oil she squirted some on my cock and began to jerk me. Oh momma that feels good I said, she said I'd feel better in a minute and continued stroking my oiled up cock. When I was getting close I told her but she slowed the pace telling me to relax and brought me so close to orgasm then stopped.

She watched as my cock oozed precum and told me I must be close. Let it out she said, let it out for momma. She sped up saying that's it, give it to momma, give it to me. I did, I started shooting rope after rope calling her name as I did so with her telling me what a good boy I was!

When I was done I looked down at her as she squeezed my cock hard and pulled the last drop out of the head of my cock. With her thumb she scooped it up and brought it to her lips, yummy she said. There, hope that helped now go to bed she said. I looked down at her cum covered tits, my jizz running down her chest. As I pulled my pants up I watched as her hands spread my jazz over her tits. She squeezed them and pulled at her nipples and gave a soft moan. As I closed the door saying goodnight I watched as she lay back still playing with her tits, and my cum!

I am M 25 and when I was younger i started to have sex with my mom and aunt separately. Both went through a divorce quite similarly and I got the reward for it. I have done things with them which they have never even thought that people actually do and enjoy. Being in the holes of your own is truly like a experience like no other. I was against incest before this but very much for since i have started.
Text for more in depth im not the greatest writer.

This is the first story I’m posting that’s a lot less realistic than my usual. That’s why it has the Hypno tag.

What do you think? Did you like it? Is it worth posting more?

Let me know in the comments.

---

This might be Lilian's last chance.

At twenty-two, she was older than all the other girls at her Olympic gymnastics academy. Despite winning a bronze medal at the last Olympics, the specter of losing her sponsors loomed over her. Because of this, her mother worked tirelessly, morning, noon, and night, to secure the best coach.

"What do you mean? How does a coach decide to quit overnight?" Helena's voice sliced through the air as she spoke into her phone, pacing the length of the living room. The sharp tap of her stiletto heels echoed her agitation as she confronted the gym manager.

"I... I don't know what to say," the manager stammered nervously on the other end. "He just came in yesterday saying he'd received an offer from the Russians and would be leaving at the end of this week."

Lilian could hear the tremor in his voice as he tried to appease her mother.

Ever since Lilian was small, Helena had always been this way, unyielding and determined. Not that Lilian had grown much taller since then. Perhaps due to the demands of her sport, she had always been petite. However, her size suffered from her genetics. Having inherited huge breasts from her mother, they ended up becoming a problem rather than an advantage.

Though it's not so bad being noticed, she would muse occasionally, catching the lingering gazes of young men, especially when she wore her sleek leotard that clung to every contour of her athletic frame.

In stark contrast, her mother was statuesque, towering even over men. Her long legs seemed to go on forever, always accentuated by her razor-thin heels. Helena exuded a confidence that commanded attention, unafraid to assert herself and fiercely protective of her daughter.

Yet even she faced situations beyond her control, like this one.

"Forget it. I'll find another coach," Helena declared, snapping her phone shut decisively. The tension in her shoulders slowly eased as she turned to face Lilian, her eyes blazing with determination.

Lilian watched her mother, trying to read the resolve etched on her face. This is my last chance, she thought, willing herself to remain hopeful.

"Mom, any ideas?" Lilian asked softly, seeking reassurance in the confidence that her mother always seemed to have.

"I do," Helena replied, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "A few days ago, I received an email." She began scrolling through her inbox, eyes scanning the myriad messages from sponsors and brands that filled her screen. Amidst the clutter, one message had caught her attention.

"Ah! Here it is." Helena's eyes sparkled as she handed the phone to her daughter. "Read it and tell me what you think."

Lilian skimmed the email, her eyes flickering over the promising words before setting the phone down. "It's too good to be true," she murmured, looking up at her mother.

"Even so," Helena replied, her tone resolute. "He's a European coach. I verified his credentials. He was at the last Olympics, and every girl he trained became a medalist." She leaned back, crossing her elegant legs. "However, it appears he's looking to increase his salary."

"Wouldn't the Russian team be a better fit for him, then?" Lilian questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"Fortunately for us, no." Helena's eyes sparkled with a touch of cunning. "He's of Ukrainian descent. He doesn't want anything to do with the Russian team."

"Still," Lilian sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "I'm concerned. Did you see the end of his email?"

"That he has peculiar training methods?" Helena shrugged slightly. "Who isn't a bit peculiar in this industry?"

"Right." Lilian nodded slowly. "Well... it can't hurt to try."

We don't really have any other options, she thought, pushing aside her doubts.

--

It took several weeks for Vladimir to arrive in their city. On the day he did, he wasted no time. After a swift check-in at his hotel, he headed straight to the training center.

It was a crisp Saturday morning. Usually, the facility would echo with the sounds of athletes honing their skills, but in the off-season, it stood quiet and almost serene. Only Lilian and Helena were there to greet him.

"Pleasure to meet you," Vlad said, extending a firm hand to Lilian. His grip was strong, his palm warm against hers. "I saw your performance at the last Olympics." His accent was thick, each word tinged with the melodic roughness of Eastern Europe.

Lilian met his gaze, noting the sharpness in his steel-blue eyes. "What did you think, Coach Vladimir?" she asked a subtle challenge in her voice.

"Far below what you're capable of," he replied without hesitation. A hint of a smile played on his lips. "And please, call me Vlad."

Helena and Lilian exchanged a glance before their guarded expressions softened. His straightforwardness was exactly what they needed; professional yet candid.

"Shall we begin?" Vlad clapped his hands.

"Wait, weren't we just going to meet today?" Lilian asked, surprised. She gestured to her casual attire, a simple tank top and joggers, not exactly training gear.

"Exactly. We also need to finalize the paperwork with the academy," Helena added, ever the meticulous planner.

"No need," Vlad replied calmly. "My contract will be directly with you. For now, I will train only Lilian." He paused, his gaze steady. "My method focuses on one athlete at a time. There are no distractions."

Helena's lips curled into a pleased smile. The idea of her daughter receiving undivided attention appealed to her ambitions.

"But I didn't bring my training clothes," Lilian protested lightly.

Vlad considered her for a moment. "Do you have an ice bath at the facility?"

"Yes," Lilian answered, intrigued. "We use it after training sessions."

"Excellent." He nodded appreciatively. "We'll start there."

Inside the women's locker room, two enormous bathtubs stood. Reserved exclusively for post-training recovery, they were often filled with ice-cold water to soothe tired muscles.

Lilian hovered near one of the tubs, her fingers nervously tracing circles on the cool ceramic edge. The presence of the new coach, Vlad, unsettled her. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks at the thought of changing before him.

"Where can I find the ice?" Vlad inquired, his deep voice echoing slightly in the tiled space. He seemed to sense her discomfort, offering her a subtle opportunity to compose herself.

"I can show you," Helena interjected smoothly, stepping forward. Her heels clicked decisively against the floor as she led him away, granting Lilian the moment she needed. Grateful for the brief respite, Lilian slipped into one of the standard training swimsuits and immersed herself in the chilled tub water.

When Vlad and Helena returned, each carrying hefty sacks of ice, Lilian was submerged up to her shoulders, the frigid water a welcome numbness against her skin. Small ripples circled outward as she adjusted her position.

"I graduated in Sports Management," Vlad began, tearing open a bag and pouring crystalline chunks into the water. "But my specializations are in Physiotherapy and Sports Psychology."

Helena stood beside him, her posture elegant yet formidable. Despite Vlad's impressive height, she was still ten centimeters taller, her gaze steady as she seemed to evaluate his every move.

"It's obvious to anyone that your issue isn't technique or the amount of training you do," Vlad continued, his eyes flickering briefly to meet Lilian's. "It's your confidence. This is a common issue among athletes, especially when you've spent your entire life preparing, and the next thirty seconds could determine your entire future."

Lilian's jaw tightened at his words. The cool water did little to quell the heat of frustration that rose within her, yet she couldn't deny the truth in his assessment.

"Furthermore," he added thoughtfully, "you're naturally more reserved if my analysis is correct." He glanced sidelong at Helena. "Is that accurate?"

Helena hesitated briefly before nodding. "Yes, Lili has always been on the shy side," she admitted, her voice softening. "Especially after her father, my first husband, left us." She swallowed hard, the vulnerability beneath her composed exterior briefly surfacing.

"I understand." Vlad's tone was respectful, acknowledging the delicate disclosure. Turning his attention back to Lilian, he met her gaze directly. "In that case, I'd like to work with you not just on physical training but also on mental conditioning."

Suspicion flickered in Lilian's sapphire eyes. She drew a deep breath, the crisp air filling her lungs. "How would that work?" she challenged. "I don't want to spend time with a psychologist when I should be training."

A faint smile curved Vlad's lips. "You won't need to," he assured her. "We'll incorporate these elements during your rest and recovery periods. During those times, I'll guide you through meditation and hypnosis exercises to strengthen your self-esteem and focus."

"Hypnosis?" Lilian repeated, surprised.

Helena raised an eyebrow, equally puzzled by the proposal.

"Yes," Vlad replied calmly. "But not the kind you might see on TV or the internet. It's a technique that involves deep relaxation and focused attention. It will help you unlock your potential." He offered a reassuring smile. "And during all of our sessions, your mother will be here with you."

Lilian took a deep breath and nodded. "It doesn't hurt to try."

She felt a sense of calm, knowing her mother would be present if she needed to.

"Let's take advantage of today to conduct the first session," Vlad suggested, clapping his hands together decisively. "That way, when we start next week, you'll have an idea of what to expect."

"Alright," Lilian agreed, leaning her head back against the bathtub's edge. The cool porcelain pressed gently against her neck, and she let the ambient sounds of the room wash over her.

Helena moved to one of the seats near the wall, gracefully crossing her long legs. With her elbow resting on her knee and her chin supported by her hand, she watched Vlad's actions with keen interest, evaluating every step he took.

Vlad poured another bag of ice into the water, the crystalline cubes cascading into the tub with a soft splash before melting into the chill. He then positioned himself behind Lilian, his demeanor professional and composed.

He gently explained, "You need to be completely relaxed, and the ice in the water will help slow your heart rate."

"Now, I need you to concentrate only on my voice." His tone was soothing, each word measured and purposeful. In the quiet of the locker room, his voice seemed to envelop her, creating a cocoon of calm.

"My voice will guide you along your path," he continued softly. "As you listen, you may find yourself feeling more at ease."

"Allow your eyes to close as you take a deep breath, feeling a wave of tranquility washing over you."

"Your mind is becoming quiet."

"Peaceful."

"Calm."

Gradually, Lilian's muscles began to loosen, and her breathing slowed. Her head tilted slightly forward as she drifted into a state of deep relaxation.

Vlad glanced over and noticed that the effect on Helena was similar, though less potent. A broad smile spread across his face; this wasn't the first time he'd performed such a technique. He had become quite adept over the years.

However, with her, the hypnosis is still too shallow, Vlad mused, observing Helena's serene yet not fully relaxed posture. He realized that, although she was somewhat influenced, he wouldn't be able to guide her into a deep trance just yet.

For now, I'll have to be satisfied with the daughter, he thought, his gaze settling on Lilian immersed in the expansive bathtub.

Stepping closer, he positioned himself near her ear, his voice dropping to a soft, mesmerizing whisper.

"With your new coach, you feel more confident."

"Every time you look at him, your confidence grows."

"Embracing this confidence, you'll excel at the Olympics."

"You are confident because of your coach. Without him, you feel incomplete."

That's enough for today, Vlad decided, repeating the four suggestions several times to ensure they took hold. He knew from experience that introducing more could impede progress and hinder his ability to deepen his influence over time.

For now, I'll earn her trust, he reflected as he began the process of gently bringing her back to awareness.

But soon, you will both be mine, Vlad smiled subtly before snapping his fingers.

After that night, the energy in the house completely changed.

For the next few days I was super nervous and tried to act normal, but my brother kept bringing it up in little ways. He’d smirk and say things like “You hiding any cute outfits today?” or “too bad you’re dressed like a teacher right now.” Every time he said something like that I felt my face get hot and my pussy throb.

Then last Saturday my daughter went to stay at her grandma’s for the night. I told myself I wasn’t going to dress up… but I couldn’t help it. I spent almost an hour getting ready full makeup again with glossy pink lips, my long wavy wig, a tiny black dress that barely covered my ass, and my 36DD breast forms pushed up so my cleavage looked insane. I put on thigh highs and my sluttiest heels.

I was in the living room taking mirror pics when my brother came home. This time he didn’t look shocked. He just closed the door slowly, looked me up and down, and said “DAMN Chloe…”

I stood there nervously playing with the hem of my dress. He walked closer until he was right in front of me. He reached out and ran his hands down my sides, feeling the curve of my waist and hips.

You really do look like a slut when you dress like this,” he said quietly. His voice was lower than usual. I don’t know what came over me. I whispered “Do you like it?”

Instead of answering he grabbed my waist, pulled me against him and kissed me hard. I moaned into his mouth as his hands moved down and squeezed my ass under the short dress. I could already feel how hard he was through his pants.

He broke the kiss, looked me in the eyes and said “Get on your knees.”I didn’t even hesitate. I dropped down right there in the living room, unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was so thick. I looked up at him like a good little sister and took him into my mouth.

He groaned and put his hand on the back of my head, guiding me as I sucked him. I was moaning around his cock, drooling all over it while he called me his “dirty little sister slut.” I sucked him like I was starving until he finally grabbed my head and came down my throat. I swallowed every drop. When I stood up my legs were shaking and my pussy was soaked. He looked at me with this hungry look and said “We’re not done tonight.”

He didn’t even give me time to catch my breath.
After I swallowed his load, he pulled me up, kissed me hard again, and walked me backwards toward the couch. My legs hit the edge and I fell back onto it. He stood over me, still hard, looking down at me in that tiny black dress with my tits almost spilling out.

“Take the dress off,” he said.
My hands were shaking as I pulled it over my head. I was left in just my push-up bra, thong, thigh highs and heels. He looked me up and down slowly, then climbed on top of me.He kissed my neck, then moved down to my tits, sucking on them hard while squeezing the other one. I was moaning like crazy. He reached between my legs, pulled my thong to the side and rubbed my soaked pussy.
“Fuck… you’re dripping,” he whispered.
He pushed two fingers inside me and started fingering me while still sucking on my tits. I was grinding against his hand, whimpering. Then he pulled his fingers out, lined up his cock, and slid into me in one slow thrust. I gasped soo loud. He felt so thick inside me. He started fucking me deep and steady, holding my legs open. Every thrust made my tits bounce and I couldn’t stop moaning.
He leaned down and growled in my ear, “You’re such a slut dressing up like this behind my back…”That sent me over the edge. I came hard around his cock, shaking and squeezing him. A minute later he groaned, pushed deep inside me and filled me up. I could feel every pulse as he came.We stayed like that for a while, breathing heavy. Then he pulled out and watched his cum leak out of me onto the couch.He looked at me and smirked. “Next time you dress up… you’re not leaving this house until I’m done with you.”I just bit my lip and nodded, still trying to catch my breath. I know this is so wrong… but I’ve never been more turned on in my life…

After that first time I couldn't stop thinking about mom jerking my cock. Couldn't stop thinking about how horny it was making me. Loved showing my cock off, enjoyed flashing my sister and her friends but now I was thinking about mom, her big tits, and my cum running down her chest when I came on her.

Heard her come home and waited for her to settle in. My balls weren't swollen but my cock sure was and throwing on my pj's I went to see her. I pushed the door open and found her in bed. I told her I had another problem and she told me to come in.

Her eyes were fixed on my hard cock as I approached her and she said it looked like I did. I walked over to her as she sat up on the edge of the bed. I dropped my pants and heard her say oh my, so big, we'll have to fix that! She said she was happy to help but said the last time I'd made such a mess of her nightgown. With that she pulled her top down freeing her huge tits.

Grabbing the baby oil she squirted some on my cock and began to jerk me. Oh momma that feels good I said, she said I'd feel better in a minute and continued stroking my oiled up cock. When I was getting close I told her but she slowed the pace telling me to relax and brought me so close to orgasm then stopped.

She watched as my cock oozed precum and told me I must be close. Let it out she said, let it out for momma. She sped up saying that's it, give it to momma, give it to me. I did, I started shooting rope after rope calling her name as I did so with her telling me what a good boy I was!

When I was done I looked down at her as she squeezed my cock hard and pulled the last drop out of the head of my cock. With her thumb she scooped it up and brought it to her lips, yummy she said. There, hope that helped now go to bed she said. I looked down at her cum covered tits, my jizz running down her chest. As I pulled my pants up I watched as her hands spread my jazz over her tits. She squeezed them and pulled at her nipples and gave a soft moan. As I closed the door saying goodnight I watched as she lay back still playing with her tits, and my cum!

Hi! this is my first time sharing here :)

I’m 28, a substitute teacher and single mom. My brother (31) and I have been living together for about a year because everything is so damn expensive right now.. normally I’m “Miss Chloe” sweet, responsible teacher during the day, yoga pants and cardigans, the whole good mom vibe. But when my daughter is with her grandparents or asleep early, I love turning into a complete slut behind closed doors. I’m talking full makeup, glossy lips, tight little dresses that barely cover my 36DD tits, thigh highs, heels, the works. I feel so fucking hot when I dress like that.

One afternoon my daughter was at a playdate and I thought I had the house to myself until at least 7pm. So I went all out tight pink mini dress that hugged my ass, pushup bra making my tits look insane, full makeup, and my favorite pair of slutty heels. I was in the living room taking some pics of myself in the mirror when I heard the front door open. My brother came home way earlier than usual. I froze..there was nowhere to hide. He walked into the living room and just… stopped. His eyes went wide as he looked me up and down. I immediately started panicking, trying to cover my chest with my arms and saying “Oh my god please don’t look, I’ll go change right now, this is so embarrassing” he didn’t say anything at first. He just stared.. Then he let out a little laugh and said “holy shit Chloe… you look like that when no one’s home?” I was mortified lol. My face was burning. I kept apologizing and tried to run past him to my room but he stepped in front of me. “Relaaaax,” he said. “I’m not judging. You actually look… really fucking good.” I didn’t know what to say.. I mumbled something about it just being a silly thing I do sometimes. He smirked and replied “Doesn’t look silly to me lol.” That night we sat on the couch like normal… except I was still in that tiny pink dress while he kept glancing at my legs and tits.. The energy in the house felt completely different after that.I thought it would be a onetime awkward moment… but it wasn’t...

Mom[39] liked my cock when I showed her and jerked me[18] off part 1

My sister had teased me all night and not gotten me off. She liked to tease me, play with my dick only to watch me squirm. She liked watching it twitch and ooze precum while she sat on my face. Most times she'd enjoy watching me spray my load all over but this particular night she was in a mood and told me I'd have to wait and not to jerk off because she wanted a big load.

I heard mom come in from work early in the morning. Problem was my balls were so swollen and sore from my sister teasing me that I was getting worried for real. Thought I'd broken something and was genuinely worried and thought I might need to go to the hospital.

I summoned up the courage, and putting on loose pj bottoms I went to see her. I pushed the door open to find her in bed, a drink on the table and book in her hand. She was wearing a thin nightgown, I was surprised those tiny straps could contain her big tits. I didn't pay much attention as mom often walked around the house topless or even naked.

Mom I've got a problem I declared. She sat up in bed and asked what it was. Walking over I stood before her and told her I was embarrassed and that things were swollen down there and how I thought I might need to go to the hospital. She told me she was my mother and not to be embarrassed and show her.

I dropped my bottoms to the floor and heard her say oh my! My balls were so swollen there was barely any stretch left in my sack. Let me see she said as she lifted my soft dick with one hand while the other felt my sack. I flinched and she apologized and her touch grew softer.

As her fingers tickled my sack my cock began to grow in her other hand. In seconds I was fully hard. Oh my she uttered again staring at my dick. I have a large cut cock that I've been complimented on over the years. She said that they were full, my balls that is and needed to be drained.

I looked at her dumbfounded. Her fingers were tickling my balls now and she was now gripping my cock. She took a drink from the glass on the table and said we'll take care of it and I'll feel better. Grabbing the bottle of baby oil she used to remove her makeup she dribbled some on my cock.

Her hand moved slowly at first causing my mouth to open and my eyes to close. When she started to speed up I moaned and opened my eyes to see my mom jacking my cock her face inches away. I could feel my orgasm rising! Mom, mom, I said as my hips thrusted my cock into her hand.

That's it, give it to momma you'll feel better she said as her hand picked up speed. Then I started to cum! With my sisters teasing I'd built up quite a load. The first stream went right over my mom's head, the rest she directed at her tits! I shoot big loads, and far and as I was unloading on moms tits I heard another oh my escape her lips.

She continued to stroke me pulling all the cum from my cock. Feel better she asked. I told her I did and she told me I was a good boy and to get some sleep. I pulled my pj's up and looked down on her, my cum covering her chest and now running down her tits, her nightgown was soaked!

As I was leaving she said if I had any more problems to come see her and we'd figure it out. I closed the door and went to bed and started planning my next problem.

To answer some common questions I've been getting, we are both single, there's no one else in the house, and we both initiate the kisses.

So this morning I took a shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and headed for my room to finish getting ready. My son came out of his room and was heading for the bathroom to take a shower. I grabbed him to give him a quick kiss, but we both just lingered there and started making out in the hallway. I put my arms around him, and forgot that I was wearing a towel, and it fell to the floor leaving me totally naked. It shocked me at first, and I apologized to him and reached down to pick it back up. He said he doesn't mind if I leave it off, which also shocked me at first, but I decided to leave it off anyway and started kissing him again. I should mention he had just gotten dome working out, and was just wearing gym shorts and no shirt, so when we started kissing again we wrapped our arms around each other and my naked body was pressed against his bare chest.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, then he said he really needed to take a shower. I realized that he got his workout sweat all over me and said I needed to take another shower too. I semi-jokingly asked if I could join him, and he said you wash my back, I'll wash yours, and I said it's a deal.

I got in the shower and turned the water on, he stepped in behind me. This was the first time I've seen his cock since he was young, it looked just like his dad's, which is quite impressive. I handed him the soap and my loofah and told him to wash my back. He did a good job, got everything from my shoulders to my butt and down to my feet. I grabbed his washcloth and did the same to him. Then again I half jokingly said you wash my front I'll wash yours, and he immediately turned around and started soaping up my boobs. He used the loofah on one and his bare hand on the other, but the loofah was starting to hurt so I told him to drop it and just use his hands. He seemed to really enjoy this, because he wasn't washing anything else on me lol. I used the washcloth to wash his chest, arms, and stomach while he was "cleaning" my boobs. I put some more soap on the washcloth and wrapped it around his cock, which was fully hard now. He moaned and started squeezing my boobs harder while I stroked him. It took less than a minute for him to cum all over my legs. He immediately let go of my boobs and I was worried that he was having regrets after cumming. I asked him if he's okay and he wrapped his arms around me, smiled and said that he's great, that this was amazing, and the last few days have been the best of his life. My heart melted, it meant so much to hear him say that. We held each other and stood under the water for probably 15 minutes making out some more.

We eventually got out, and I got dressed and went to work late. I checked in on him at lunch time to see how he's doing and if he had any regrets about what happened. He responded with a bunch of smiley faces and said we should shower together every morning. I guess he's still okay with all this lol.

My (53f) son (19m) just finished his first year of college. I went out there this week to help him pack up and bring him home. He was sharing a house with two other guys, he was lucky not to be stuck in a dorm. They had a spare bedroom so I was able to stay there for the few nights that I was there.

The night before we came home, they had one last party before the summer. It ended up just being the three of them, two girls who lived next door, and me. We had a BBQ, had some drinks, then one of the girls said we should play spin the bottle. The guys were excited about it, I assumed I'd sit out since my son was playing, but they said I had to play so that we'd have an equal number of guys and girls. I said okay, but I'm not making out with my son, they all laughed and said okay.

We went around a couple times, a lot of kissing but nothing crazy, then on my son's second turn the bottle landed on me. We laughed and he was about to spin again, when one of the other guys put his hand on the bottle and said he double dared us to kiss, unless we're too scared. Well, my son is just like me, in that we don't like to back down from a challenge. We looked at each other and I could tell by the look on his face that he was open to it. So I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his, we just held them there for a few seconds then one of his friends yelled at us to use some tongue. I think he was joking, but my son opened his mouth and pried at my lips with his tongue, so I responded in kind and we started full on making out.

It really surprised me that it didn't feel weird at all, and even more surprising that he's actually a really good kisser. It's been years since I've had a kiss like that, so I just let myself enjoy the moment and didn't think about anything else.After a couple minutes (way longer than anyone else kissed) we stopped, and everyone told us how awesome that was and that I'm the coolest mom ever.

We played a few more rounds, I ended up making out with the other two guys and both girls. I was feeling very horny and drunk and tired, so I went to bed before I did anything I'd really regret.

The next day we finished packing up the truck and started driving home. We hadn't talked about what happened, so I just brought it up. I asked him how he felt about what happened, and he said the same thing I did, that it didn't feel weird at all, that he was surprised I was a good kisser (son, I have 4 decades of experience lol), and he really liked it. I asked if he'd do it again and he said yes. For the rest of the drive home, every time we stopped we made out for a couple minutes. I was still very surprised how normal it felt, and there was no awkwardness at all.

We've been home for a couple days, and whenever we pass each other in the hall or if we're just sitting watching TV together, we'll kiss each other. Sometimes quick pecks, sometimes long makeout sessions. Nothing more than that, no fondling or dry humping or anything. Just really nice kissing. I freaking love it.

"Butt Challenge."

That was what it said, right above the photo. I sat there blinking at my phone like an idiot, the fluorescent lights of the office humming over my head. Blinking. Reading it again. Blinking some more.

Because it was her.

It was my daughter.

Brooke, taking a selfie in some bathroom mirror, the angle twisted around behind her, one hand reaching back to pull her own cheek aside. Showing me. Showing me everything. That tight little pucker between her cheeks, framed by the hem of her hiked-up skirt.

The photo just sat there in the chat.

One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My thumb hovered over the screen like it was scared to touch anything, scared to make it real, scared to make it disappear.

Then the little dots appeared. She was typing.

She typed. Stopped. Typed. Stopped.

I stayed glued to that image the whole time, the way you stare at a car wreck on the highway. You know you shouldn't look. You can't look away.

I was right in the middle of work when it came through. A Tuesday afternoon. A spreadsheet open in another window, a half-cold coffee beside my keyboard, the low murmur of the guy two cubicles over taking a sales call.

Then my phone buzzed and the whole world tilted.

My body reacted before my brain did. That was the worst part. In the privacy of my little gray cubicle, hunched over so the screen faced the wall, I felt the blood rush south so fast it made me dizzy. Instant. Shameless. My cock went thick against my thigh before a single conscious thought had time to form.

My brain tried to fight it. God knows it tried.

That's your daughter, my brain said.

She's got a fucking incredible ass, something lower argued right back.

And it did. That was the horrible truth of it. Eighteen years old and still in school, still a senior, three months from graduation. She was wearing the uniform in the picture. The plaid skirt. The white button-up gone half-untucked. The little knee socks bunched down.

Somehow the uniform made it worse. Made it filthier. Made my pulse slam in my ears.

I want to tell you I felt nothing. That I was disgusted, that I locked the phone and walked away.

That would be a lie.

I was harder than iron sitting in that chair. Harder than I'd been in years. My slacks were a tent under the desk and I had to shift, had to press the heel of my hand down against myself just to think straight, and even that small pressure sent a jolt up my spine that I hated and chased at the same time.

Finally the dots turned into a message.

"Gotcha 😜"

I stared at it. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, my thumbs were already moving.

"Was that meant for me?" I typed.

The reply came fast this time.

"It's a new challenge. All the girls at school are doing it. I had to."

I read it three times.

"But to me," I sent. Not even a question. I didn't know what it was.

The dots danced. Disappeared. Came back.

"I don't have a boyfriend. I had to send it to somebody."

I didn't answer. I couldn't think of a single safe thing to say. A safe father would have written delete that, never do that again, we'll talk tonight. A safe father would have stood up and called his wife.

I just sat there, sweating in a forty-dollar dress shirt, staring at the screen while the dots came back one more time.

"Did you like it?"

Three words. Three little words sitting at the bottom of the screen, blinking up at me, and I swear my heart was pounding so hard I thought the guy in the next cubicle could hear it.

I typed a response.

That's inappropriate, Brooke.

I deleted it.

I typed another.

I'm flattered, but—

I deleted that too.

My hands were actually shaking. I could feel the line right there in front of me, the bright clean line you don't cross, and I could feel myself leaning over it, looking down into the dark, and the worst, sickest part of me liked the view.

"I liked it," I sent.

The second it left my phone the adrenaline hit me like a wave. Cold and hot at the same time, crawling up the back of my neck, making my whole body buzz. I'd done it. I'd said it. There was no taking it back. Whatever this was, I was in it now.

But the war kept going. Father versus man. The two of them clawing at each other in my chest while my cock throbbed against the desk drawer.

I needed to slow it down. I needed to stay in control. I told myself that. So I typed something safe, something curious, something a normal, concerned dad might ask.

"How does the challenge work?" I asked.

"We have to take a pic of our butt and send it to a guy. Every time someone dares us. 🙊"

I read that and my mouth went dry.

Every time.

"So there could be more," I wrote.

I regretted it the instant my thumb hit send. I felt my stomach drop, that lurch of what did I just do. But it was gone. Out of my hands. Floating up the gray bubbles toward her.

The dots appeared.

Then her answer.

"Do you want more?"

I read it and forgot how to breathe.

The office kept moving around me. Somebody's chair squeaked. A printer chugged across the room. My boss laughed at something down the hall. The whole boring ordinary machine of my life grinding on while I sat in the middle of it with my daughter's question burning a hole through the screen and through me.

Do you want more.

I knew the answer. I'd known the answer from the second I saw that photo. I just couldn't make my thumbs type it. Because typing it made it true in a way that "I liked it" hadn't. "I liked it" could be a slip, a reflex, a thing you say without thinking. I want more was a choice. I want more was a man choosing, eyes open, hand steady, to step off the ledge.

I took too long. I knew I took too long.

And then, while I was still frozen, the phone buzzed again.

A new photo.

I almost didn't open it. My thumb hovered. The little blurred preview sat there daring me, taunting me, and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips, in my throat, in my cock.

I opened it.

This one was worse. This one was so much worse.

Both hands now. Both hands reaching back, fingers digging into that perfect heart-shaped ass, spreading herself wide open for the camera. The skirt shoved all the way up around her hips. Everything on display, lit up bright and pink and obscene, nothing left hidden.

And here's the thing that lodged in me like a splinter, the thing I couldn't stop thinking about as I sat there with my heart hammering:

If both her hands were holding her cheeks apart—

Then who the hell was taking the picture?

Someone was in that bathroom with her. Someone was standing behind my daughter, holding the camera, looking at what I was looking at, and the thought of it made me insane. Jealous and aroused and out of my mind, all at once, a hot ugly knot of feeling I had no name for and no right to.

I stared at that photo until my eyes burned.

And then I gave up fighting. Just for a second. Just long enough to type the truth and send it before the father in me could stop the man.

"I want more."

I set the phone down on the desk, face up, and watched the screen. Watched the three little dots come to life.

---

This is just the beginning. More chapters are available at storiesbyfiction.com

The hotel room in Mykonos glowed gold from the bedside lamp. Nina held her phone steady, the front camera framing her sun-kissed face, those 600cc tits barely contained in a white string bikini top. Her grin was wicked.

"How is she?" I asked, leaning back on the couch at home, phone propped against a pillow.

Nina's grin widened. She flipped the camera.

Diana was on the bed. On all fours. Wrists bound behind her back with what looked like the sash from a hotel bathrobe, the silk cutting into her dark skin. A black sleep mask covered her eyes. And her mouth—stuffed with a wadded-up pair of panties, held in place by a strip of athletic tape wrapped around her head. Her enormous ass rose high, those massive dark cheeks trembling, the narrow string of her bikini bottom buried so deep between them it was invisible.

"She can't really answer right now," Nina said. The camera panned slow across Diana's bound body. Lingering on the way her spine curved, the way her small breasts hung beneath her, dark nipples brushing the white hotel sheets. "My good little slut wife is being punished."

Lucy appeared at my shoulder, wine glass in hand. She leaned in, peering at the screen, eyes sharpening with interest. "Oh my. What did she do?"

"Tell me, Nina," I said, voice flat. Commanding. "Explain exactly what your wife did wrong."

Nina circled the bed, camera tracking Diana's trembling body. She sat on the mattress beside her bound wife, one hand settling possessive on Diana's lower back. Fingers tracing the ridge of her spine.

"You gave us a command, Daddy," Nina began, voice shifting into that specific register she used when reporting. "Three days ago. You said we should find a deserted beach, strip completely naked, and send you videos. Both of us. Full nude."

She paused. Her hand slid down to Diana's ass, palm resting flat on the right cheek, feeling the flesh quiver.

"I did it," Nina continued. "Found the perfect cove. Nobody around for half a mile. I stripped down, recorded everything you asked for, sent it within the hour." She patted Diana's ass. "But this one? This obedient little Catholic wife of mine?"

The pat turned to a squeeze. Hard. Diana whimpered through the gag, body flinching.

"She refused."

The word hung in the air.

"Said it was too risky. Said someone might see. Said she wasn't comfortable." Nina's voice went cold. She leaned close to Diana's ear, lips almost touching. "As if comfort matters when Daddy gives an order."

Diana's bound hands twisted uselessly behind her back, fingers flexing. A muffled sound bled through the gag. Protest. Or apology. Hard to tell.

"So now," Nina said, straightening, looking directly into the camera with those blazing eyes, "she needs to understand something she keeps forgetting. Who's in charge. Who owns her."

She slapped Diana's ass. Open palm, full swing. The crack echoed off the hotel room walls, Diana's massive cheek rippling in a wave. Diana lurched forward, a strangled cry leaking through the panty gag.

"Daddy makes the rules," Nina whispered. "Daddy's little fuck meat follows them."

I watched the screen. Said nothing for a moment. Let the silence build.

"Good," I said. "Now. What's the punishment?"

Lucy pressed closer, her breast warm against my arm. Her eyes were locked on the phone. Her wine sat forgotten.

Nina set the phone on the nightstand, propping it against the lamp so we had a wide view of the bed. She stood and crossed to her suitcase, rummaging. When she returned, she held up the object for the camera.

A plug. Not a modest one. Thick as a fist at its widest point, gleaming black silicone, tapered to a narrow neck before flaring into a wide base.

"First punishment," Nina announced, holding the plug beside Diana's face so we could see the scale. Diana's blindfolded head turned toward it instinctively, sensing the presence, and her body went rigid.

Nina uncapped a travel bottle of lube. Drizzled it over the plug, coating it until it glistened. Then she positioned herself behind Diana, one knee on the bed, and pulled the bikini string aside.

Diana's asshole came into view. Dark, tight, puckered. Still relatively innocent compared to Nina's well-trained hole.

"Breathe, baby," Nina murmured, pressing the tapered tip against Diana's rim. "Or don't. I don't really care."

She pushed.

Diana's body bucked. A scream tore through the gag, muffled into a pitiful, gargling wail. Her asshole resisted, clenching desperate, but Nina didn't stop. She pressed steady, relentless, watching the dark ring stretch around the widening girth.

"Take it," Nina hissed. "Daddy's watching. Show him what a good anal whore you are."

The widest point breached with a wet, obscene pop. Diana's hole swallowed the rest greedily, the plug disappearing inside her, her rim snapping shut around the narrow neck. The flat base sat flush between her massive cheeks like a jewel in a crown.

Diana collapsed forward, face buried in the sheets, body shaking with silent sobs.

Nina checked her watch. "Our flight is in six hours, Daddy. She keeps the plug in until we walk through your front door. Airport security. The flight. Customs. Baggage claim. All of it."

"Sitting on it the entire time," I confirmed.

"Every second. In that business seat. With her monster ass crammed in and this thing buried in her guts." Nina grinned, running her fingers along the base protruding from Diana's crack.

"Good start," I said. "What else?"

Nina held up her palm. "Ten slaps. On her cunt. Hard ones."

She reached under Diana's trembling body, fingers finding the bikini string between her legs. Yanked it aside. Diana's pussy was exposed, the coarse hair matted with what could only be arousal.

Nina drew her hand back. Swung.

The slap cracked against Diana's bare pussy. A wet, meaty sound. Diana's whole body jerked, legs kicking, a shriek exploding through the gag so loud it probably carried to the next room.

"One," Nina counted, examining her palm. Slick. "Nine more to go."

Diana shook her head violently, muffled pleas streaming through the gag, her bound hands straining against the silk.

"That's enough," I said.

Nina paused, hand raised for the second strike. Looked at the camera, confused.

"It's good," I continued, keeping my voice level, "but it won't break her. You slap her pussy ten times, she cries, she heals. Tomorrow she's the same Diana. Still rebellious under the surface. Still that good little Catholic girl who thinks she can say no when Daddy tells her to strip."

Nina lowered her hand. Sat back on her heels, listening.

"What's missing?" she asked.

I let the silence stretch. Let Diana hear it. Let the anticipation build in that dark space behind the blindfold, where her imagination was doing worse things than I ever could.

"Humiliation," I said.

Nina's eyes lit up.

"Take the gag off," I ordered. "The blindfold. But leave her tied."

Nina moved quick. Peeled the tape first, then pulled the soaked panties from Diana's mouth. Diana gasped, jaw working, spit trailing down her chin. Lastly the sleep mask, pulled up over her forehead.

Diana blinked. Eyes swollen and red from crying, lashes wet, those enormous brown irises adjusting to the lamplight.

"Now put our feed on the TV," I said. "I want her watching us."

Nina grabbed the hotel remote, fiddled with the smart TV's casting feature. Thirty seconds later, my face filled the fifty-inch screen mounted on the wall opposite the bed. Lucy beside me, wine glass back in hand, that predatory smile curving her lips.

Diana stared at the screen. At us. Still on all fours, arms bound behind her, that plug buried in her ass, pussy still exposed and stinging from the slap.

"Daddy," Diana croaked, voice raw and small. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll do it. I'll go to the beach right now. I'll strip, I'll record everything, I'll—"

"I know you're sorry."

"I swear. I swear on everything, I'll never disobey again. Never. Please. Whatever you want, I'll do it. Right now. Please, Daddy."

"I accept your apology, Diana."

Relief flooded her face. Her shoulders dropped. A sob of gratitude shook her chest.

"But there's still a punishment."

The relief vanished.

"See, the problem is this," I said, leaning forward. "Punishing you alone isn't enough. You've proven that. You take the pain, you cry, you promise to be better, and two weeks later we're right back here. Same good little church girl who thinks her boundaries matter more than my commands."

Diana's eyes widened.

"You need to understand that your disobedience has consequences beyond your own body. Consequences that touch the people you love most." I paused. "People like your mother."

The color drained from Diana's face. All of it. That light brown skin went ashen, gray, bloodless.

"No." The word came out barely human. "No, Daddy, please. Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with—"

"Leave her out of it?" I tilted my head. "That's impossible, baby girl. Especially since Mary's already gone down."

I paused.

"Literally."

I rotated the phone camera. Panning away from my face, across the living room, toward the couch where Lucy sat.

Lucy was reclined against the armrest, sundress hiked to her waist, legs spread wide.

Between her thighs, kneeling on the carpet, face buried deep in Lucy's cunt—

Mary.

Her dark hair had come loose from its bun, falling in waves across Lucy's pale thighs. Her head moved in slow, rhythmic bobs, tongue working audibly, wet sounds filling the room. Her massive ass rose behind her, straining against a pair of cotton panties that had been pulled halfway down, bunching at the tops of her thighs. Her back was bare, bra unhooked and dangling from one arm.

She must have heard the phone move. Her head lifted just an inch from Lucy's pussy, lips glistening, chin dripping with arousal. Her dark eyes found the camera.

Shame crashed across her face like a wave. Her mouth opened, closed. A strand of Lucy's juice connected her lower lip to Lucy's clit, stretching and glistening in the light.

But she didn't stop.

Lucy's hand found the back of Mary's head. Pressing her back down.

"Don't mind us, honey," Lucy murmured to the camera, her hips rolling against Mary's mouth. "Mary was just showing me how grateful she is for everything we've done for her family."

Mary whimpered against Lucy's cunt. But her tongue resumed its work.

On the hotel TV in Mykonos, Diana watched her mother eat another woman's pussy.

"No." Diana's voice shattered. A glass dropped from a rooftop. "No, no, no. Mom? Mom! What are you—how is this—"

She thrashed against the bindings, body bucking on the bed, the plug shifting inside her ass, wrenching a gasp from her throat mid-sentence. Nina grabbed her shoulders, holding her still.

"Mom! Look at me! Stop! Please, stop what you're doing!"

Mary flinched at her daughter's voice bleeding through the phone speaker. Her rhythm faltered. But Lucy's fingers tightened in her hair, and my wife's voice dropped to a whisper that carried sharp as a blade.

"Keep going, Mary. Don't stop for anyone."

Mary obeyed. Her tongue pressed deeper into Lucy's slit, her dark hands gripping Lucy's pale thighs for balance, her massive ass swaying gently with each bob of her head.

Diana was sobbing now. Full, wracking sobs that shook her entire bound body. "How? How did you—she would never—she's a woman of God, she would never do this willingly—"

"Diana." My voice cut through her hysteria. "Calm down. Breathe. I'll explain everything."

She didn't calm down. But she stopped thrashing.

"Your mother spent two weeks under this roof," I began. "Two weeks of dinners, wine nights, and Lucy's friendship. Two weeks of sleeping in our guest room, waking up to coffee I made her, falling asleep to conversations I had with her."

I paused. Let it sink.

"A widow, Diana. Eight years alone. No man. No touch. No one to tell her she mattered. And then suddenly there was me. Every morning. Every evening. Holding her hand. Rubbing her shoulders. Making her feel like a woman again instead of a widow."

Diana shook her head slowly. Denying what she already knew was true.

"It started with sunscreen by the pool," I continued, voice almost gentle. Almost kind. "My hands on her body. Then it was massages. Then it was conversations that went too late. She told me things she'd never told anyone. About Patrick. About the loneliness."

Lucy picked up seamlessly, her voice breathy from Mary's tongue. "I helped with the theology, sweetheart. Your mother needed to hear it from scripture. First Timothy, chapter five. 'If a widow has children or grandchildren, these should learn first of all to put their religion into practice by caring for their own family.' She needed to understand that being cared for by family wasn't sin. It was duty."

Mary moaned softly against Lucy's pussy.

"And then the harder verses," Lucy continued, stroking Mary's hair with maternal tenderness while grinding against her face. "Genesis 19. Lot and his daughters. They lay with their father to preserve his seed. The Bible doesn't condemn them, Mary. It records them. Their children became nations."

"She fought it at first," I said. "Of course she did. But every morning she came down to breakfast, and every morning I was there."

Diana's sobs had quieted to trembling silence. She stared at the screen, tears still falling, but her eyes were locked, unable to look away.

"The night it broke was a Thursday," I said. "Lucy was out with her book club. Mary and I were watching a movie. She'd had two glasses of wine. She put her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her. She looked up at me and said, 'I wish Patrick had held me like this.'"

Mary's rhythm faltered again. A shudder ran through her body at the memory.

"I told her Patrick was gone. That God had placed her in my home for a reason. That a woman without a husband is a ship without a rudder. That I was her rudder now."

"She kissed me first," I added. "Your mother kissed me. I didn't take anything she didn't offer with both hands."

I stood from the couch. The phone camera followed as I walked toward Lucy and Mary. I crouched beside them, one hand settling on Mary's lower back, feeling the heat of her dark skin.

"Tell your daughter, Mary," I said, voice low and close to her ear. "Tell Diana what you told me that night."

Mary lifted her face from Lucy's pussy. Her lips were swollen, chin dripping, eyes wet with a different kind of tears. She looked at the phone. At the camera. At her daughter watching from a hotel room four thousand miles away.

"I told him..." Mary's voice cracked. Thick Congolese accent heavy with emotion and wine and shame. "I told him I needed a husband. A real one. A man who would take charge. Who would lead me. The way the Bible says."

"And what else?" I pressed, thumb rubbing circles on her spine.

Mary closed her eyes. A single tear tracked down her dark cheek. "I told him I wanted another baby. That the emptiness of the apartment was killing me. That every time I saw Nina's belly growing with his child, I felt..." She swallowed. "Jealous. Desperate. Like my womb was screaming."

Diana made a sound on the screen. A broken, animal sound.

"He's my husband now, Diana," Mary whispered to the camera. "In every way that matters. He takes care of me. He loves me. He gives me what your father never could."

I stood. Reached down and pulled Mary gently to her feet. She stood on shaky legs, Lucy's arousal glistening on her face, her bra dangling, those heavy dark breasts hanging free. Bigger than Diana's. The nipples thick and long, pointing downward, areolas wide and dark as chocolate.

I turned Mary to face the camera. Hooked my thumbs into her cotton panties and pulled them down. She stepped out of them.

Her bush was dense. The same coarse, dark hair that Diana had inherited, but thicker, spreading wider across her mound, climbing her lower belly, creeping along her inner thighs.

Between her swollen dark lips, dripping slow and thick down her inner thigh—my cum.

I angled the camera close. Let Diana see every detail. The cream pooling at her mother's entrance. The thick ropes clinging to her pubic hair.

"See that?" I said. "That's Daddy's cum dripping out of your mother's pussy. Third load today. She's been taking it since this morning."

Diana's face on the TV was a ruin. Mascara streaked, lips trembling, eyes enormous and locked on the image of her mother's creampied cunt.

"Maybe soon you'll have a little sister," I said. "Your mama's only forty-three. Plenty of fertile years left. Those hips were built for it."

Mary's hand found mine.

"But for now," I said, straightening, pulling Mary close against my side, "there's still the matter of your punishment."

Diana's breath hitched.

"Your mother," I said slowly, letting each word land with the weight of a verdict, "is going to lose her anal virginity tonight. Right here. On camera. While you watch."

"NO!" Diana screamed, thrashing so hard the headboard slammed the wall. "Please, Daddy, no! Not that! She can't—she's never—please, punish me instead! Hit me, fuck me, anything, but not—"

"This isn't negotiable."

I walked Mary to the couch.

"Turn around, Mary. Bend over. Hands on the coffee table."

She obeyed. Bending at the waist, her massive dark ass rising, cheeks spreading from the position. Her asshole came into view. Surrounded by that coarse hair, the wrinkled rosebud clenching nervously in the open air.

Lucy appeared beside me with the lube. She squeezed a generous amount into my palm, then settled into the armchair with her wine and her phone, angling for the perfect shot.

I started slow. One finger circling Mary's rim, spreading lube across the tight pucker. She shivered, her massive cheeks clenching, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

"Relax, baby," I murmured. "Push out when I push in. Just like I taught you with your pussy."

"I'm scared," Mary whispered. Small. Honest.

"I know. I've got you."

Index finger pressed. The tip breached her ring. Mary gasped, back arching, those heavy tits swinging beneath her.

"Oh—oh Lord—"

"Talk to me, Mary. Tell me how it feels."

"Full," she breathed. "Strange."

I pushed to the first knuckle. Held. Twisted gentle, letting her walls adjust. Eight years of nothing, and now a man's finger in her shithole for the first time in her life.

On the TV screen, four thousand miles away, Diana watched with tears streaming down her face. Nina sat beside her on the hotel bed, one arm around Diana's trembling shoulders, the other hand between Diana's legs. Fingers working Diana's clit in slow, deliberate circles.

"Nina, stop," Diana gasped. "Don't touch me while my mom is—"

"Daddy's orders," Nina whispered in her ear. "That's the punishment."

"I can't—"

"You will."

Second finger. Mary cried out, her asshole stretching around both digits. I pumped slow, shallow thrusts, churning lube inside her, listening to the wet squelch of her virgin guts yielding.

"More, Mary," I ordered. "Tell your daughter how it feels. Look at the camera."

Mary turned her head. Tears and mascara and snot.

"It's... it's good," Mary choked out, eyes finding the camera, finding her daughter's horrified face on the phone screen propped on the coffee table. "Baby, it's... Daddy knows what he's doing."

"Mom, please stop calling him that—"

"He's my husband, Diana." Mary's voice broke and rebuilt in the same breath. "He's the best man I've ever known. Better than..." She paused. Swallowed.

"Better than who?" I prompted, scissoring my fingers wider, stretching her ring.

"Better than Patrick."

Diana went rigid. Completely still. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Say more," I ordered, pumping deeper, adding a third finger. Mary's asshole swallowed it with a wet squelch, her entire body shuddering, that enormous ass quaking against my hand.

"Patrick was..." Mary panted, hips pushing back onto my fingers, her body betraying what her mouth still hesitated to say. "He was gentle. Kind. A good Christian man."

"But?"

Mary's face crumbled.

"But he was weak," she whispered. "In bed. He couldn't... he was soft. Small. He'd finish in minutes and roll over. Never once made me feel like..." She moaned as my fingers twisted inside her. "Like this. Like a woman on fire."

"Mom, stop!" Diana screamed from the screen, thrashing against her bindings, Nina's fingers still working between her legs. "Stop saying those things about Dad!"

"He tried," Mary continued, ass grinding back onto my hand. "Lord knows he tried. But his... his manhood was nothing compared to John's. Nothing. I used to lie there after he finished, wondering if that was all there was. Wondering what I was missing."

I pulled my fingers free. Mary whimpered at the sudden emptiness, her asshole gaping pink for a moment before clenching shut.

"Now you know," I said, standing. Unbuckling my belt. Jeans dropping. My cock sprang free, thick and veined and raging hard.

Mary looked over her shoulder. At my shaft. Her eyes went wide.

"John," she breathed.

I slathered lube along my length. Then pressed the head against her dark, winking pucker.

"Tell your daughter what Patrick's cock looked like compared to mine."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut. "Small," she gasped as the pressure built. "Thin. Half the size. Maybe less. It barely stretched me."

"And mine?"

"Monstrous." The word came out half sob, half moan. "It splits me open every time. Fills me so deep I can feel it in my stomach. I never knew—I never knew a man could—"

I pushed. The head breached.

Mary screamed.

Her ring stretched obscene around my girth. White-rimmed against dark skin, the contrast pornographic. Her massive cheeks shook, both globes quaking, rippling with the shock.

"OHHH GOD—JOHN—IT'S TOO—"

"Breathe," I commanded, gripping her hips.

She sobbed. I felt the resistance ease. Felt the ring loosen just enough.

I sank another inch. Two. Three.

Mary's head dropped between her arms, forehead pressing the coffee table, a string of words pouring from her mouth.

On the hotel screen, Diana watched with wide, streaming eyes

Between her legs, Nina's fingers hadn't stopped.

"Don't fight it, baby," Nina whispered into Diana's ear, thumb circling her swollen clit. "Watch your mama take Daddy's cock. Watch how her body opens for him. That's what obedience looks like."

"I can't—Nina, please, I can't cum to this—"

"You can. You will. Daddy said so."

Nina pushed two fingers inside Diana's dripping cunt. Curled them against the front wall. Diana bucked, a sob ripping from her throat, her body betraying her completely.

I bottomed out inside Mary. Balls-deep. Every inch of my shaft swallowed by her virgin asshole, my pubes pressing flush against her dark crack, her ring stretched thin and trembling around my base.

I held there. Let the moment exist. Let Diana see it on the screen. Her mother's face twisted in agony and ecstasy, tears running, lips forming my name over and over. Her mother's massive ass impaled. Her mother's bush dripping arousal onto the carpet beneath the coffee table.

Then I moved.

Slow at first. Inch by inch, pulling back until the ridge of my head caught her ring, then pressing forward, sinking deep. Each stroke forced a sound from Mary—a grunt, a moan, a broken cry that echoed off the living room walls.

"Faster," Mary gasped. So quiet I almost missed it.

"What was that?"

"Faster. Please. More."

I gave her more. Hips snapping forward, the slap of my pelvis against her enormous ass.

"Talk, Mary," I growled, gripping a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up so the camera caught her face. "Tell your daughter what Patrick's lovemaking felt like versus this."

"There is no comparison," Mary wailed, voice cracked and ruined, eyes rolling. "He would last two minutes. Missionary. In the dark. With his shirt on. He was embarrassed of his body. Embarrassed of his—his small thing."

"And what do I do?"

"You destroy me!" The words exploded from her, raw and feral. "You bend me over and take whatever you want! You fill me so full I can't breathe! You make me scream in front of my own daughter! Patrick never made me scream! Patrick never made me cum! NOT ONCE IN FIFTEEN YEARS!"

Diana went silent on the screen. Completely, utterly silent. Her face was blank. Emptied of expression. The systematic demolition of her father's memory playing out in real time while Nina's fingers pumped inside her cunt.

Nina twisted her fingers. Found that spot. Ground her thumb against Diana's throbbing clit.

Diana came.

Her body arched off the bed, bound hands straining against the silk, mouth opening in a silent scream. Her pussy clamped around Nina's fingers, juice flooding out, soaking the hotel sheets.

Nina held her through it. Kept pumping. Kept stroking. Forced every last spasm out of her body while the TV screen showed her mother being sodomized six feet from the camera.

"Good girl," Nina cooed, kissing Diana's tear-soaked temple. "That's it. Cum for Daddy. Cum watching your mama get bred in the ass."

Mary heard Diana's orgasm through the phone speaker. She moaned deep. Her asshole clenched brutal around my shaft.

"My baby came," Mary panted, that destroyed smile spreading across her face. "My baby girl came watching her mama."

I increased the pace. Full power now. Savage thrusts that drove Mary's hips into the edge of the coffee table, rattling the glasses, toppling the wine bottle. Her tits swung violent beneath her, heavy dark globes slapping together, those long thick nipples dragging against her forearms.

"Tell Diana you love Daddy's cock in your ass," I commanded.

"I love Daddy's cock in my ass!" Mary screamed instantly, no hesitation, no shame left. "I love it! It's the best thing I've ever felt! Better than anything Patrick ever did to me! I worship this cock! I worship this man!"

Lucy had set her wine down. She stood beside the couch now, phone in one hand, filming from a second angle. Her other hand was between her own legs, fingers working her pussy. She was close. Eyes glazed, lips parted, watching me wreck Mary's virgin asshole with an expression of pure satisfaction.

The hour that followed was methodical. Designed to shatter every remaining wall in Diana's mind.

I fucked her face-to-face so the camera caught every expression. Every moan. Every tear that fell from her eyes while she begged for more.

"Harder, husband! Don't stop! Make me feel it for days!" Lucy directed throughout. "Turn her around. I want Diana to see the stretch marks on her belly. Those are from carrying Diana. Now her belly's going to stretch again with your baby, John. Tell Mary that."

"Your womb is next," I grunted into Mary's ear, buried balls-deep in her ass. "After I'm done wrecking this hole, I'm filling your cunt again. Every day. Until your belly swells."

"Yes!" Mary sobbed. "Give me a baby! Give me a daughter! I want to be pregnant! I want to carry your child!"

On the hotel TV, Diana's face was a devastation. Nina had forced three more orgasms out of her during the hour, each one accompanied by the sounds of her mother being sodomized.

When I pulled out, the gape was obscene. Mary's dark hole gaped wide and pink-raw, a full two seconds of winking emptiness before her ring tried weakly to close. Thick white cum bubbled from the opening, frothing, spilling down her crack.

Lucy zoomed in. Captured every detail.

I straightened. Caught my breath. Picked up the phone.

"Diana," I said.

She blinked. Focused on me.

"Don't ever disobey me again."

---

This is just the beginning. More chapters and full series are available at storiesbyfiction.com