Your favorite incest stories that are somewhat believeable

[englishnospeak]

My English is not good. There are thousands of incest stories on this site, but most of them are pure bullshit. For example, brother/father/niece and sister/mom/aunt caught each other naked, and the next day they were having sex. That's just lazy writing.. and yet they all have high ratings.

What are you favorite incest stories that are somewhat believable with good dramas in it?

 

[englishnospeak]

Or your favourite author, even better. There must be many really good authors on this site that write such believable incest stories, but I only find a few, and I've read all of their stories.

 

[astuffedshirt_perv]

but I only find a few, and I've read all of their stories.

It might help if you list the authors/stories you like as a reference.

 

[FAITHandFLESH]

I had a HUGE crush on my Aunt back in the day, my mom's younger sister by 9 years. I spent the night one weekend and literally could not sleep at night imagining her coming into my room (my uncle was out of town for some reason).

 

[RelentlessOnanism]

Maculine and Beautiful by A_Satori has always read as pretty believable to me.

Folie a Deux by Senor_Smut has certain elements that are pretty far-fetched, but it's written so well that it seems entirely believable.

These are two of my favourite stories on Literotica.

 

[Phantom300]

I love pretty much everything by Xarth

 

[8letters]

What are you favorite incest stories that are somewhat believable with good dramas in it?

Give mine a whirl. The links to my three best are in my signature below this post.

 

[MilkFountain]

Hot summer nights

I awoke this morning with a memory that hasn’t come to me before since I was a teenager. I don’t want to shock or offend, but what happens to us in life is just what it is . . . an event.

When I was about 13 years old and my brother 8, and living in Saudi Arabia, my mother took us on a tour through Europe. Because of work our father couldn’t accompany us. Our goal was to spend from April through July in Italy, Austria, France, England and Switzerland (where, as the only guests at the Grand Hotel in Vevey, on Lake Geneva, my mother got trapped for 5 hours in a baroquely ornate bathroom because the doorknob fell off outside the toilet door!).

That June was unseasonably hot in Paris. We had booked a week of tours—from the Louvre to Versailles, where we saw the famed fireworks on Bastille Day, July 14th. Everyone who could, had abandoned the city for cooler climes. Air conditioning hadn’t been invented yet. It was so hot that every afternoon the entire city opened its windows in the hope that the heavy moist heat outside would mitigate the suffocating heat inside. Peering out from our windows into myriad others across the street, everyone I saw lay naked on their beds until twilight when the air cooled and began to move again.

On our first day there, Mother lay naked on the enormous, turn-of-the-19th-century bed near the open window, my brother and I either side of her in our underwear. We tried not to touch each other as we slept fitfully through the worst of the heat. Thirteen years old, I was painfully aware of my mother. On our second afternoon of murderous heat, I mumbled something about the bed being too warm and slipped off to lie on a towel at the foot of the bed. Soon, my mother was breathing evenly.I raised up enough to peek over the foot of the bed.

Up beyond the soles of her feet, framed between the valley walls of her thighs, was the goal of my adolescent curiosity. The black tangle of pubic hair hid her very little. I leaned on one elbow to raise me so I could just get my eyes above the foot of the bed. So young, I dry masturbated staring into her.

I did that all four afternoons we were there.

On the last afternoon, I noticed my mother’s cunt glistened. I stared, unable to believe my eyes or understand why she was wet. A primal corner of my mind stored that recollection until a few years later when it came to me that she had felt my eyes on her. And I thought, my parents’ marriage was never one of warmth and passion; she must have been lonely and . . .

There's more, but perhaps this is too long and no one is interested.

 

[Hypoxia]

I usually try to make my Incest stories as believable as possible without being *too* real -- actual incest is usually ugly. Some of my tales are total fantasies for pervert readers. But I try to skip or parody the common stereotypes. Check my catalog.