Is it any wonder why incest is the most read category?

[SusanJillParker]

Sophocles wrote the Oediupus plays, Antigone, Oedipus Rex, and Oedipus at Colonus in 429 BC, 2,447 years ago. Here we are today, still writing stories about sons wanting to have sex with their mothers.

Granted Oedipus was unaware that his mother Jocasta was, indeed, his mother. Yet, the premise of Sophocles plays of mother and son sex are still written about today.

I imagine with men and women wearing togas without underwear back then, whether a wife, a mother, or a sister, it was much easier to bend a woman over a fruit cart in the market and fuck her right there (lol).

Oedipus Rex from Sophocles, Metamorphoses by Ovid, Pericles by Shakespeare, Moll Flanders by Daniel DeFoe, Laon and Cythna by Shelley, Ada by Nabokov, The Color Purple by Alice Walker, The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan, Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving, and Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively, what is our undying fascination with incestuous sex?

Whether brother and sister, father and daughter, or son and mother, from William Shakespeare to Sigmund Freud, one would think that we'd all be tired reading and writing stories about mother and son sex.

Even though I write incestuous stories, I really don't understand the phenomena and sexual attraction of incest. Does anyone know? Can anyone explain? Or is the real issue of having sex with someone who's so forbidden is what it's all about?

"Mom? Would you do me a favor?"

Richard reached out his hand and felt his mother's big breasts through her nightgown, first one and then the other.

"Of course, anything for my son?"

He fingered her nipples while she felt his growing erection through his pajama bottoms.

"Would you blow me? Would you suck my cock? I'm so horny today and I'd really like to cum in your beautiful mouth," said her son while sliding a slow finger across his mother's full, read lips.

While tying her long, blonde hair in a ponytail, Mary gave her son a sexy smile and a naughty look.

"Of course. Just let me go fetch my knee pads."

 

[PiperHamlin]

Incest has never personally had appeal for me, but it has in fiction

Game of Thrones is the most current example. If I submit a story into that category, it'd be more the taboo part than incest. I like taboo, somehow incest never tripped my switches. Maybe I need hotter relatives.

 

[SusanJillParker]

Game of Thrones is the most current example. If I submit a story into that category, it'd be more the taboo part than incest. I like taboo, somehow incest never tripped my switches. Maybe I need hotter relatives.

Trust me (lol). You don't want a hot mother.

My mother was hot, smoking hot. Tall, 5'10", naturally blonde, blue eyed, and beautiful, with a shapely body and D cup, natural breasts, she was the definition of hot. Even now with her in her 70's, she looks 10-years younger.

She told everyone she was a model and, of course, they believed her. The only modeling she ever did was dancing around a pole while stripping naked. Instead, she was a stripper, an incestuous whore, and a prostitute.

She had sex with all four of my much older brothers (from 3 fathers) before I was even born and continued having sex with them after I was born. Not fun to listening to their drunken antics when you're trying to sleep.

A accident of birth, I was lucky she didn't abort me. One of my brothers, I never found out which, is rumored to be my father. How fucked up is that?

Yet, even though I don't profess to understand the sexual attraction between a mother and her son, any son would want to have sex with my mother. Any man would want to fuck my mother and did, as long as they paid her.

By the way, I watched Games of Thrones 3 times. You'd be surprised how much you miss the first time. Aside from the dragons, my favorite character is Peter Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister. He reminds me of Peter O'Toole in his articulate command of the language.

Of course, Lena Headey (a good name for her) as Cersei Lannister is the most beautiful.

 

[Merc50]

Hi Susan

I think incest is ALL about the forbidden, although as you point out, most men would take any port in a storm, so to speak - if it's offered.

Your description of your mom and your life with her is pretty "fucked up" as they say. I have no way to even suggest that I could understand your situation or the obvious trauma that goes with it. Even the suggestion that one of your brothers could be your dad is beyond comprehension.

However, on the other side, you seem to have most of your "shit" together. You write awesome stuff.

I loved the "I'll get the my knee pads" in your first post. That whole excerpt has some pretty funny sardonic humour in it.

Keep on trucking

Merc

 

[KeithD]

beyond comprehension.

That's a pretty good way to describe Freddie's performance art pieces here.

(Me thinks Freddie has learned to change to standard font size when alting. https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=4574993&page=favorites)

 

[SusanJillParker]

That's a pretty good way to describe Freddie's performance art pieces here.

(Me thinks Freddie has learned to change to standard font size when alting. https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=4574993&page=favorites)

If you think that Merc50 is me than you should report Merc50 to the moderator and make a bigger ass of yourself than you already are.

Go ahead. I dare you.

You have serious mental issues. Maybe you should take a break from posting your nonsense 24/7 and get a life.

 

[KeithD]

Oh, Freddie, Freddie, Freddie. It's been more than ten years of this. You're so dedicated to your "art."


What's really interesting, though, is how fast you are to zip in and embrace "Freddie."

 

[BentonVirtus]

...
You have serious mental issues. ...

Maybe he does. Maybe he does not. If so, it would be a condition, not a character flaw. You threw the accusation like a stone. Perhaps remembering the story of the stoning of Stephen would be helpful.

 

[SusanJillParker]

That's a pretty good way to describe Freddie's performance art pieces here.

(Me thinks Freddie has learned to change to standard font size when alting. https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=4574993&page=favorites)

What happened to the rule that authors are not supposed to attack other authors? Obviously, that rule doesn't apply to you, TexRad or LoveCraft.

I don't bother none of you. I mind my business. I keep to myself. Yet, you seem to see me everywhere and when you do you continue to call me Freddie when my name is Susan. You continue to claim that I'm a man when I'm a woman.

You, TexRad, and LoveCraft are the reason why women no longer post here. You've chased them all away. They're all gone because of you three.

Every time I make a post, you're up my ass harassing me. Every time I make a post, you make a post behind me calling me names, attacking me, and harassing me.

 

[KeithD]

Not every time, certainly. That can easily be checked out by anyone who wants to look at even the last week of your posts (which they will see includes a Mod's last warning to stop what you do). It's when you shift into your insidious "I am an abused woman" schtick--which, is only one of your collection of schticks you've played here over the years. This one is really an insult to the board, though--close to up there with your "dead baby" schtick. You work hard to pull newbees into your games. This time, in my opinion, you brought in an alt sidekick to post the abused woman part. An attempt to get around the Mod's warning to you?

And here we go again. If you aren't Freddie, what are you flipping off about? But this is exactly what you wanted. For over a decade here. Have fun.

 

[TxRad]

I can name over a dozen regular women posters in the AH off the top of my head. Maybe Freddie should check facts before he throws rocks. Oh wait, Freddie doesn't understand the word facts. Performance art takes care of that.

 

[SusanJillParker]

I used to lock myself in my room with my bureau pushed against my bedroom door at night because I was afraid of my drunken brothers raping me, which one day, all four of them did.

When my brothers were out late committing crimes and taking drugs and my mother was God only knows where sucking and fucking men for money, I stayed in my room and read. I read everything. I read so very many books that if they punched holes in my library card every time I checked out a book, I'd have no library card left. When I wasn't reading, I was writing poetry.

We didn't celebrate Christmas. No one was home but me home alone reading and watching TV. I had no gifts under the tree. Most times we didn't have a tree. I had no new clothes at Easter. Most times, they'd forget my birthday. I never had a birthday party. I never had a bike or skates or dolls.

At best, my brothers gave me money to buy something. The holidays were big paydays for my mother and brothers. She attended parties, stripped herself naked, and had sex for money and they committed crimes while I stayed home alone and read or watched TV alone.

I was terribly, sexually abused, so abused that after one of my abusers tried to murder me by drowning me, I lost my ability to speak for years. When I did speak, I spoke with such a terrible speech impediment that I remained silent. Indeed, I was scared silent.

Yet, with the bad the comes the good. With darkness comes light and from my years of silence, as if I was a nun sworn to silence, I watched people. I listened to the dialogue of people. You'd be surprised how much you see and hear when you're not talking. Trust me, I know, when you're talking, always thinking ahead, you're not seeing and you're not listening.

Instead, I walked. I walked all over Boston. From my house on Charter Street in the North End of Boston, the Italian section, across from Copp's Hill Cemetery, I walked up Snow Hill, down Hull Street, through the Old North Church courtyard, and past the giant Paul Revere statue. I continued down Hanover Street where all the Mafia mob collected in the cafes.

I continued walking through the financial district of Boston, past Fanueil Hall, up Congress Street and across State Street to Tremont Street. From there I walked through the Boston Common with the State House on my right side and through the Public Gardens. Instead of walking the length of Newbury Street, I followed Commonwealth Avenue.

Comm Ave was the ending route for the Boston Marathon. I liked the street because of all the exclusive 19th century Brownstone buildings with each having a different and ornate front door. I continued walking all the way to Fenway Park. Sometimes, I'd walk further to Northeastern University and to the Museum of Fine Arts, about a four mile walk one way. Trust me, that's a lot of walking for a girl wearing her brother's hand-me-down shoes.

Yet, even with all that walking, I talked to no one. I didn't want anyone to know that I couldn't talk. If it wasn't bad enough having a severe speech impediment, it was worse being made fun of and bullied by the kids in the neighborhood. I didn't talk because I was tired of being harassed and laughed at and made fun of in the way that TxRad, KeithD, and LoveCraft harass me and make fun of me now.

Yet, with all that walking, I saw things and I heard things. I never knew that all that I saw and heard would end up in everything that I write years from now.

You don't believe that I'm a woman, who cares? Yet, I believed that TxRad is from Texas when he's from Derry New Hampshire. I believed LoveCraft who said he doesn't physically abuse women when he does. And I believed Sr71plt when he said he's not gay but bi-sexual, even though every story he writes under KeithD is a gay story and 83% of the 1,000 stories he's penned are...gay stories. Go figure.

Yet, I'm not even believed that I'm a woman. Wow. Sr71plt, as KeithD, said that he was a model and I believed him even though he offered no photos. He said he was a famous actor and I believed him even though he couldn't offer any credits. He said he was a famous singer, Broadway actor, spy, diplomat, and pilot who flew SR71 planes. I believed everything he said but that. The Air Force didn't have the don't ask and don't tell rule during Viet Nam and would never allow a gay man to fly a multi-million dollar plane. Yet, giving him the benefit of the doubt, I believed him.

Still, they don't believe that I'm a woman when I am a woman and was born female. In the way that I was physically, emotionally, and sexually abused, I'm being abused now by these three men. Even though I've had years of therapy, the rage is still there. Writing is the only thing that calms me. Writing has saved me from becoming an alcoholic, a drug addict, a prostitute, and/or from becoming an abuser myself.

I only hope that the moderator will demand that TxRad, LoveCraft, and Sr71plt, as KeithD stop harassing me and attacking me. I want them to leave me alone in the same way that I leave them alone. In the meantime, I'll continue to write my stories while minding my own business and not bothering anyone.

 

[SusanJillParker]

[Material prohibited per our forum guidelines.] - Last Warning Already Given

 

[AH_Mod]

There is a simple reason why they aren't disciplined in the same way you are when this flame war fires up between you. They're not also breaking rules concerning underage content, politics, etc. on a regular basis. You are. Thread closed.