No i havent. I dont find my sister sexy but the idea of a sexy sister is what gets me.
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No i havent. I dont find my sister sexy but the idea of a sexy sister is what gets me.
I bet she is not that bad. It is the forbidden aspect of incest that makes it hot for most people, me included.
Got me there.
4yourpleasureiam
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If the opportunity presents itself just do it and keep quiet about it. people can't keep quiet about anything today, that is why so many teachers are in trouble. Of coarse I am referring to university teachers and consenting adult students.
of course
BoobLover78
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What's your sister look like? She hot?
BoobLover78
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What do you mean by that? Just wondering.
Objectively, mom is not beautiful. If I saw her on the street and did no know her she would not produce a reaction, IE she is not a milf. But the idea of sex with her is hot because of the taboo nature of incest
Masquerades
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ring ring ring
legal place: hello
me: is it legal for me to fuck my dad in nj and ri, im over 18?
legal place:
ExpressxLove9
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hahahahaha, I'd pay to see the looks on their faces....and to see you fucking your dad.ring ring ring
legal place: hello
me: is it legal for me to fuck my dad in nj and ri, im over 18?
legal place:
lol
Masquerades
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hahahahaha, I'd pay to see the looks on their faces....and to see you fucking your dad.
lol
lol
I haven't even made contact yet so it's just a fantasy.
If you wana know the story I made a topic about it
http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=1072991
desiwife16
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i love long term incest roles too
geronimo_appleby
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for what?
geronimo_appleby
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an excerpt from: A Dash of Rum and Mum's Tits
'Just a man I met here. Nothing's been going on -- he's not really my type. He was good fun at first, and has pots of money, but ...' she pulled a face. '... Just not my type at all,' she concluded, dragging at her cigarette again.
There was more to it but I decided not to press the issue. 'So what do I have to do?' I asked.
'Well,' my mother began hesitantly, which was definitely not like her. 'I thought that ... what I mean is that you could sort of pretend to be ...' She laughed, obviously embarrassed.
'What? What could I pretend?'
There was a hopeful moment when my mother leaned close across the table towards me that I thought her jugs would spill out of the sarong she had wrapped around her body. 'Just pretend to be interested in me. You know ... Like ... interested in me.'
'As in fancy you?'
'Yes, if you want to put it that way. Just keep near me, walk around with me, holding hands as though we've just met and are suddenly mad about each other.'
I saw myself reflected in stereo in my mother's sunglasses. I wondered if she noticed my eagerness.
'I reckon I could do that,' I grinned. 'It wouldn't be too much hardship.' I added: 'You're a good-looking lady, Mum.' My voice caught on the next sentence. 'If you weren't my mum I'd probably fancy you for real.' If I'd stood up at that moment, my mother would have seen the evidence of my sincerity; a hard-on that could cut glass.
Her reply shocked me. 'And if you weren't my son,' she said, an odd grin on her face. 'I'd take you skinny dipping one night.' Apparently unaware of my flabbergasted, slack-jawed stare my mother ground out the stub of her cigarette in the ash-tray. 'Meet me by the big pool in half an hour,' she continued brightly, pointing elegantly in the general direction of our rendezvous. 'You can make yourself useful and rub lotion on my back.' She sighed and rolled her eyes. 'Raymond was ever so keen to do that.' Across the back of her hand she whispered: 'And a bit pervy.' In her normal voice, she finished, 'See you soon.' She stood and picked up her cigarettes and lighter. 'Half an hour,' she added with a wave.
I watched her walk away, admiring her trim figure and shapely backside as she wove between tables, moving graceful as a dancer. She might have hair like a boy but no way could she be mistaken for one. All I could do was sit, order another coffee, and wait for my cock to settle down.
*
My eyes were on stalks. 'Jesus, Mum!'
'Call me Elaine,' she said. 'And what are you oh Jesusing about?'
I hadn't meant to blurt but seeing that bikini -- or what passed for a bikini, as far as I could see it was three insignificant triangles of cloth and some string -- forced the cry from my throat. 'That ...' I waved my hands ineffectually ... swimsuit.'
'Don't you like it?' she asked, examining herself critically.
I thought it was fucking sensational. It made me want to push her onto the deck, part her legs, rip the bottom piece away and just suck at her clit until she squirted on my tongue. My mother, I couldn't fail to notice, was either completely devoid of a pubic bush or had it severely coiffed. Her pudenda positively bulged inside the scrap of bright yellow cloth. I swear I could make out the indentation of her cleft. The apology of a waistband was two thin lengths of string that looped high on my mother's hips, exaggerating the length of her legs and disappearing between the cleft of her buttocks.
And on top it was simply jaw-dropping. She'd chosen her implants well. Perfect size for her, not the overinflated, stretched look I'd seen in pictures of glamour models; they looked so real too, completely natural. I wondered again how they would feel.
'It's stunning,' I managed eventually, sincerely.
'I wasn't too sure,' my mother responded, flicking a towel over the recliner. 'It certainly got some attention,' she added neutrally. 'Be a good lad, Eric,' my mother said after settling face-down on her sun lounger. 'Oil up my back will you please?'
I'd forgotten about that in the excitement of seeing my mother virtually nude. She held out a bottle of lotion. I took it with a trembling hand and, kneeling next to the woman on the bed, drizzled some of the gunk onto her shoulders. 'Mmm,' she murmured appreciatively as I began to massage the stuff into her sun-warmed skin. 'That's nice.'
The feel of her under my fingers, my palms gliding over her flesh, and her purr of approval stiffened my cock. Thank fuck she was face down and couldn't see my discomfort. I began high up around her shoulders but soon worked my way lower, massaging the sun lotion into her back, feeling the knobs of her spine under my hands. At her instruction, with a gulp, I pulled the string of her bikini top to undo the bow. She was now bare from the waist up. If she got up for any reason I'd be able to see her breasts; her nipples would no longer be a figment of my imagination, next time I pulled my cock I could visualise them. In a moment of daring I allowed my fingers to stray down either side of my mother's body; she didn't flinch when I brushed the flanks of her breasts. I day-dreamed about my mother's bare tits as my hands slid closer and closer towards her buttocks. Reckless with desire I let my hand slide over one taut cheek. My heart hammered in my chest. Would she object?
'That's a little bit inappropriate,' she commented. I lifted my hand and muttered an apology. 'But carry on, silly,' my mother added as she squirmed against the towel, lifting her hips and actually pushing her arse into the air an inch or two. 'You've done one, now do the other.'
Sweat poured off me. Melted sun lotion oozed from my forehead and into my eyes. It was hot under the Caribbean sun, but not that hot. I shifted on my knees and gently massaged my mother's buttocks, even considering the highly risky tactic of sliding a finger between her legs. Oiling her arse cheeks was one thing, fingering my mother's vulva was a whole different league.
But I was sorely tempted. I could have cried with frustration.
'I'll do you now,' I heard my mother say. 'You're so pale you'll burn to a crisp in a day.'
At first I had a crazy notion she meant sex before it dawned on me that she intended to rub cream into my back.
And it all happened at once. She rolled onto her side and there they were, the breasts I'd longed to see for the past two years swung into view. Unfortunately, in my panic to hide my jutting erection I stood up, bringing the front of my shorts to the optimum point for her to observe my tumescent state.
Even as my mother hefted herself onto her elbows for the turn I gabbled a refusal: 'No, need Mum, I'll sit in the shade and read.'
Too late.
'Oh!' she cried with her face inches from the damning evidence. 'Eric ...' she spluttered. 'Oh my ...' A hand came to her mouth. The moment stretched endlessly. There was no ignoring the huge bulge, and the cause was obvious. 'Jesus, Eric,' my mother spat, recovering somewhat and sitting upright. She lifted the sunglasses from her eyes while I just stood there staring at her tits, with my hard-on like a rock star's microphone tenting my shorts inches from her face. 'What on Earth caused that?' my mother asked in surprise, eyes scanning the poolside for witnesses to this embarrassing scene. Fortunately it was still early and we had the place to ourselves.
'Mum,' I croaked hoarsely. It was all I could manage at that moment. I stepped back and then sat heavily on the chair which neighboured my mother's; all the while, even then, keeping those superb tits in sight.
My mother, Elaine, noticing my sight line, regarded me with comprehension dawning. 'Oh!' She exclaimed.
I confessed, all of it, beginning at Heathrow and ending by admitting I'd even considered sliding my finger along the cleft of her pussy. My mother stared at me throughout my low-voiced monologue. When I'd finished she kept on staring. Then she looked down at her breasts, the catalyst for all of this.
'I need a drink,' she said finally.
'But it's only half-ten,' I replied.
'So what?' My mother stood and wrapped her body in the pale blue sarong. 'I still need a drink after that revelation, Eric.' She gathered her accoutrements. 'Come on,' she ordered with a jerk of her head, indicating I should follow. 'We need to talk.'
Rather than go to the bar as I'd expected, my mother led me to her apartment. The air-con hit me like a fist. I noticed my mother's nipples react to the blast of cold air. Despite my chagrin I still desired her. The door closed behind me while my mother went to the fridge and took out a large bottle of Coke. She poured a generous measure of rum from another bottle, and then splashed the cola into the glass. When I nodded at the proffered bottle she poured a drink for me as well.
'I don't know what to say,' she began, and then swigged heavily at her drink. She lit a cigarette. I thought it prudent to keep quiet about the no smoking rule in the rooms, there was no telling how incendiary her mood might be now. 'I'm angry ... But I'm flattered too, which is confusing the hell out of me,' she said at last. She smoked in silence for a few moments, and then carried her drink to one of the hugely cushioned armchairs. 'Sit,' she instructed, using her cigarette as a pointer. I sat in the chair opposite her. My mother crossed her legs, automatically my eyes flicked to her bared flesh. 'My own son,' she mused, speaking to herself. 'I know I said to act like you fancied me, Eric, but you took it a bit too far.' To my relief she laughed. 'I'm flattered,' she said emphatically, nodding as though she'd reached her decision. 'It's what I wanted. A good-looking, personable young man to lust after me ...' She looked levelly in my direction, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. '... I just never imagined it'd be you.' She laughed again, this time shaking her head at the irony.
'I'm sorry, Mum,' I said, my eyes downcast.
'Elaine,' my mother reminded me. 'I still want to carry on the charade.' She then added: 'But this will take a bit of digesting.' My mother drained the last of the rum from the glass. 'I still want to use you as a deflection from creepy Raymond. I don't need him complicating things. He was bad enough last night. I need you, Eric. Let me process your bombshell, but in the meantime we'll keep up the pretence.' She stood. 'Another drink?' she asked moving to the counter upon which the rum bottle sat.
Ah, the rum, thank God for the rum.
'Just a man I met here. Nothing's been going on -- he's not really my type. He was good fun at first, and has pots of money, but ...' she pulled a face. '... Just not my type at all,' she concluded, dragging at her cigarette again.
There was more to it but I decided not to press the issue. 'So what do I have to do?' I asked.
'Well,' my mother began hesitantly, which was definitely not like her. 'I thought that ... what I mean is that you could sort of pretend to be ...' She laughed, obviously embarrassed.
'What? What could I pretend?'
There was a hopeful moment when my mother leaned close across the table towards me that I thought her jugs would spill out of the sarong she had wrapped around her body. 'Just pretend to be interested in me. You know ... Like ... interested in me.'
'As in fancy you?'
'Yes, if you want to put it that way. Just keep near me, walk around with me, holding hands as though we've just met and are suddenly mad about each other.'
I saw myself reflected in stereo in my mother's sunglasses. I wondered if she noticed my eagerness.
'I reckon I could do that,' I grinned. 'It wouldn't be too much hardship.' I added: 'You're a good-looking lady, Mum.' My voice caught on the next sentence. 'If you weren't my mum I'd probably fancy you for real.' If I'd stood up at that moment, my mother would have seen the evidence of my sincerity; a hard-on that could cut glass.
Her reply shocked me. 'And if you weren't my son,' she said, an odd grin on her face. 'I'd take you skinny dipping one night.' Apparently unaware of my flabbergasted, slack-jawed stare my mother ground out the stub of her cigarette in the ash-tray. 'Meet me by the big pool in half an hour,' she continued brightly, pointing elegantly in the general direction of our rendezvous. 'You can make yourself useful and rub lotion on my back.' She sighed and rolled her eyes. 'Raymond was ever so keen to do that.' Across the back of her hand she whispered: 'And a bit pervy.' In her normal voice, she finished, 'See you soon.' She stood and picked up her cigarettes and lighter. 'Half an hour,' she added with a wave.
I watched her walk away, admiring her trim figure and shapely backside as she wove between tables, moving graceful as a dancer. She might have hair like a boy but no way could she be mistaken for one. All I could do was sit, order another coffee, and wait for my cock to settle down.
*
My eyes were on stalks. 'Jesus, Mum!'
'Call me Elaine,' she said. 'And what are you oh Jesusing about?'
I hadn't meant to blurt but seeing that bikini -- or what passed for a bikini, as far as I could see it was three insignificant triangles of cloth and some string -- forced the cry from my throat. 'That ...' I waved my hands ineffectually ... swimsuit.'
'Don't you like it?' she asked, examining herself critically.
I thought it was fucking sensational. It made me want to push her onto the deck, part her legs, rip the bottom piece away and just suck at her clit until she squirted on my tongue. My mother, I couldn't fail to notice, was either completely devoid of a pubic bush or had it severely coiffed. Her pudenda positively bulged inside the scrap of bright yellow cloth. I swear I could make out the indentation of her cleft. The apology of a waistband was two thin lengths of string that looped high on my mother's hips, exaggerating the length of her legs and disappearing between the cleft of her buttocks.
And on top it was simply jaw-dropping. She'd chosen her implants well. Perfect size for her, not the overinflated, stretched look I'd seen in pictures of glamour models; they looked so real too, completely natural. I wondered again how they would feel.
'It's stunning,' I managed eventually, sincerely.
'I wasn't too sure,' my mother responded, flicking a towel over the recliner. 'It certainly got some attention,' she added neutrally. 'Be a good lad, Eric,' my mother said after settling face-down on her sun lounger. 'Oil up my back will you please?'
I'd forgotten about that in the excitement of seeing my mother virtually nude. She held out a bottle of lotion. I took it with a trembling hand and, kneeling next to the woman on the bed, drizzled some of the gunk onto her shoulders. 'Mmm,' she murmured appreciatively as I began to massage the stuff into her sun-warmed skin. 'That's nice.'
The feel of her under my fingers, my palms gliding over her flesh, and her purr of approval stiffened my cock. Thank fuck she was face down and couldn't see my discomfort. I began high up around her shoulders but soon worked my way lower, massaging the sun lotion into her back, feeling the knobs of her spine under my hands. At her instruction, with a gulp, I pulled the string of her bikini top to undo the bow. She was now bare from the waist up. If she got up for any reason I'd be able to see her breasts; her nipples would no longer be a figment of my imagination, next time I pulled my cock I could visualise them. In a moment of daring I allowed my fingers to stray down either side of my mother's body; she didn't flinch when I brushed the flanks of her breasts. I day-dreamed about my mother's bare tits as my hands slid closer and closer towards her buttocks. Reckless with desire I let my hand slide over one taut cheek. My heart hammered in my chest. Would she object?
'That's a little bit inappropriate,' she commented. I lifted my hand and muttered an apology. 'But carry on, silly,' my mother added as she squirmed against the towel, lifting her hips and actually pushing her arse into the air an inch or two. 'You've done one, now do the other.'
Sweat poured off me. Melted sun lotion oozed from my forehead and into my eyes. It was hot under the Caribbean sun, but not that hot. I shifted on my knees and gently massaged my mother's buttocks, even considering the highly risky tactic of sliding a finger between her legs. Oiling her arse cheeks was one thing, fingering my mother's vulva was a whole different league.
But I was sorely tempted. I could have cried with frustration.
'I'll do you now,' I heard my mother say. 'You're so pale you'll burn to a crisp in a day.'
At first I had a crazy notion she meant sex before it dawned on me that she intended to rub cream into my back.
And it all happened at once. She rolled onto her side and there they were, the breasts I'd longed to see for the past two years swung into view. Unfortunately, in my panic to hide my jutting erection I stood up, bringing the front of my shorts to the optimum point for her to observe my tumescent state.
Even as my mother hefted herself onto her elbows for the turn I gabbled a refusal: 'No, need Mum, I'll sit in the shade and read.'
Too late.
'Oh!' she cried with her face inches from the damning evidence. 'Eric ...' she spluttered. 'Oh my ...' A hand came to her mouth. The moment stretched endlessly. There was no ignoring the huge bulge, and the cause was obvious. 'Jesus, Eric,' my mother spat, recovering somewhat and sitting upright. She lifted the sunglasses from her eyes while I just stood there staring at her tits, with my hard-on like a rock star's microphone tenting my shorts inches from her face. 'What on Earth caused that?' my mother asked in surprise, eyes scanning the poolside for witnesses to this embarrassing scene. Fortunately it was still early and we had the place to ourselves.
'Mum,' I croaked hoarsely. It was all I could manage at that moment. I stepped back and then sat heavily on the chair which neighboured my mother's; all the while, even then, keeping those superb tits in sight.
My mother, Elaine, noticing my sight line, regarded me with comprehension dawning. 'Oh!' She exclaimed.
I confessed, all of it, beginning at Heathrow and ending by admitting I'd even considered sliding my finger along the cleft of her pussy. My mother stared at me throughout my low-voiced monologue. When I'd finished she kept on staring. Then she looked down at her breasts, the catalyst for all of this.
'I need a drink,' she said finally.
'But it's only half-ten,' I replied.
'So what?' My mother stood and wrapped her body in the pale blue sarong. 'I still need a drink after that revelation, Eric.' She gathered her accoutrements. 'Come on,' she ordered with a jerk of her head, indicating I should follow. 'We need to talk.'
Rather than go to the bar as I'd expected, my mother led me to her apartment. The air-con hit me like a fist. I noticed my mother's nipples react to the blast of cold air. Despite my chagrin I still desired her. The door closed behind me while my mother went to the fridge and took out a large bottle of Coke. She poured a generous measure of rum from another bottle, and then splashed the cola into the glass. When I nodded at the proffered bottle she poured a drink for me as well.
'I don't know what to say,' she began, and then swigged heavily at her drink. She lit a cigarette. I thought it prudent to keep quiet about the no smoking rule in the rooms, there was no telling how incendiary her mood might be now. 'I'm angry ... But I'm flattered too, which is confusing the hell out of me,' she said at last. She smoked in silence for a few moments, and then carried her drink to one of the hugely cushioned armchairs. 'Sit,' she instructed, using her cigarette as a pointer. I sat in the chair opposite her. My mother crossed her legs, automatically my eyes flicked to her bared flesh. 'My own son,' she mused, speaking to herself. 'I know I said to act like you fancied me, Eric, but you took it a bit too far.' To my relief she laughed. 'I'm flattered,' she said emphatically, nodding as though she'd reached her decision. 'It's what I wanted. A good-looking, personable young man to lust after me ...' She looked levelly in my direction, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. '... I just never imagined it'd be you.' She laughed again, this time shaking her head at the irony.
'I'm sorry, Mum,' I said, my eyes downcast.
'Elaine,' my mother reminded me. 'I still want to carry on the charade.' She then added: 'But this will take a bit of digesting.' My mother drained the last of the rum from the glass. 'I still want to use you as a deflection from creepy Raymond. I don't need him complicating things. He was bad enough last night. I need you, Eric. Let me process your bombshell, but in the meantime we'll keep up the pretence.' She stood. 'Another drink?' she asked moving to the counter upon which the rum bottle sat.
Ah, the rum, thank God for the rum.
A more important question is, can the law against it be enforced?
Assuming it is a truly consensual encounter between two adults who take care to keep it private, then how are agents of the state supposed to know about it, let alone prosecute anyone?
junk_yard
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Twisted_Master
Experienced
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Correct, yes. I've touched her a few times but not really. And yes he isWhen she's here we all sleep in the same bed
Oh my... I really should come on Literotica more often!
breastysadie
Really Experienced
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I can't cum unless I remember my father fucking me when I was 18 (?) years old. No one's ever fucked me like Daddy did. I'm constantly looking, though.
Just saying I haven't seen any so far myself. I would love to know what they think. How is it same or different from what I think about as a son you know?
BoobLover78
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In that case, would you P.M. me and tell me some. I love hearing about this stuff. ;-)
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