DAD'S KINKY NEW WIFE
Dad is deceived into believing his daughter is his wife.
Story description: A father is deceived into believing his daughter is his kinky wife.
***
Parental Gibberish
Carol screamed.
That tenuous cry reverberated out as a muted series of unintelligible words. Its tone rang in her ears, resounded throughout the room and then malingered down the hallway like a feeble wave.
In frustration, she flicked her tongue wildly against the plastic obstruction wedged within her mouth. The frothing saliva gathering behind that unyielding wall produced noisy gurgles. It forced her to swallow and choke, which moved her to panic.
With every erratic jerk upon the ropes that bound each limb, the tautness increased and pressed uncomfortably against her skin. Additionally, the sway of her head in effort to dislodge the blindfold that obscured her gaze only tightened the straps that wrapped over and around her head.
She wailed for an immeasurable length of time, but the futility of her situation soon led to soft whimpers.
Why? She thought. What purpose did her husband have to leave her in such a state? It was more distressful that he left her bound and naked on her parent's bed. It was apparent that the bastard was playing some twisted game.
Looking back, she should have listened to her mother. Her mom expressed her dislike of Paul and gave warning. Those repeated jabs were dismissed as parental gibberish. After all, she was in love. That amorous feeling blinded her to his imperfections and left her vulnerable to his manipulation.
She remembered her wedding day. Catching him gawking at her mother during the after-party was a sign that something was amiss. A woman could tell when a man undressed her with his eyes. Unfortunately, his stare was fixated on her mom and that was unnerving.
As a result, she gave him a grand smack that turned heads. She found his reaction to be nonchalant and odd.
The glint of his eyes displayed amusement, which was accompanied by a strange smile.
He leaned inward and whispered, "It's quirky how both of you look so much alike. With the exception of your eyes, you're the same height, have the same curvy wide hips, sport a hefty pair of knockers, and you're both brunettes. If you stood facing her, it would be like looking at an older version of yourself in a mirror. Really hot, if you ask me."
It was then that she realized she might have misinterpreted his gaze. The casual nature of his response allowed her to dismiss his ogling as simple curiosity. There was truth to his words as it related to her and her mother.
When she lived with her parents, her father often mistook her for his wife. Normally, those situations occurred when her back was turned and resulted with her saying, "No dad, I'm Carol. I'm your daughter." Those awkward encounters always ended with chuckles and his apology.
She was unfulfilled and frustrated. Even today they hadn't yet consummated their marriage. It left her horny and irate at the same time. That combination wasn't conducive to a happy marriage when combined.
Their wedding night consisted of foreplay that had her pining for gratification. She was stunned and disappointed over his inability to keep an erection or refusal to satisfy her need.
It wasn't just the honeymoon; it was the entire week of their matrimonial romance. He persistently teased her sexually and in every occasion leading towards her climax he pulled back. It was one lame excuse after another.
His consistent presence made it difficult to pleasure herself in the manner she was accustom too. Every attempt ended in dissatisfaction. His relentless interruptions became an annoyance.
Emotionally, his odd behavior troubled her. Sexually, he left her yearning for satisfaction. The stress of it made her irritable and flustered.
The thought that she so readily agreed to being restrained in such a manner was disheartening. The words he had spoken were cryptic and mortifying.
With a sorrowful groan, she replayed the events leading up to now.
***
Kink Isn't Bad
Paul and Carol entered the house.
She said with a raised voice, "Mom, dad, we're home. Is anyone here?"
"So much for a surprise visit," he said in an offhand manner.
In agitation, she gave him a displeased stare and then said, "I told you they're still at work. I even mentioned that their cars weren't in the driveway. I don't understand why you're so adamant about visiting today? We weren't scheduled to return until Monday."
Paul grasped her arm and twirled her into a hug.
That unexpected embrace startled her.
With a downward tilt of his head, he stared into her eyes. "Carol, I'm sorry. It's my fault our honeymoon was a disaster. I can tell your still angry with me. Let me make it up to you."
She exhaled a breath upon feeling him pressed against her.
"Now?" she said.
"Baby, we have time. After what I've put you through, you deserve it. I promise. You'll come like you never came before. Isn't that what you desire? I can tell you're feverish for it."
"No thanks to you," she exclaimed. For a moment, her intense gaze studied him. She then said, "Your serious? I don't know. It's awkward. My parents' home? For Christ's sake, I never even kissed boys here."
Grasping her hand, he placed it upon the hardened protrusion that tented his tight jeans.
"Feel that? That's the reason I'm hard. The very thought of you naked and fucking like a slut in this house arouses my cock."
"I hope you don't think talking dirty turns me on? It doesn't. Yes, you've left me sexually frazzled, but I told you I'm a straight-laced young woman. I have no interest in doing the disgusting sex things you find amusing and enjoyable. I even shaved my coochie because you said it would turn you on, but that apparently wasn't enough."
In a fit, he grasped her hand and threw it from between his legs. "Yes, I knew you were inhibited. God-damn-it, I thought that it might be different once we married. I had an idea that it might be possible to sway you into becoming more adventurous. You think you're the only one frustrated?"
She gave a huff and her eyes narrowed.
That steamy gaze prompted him to continue. He heatedly said, "You're mad at me because I couldn't keep it up? The normal way bores me. I was honest. I told you I had quirky fetishes. There's certain perversions that turn me on. If you were more like your—never mind. If you were more open minded to exploring sexually, you might find you like it."
"Seriously, you think I would—"
His downturned lips abruptly upturned. His right hand extended and arched under her flowery dress. Lodging itself in place, that flirtatious member stoked her neither region.
The stimulation caused her eyes to flutter as her mouth opened to exhale a soft moan.
That oval void urged an opportunistic action. With a slow lunge, he interlocked his mouth with hers. He filled that cavity with an explorative tongue.
After a lengthy moment, she pulled away from him to catch her breath. Her chest heaved and her face flushed. Placing a fluttering hand to the side of her face to fan the rising heat, she said in a rush, "Okay, I'll do it here."
His smile broadened into a grin. "Let's add excitement. We'll do it on your parent's bed."
After a pause, he giggled and then said, "I'll pretend you're my hot mother-in-law and screw your brains out."
She immediately slammed the heel of her foot downward with force. Its impact upon the top arch of his foot caused him to yelp, "Ouch!"
With a heated gaze upon him, she exclaimed, "That could've been my knee to your groin, but I'd rather keep you in the mood. Yah, right. You wish you were sticking it to my mom, huh?"
"Ah—baby. Damn, I was only joking. What the hell. You have no sense of humor. I simply find it exciting that we'll be fucking in your parent's bed and they'll never know. It's a turn on."
"Mother was right about one thing. You're weird."
"Well it's like I said at the party. You two are near identical."
"Geez, I wasn't asking, but thanks for comparing me to a 41-year-old lady. Just what a newlywed bride needs to hear from a new husband. Is this why you convinced me to cut my hair short before we came? You wanted me to look like my mother so you could fantasize about her when you're making love to me?"
"Jesus, you have it all wrong. I was kidding around. Come on, I'm in love with the gorgeous woman standing before me." He extended his hand and then gently brushed it down her cheek. His expression was apologetic. "Baby, please. Let me show you how I really feel."
His calming touch motivated her to accept his apology and she responded by saying, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm on edge and it doesn't help when you say such things. Are you sure we have time?"
"Sure we do. In your condition you'll probably come quick."
"I don't want it fast. I want romance and foreplay. I want to enjoy it. Don't you dare make me come before we have sex. You promised."
He placed his hands on her waist and began to tickle.
Her torso wiggled as his fingers danced.
With giggles and a broad smile, she said, "Oh god, Paul, stop. You'll make me come now if you don't—"
He advanced as she attempted to pull back. "No doubt you'll have more than one. I'll make you a raving cock whore that licks cum from the tip of my prick in no time," he said.
Like a reaction akin to a slap, her giggles became titters and then instantly ceased.
In a huff, she grasped his hands and pulled them from her waist.
She heatedly exclaimed, "Not again. This needs to stop. You dampen my mood with such vulgar language. I'm not a prude, but talking like that isn't necessary. Cock whore? Really? Do you normally classify your loved ones, especially your wife, with such distasteful descriptions?"
He stammered, "I'm sorry—baby, if I knew you were—shit."
"If you knew I were... What? Spit it out. I turn you off because I wouldn't repeat garbage like that on our wedding night? Is this why you're doing this to me? I hope you're not punishing me because I refused to suck your penis. My god, I told you I don't do such things. Treat me like a lady. I'm not your whore."
He replied, "Damn-it. Our conversation is like a fucking yo-yo. We're in agreement, your definitely not my whore. Carol, let's stop this bickering. We simply need to compromise and work through our differences. You're willing to accept having sex here because you know it turns me on, so that's a step forward. I promise, no dirty talk for now, but please forgive future outbursts."
They embraced once again and then scampered down the hall to the master bedroom.
Carol unbuttoned the top part of her dress and stopped when she observed him riffling through her parent's dresser.
She said, "What the hell are you doing?"
He replied, "Looking to see if they have some kinky shit we can play with."
"It's not right to look through my parent's drawers. You won't find anything. They aren't into—"
With an expansive grin, he cocked his head towards her.
"What is it?" she said.
Pulling his hand from the dresser drawer, he raised it up so she could see.
Carol gasped.
Clutched in his hand were an assortment of ropes, a ball-gag, and a hefty leather blindfold.
He said, "Seems your parents are naughtier than you believe. It's a drawer full of pleasure toys. Honestly, kink isn't bad. As they say, what happens behind closed doors..."
"Oh gosh, I can't believe...ah...my parents would—you know."
He laughed at her bemused visage and then said, "Why don't we step it up a notch. These accessories will add some spice to our lovemaking. You're horny enough to overlook this quirky idea of mine aren't you?"
"Put those back. We're not using those. We don't need kink to enjoy sex."
"I told you, it's a turn on. It undeniably makes me hard. Come on, try it at least once. I guarantee you'll enjoy it."
He gave her a mischievous smile, while fluttering his eye lids. It was intended to charm.
She inhales a deep breath and exhaled a sigh.
Defeated by his compelling expression, she mirrored his impish grin. "Okay, Master Paul, I give up. Tie up your damsel and have your way with her. This better be good like you promised. No more excuses."
After she removed her dress and undergarments, he tied her naked and spread-eagled to each corner of the bed.
She raised her brows and questioned, "What about you? Aren't you getting undressed? This seems a little one sided don't you think?"
"Soon. I have preparations to make. No worries. Once you're blindfolded and gagged the party begins. After all, it's important to keep the wife silent while the husband plays."
"Yah, right. You seriously think you can tease me enough that I'll squeal from an orgasm. Prove it."
Her giggle was cut short when he inserted the ball-gag and secured it firmly behind her head.
He said, "There you go. That'll keep my kinky new wife from alerting the neighbors. Don't you think?"
Her eyes rolled at his comment and her chest heaved. She expelled a muffled grunt.
"God, your beautiful. Just like your mother. Seeing you so vulnerable is really steamy and so inviting. Oh baby, you don't know it yet, but your life is about to change."
Her brow rose in response.
When he secured the thick blindfold to her face, those confused eyes became hidden.
He gave a nod of confidence that the harness-like straps would stay in place.
Standing, he gawked to admire his newlywed wife.
Yes, she looks just like her milf mom, he thought.
"Perfect," he said with a smile.
For a period of time, he moved noisily about the room and around the house.
She grunted with a start from every strange sound.
After a time, those rumbling expressions became more animated and forceful.
Her stifled language caused him to smile. He easily deciphered those rabid howls.
She wasn't happy.
"Baby, calm down. Remember, anticipation for the big event makes this much sweeter. I don't want you to hurt yourself. The more you struggle the tighter the ropes become. There's no need to feel uncomfortable. Relax."
He dropped his rear onto the bed beside her. Leaning over, he gave a peck to her cheek.
He said, "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. I have expectations and desires. Know that this isn't punishment. It's an attempt to awaken your potential and ferment your new role as wife. I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me in the end."
A bleeping sound from a cell phone at his waist urged an attentive reading of text. Grasping the one from the two attached, his mouth creased with worry.
He placed his hand on her kicking leg and said, "I'm leaving for a short bit, but I promise, I'll most certainly return. Don't go anywhere."
She thrashed about while wobbling her body from side to side as he stood.
Her heavy grunts became muffled phrases, "Ueww asstud! Untyy ee oww!"
He interpreted it as: You bastard! Untie me now!
With a skip in his step, he walked from the bedroom, down the hall, and out the front door.
Backing from the driveway, he turned the wheel to the road.
In contemplation, his mouth widened into a wicked grin.
***
I'm Not Mom
Harold came home.
The text message he received implied urgency. It was vague and prompted him to leave work.
Overall, he wasn't worried. They'd planned such a rendezvous.
He was disappointed that his wife's car wasn't in the driveway. More than likely, she was on her way, he thought.
With a shrug, he went to the refrigerator and pulled out sandwich meat and condiments.
Upon reaching for the utensil drawer, he paused.
The sounds of rattling and muffled groans resonated from down the hall.
"What's that damn noise?" he mumbled. "Martha, is that you?"
His question was unanswered.
A smile upturned and broadened across his face.
What had started as a sex-ting message between husband and wife had led to a decision to embellish their love life. It developed into a mutual commitment to indulge in different genres of sexual exploration. The timing of it was perfect. With their daughter now married and moved out, they felt uninhibited to experiment.
As discussed via a series of racy texts over the span of a week, a bargain had been made. They would plan unscheduled affairs of eroticism. Martha was insistent that it be her turn.
Harold chuckled at the thought that his wife had scheduled today for her deviant surprise.
In excitement, he raced to the master bedroom.
At first, he was taken aback by the shadowy form. Seeing his naked wife bound by each wrist and ankle was an arousing sight. Her spread-eagled figure was arranged like an X upon their king-sized mattress. The length of rope gave just enough slack to allow her to raise her knees. This erotic display wasn't exactly the surprise he had anticipated.
Her verbalization of rapidly expressed words was difficult to decipher.
His voice carried about the room.
Her limbs stiffened and her incoherent utterances trailed off to a muffled whimper.
He said, "I admit, I'm puzzled as to how you managed to tie yourself up like that." After a brief chuckle, he continued by saying, "I reckon being a den mother for a bunch of scouts has advantages. You were always adept at making slipknots."
It was amusing to see her tense in such a manner. When her face arose from the pillow and fixed its sightless gaze in his direction it spurred a flush of blood towards his nether region.
The numerous devices and bottles of lubricant that lay upon the nightstand beside their bed caught his attention.
He said, "When did you get all those sex toys? Wow, I'm beginning to comprehend just how serious you are. Look at all this stuff. My god, butt plugs, anal teasers, nipple clamps, dildos, vibrators, and an assortment of weirdly shaped gadgets. You've amassed a variety of twisted knick-knacks that make me question the depths of your perversions."
She trembled at those descriptive terms. It prompted a terrifying shudder that renewed a brutal struggle against the ropes.
Watching her move about the bed in such a manner intensified his arousal. They'd once played a similar game many years past. Unlike that day, the twisting curves of her sexy body as it wiggled upon the bed now fueled great lust.
Alongside the various baubles, an object caught his eye. It was difficult to miss the large bold letters that screamed to be noticed. A folded note with computerized print lay upon the dresser.
READ ME, it said.
Grasping the letter, he opened it and read.
He gulped upon reading those instructive list of statements.
"My god, Martha, you can't be serious. Why would you detail such things? You didn't need to leave such a letter. We could've discussed everything beforehand. These tasks you want me to perform—well...they're so demeaning. I admit, I'm uncomfortable doing such degrading things to you. This is far beyond what we considered. Some of it is so perverse that I find it repugnant."
He found himself woozy and slightly stunned over his wife's resolute demands. He dropped back heavily into a wicker chair not far from the bed.
With the letter in his shaking left hand, he said, "I refuse to do all of this to you. I find those specific tasks too disgusting to even contemplate. However, I'll try to improvise with most of them."
Looking at her alluring bound form, he inhaled a deep breath and then exhaled a big sigh. She was simply too beautiful. There was preordain knowledge as to how she would react if he left her unsatisfied. When it came to sex, she tended to get frustrated easy. She gave him no choice. Then again, his growing lust over her naked form was motivating an urge to at least try and to fulfill her wishes.
report
____
"Honestly, I don't know whether I have the stamina. It'll be difficult doing so many undignified tasks for one day, much less the whole weekend like you want."
He turned his eyes towards the monstrous ensemble piled randomly in heaps upon the dresser.
"Then again, it looks like you prepared for that eventuality."
Grabbing a bottle of lubricant, he read the label out loud. "Anal lubricant?"
The words, anal lubricant, increased her mounting struggle with the ropes.
He laughed. "I guess you prepared for everything, huh?"
"It's okay, dear. I know it's what you want. I promise, I'll do what I'm capable of doing. Don't worry, I didn't forget. I took the pill, just as you asked. Unlike our previous tryst, I'll definitely have an erection for hours."
After saying, "...erection for hours," she vehemently wagged her head from left to right.
She bawled, "Ohe, ohe, addie, ts's ee! Em uew ahter. Em arol!"
He tittered at her frantic effort to speak. His interpretation of her inarticulate yammering was translated as an avid excitement over their impending sex play.
If he had simply listened and made an attempt to understand her inhibited phrases, "No, no, daddy, it's me. I'm your daughter. I'm Carol!" then the scenario of events that were soon to unfold would have abruptly ended. Her story of debasement and its aberrant consequences would've remained untold. To her detriment, his age induced hearing impairment made the attempt to warn him futile.
He chuckled as he stood.
Now committed to satisfying his wife's desires, he unlatched and then jingled his belt buckle. It was an intentional performance meant to tease. Its proclamation signified the unbuckling of his trousers. The noisy clasp hitting the floor was an alarm to indicate its removal. The ruffling sound produced from his clothing as it amassed into a crumpled pile implied that he was bereft of dignity and stood naked at the end of the bed.
Her imagination rampaged with images of her 43-year-old father standing naked with an erection. His proximity to her renewed an urgency to warn him. With fervor, she was driven to stop him.
He said, "Martha, calm down! Don't be so dramatic. I know you're role-playing, but you're going to hurt yourself. Jerking on the ropes like that must be painful. Then again, for some strange reason, seeing you so venerable and frantically moving that plump little rear about the bed arouses me more than ever."
His wife's movements ceased.
"I wanted you to compose yourself, not stop all together. It's very erotic to watch your curvy torso and boobs bounce around like that. You can't see, but I'm sporting a massive boner just for you."
Upon utterance of, "...massive boner just for you," she shrieked and then flailed her arms and legs about once again.
When the weight of his mass pressed down upon the bed between her legs, she stiffened.
She then quaked with fear upon feeling the presence of warmth radiating several inches from her pussy.
With a wet tongue, he moistened a finger. He drew that playful finger gently along the crease of her delicate slit.
Her response to that humiliating stroke caused her to jerk. Her muscles tightened and her thighs attempted to unsuccessfully clamp together.
"Damn dear, your lips are stuck together like glue," he said.
It was as if a door had been purposely sealed to hide a priceless treasure. Usually, when aroused, her labia thickened and parted of their own accord and her vagina gaped with invitation.
He could sense something was off. She wasn't usually this frigid with nervous emotion.
Sliding his hand down her leg, he observed her skin as clammy and goosebumps prickled her pale flesh.
She's reacting like a naïve schoolgirl having sex for the first time, he thought. Is this part of the game? She didn't document it in the letter, but...
His eyes widened upon looking closer at her snatch.
He grinned and then cupped her bare mound.
Her pelvis bucked upward in an attempt to dislodge his obtrusive hand.
With a gentle touch, he persistently rubbed it along her tender flesh.
Her movements became progressively fierce. Those raging sequence of gyrations caused his fingers to repeatedly brush against her shielded clitoris. The unintentional result produced a pleasant chill.
She screeched upon feeling that awkward sensation.
She had made a dreadful mistake. Her initial action to remove his unwelcome hand had instead stimulated her in a manner not intended.
She cried as her hips continued to undulate. That pleasurable touch compelled her to drive her sex against the warmth of his hand. In dismay, she found herself unable to stop.
"Ohee, ohee, ad, ez op," was whispered like a mantra.
Her repeated phrases, "No, no, dad, please stop," was indecipherable by her father.
He said, "It's such a turn-on to watch you lunge your pussy against my hand like that. I can tell you like me touching you."
That statement as expressed by her father was emotionally devastating. The leather kerchief that veiled her face dampened from the flow of tears that seeped from both eyes.
He said, "I can't believe you shaved your pussy. I'm not complaining. It's strange, but your bald little dish excites me more than ever. It's like staring at a 20-year-old woman's unblemished slit. It's hard to believe you hid that adorable peach all these years?"
He removed his hand and noticed the glittering moisture.
"Oh my, your wet. That's okay, this is just a warm up. It's not my intent to get you off with my hand. Something as precious as a woman's orgasm needs to be built up. I promise to make that momentous event unforgettable."
She shamefully turned her obscured face to the side to sob.
He shifted his weight between her legs.
She jolted from that unexpected move.
His wet tongue lapped her inner left thigh.
She shivered and her leg muscles clinched.
Gradually, his slithering member slathered like a slimy snail upward.
The perspiration that gathered on her flesh was feasted upon along it's trail.
Her body shuddered as his tongue paused in the vicinity of her pubic mound.
The suspense produced from his momentary inaction caused her heart to beat rapidly. His lingering warm breath chilled her.
His tongue flicked out and began lapping incessantly near the outer ridge of her pussy. That spot was lathered with a series of slobbery placed licks.
In distress, she gave a loud grunt and then flung her arms outward until the restraints rebounded with a loud thud.
The words she cried was barely audible and was a half-hearted attempt to stop him. She faltered upon recognizing that her desperate plea enticed him move upward.
Remnants of his ravishment became a trail of warm dribble that left puddles of wetness against her skin.
Like a touch intended to tickle, his mouth delivered moist kisses upon her stomach. His hands tenderly caressed each hip. With each pulsation of her rampant heartbeat, his fingers skimmed in equal measure along the curvature of her shapely side.
She shivered from that touch.
His tongue skimmed along the outer edge of her bellybutton and then advanced northward leaving a wake of sticky saliva.
Deep within his chest, a rumbling growl was emitted. That defining noise was like a starved engine that was just fueled. In tandem, his naked torso radiated a sweaty heat as it slid fully on top of her.
The spongy knob of his dick wedged itself uncomfortably against her stomach. She could feel his hardened rod as it pulsated and sensed the weight of his balls as they pressed warmly against her hooded clit. Having her father's aroused penis touching her in this manner drove her to panic.
"Oheee! Oheee!" she cried.
He licked around her ear, nibbled an earlobe, and then whispered, "Honey, I haven't done anything yet. Why are you moaning so much? I hope the intensity of your passion is just as lively when I really get started. Keep doing it. It turns me on."
Her screams weren't moans.
Despair. Every action to warn him only enticed him further and made him more lustful.
Her frantic shrieks shifted to whines mixed with sniffles.
Then hope. He moved his smothering weight off of her.
That short lived emotion dissipated upon feeling his heavy breath brush across the circumference of one nipple.
That humid breeze was a forewarning for the hands that now clasped each meaty boob.
His grasping fingers kneaded her fleshy hillocks and teased each projecting tit.
Without notice, his mouth enveloped a nipple. His hands encircled that mammary and played upon its flesh.
She gasped.
Having him suckle her tit like an infant was humiliating. Her chest heaved and her stomach churned from the act.
He ravished that breast with an intense hunger. His crazed obsession wasn't brief. It was a heated fetish of worship meant to harden her nipple and provoke passion.
Over time that nauseous feeling subsided. It was replaced by confusion and disappointment at herself.
She was anguish over knowing that his manipulation upon her tit was affecting her sexually. It was difficult to accept that it aroused her.
She hadn't given up, but the energy to fight drained away. At that specific moment, the feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed her. Her whimpers ceased.
She became motionless as the degradation was forced upon her.
Calmly, she listened to him suck feverishly upon her tit. She felt every sensation from that weaning. She was helpless to stop him. The pleasurable creepy chill produced from his action brought her to question and that disheartening thought both terrified and numbed her.
He removed his famished mouth from her weltered nipple.
That reddened cone was now hard, elongated, and protruded from her boob like a guard tower. The areola was flushed dark and encircled the peak like a moat. That newly built structure was like a sentinel that overlook the valley that divided the other crest.
She couldn't see the results of his freakish fixation, but became aware when he brushed its tip with a teasing finger. She could feel a sticky wetness at its tip. Her nipple had morphed into some protuberant monstrosity framed by her uneasy arousal.
Pleased with the product of his task, he transferred to the remaining bosom to construct the other.
His playful tongue lapped incessantly on the summit of her tit and swirled wetly along the circumference of its base. Those ravenous actions burned her loins and made her swoon. What was happening to her was unwelcome, yet it was impossible to turn away. It was an unsolicited craving that encouraged her to move.
Her chest swelled and her nose flared with vexation from each exhalation of her breath.
Dribble flared outward like a heavy spray from the crevice around her gag.
Her torso rocked as her pelvis wiggled and twisted against the bed. It was an ineffective effort to scratch an uninvited itch.
He was delighted at his achievement. He pulled back onto his heels to watch.
He was awed by the considerable amount of sexual tension bottled up in her voluptuous frame. She displayed that frustration each time she unsuccessfully arched her waist and pivoted inward. Every failed attempt to grind her pussy against the bed caused her to howl.
His wife was warmed up and ready, but she wasn't on fire. She had to be raging before he doused that conflagration.
Satisfied that he had achieved his goal, he started at periphery of her sweaty neck and then slid downward along her body and his pleasuring tongue followed.
He pursued its previous path downward with voracious licks and tender kisses.
Upon reaching her inner thigh, he immediately reversed course.
His guppy-like mouth hovered motionless several inches above her awakened gash.
It was obvious from her grinding waist and racing heart that there was anticipation of his next pleasurable action.
***
Pressing Buttons
His fingers grasped each chunky outer lip that framed her distended petals. With tenderness, he slowly spread them to form a minor crease. With his thumbs, he raised the fleshy hood to expose the glossy little pearl hidden beneath.
He inhaled a deep breath, puckered his lips, and then blew.
At that instant she tensed and her arms flew outward. The ropes extended until they twanged with an echoing whack. The frame of the wooden bed sounded with a crack.
Her arms dropped and her weight shifted to her shoulders. Hurriedly, she pressed back against the bed and feverishly lunged her pelvis upward.
His years of pleasuring his wife had taught him which buttons to push. Even now, she responded to the tease like a prerecording from days past. This had always been the stimulus that initiated an unrestrained reaction. The pleasurable feeling produced as he blew upon her clit had always been a switch. Her jutting hips signaled the show had just now begun.
She bucked with short undulating strokes as his longwinded warm tapering breath played upon her sensitive nub.
Unlike previous attempts to be heard, her feverish dialog was now audible and clearly understood. She yodeled out an unbridled succession of lengthy, "Ohs..."
He was perplexed by her response. He knew how his wife responded to this repetitive little pleasure game. Unlike their previous dalliances, she was expressing herself differently from expectation.
That long rhythmic moan was indicative of a woman experiencing this pleasure for the very first time. He hadn't heard those passionate cries in years. More than ever, her lustful wails invigorated and pushed his button.
Between breaths, he smiled. His love for this woman was undeniable.
His spongy muscle flushed red and thickened with increased hardness.
A welcomed shiver ran down his spine upon observing her labia thicken, expand, and then separate. He spread that amorous flower with his fingers. Moisture glisten on those inner petals. Like an exquisite jewel, her engorged vulva parted to form the shape of a flawless rain drop. The interior of that inviting hole narrowed and turned a lovely shade of purple.
He slid a finger into that gap. It reacted by constricting against his fleshy appendage. That nurturing tunnel was warm and tighter than he remembered. He equated her perfectly proportioned pussy to that of well-constructed man milking machine. He anticipated great pleasure when she repaid him with her love.
It was clear, her appetite had increased. She'll require further feeding to build an insatiable desire for more. He was determined to drive her mad with yearning. It would be cultivated it until it swelled and forced upon her virtues befitting a whore. Her letter had detailed as much. Although initially reluctant, his love and growing lust now compelled him to fulfill her every desire. He swore that she would always remember these pleasurable moments.
With an intended goal in mind, his frenzied tongue flickered out. Like a card pinned to the front wheel of a moving bicycle, it fondled and teased her spongy little button. Its intent was to infuse it with love and harden it for pleasure.
As he worked upon her inflamed clitoris, he reinserted a finger and folded it slightly to form a hook. Like a piston, it delved into her. Its roaming tip slid along the top entrance of her vagina to seek its pleasurable sweet spot.
***
Carol was in a precarious position.
She was experiencing a deluge of emotions that fluctuated across a spectrum that encompassed delirious pleasure to lucid shame.
She didn't deny that his molestation affected her. Her body was simply reacting to his touch as any woman would if pleasured in similar fashion. It was a biological response that was beyond her ability to control.
She couldn't disavow the fact that her waist gyrated and her pussy palpitated from his working tongue and pumping finger.
When he inserted a second finger, she found it difficult not to thrust herself onto them.
She admitted that it was insane to accept the taboo of such a touch. Yet, eerily, that slender thread of madness awakened her. It was so wrong that it actually added an element of eroticism that fueled that passion. She questioned herself; is it not a sign of lunacy that I'm enjoying this sexual deviancy?
She tossed her head from side to side and moaned. She asked herself; is my feverish and crazed response not proof that it's a hallucination brought on by sickness?
She heard the sloshing of her juices as he repeatedly plunged his fingers into her.
Those superfluous noises signaled a losing battle. In the moment, she didn't care. She willingly raised the white flag and surrendered.
***
Harold was caught off guard.
Her ferocious thrusts against his mouth increased with intensity. That action was full of lustful energy.
It was unexpected and it forced him to dart his tongue into her slobbery hole.
To regain control, he grasped each of her rounded butt cheeks. He used the momentum of her rolling pelvis to guide her divided gash upon his pleasuring tongue.
His mouth fully engulfed her mound and gorged. He roared as he feasted.
There was a sexual vitality to her movements that hadn't been experienced since their youth. If he had any inkling that being kinky and constrained to a bed as a captive would produce such a response, he would have suggested it years ago.
He could tell when she clamped down on his thrusting tongue that she was close.
Within moments of that thought, she thrust her waist upward. Her pelvic mound smashed his nose. Her pussy rammed against his mouth with rapid spasmodic jerks.
She shuddered wildly and then her muscles tensed. As her limbs locked in place, her vagina contracted and jettisoned a stream of milky froth into his mouth.
His cock gave a spontaneously jerk and then released a minuscule driblet of clear fluid that streamed like a raindrop over its tip.
A booming groan resonated throughout her body like a volcanic tremor.
It was a long juddering moan that reverberated around her gag.
As if a circuit breaker was tripped by a surge, her entire weight plunged down upon the bed.
She became limp, almost catatonic.
If not for her heaving chest, he might have worried.
Moments he gazed down upon her, watching her nostrils flare with each breath.
He was taken aback when she suddenly emitted a profound sob. That audible wail was easily definable. It had a tone that implied great sorrow. It impressed upon him, someone struggling with deep emotion. He was confused.
He watched with concern as she slowly swayed her head from side to side.
His thoughts rambled. He tried to make sense of her behavior.
After a time of contemplation, he smiled.
He figured it out.
Her reaction is rational, he thought. The intensity of that orgasm had been considerable. When was the last time she experienced one so remarkable? What had just occurred was a spectacular event that was rarely achieved on that level. More than likely, it was the happiness generated from something so precious that overwhelmed her. It had to be traumatic.
He was invigorated by the knowledge that he brought her to orgasm. He was pleased that it made her happy.
Casting his eyes to her curvy figure brought back memories of their youth and vitality. He admitted that there was something different about his wife. No doubt, this sexual exploration was changing her. She seemed more passionate and sexier. She exhibited exuberance and he feed from that power. It made him feel younger.
He had never known that playing these games would arouse her so much. It was evident that it turned her on. How could he not fulfill every fantasy on her list. Sure, he felt uncomfortable doing such things to her, but it's what she wanted.
REPORT
____
He had the entire weekend to grant her every wish.
***
Divested of Restraint
Carol lay limp when her restraints were loosened. She made no attempt to jump from the bed and run screaming. She was dazed and trying to come to terms with her ordeal.
At first, she was confused when her dad manhandled and flipped her onto her stomach. It became clear that he was preparing her for some sordid act of sexual deviancy. She was simply too a weary to persuade him otherwise.
There was a numbness at the thought that her degradation hadn't yet begun. That very thought should have motivated a response to run hysterical from the room. Instead, she felt complacent and dreamy. It was obvious the event that spurred her to thrust her pussy against her dad's fingers left an undeniable mark.
For a brief moment, she wanted to laugh. How could her father call what he did to her just a warm-up? My god, she thought, no wonder mom loves him so much.
Never in her life had she experienced that type of orgasm. Even when masturbating, she never came close to achieving a climax so uniquely defined as the one she just had. She had no words to describe it.
Her heart skipped a beat when a heavy leather collar was fastened securely around her neck. The jingling of a small-linked chain was an indication that her window for escape had closed.
She felt stupid for not seizing the opportunity to save herself. He had given her a moment of freedom and she chose not to act. Although her limbs were now free, he had simply shifted the manner in which she was restrained.
Unsure what to do next, she lay immobile on her stomach. She didn't flinch when he playfully wiggled a teasing finger into her sex. She allowed him to maneuver her arms and legs and caress her in a manner meant for lovers.
She was motionless and had no urge to respond to his loving embrace and tender kisses. His touch did stimulate arousal, but knowing the man was her father left her muddled and inactive. No matter how much she tried, that fact was a barrier. She simply didn't know how to respond.
After a period of time, it became obvious that he was frustrated. The manner in which he thrust himself from the bed and paced was reminiscent to what Paul did on their wedding night.
He calmly said, "What's wrong? I gave you time to rest. You're a limp noodle. You need to at least react to my affection to keep the motor running. Now my dick is as floppy as you are. I admit, I'm a little annoyed. How can you pleasure me if you just lay there?"
Unlike Paul's angry retort that night, her father's words were composed. His remarks wounded her more than Paul's rant ever could. Her tears dampened the leather that shielded her sight.
To have two men say almost the same thing within the same week made her question whether her disastrous honeymoon was her fault the entire time. Was she a frigid bitch incapable of pleasuring men? Did her puritanical values inhibit her from enjoying and experiencing what sex had to offer?
She wasn't naïve to sex, but she admitted to being inexperienced. There was now clarity to that hidden truth. She had lied to Paul that night. Her refusal to suck his dick wasn't because she found it distasteful; it was because she felt inadequate to the task.
A sudden flip of a buckled release caused the binding of her gag to slack. Her thoughts instantly altered to those of distress.
He said, "Perhaps it's time we check off the items on your list. You seem to react to kink more than a gentle caress. Honestly, I hope this exploration into the unusual isn't the only way you're able to get off from now on. I find it more work than simple fucking."
She bit down on the plastic wedge.
"Martha, I'm only removing your ball-gag. Your acting like you don't want me to remove it. Jesus, I pleasured you, it's time you return the favor. I held off long enough."
The thought of pleasuring him with her mouth wasn't the reason behind her discomposure. Her voice was indeed distinct from her mothers.
She was quite aware that both of them had been deceived by Paul. Her husband had orchestrated this despicable series of degradations. His reasons were unknown. Perhaps a punishment for her inadequacies as his new wife. Regardless, her father was innocent. He had been played into believing she was his wife.
The revelation at finding out that she was his daughter, especially after what he had just done to her would be devastating. It might even kill him. Even the depraved act of him eating her out and finger-fucking her to orgasm didn't make her love for him any less.
There were indeed various consequences and possible scenarios that could evolve out of finding out the truth. Her dad would more than likely murder Paul in the literal sense. She would lose the two men in life that she loved most dearly. Yes, there would indeed be repercussions, but those weren't her father's burden to carry.
Then there was her mother. Where was she? Why hadn't she appeared and put a stop to this? Most assuredly, she would've been home by now. Those questions gave rise to great worry.
With a plop of the ball from her mouth, she resigned herself to play her father's kinky wife. There was simply no choice.
***
Open For Papa
With his hand framing her bottom jaw, he said, "Sit back on your heels and do everything as instructed. It's time you played my voracious whore."
She sat on her hunches, her mouth closed and frowning.
Her father had called her his whore. If he knew she was his daughter, he would see just how twisted that statement was. His descriptive role set her on edge. It defined the specific nature of her function.
The very idea that she was attempting to masquerade as her mother and participate was crazy. She felt trapped by her action to deceive him. It was intended to save him. In effect, she was being forced to willingly take part in this abhorrent nightmare.
She retained her blindfold. His earlier attempt to remove it caused her to panic. She was virulent in her action to shove his hands away. It was the one object that disguised the truth.
Paul was right about there being a difference between her and her mom. Other than their voices, her youthful eyes and bluish orbs were a clear give away of her identity. The shock might induce a heart attack. She was relieved when he relented. More than likely, he believed her demand was part of this sick sex game.
There were also other physical characteristics that should have warned him that something was amiss. Her mom had stretch marks and was slightly pudgy in the middle. Internally women's innards shift with child birth and with age. The absence of these defining marks should raise a flag. She hypothesized that the likelihood that the woman before him was his daughter was so improbable that he overlooked those obvious abnormalities. Perhaps his arousal combined with that impossibility blinded him to the reality of the female now on her knees and lip level with his cock.
There's a downside to being denied sight. It was something she never contemplated or been aware of until now. She felt every touch more intensely. She definitely felt the tip of his withered penis as it grazed repeatedly against the crimp of her mouth. It also felt weird to have his rugged hand grasping her jaw and its accompanying fingers pressing gently to leverage it open.
It wasn't just the sense of touch. Emotionally, she was disgusted over this atrocious act. Knowing that the head of her dad's cock was brushing across her mouth made her queasy.
"Open for papa," he said.
Although he said those words as part of his sex play, there was an oddness to it. It was demoralizing because it was too close to reality.
Each bouncing smack across her lips was like a knock on a door. That flexible fleshy knob was insistent in its demand that she open up.
She knew he wouldn't stop until her tightly scrunched mouth accepted his endowment.
His real wife wouldn't refuse to take him in her mouth. It was expected and her objection to it would have him seething.
Again, she found herself in a position that gave her no choice.
Reluctantly, she cracked her mouth.
She had known what to expect from that action, but was unprepared for the surprise. She thought him still flaccid. She was unaware that it had stiffened from rubbing and tapping it against her face.
There was distress at having a bloated tube plunged directly to the back of her throat.
That gagging member caused an impulsive reaction to pull back. She was dismayed at finding her head restricted by two grasping hands. He wasn't just holding her in place, he was maneuvering her upon his spit.
She experienced anguish. Her verbalized objections came out as loud gurgles.
"Honey, my god, you've done this a thousand times. You know how to pleasure my tool. Your fingernails are biting into my leg and it hurts. Quit performing like a naïve virgin and suck my dick like a whore. Remember, use both hands and grasp my shank, your tongue to pleasure, and saliva to lubricant. It doesn't matter what order. Jerking and tugging on it helps. Licking and playing with my balls is also pleasurable. Do I need to teach you how to suck a man's cock?"
It was disheartening to hear him use those disgusting words.
She questioned the level of depravity of her husband, Paul. What did he write on that list? Why was he using it to demean her dad? Her father was being made less human and more brute. There was great sorrow at knowing that. Her dad had always been kind and gentle.
While coddling his rigid shaft, she wept.
She was on the verge of failing. Her lack of skill prompted him to question her. It was generating frustration and causing him to tighten his grip.
Her deficiencies were annoying even her.
There is usually a steadfast bond between a parent and child. It often motivates children to strive for parental favor. In this instance, it was no different for her. Deep in her psyche she felt disappointment over displeasing him.
Her current path was leading towards disaster. It needed to be reversed.
Her mind wandered in desperation to grasp upon any solution. She thought, if I don't do something he's going to lose his temper. My god, if he finds out, it'll destroy him. Our lives will become a horrific tragedy and all because I never learned how to suck a cock.
A memory came to her. Back when they were dating, Paul had played a trick. He had replaced a newly purchased movie with hardcore porn. Upon playing it, she became repulsed. The shock at viewing such filth stunned her. She sat unmoving and watched those nasty scenes play out. It wasn't long before she stormed out and locked herself away. He claimed it was a prank, but she found little humor in it.
Strangely, that visual imagery now played in her mind. It was odd that she recollected every disgusting detail of those performances. A video she once found revolting was now the lifeline that might save her. She would attempt to use it as a base of instruction to pleasure her dad's cock.
Shaping both hands to form a triangle, she grasped the base of his shaft. She then extended her thumbs downward to tickle his balls. Along its length her tongue slithered wetly against its flesh.
She felt foolish repetitiously licking that meaty tube. It was similar to someone pressing the replay button numerous times and it was exhaustive. She learned that it was less abrasive to her tongue if she slobbered. All in all, she began to improvise and alternate her methods away from the instructive video.
His response to this wondrous transformation was to drive her head upward towards its tip with a nudge of his hand. Mimicking the woman from the video, she didn't hesitate to gobble the bulbous head with a widened mouth. Her tongue shaped into a half-funnel to glide along its underside. Her head then began bobbing like the spindle arm on a sewing machine.
She became comfortable and realized that sucking dick became progressively easier over time. The sounds he made was evidence that she had improved. It was an eccentric thought, but there was a tinge of pride over her performance. She also wanted to kick herself upon acknowledging it.
There was difficulty at understanding how feelings of disgust could simply evaporate.
She questioned herself. How do you hold on to that emotion when there's no chain to anchor it down? How does something distasteful one minute suddenly become a tasty meal? Once passion takes over, do all heterosexual females crave to put it in their mouth or was it just her?
She attributed the dramatic change to arousal that grew from the task.
In pleasuring him, she found that it fueled lust within herself, which in effect moved her to perform more sexually. That emotion feed on itself and heightened the emotion.
He said, "Giving me a blowjob never affected you like this before. I've never seen you smile so broadly as you are now. It's clear that you're stimulated by it."
After several moments of licking, slurping, and bobbing, his comment regarding her smile sank in.
The truth slammed her.
Its impact made her relinquish his cock and blunder backward.
The reality of it was too much to bear.
Within the confines of her mind, she screamed, oh my god, what the fuck did you do to me, Paul?
"Martha, what's wrong? One minute you're enjoying it and then you shuffle away in alarm. To hell with the master-whore role-playing for the moment. If it's something I said or did, then I apologize. We don't have to do this. It can end now. I'm only doing this because it was your idea. Tell me you want to quit this foolish diversion and it stops now."
She was still stunned from her revelation. She now understood that it wasn't simply having a dick in her mouth that affected her. The truth was that the pleasure she felt was directly related to having her dad's cock in her mouth. It was the taboo of the act itself that drove her arousal.
When he spoke, her thoughts were still cluttered. She attempted to understand his declaration. Quit the game? He was willing to stop now. All of this could end now. All she had to do was tell him. For obvious reasons, she would never choose to do that.
She sighed and exhaled a puff of air. Even with a choice, she had no say.
Reaching between her legs, her hand nibbled against her sensitive mound. With a bent finger, she slithered it leisurely into herself and pressed the palm against her clit. Those actions produced a pleasurable shudder. It was an intentional act meant to dissuade her thoughts and justify her decision.
Dropping to all fours, she groveled back to him. Walking her hands up his leg, she fidgeted nervously as she sought to grasped his rigid extremity.
Opening her mouth agape, her tongue diddled along the underside ridge of his dick. Drool dribbled over the rim of her mouth and trickled down her chin. A sequence of groans vibrated within her chest. She then lunged with longing and gobbled its engorged head.
"I guess that's your answer," he said.
***
Kinky New Whore
"Ass in the air and face to the mattress. Yes, just like that," he said.
With her head to the bed, Carol turned her face sideways and gulped for breath.
She was relieved that her degradation had changed course.
Her whorish task to pleasure her dad's big cock had injured her. There was mild soreness around her lips and minor abrasions on her tongue. It was her throat that took the brunt. She could feel a slight swelling of the tissue. It didn't necessary hurt, but it was annoying.
Each time his cock was removed, she experienced a sense of loss. The absence of that hard dick drove a yearning for its return. It was an irrational desire that befuddled her. She compared it to a pacifier that provided satisfaction and comfort. Again, she questioned whether heterosexual women felt that craving or was it simply abnormal behavior influenced by her circumstances.
In this instance, there wasn't any longing for its return. She wasn't disappointed when he pulled back from her.
She knew why he drew away. He was on the cusp of an ejaculation. She could feel his dick thicken and throb as it plunged between her lips. Squandering his load in that orifice wasn't on his agenda. That became clear when he said, "I'm not wasting my jizz in my whore's mouth."
His decision to remove his prick from her encircling lips was a reluctant one. It was slow and he verbalized that disappointment with a variety of curses.
He wasn't fast enough to constrain that impulsive need.
She tasted a small measure of cream. It was difficult to describe something so new. She felt no disgust over that small glob of expended gift, but she did grimace from its salty flavor.
She held her rear high and arched her back downward. Spreading her knees wider than necessary, her splayed pussy gaped with invitation.
She shivered nervously when he crimped his hand and encircled her anal ring. As he separated two curved fingers, it formed a gap quite similar to a funnel. That newly open hole bubbled as it absorbed the flowing stream of lubricate that was squeezed from a bottle with his other hand.
She curled her bottom lip and crimped her mouth tight.
Once filled, the excess dribbled down as a glossy sheen and streamed itself along the crevasse of her precious crack.
Her arms bent at the elbow and extended out to rest on top of her head. Her interlaced fingers tensed as the head of a round object pressed against her anus.
She grunted painfully as a smooth elongated phallus was slid into that objectionable constricted tube. The multiple bulbous glass heads that rounded the length of the shaft were like golf-ball sized beads. It was an obtrusive object that was pushed with slow measured force.
She grimaced and then bit her lip to keep from crying out.
The unwelcome intruder forced the lining of her rectum to stretch and conform. It refused to be ignored.
She experienced several stages of physical sensations. Upon initial entry it began as pain. The lubricant that coated the lining of her bowels eased it to an annoying discomfort. It then ended with a numbing throb.
She felt the full girth of that pole. It wasn't its 5-inch length that bothered her; it was its 2.5-inch thick circumference that forced the muscles in her rectum to push back that disturbed her. Those powerful strands involuntary compressed against the intruder. It was a weird reaction that made her feel like her ass was milking the monstrous shaft. Capped off by a cone shaped rubber plug, it was impossible to expel. The sensation of having that cavity occupied in this manner was manifesting an odd reaction similar to stimulating her clit. It was causing her pussy to tingle.
She was so focused on evaluating this unique experience that she twitched when he placed his hands on her upended rounded butt cheeks.
There was an expectation as to what came next. She knew the moment the tip of his cock brushed against her sex that he was in preparation for the big event. She could feel her vagina pulsate and constrict in anticipation for its turn to be filled.
She was saddened that there was no fan-fair and no tease.
He simply thrust his full length and began fucking.
She felt dishearten over her father pounding into her like she was a cheap ten-dollar strumpet. Although this kinky game required that she pretend to be one, every action she took seemed to bring her one step closer to actually becoming one. At the moment of penetration, she hadn't yet accepted the perception of herself in that role.
She didn't expect that fragile wall to crumble so quickly. Between a heartbeat, a thrust, and rebounding plunge, the battle over that definition was lost. That perceived role became reality. The only comfort from knowing that she had breached the line was the excuse that she couldn't help it.
REPORT
____
Catching herself fervently grinding her steamy cunt against him and then undulating her pelvis like a traveling wave was the distinct moment. Now defined by those actions, she was most definitely whore-like if nothing else. Her reaction to that awareness was to delve further into that whorish persona. She reached back between her legs to hastily buff her fingers against the tender covering obscuring her swollen clit.
She was surging towards a climax. The stimulation produced from having both orifices filled at the same time would no doubt be catalysts for a forceful explosion. At the very least it would permanently cement her new status in stone.
In heat, she frenziedly bucked back to impale him deeper. The collision between their sexes was a thunderous impact of repeating wet smacks.
In the moment and between a hammering lunge, she growled and then mistakenly cried out, her voice horse and crackling, "Yes, god, yes, fuck me! Yes, fuck my whore cunt, daddy!"
With those words, her rising orgasm sputtered to a stop. Her feverish movements ceased. She tensed and froze with fear.
She bit her lower lip.
He continued to plunge into her with an increasingly forceful stride.
She shuddered in anticipation of his response.
He sustained his persistent thrusts.
Her gnawing fear became confusion.
The expected outcome didn't materialize.
His reaction to her blunder was to fuck her harder.
Her thoughts turned inward and became questions. Oh god, does he know I'm his daughter? Did he know the entire time?
The notion that it was possible that he knew he was fucking his daughter all along produced an unwelcomed response within herself. It kindled a little flame that restarted the fire.
She wanted to scream over it. It wasn't something she desired to be aroused over, but she found herself incapable of stifling it.
Again, the pleasure overcame her. "Ohhh, ohhh...daddy, you're so big!"
She grunted as his pelvic thrusts increased.
"It's about time," he said.
She moaned.
He continued by saying, "I was wondering how long it would take before you wailed out."
Her mind was out of kilter. Emotion and thoughts intermingled with pleasure. He has to know, yet he continues to fuck me. I can't believe he would willingly be part of this. Yet, when I say, daddy, he likes it and pounds into to me even harder. Why?
Those perplexing thoughts were driving her mad.
Curiosity over the matter drove her to say, "Fuck me harder—daddy!"
This time, she listened to her own voice. Those words sounded like her mother.
She felt the rumble of her voice as it vibrated along the swollen tissue in her throat. It altered the tone and was just enough to carry her voice with her mom's distinctive inflection.
The tenseness of her nerves relaxed. This time she felt actual relief at the possibility that her identity was still intact. There was confidence that all of her questions were answered; with the exception of one.
Acquiring that answer was now an obsession.
Using her new found freedom to verbalize, she said, "Why do you fuck me harder when I call you, daddy?"
Their feverish fuck slowed down to a moderate level of pounding.
He swallowed and cleared his throat before saying, "What? You're kidding? It's not my idea, it's yours. My instructions were to ram your pussy harder every time you say, daddy. I find it distasteful because it makes me think of Carol. It's bad enough that you both look near identical. It distresses me to know I can't control my reaction to it. Why are you pretending to be our daughter? If I wasn't so freaking aroused by it, I would have ended this much earlier. Argh, you look so much like her it gives me the shivers. Seriously, are you sure you want to continue playing this tasteless game?"
His response was the epiphany moment that gave her clarity.
It was Paul's deceitful letter of instructions that outlined what roles she would play. Everything was meticulously crafted to drive her degradation towards Paul's intended goal. What her father believed as simple game of charades was in fact used as a method to permanently transform her into what she had now become.
It was as she thought earlier. The probability that she was his real daughter was so farfetched that it was impossible for him to consider otherwise. He was in complete denial even when all the facts were in plain sight.
She despised Paul for turning her into some twisted incestuous cum slut. It was far too late for her. Regardless to her dad's aversion to play the game, she had no wish to end it. After all, her father still owed her an orgasm.
Carol moved to propped herself onto her hands. Rising to all fours, she turned her blindfolded face over her shoulder.
Her mouth broadened into a smile. "Oh god, yes. Do everything that's on my list. Pretend I'm your daughter and fuck the shit out of me. Please, daddy!"
"You'll ruin me with this foolish game. Every time I see our daughter, the only thing I'll be able to think about is fucking and it's your fault. You're indeed a perverted bitch for doing this to me. If I'm to play this despicable game of yours then you'll pretend to be Carol for the whole weekend. I'll get my satisfaction from that fact alone. You're never to tell anyone about this, ever. Do you understand?"
"Yes, daddy."
***
Unmasking The Whore
Carol was pretending to be her mother, who was role-playing to be the daughter. The weirdness of it made her reassess whether she was indeed going insane.
She couldn't do it.
Playacting as her mom that mimicked her daughter made the imitation seem fake. Her words came out as girlish like a horny bimbo teen. She felt stupid saying, "Fuck me, daddy," over and over. It was getting old and it really wasn't something she'd say. Then again, until today, she never screwed her father.
The inevitable result of those thoughts made her give up the sham. She'd be herself.
She said, "Dad, remove this collar and blindfold. I don't need them anymore. Forget that dastardly list for now. Honestly, I'm not into kink as much as you believe, but I admit it served its purpose. No more captive whore bullshit. Pretend I'm truly your daughter. Make love to me as you would mom."
"Martha, you're spooking me. You sounded too much like her just now. When I said pretend to be her, I didn't expect you to act exactly like her."
She was disturbed upon feeling his penis deflate. There was an urgency in her task to grasp its girth and tweak it back to life.
"Please, dad, take off my blindfold. I want to see your big cock, not just feel it."
"Damn-it, stop. This is too real for taste. Pretending to be her and actually being our daughter are two different things. You know what I'm trying to say. I'm not comfortable changing the rules. Quit saying, dad. I was perfectly fine with daddy. Carol says, dad. It creeps me out when you say it."
His inaction to remove the leather kerchief prompted her to do it herself. Perspiration and time had swollen the leather bindings. Her frustration at removing it caused him to intercede and offer aide. As he fumbled with the straps, she returned to her job of getting him hard.
Once removed, he stared down into her blinking blue eyes.
The shock over her visage was evident on his face.
She gazed back with wide watery eyes. Her lips quivered as she awaited his reaction to the truth.
He kissed her.
That wasn't the response she expected.
"Dad?"
"It's unbelievable," he said.
"What? Tell me what you're thinking."
"It's amazing. Even your contacts are the same color. It's so perfect, I can't tell the difference."
She muttered, "Huh?"
"Why do you arouse me so much? What we're doing is so wrong. Yet, that's the very reason I'm turned on."
Her brow arched downward.
He continued by saying, "Don't you ever tell Carol about this. It'll be embarrassing for me and it'll break her heart. She can never know we played this immoral game. I'd never hurt her in such a manner."
She was dismayed by his response.
In agitation, she said, "You still believe I'm your wife? Are you fucking blind?"
That outburst urged him to wrap her in his arms. That embrace led to an open-mouthed kiss. It was passionate and steamy.
She whimpered.
Throughout their conversation, she never stopped jerking his cock.
She admitted to being conflicted. There was a part of her that was desperate that he knew her identity. However, she was more grateful that he didn't.
Her fears had changed. It wasn't the truth of her identity that concerned her. It was the devastation wroth from knowing what his little girl had now become and that he played a major part in that transformation. That knowledge would most definitely destroy him.
After a heavy sigh, she released his dick.
Twisting her torso from him, she dropped her back to the mattress. Folding her knees until her heels pressed her buttocks, she spread her thighs wide. With her thumb and forefinger pressed against her labia, she spread her pussy to display its glossy wet gape. That luscious tunnel palpitated. It presented an invitation that craved to be filled.
"Jesus, dad, what do I have to do? Write a sign and an arrow above my pussy with lipstick?" she said in irritation.
Reaching forward with her right hand, she grasped his dong and pulled it towards her sex.
His hesitation caused her frustration.
She exclaimed, "For Christ sake, just fuck your little girl."
***
Rapture and Torment
Carol lie tied and spread-eagled upon the bed.
She was recovering from the massaging wand that vibrated like a jackhammer against her clit. This moment was simply a reprieve to allow her to catch her breath. She could no longer discern the passage of time. It was now marked by the various devices that was lavished upon her with intent to arouse.
Throughout her ordeal she wanted to scream. She would do anything to call attention to the decadent torments and unwanted pleasures. Every degradation forced upon her caused her to spiral further downward into depravity. These debaucheries had taken their toll and she was on the cusp of giving in entirely.
The bastard had fitted her with a cock-ring.
Her objections to her plight had been voiced with her tongue. That freedom was now inhibited because that pleasuring appendage had been used like a whore. Now sore, swollen, and tired, it couldn't even lick the rim of the ring.
Her current predicament was simply another story. She had no desire to dwell upon it now.
She needed to lift her spirits. To stay sane, she needed to forget her present circumstances. Remembering her dad and the pleasures they shared earlier were the memories she needed to grasp. Unlike the bastard that now taunted her, the father she knew would never misuse her this way.
She took this recovery time to reflect upon the evening with her father.
She had never known lovemaking was so joyous. Her father's statement about it being so wrong that it made him hornier held true for her also. It was so nasty that it added additional excitement. It fueled their passion.
She couldn't remember how many times they fucked. She could only count the number of times fresh cum leaked out as driblets from her cooch. At the time, she was so overwhelmed with lust that concern over the end product that might result from their incestuous coupling was a worry pushed to the back of her mind.
He required recovery after each raunchy bout of heated sex. In their down time, he took pictures. These were racy poses of his whore daughter bending over and exposing her leaking crack or spreading herself with a curling finger of temptation. She did it willingly for her father. She told him to visualize his daughter each time he jerked off to them.
Before he fell asleep in her arms, he expressed sorrow. He said she broke him. He then rested his head on her shoulder and sobbed.
She knew what he meant by that statement.
His belief was that they had role-played an affair between father and daughter, but the very nature of that taboo now appealed to him. He tasted it, ravaged it and then consumed it. He feared what it had done to him. He was terrified of the urges that spawned from it.
Even at the end, he still believed she was his wife.
Resting beside him, she placed her hand on his hairy chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart ease as exhaustion took hold. His drooping eye lids closed and he drifted into slumber.
She kissed him tenderly on his cheek. Her eyes watered and a single tear gathered at the corner of one eye.
Rolling to her side with her back to him, she wept quietly. It was difficult to stem the emotion that boiled from her thoughts.
She was still Carol. Turning her into a whore didn't change her as a person. It only changed her behavior. There wasn't any doubt the experience had shattered her inhibitions. Psychologically those walls were unrepairable. She was permanently scarred by what was done to her and that was the tragedy. That she had so easily succumbed to that intimate taboo was telling.
She was deeply troubled and found it impossible to sleep.
Where was her mom? Where was her devious husband?
If Paul could so easily do this to her, his own wife, what were the possibilities that he wasn't already doing it to her mother. The idea that her mom was also his victim was horrifying. She couldn't allow that to happen. If it did happen, was she too late to save her? The bastard needed to be stopped.
She flipped to her side to face her father. Her hand extended with intent to wake him, but froze before tapping his shoulder. His disquieting expression was evidence that he wasn't having a restful sleep. It stayed her hand. He was obviously disturbed by their forbidden sex-capade.
I mustn't involve him, she thought. He's already been harmed enough. I don't even know whether my worries are justified. I need to find mom on my own.
Leaving her sleeping father, she slid from her parent's bed. Now standing, she walked with a wide-legged gait from the master bedroom.
The turmoil that raged in her mind required answers.
REPORT
DAD'S KINKY NEW WIFE CH. 02
A wife is deceived by her son-in-law.
Story description: A wife is deceived by her son-in-law, but that perception might not be the true deception. The story continues from chapter one.
***
Amorous Reflection
Martha puffed with disappointment upon entering the house.
Traffic had snarled on the freeway and made her late. To make matters worse, Harold's bizarre instructions in the form of mobile texts had her dashing all over town. He'd been stubborn in his resolve that she wouldn't return home until the list was complete.
At the entrance, she opened the side closet door and momentarily fixed her stare upon a plastic coat hanger.
After exhaling a deep sigh, she thought, I can't believe I've agreed to participate in this silly sex game.
She then shimmied at the shoulder and broke from that mini-trance. Grasping the front of the beige trench coat, she popped the buttons and disrobed.
Now absent the obscuring jacket, she stood half naked in sexy lingerie minus a bottom.
The scandalous sensation of being adorned in such a manner along with the chilly air caused goosebumps to form upon her skin. She promptly moved to stand in front of the elongated hallway mirror to view her new appearance.
Her reflection gave a mischievous smile as it admired its sensual curves.
"Hmmm..." she purred and then batted her dark lashes.
Widening her glossy eyes, she glared alluringly at herself.
She said, "She's so fucking sexy."
Immediately following, she felt awkward for saying that.
Why am I so infatuated by my own looks? It's freaking weird. Am I acting ridiculous because of an overactive libido? People tend to do the dumbest shit when they're aroused. I guess I'm no different.
With a chuckle, she dismissed the thought and watched the woman in the mirror slide both hands along its curvaceous form.
That amorous 41-year old image smiled and then puckered its cherry red lips. Along with a seductive wink, it gave her a mimicked kiss.
My goodness, I must admit I'm still sexy-hot, even at my age.
A listless sound caused her to momentarily cock her head.
When that indistinct noise didn't return, she returned to observe her reflection.
The image of the short haired brunette stared back and it caused an unexpected tremble. That immodest woman was a titillating picture provoking a sensation that attracted her gaze downward.
As if to tease, the hem of the frilly blouse scarcely concealed the defined cleft between that woman's thighs. She found herself enamored over that delicate prize. When her reflection jutted its pelvis forward, she couldn't help but gawk that glistening furrow.
Now completely hairless, her pubic mound stood out as flushed and youthful. It accented the treasure by giving the outer lips a predominate pucker and a sleek curvy appearance.
She watched nervously while egging her reflection onward. "Do it. Do it. No one's around. It'll be okay. Just one touch."
The image crooked a naughty smile and moved its middle finger to stroke the inner ridge between two distended petals. Tenderly it slid along the slit causing a film of sticky wetness to appear.
Again, she urged herself to go further, "It's alright, don't worry. It's just to warm up. You can surprise him with how excited you are."
As a finger worked amid two meaty curtains, the thumb shifted to play upon the fleshy covering that hid a flowering bud.
Pivoting her head, she caught her reflection running a sensual tongue along its bottom lip.
"Why am I so freaking horny?" she said with an undertone.
She scrutinized the convex of that woman's heaving bosoms and their eraser-like nubs. Both nipples protruded with prominence through the thin translucent cloth. They beckoned to be clinched, and the image did. The resulting tease produced a tickling jolt that flushed downward along her body.
The reflection exhaled a soft moan as it squinted lustfully at Martha's luscious figure while undulating its pelvis with short suggestive gyrations.
Her depraved thoughts rambled. Oh, my lord, I feel so—so naughty. I'm painted up like some floozy and it stirs me. I've done similar before. Why is this different? What happened to me at the beauty salon?
She began to muse over the peculiar events from earlier.
Directing those thoughts caused a prickling sensation that rushed through her extremities and caused her thighs to shake. She hummed a droning "Ohhh," and then crimped her legs together. Gulping an inhalation of air, she then drove her right hand back to her tender cunny while the other continued to maul her right boob.
As the cogitating image reminisced over an encounter that it couldn't remember, it reacted to the intangible thought by fluttering its eyes and gaping its moist red lips to form an O.
***
Pleasurable Memories
Earlier...
Harold's instructions were a relatively short list, but each task required driving and distance took considerable time. Upon texting him that she'd finished purchasing the naughty lingerie, he replied with the final objective.
He gave an address and directed her to complete this final preparation before coming home. She admitted to being troubled over that request. His directive had her traveling to a seedy part of town. She texted back that she was frightened. His response had been a statement saying he'd never put her in danger and that she should trust him.
Knowing her husband, she accepted the explanation.
Nervously, she drove to that location. It was a spooky salon at a corner street. The entire area was devoid of people and appeared derelict.
Parking at the curb near the entrance, she sat uneasily and stared at the crooked sign that that hung inside the door. A lone light glared from behind that obnoxious placard and identified the salon as being open for business.
The ambiance of her circumstances gave an eerie vibe that disturbed her. It was like an intuitive warning that portended doom if she persisted with her husband's insufferable request.
She contemplated over her mood and shifted her gaze towards the open road.
After moments of indecision, she was jolted by a sudden, but persistent tap at the passenger side window.
Standing at the curb was an eccentric middle-aged woman gesturing for the window to be rolled down.
As it opened partway, the gaudily dressed blond with stringy braids placed a hand on the ridge of the glass. Bending forward, her colorful dress draped open at the cleavage.
On display were two shadowy endowed bosoms hanging heavy.
Martha averted her shaken gaze from that embarrassing exhibition and refocused it on the lady's face. The entirety of that woman's tawdry ensemble and decorated appearance gave the impression of a promiscuous gypsy with a quirky smile.
When the woman abruptly guffawed at her discomfiture, Martha reached to turn the key.
The chuckle ceased and the woman exclaimed with a Slavic accent, "Oh, so sorry. Couldn't help self. You stare makes me laugh. Forgives me. I am Kasha and I waits for you."
Martha furrowed her brow and cocked her head. "You're the person my husband sent me to meet? Do I know you?"
Kasha straightened and then squatted at the door. Her flamboyantly painted face became framed by the glass. Her bright cherry red lips upturned into a pleasant smile. Widening her dark mascara framed eyes, she attempted an expression of doe-like innocence. Her stare was captivating.
Altering her tone to produce a measured pitch of calm, the blond said, "Course, sweetie. Job to make beautiful for hubby. Trust—you remember if we meet. No worries, you very nervous. Kasha helps you relax before we start."
Martha smiled.
"Follow. Not much time and hubby grows impatient," the woman said.
Once seated, Martha was directed to stare into a large lighted mirror.
With a brush and a clipper, the woman began her work.
After a lengthy conversation of no import, the woman produced a shiny silver locket and opened it to show a framed photograph. She said, "See Martha, this is portrait of dear husband?"
"Yes, he's quite handsome. He looks familiar. Do I know him?"
"No darling, you not know man. Die long ago. Sad story. He good teacher. Fired for inappropriate touching. He innocent. Never touch girl bad way. She lies and parents cover for her. Everyone disregard back surgery. He only places a hand on girl's shoulder to keep from falling."
"Seems like miscommunication by all parties. Perhaps mistakes were made."
Kasha heatedly replied, "Yes, people stupid. Girl not know what improper touching mean. She only knows feel awkward. Sadly, more girls come forward and tell untruths. Everyone lies. Husband lose job and kills self. Leaves Kesha broken and sad."
"Oh my, I'm so sorry for your loss. That's a horrific story. I understand the anger."
The gypsy's frown immediately upturned into a broad creepy smile. "Do you truly?" she said. "Bah doesn't matter. Today is wonderful. I'm overjoyed knowing the deceitful girl now learns what bad touching means. All bitches and their parents will soon discover true wickedness. Kasha becomes teacher."
Martha was unsettled by those strange statements. To break the odd moment, she responded, "Ah, I'm confused. Frankly, what you said is—well—kind of weird. Don't you think?"
"Yes, yes, apologies. A life paved with tragedy often leads the mind to wander down dark roads. Memory is tricky. One's perception can often be altered into believing truths crafted by another hand. Example, look at your reflection. Kasha made you beautiful, but is it reality or just an illusion worked by my hand?"
"I'm not sure how to respond to that."
"Oh, dear me, don't answer. Just words. Before husband died, he gave this locket. It's very pretty. Yes?"
"Yes, it's an adorable pendant. Very beautiful."
Kasha rotated the glimmering trinket to catch the refraction of light coming from the bulbs outlining the mirror. Drawing Martha's eyes to the charm, she said, "Watch the shiny bauble spin and swing. Now, look at yourself in the mirror and see how pretty I made you. You have a gorgeous reflection. Do you see how it glitters and shines upon your creamy white skin?"
"Yes"
"Always twirling and swaying with your beautiful image. It relaxes and gives you a tingle. So, calm...so gentle. Like the sway of a curvy hip, it begs for attention. Do you see the lusty lady in the mirror?"
"Yes"
"That sexy woman feels naughty and aroused—doesn't she?"
"Yes."
"Kasha teach you wickedness. Do you want to learn?"
The pleasurable memories that followed became a fragmented blur.
***
Devilish Pied Piper
The mirror captured the reflection of Martha's head thrashing from side to side. Pleasurable images flashed in her mind: a pleasuring tongue, passionate kisses, hearty boobs with pointed hard nipples...
...a wet pussy engulfing her mouth.
Her eyes instantly shot wide.
"What?"
She removed her clammy hand from between her legs.
"Oh my god..."
Swiping her sweaty locks from her face, she frowned into the mirror. Her lust dissipated.
"It's that disturbing fantasy again. I'm not a lesbo. Why am I fantasizing about women? Why am I so turned on by it?"
She shook her head and then squinted at the mirror.
"I need a dick," she said adamantly in a tone meant to convince herself.
Turning away, she strolled into the Livingroom.
"Harold?"
Walking the edge of the rounded coffee table, she came to a stop.
Martha cocked her head to angle an ear towards the noise echoing from down the darkened hall.
She heard soft feminine moans and wet pounding smacks.
Her eyes narrowed. "Darn it, Harold. You're supposed to wait for me," she proclaimed with displeasure.
"Fuck me, daddy!" resounded with clarity in her own voice from down the hall.
That flirtatious phrase left her stunned with a fixed expression.
Her mind rambled in thought. It can't be me. I never said anything so silly. Did he record us having sex? I must be imagining it. That's it. He's watching some sordid taboo video without me. I admit, it sounds rather nasty. You're such a naughty boy, Harold.
Again, those girlish words, "Fuck me, daddy!"
...a gaping pussy; her mouth slurping and licking the meaty labia—a woman's clit.
She briskly shook her head to rattle herself from that delusional stimulus.
Failing that effort, she huffed in frustration and reluctantly thrust both hands between her shaking thighs.
"Need to stop...so wrong. Sick...so perverse...so good."
Cognitively she urged restraint, but the intermingled noises of fucking, groaning, and moaning drove her action. She was puzzled by her inability to prevent or change the visualized story that played in her mind. She felt slightly humiliated at knowing she was stimulated by a fantasy involving herself pleasuring some stranger's pussy.
Mentally, she argued with herself. I can't believe I'm frigging myself to sounds of some ridiculous roleplay video. I shouldn't be doing it, but the urge...those fucking noises make me so horny. I can't believe I'm almost near the edge. Need to hold back. Need to stop.
"Put it in my tight little pussy, daddy!" was spoken in the voice of her 22-year old daughter.
It was too much. Hearing some young slut say something so perverse in a voice like Carol, struck an aberrant nerve in her psyche.
She knew it was irrational to feel a need for gratification, yet that lurid sensation compelled her. Scooting her legs shoulder width, she worked her fingers feverously into her frothy moist crack while both thumbs ravaged her knobby clitoris. Gyrating her pelvis, she thrust her hips forward in short spontaneous little jerks and squealed.
...pleasurable feminine hands ravished her tits. A bobbing blond head gorged on her steamy gash.
She staggered from a prickly jolt that spiraled down both legs. Fumbling, she frantically reached out to steady herself against the wall.
Her response to this freakish reaction was to check her rapid beating pulse.
"This isn't normal behavior. People don't react this way. I've never—"
She swooned to her knees.
The unrelenting sounds of sex now taunted her.
The room began to spin. She tilted her head downward and shut her eyes. Sporadic and random acts of sin played in her mind. It made her delirious. These weren't her normal romantic interludes played out as a sexual fantasy. These hallucinations were deviant performances dramatized as kinky fetishes.
She felt shame. The wickedness of it all made her wet.
The room ceased to tumble when she concentrated on remaining calm. Regaining composure, she stood on wobbling legs. Bracing her shoulder against the wall, she exhaled heavily to blow a ragged clump of damp hair from her eyes.
A sheen of beading perspiration ran like tiny tributaries down her arm and congealed at the elbow. She feverishly shifted her eyes about in reaction to the sweaty-drops falling loudly with a thud upon the carpet. Those maniacal taps vociferously sounded in tandem with each thunderous wet smack forged between two fleshy bodies.
"What the hell's going on?" she whined. "This can't be fucking real. Need answers."
Her gaze shifted to the darkened hall. She felt dazed by that long expanding corridor. After skimming her eyes past the open doorway of her daughter's vacant bedroom on the right, she shuffled a few steps forward.
On the left, the muted sound of fucking drew her eyes to the wooden frame that outlined the closed master bedroom door.
"Harold?" she said with a whimper.
The answer came as soggy slaps produced from a couple experiencing passion.
Those noises were a call from some devilish pied piper. Extending her hand to graze the wall, she shambled onward.
Halting at her daughter's empty room, she extended her right arm and grasped the left side frame. She began analyzing the realism of those sounds. She hadn't yet garnered the truth, but subconsciously she reacted by watering her eyes.
Those familiar moans as produced by the young woman created conflict and confusion.
Martha's was awaking to the truth in stages. It was being expressed by a gradual widening of both eyes. The more they broadened, the waterier they became. Her mouth became crooked and began to quiver. She was at the pinnacle of utter heartbreak.
On the cusp of determining the sinful reverberations weren't produced from the speakers of a television, a rugged hand reached from behind and muffled her startled response.
An accompanying arm wrapped her waist and drew her back into her daughter's bedroom. With a rounding sweep from the stranger's heel, the door shut closed with a tiny click.
***
Watching, Waiting, and Weeping
Paul had been forced to watch the totality of Carol's degradation on a large monitor.
The entire time his hands crimped the sheets and he sobbed.
Without reservation, they'd be no forgiveness from his newlywed wife after this. He had no doubt his marriage was over before it truly began. He envisioned the repercussions and it tormented him.
He'd endured many punishments over the course of the past month, but this tragedy twisted his gut.
The misery began as a gradual accrual of dread and peaked upon hearing his true love beg daddy to put it in her tight little cunt. That was the moment his stomach churned as if it had been pierced with a hot serrated blade.
It was the enthusiasm of her words that cemented the true horror of his complicity. It signified her acceptance as daddy's whore. The impact both shocked and perplexed him. How could a lady so prudish and naïve so easily morph into an incestuous slut within the span of a few hours? How could any woman surrender to such debauchery?
He'd turned his tearful face to the mirror and plead for mercy. The flickering light from the monitor's screen brightened of its own accord. The response had been an overlaid reflection of a female phantasm that mocked him with a ghostly laugh.
Prior to today, he'd thought he knew Hell but was mistaken. His ultimate anguish was forcing these depravities upon his innocent new family. He'd been deceived. In his despair and desperation to end his unrelenting nightmare, he'd unknowingly swapped one for another. He now regretted his bargain with the she-devil. He never believed such abhorrent deeds would ever be collected. That abominable woman gave no reprieve.
No longer given choice, he watched, waited, and silently wept.
It was an hour or so after dusk when the closing thud from a door and the jangle of a hanger marked the time.
His mother-in-law, Martha, was home.
Upon hearing her squeals of self-gratification, his mood altered and every sorrowful thought dissolved.
It was like being bewitched with bizarre compulsions that surged, gathered, and simmered behind a thin wall. That irrational pressure was building. The effect produced an unrepentant need for release that drove impulsive actions. This was his affliction.
Pressing a button on the remote, the room darkened. Only the reverberations from an incestuous coupling sounded from beyond.
Martha stumbled into view at the bedroom door, her shaking body outlined by a dim light. He could tell she was reacting to the sin.
Although muted by a closed door, the clarity of Carol's passionate cries was unmistakable. It was clear that his mother-in-law was rationalizing the truth.
Moments earlier that spectacle would have tugged his heart. At this moment and under the sway of misfortune, he felt devoid of emotion with exception of those defined by his torturous urgency to cum.
It was too soon. He couldn't allow the revelation of that devastating reality to be revealed. It wasn't the time and the shock of knowing would undoubtedly end whatever hold the witch had on her. Without a doubt, his inability to conclude the deal would doom him to a life as some subservient sissy whore used exclusively by the bitch and all her sadistic male friends...and that devilish woman had lots of acquaintances.
REPORT
____
He was perturbed that those thoughts always arose when he tried to fight the urge. As before, he found himself unable to block the fuzzy memories of those horrendous three-days. He'd been a fool to think she'd allow him to forget his traumatic transformation.
Like a digitized movie, his portrayal as a servile girly-man reran in his head.
The catastrophe began on a day of celebration. It had started as a party with a group of close friends. It had been intended to commemorate his future marriage. In a drunken stupor, he'd acted impetuously. He should've never called that gypsy, a trashy cock whore. How could he have known he'd be damned by those three demeaning words or that they'd be used to define him.
To him, it was the most diabolical of curses. The cruelty of that affliction was that it allowed him free will but it measured the leash by the length of his hard cock.
On the first day, under the sway of that condition, he'd found restraint difficult. With minimum guidance, he degraded himself by performing acts that he assumed would give a reward. He'd soon forgot the woman neglected to tell him or mentioned the number of tasks he'd be expected to complete. This was a day of humiliation.
On the second day, he'd been dressed as a woman. He'd performed clumsily as a gang of men spewed forth incessant demands that were meant to confuse, frustrate, and demean him. By day's end, he'd been broken. Like a bitch, he'd heel at the woman's feet and ardently begged for his well-earned release.
The third day had been horrific. That had been the day of awareness. It was when he'd realized he'd conformed and transformed. He'd been made to look in a mirror and that terrifying image reflected the mockery of a woman he'd become. It wasn't the idea that he dressed and performed as a female, it was knowing he'd begun behaving and thinking like one. He'd been made to perceive himself as a woman in a man's body.
He grasped the totality of it all. It had become clear that his identity had been twisted into one akin to a man whore. He wouldn't survive the fourth day. He'd most certainly be lost. That vile woman seemed determined to make him some freakish cock slut in mind, body, and spirit. He'd make any deal to stop that from happening...and he did.
Those visions now haunted him to comply. Never again would he allow himself to be used as a cum bucket for a group of heartless men. To be free, he had simply to complete the bargain.
With increased urgency, he followed the bouncing bulbous head of his cock. He no longer felt concern over the consequences of his next intended action.
***
Pleasured Horny
"Shush," was whispered into Martha's ear in a barely audible tone.
She ceased to struggle and allowed her captor to manhandle and bend her over the edge of her daughter's old bed. The weight of her abductor pressed against her rump and pinned her in place.
She quivered nervously as the man's hardened member pulsed lengthwise between the crease of her butt cheeks.
A click sounded and a digital TV came to life. The screen flickered in her direction and drew both eyes.
Like a business presentation, a series of words materialized. It said, don't scream. We're playing a game. Suck my dick and you'll be pleasured horny.
She gave a hesitant nod.
When the room returned to darkness, he removed his hand from her mouth.
"Harold?" she said.
In a low audible tone, he said, "Uh huh."
She quipped, "I don't like this game. I don't understand any of this. That porn video—damn it, I have questions. This whole day is weird as hell. You had me driving all over town wasting time doing stupid stuff. Explain yourself."
Again, she was manhandled but maneuvered into a seated position.
"I'm not playing this silly game of yours. Are you going to tell me what's going on? For Christ sake, say something."
The answer came as a rounded fleshy knob bobbing against her mouth's bottom lip.
It stimulated imagery that made her yelp.
...a large white strap-on dildo. Presented with the head of a rubber penis, she greedily gorged and nibbled its crown.
That overlaid impression was enacted against a backdrop of blackness. She didn't recollect performing such an act. Yet, that visual representation now coincided with the rigid dick bouncing at her mouth. It was identified as some awkward fantasy that produced pleasurable thoughts. It shifted her mood and rushed her heart. Staring out into the dark, she imagined her husband's tubular shank barreling towards her welcoming mouth.
Her shy lips hesitated, then parted. When his warm dick touched her lips, she responded by broadening the orifice and gobbling the spongy bulbous tip.
In conjunction with her action came a sensation that made her to jerk.
Placing a hand on his balls and wrapping the shaft with the other, she pulled her head back. Confused and dazed by the phenomenon, she cried, "Not possible."
Her outburst was a short-lived response of surprise that ended when she felt the urge to experience that stimulation once again. She plunged her mouth back on his dick.
How could she feel it on her clit when pleasuring him? It was biologically impossible.
As she nibbled, slobbered, and traveled her tongue along the circumference of his prick, that same pleasuring action was reflected as an amplified sensation along her loins.
This is so weird, she thought, it's like I'm licking and sucking my own pussy.
Between a flickering tongue and an enveloping plunge, she said, "Fuck—Harold. How?"
That broken question caused a neglectful lull in the pleasure. It was a momentary lapse that evaporated when she returned to pleasuring the engorged knob.
Slithering her mouth from the base to the tip, her clitoris tingled and her movements became more animated.
As fervor increased, her thoughts rambled as she tried to make sense of it. It was crazy and confusing. It was driving her to perform wildly.
Oh, my god, Harold, why is this happening to me?
She tried to verbalize those questions, but they came out as blubbery fragments intermingled with loud moans. It became a futile attempt. With an obsessive need to pleasure herself to orgasm, she'd practically bound herself in place and gagged herself on his cock.
As her abductor's chest heaved with a heavy exhalation of air, she removed her playful hands from his hairless ball sack and slid them up along his body until they settled upon his bare chest.
She grasped and tweaked his nipples. That action produced an unbridled rumbling groan which reverberated out from around her rapidly bobbing head. It was as if she were teasing her own sensitive tits.
It swelled the need and brought her towards the climax. Like a balloon filling with water, it accumulated, swirled, and surged while expanding the container. She was joyful while awaiting the welcomed release.
At the stage before the crest, the balloon reached a point of bursting. It was an instance of expectation that abruptly ended when the thin membrane suddenly became like stone.
One minute she was driving towards a cliff's edge and then a wall appeared to block her plunge. The fictitious vehicle's airbag deployed and it knocked her senseless. The impact was jarring.
The result caused her to stiffened in place. The very idea that a person could be locked at the precise moment before orgasm was inconceivable. With no conclusion to her climax, the unresolved tempest swirled like a maelstrom behind an immovable barrier. She sat upright like a statue, dumbfounded and confused.
She didn't flinch when the room unexpectedly lighted from a lamp on the nightstand.
Although she found herself unable to move, she could still shift her goggled eyes to her companion.
She screamed.
At least she tried. It came out as an exhalation of air mixed with a gurgle. Her mouth was agape and her tongue was unresponsive. She jiggled once and then flopped backward like a domino to lay prone and limp upon the bed.
She was fully aware that Paul stood naked with a boner between her splayed legs.
***
The Chain That Binds
Paul gawked at Martha's nudity. Even without his curse, seeing his mother-in-law naked and sprawled on the bed with a welcoming invitation would've excited him just the same.
He said, "I have to say, you're a sexy mama, in the literal sense. It's unbelievable how much you and Carol look alike. Minor differences, but a mirror image none the less. That woman did a good job painting you up to look like a slutty version of your daughter."
In jest, he added, "I've always known you never liked me. Although, right now, seeing you lying back on the bed with your pussy open is a sign that tells me that perhaps you've changed your mind."
Leaning over, he began at her knee and walked his fingers up her sweaty leg.
"What you're feeling is exactly what I experienced my first time. I couldn't move for over thirty minutes. I'm not entirely sure why. I know you have lots of questions. I'll attempt to answer, but understand, I can only explain my suffering."
As his hands touched her inner thigh, she began hyperventilating with short puffy breaths causing her chest to quiver.
"Martha, I'm not going to harm you."
Moving his hands to her vulva, he grasped both inner lips and spread them like a curtain.
He then looked up from her genitals and directed it to her befuddled composure.
"What I'm about to do isn't my idea. I'm apologizing beforehand. Like you, I'm also a victim of this dreadful gypsy curse. No doubt your experience is identical to mine. If it's the same, I know the turmoil swirling in your mind. You're disgusted at yourself for what you're not feeling. You want to be horrified at finding your naked son-in-law between your legs, but instead, you're stimulated by it."
Pivoting his head down, he returned his gaze on her open crack.
He felt obligated to feed her more information.
With his gaze fixed upon her glistening hole, he exhaled a humid heavy breath and then continued by saying, "Like me, you're only capable of feeling emotions directly associated to those experienced during sex. You feel lustful because you're now biologically trapped with that condition. Our curse is that were incapable of completing our climax until we've concluded some task that triggers it. That spark is always dictated by that sadistic gypsy and believe me, she's cruel as hell. This is the chain that binds us to the bitch. Sadly, the need always dictates your action. In desperation, you'll do anything to achieve it. I won't explain the heartbreak that occurs after it's completed. I'll only say it's devastating."
He flickered his tongue out and ran it across her clit.
She instantly reacted by arching her pelvis up.
It was an unexpected movement that made him stop.
"Damn, that's unusual. I mean...you're recovering quicker than expected. Are you deceiving me or yourself? Is it possible that you're remaining immobile simply because you're anticipating that I'll continue? I can only assume that you're so eager that you've decided to play. Understand, I can't achieve climax until you do. She never told me your trigger, but know this, I'll do absolutely anything necessary to make it happen. In a sense, the bitch has trapped us in an unending circle jerk. If not concluded, we'll be driven mad by it."
Unable to hold back any longer, he dove his mouth onto her pussy. Like her, he experienced the same sensational condition. Eating her, was like sucking and licking his own cock and balls. Just like he'd done to satisfy those deviant men, he now pleasured her with the same committed enthusiasm.
***
Unnatural Descent
Martha was most definitely in turmoil. Upon regaining her ability to move, she realized she'd become a slave to lust. She understood why there wasn't an effort to constrain her. Reluctant to end the pleasure, she had bound herself. The crazed yearning for gratification had forced her to become a willing participant. Humans were simply incapable of combating such passion.
Scrunching her mouth, she folded her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. With each exhalation, her cheeks puffed. Her enjoyment was voiced as a series of repeated hums, one behind the other.
Folding her legs, she grasped her knees and pulled back to spread herself wide.
She felt extremely nasty for doing such a thing. There was indeed terror at knowing her son-in-law feasted like a starved wolf between her legs. She simply had no urge to act upon it, instead, she spread herself wider as an admission of defeat. Without the slightest hesitation, she had become his bitch.
Feeling him lick her pussy like a ravished dog on stimulants was causing conflict within her mind. Part of her was desperate to shriek out in dismay over how she responded to those caresses. The other was more dominate and voiced its winning declaration as a loud moan that welcomed his pleasing tongue. How could she so easily accept the insanity of it all?
As if she were a cheap tramp purchased from a backwoods whorehouse, she gyrated her pelvis and lunged her mound like a repetitive motion cotton gin. She wanted to feel every tongue pleasuring graze.
She was blissful, but deep down on the fringe of her muddled thoughts, she was truly confused by what was happening to her. It was impossible to express true dread when it was continuously pushed down by the weight of desire. Compelled to perform she was forced to play a role as some consenting whore.
Curling his hair in both hands, she pressed his face down against her sex and cried out, "Do it, Paul, make me come. Fucking eat my pussy. Make me a nasty slut!"
His reaction was spontaneous. Grasping the front of her lingerie top, he gathered a crimp of cloth in each hand and then frenziedly tore it along the middle. Both meaty bags jiggled and bounced while he hastily exposed them for ravishment.
Shuffling up her torso, he clinched a boob tightly in each hand and then descended with a gaped mouth to molest each conically shaped nipple.
In such a moment, with blind passion leading her astray, she had become some other woman. She no longer cared who suckled her breast. Their name or relationship had no bearing. Motivated by need, she wasn't repulsed by the idea of accepting any man's dick, no matter the color, size, shape, or length. She had no reservation as to how many men nor which orifices were used if it resulted in a gratifying resolution. At that instant, she'd do absolutely anything if it led to completing her orgasm.
"F—Fu—Fuck me," she said between a succession of moans.
With her pussy gaped wide, he had only to move on top and plunge himself with one ramming lunge. He followed the action by rapidly thrusting himself repeatedly into his mother-in-law's steamy wet cunt.
Those creamy smacks played in concert with her titillating squeals.
Like passionate lovers, they lustfully joined their mouths and crazily bounced, badgered, and entwined their tongues.
Interlocking her legs behind him, she repetitively pressed him deep.
She'd always been satisfied by her husband's dick; it was the right length and was pleasurably thick, but Paul's prick was both reasonably chunky and a few measures longer. Until now, it had been ages since she'd had a man probe her depths and bang her cervix like a hammer.
If this was insanity, she'd committed herself to the asylum.
She broke from the kiss and swayed her head from side to side. "Fu—Fuck me hard—harder. Damn it, what's wrong with you. If you're going to fuck my pussy, then do it like you mean it. Pound it in me, you bastard!"
Like a jackhammer, he thumped into her with the sole intent to break through that wall. Always on the edge, he was also driven by that maniacal hunger. The sex became a flurry meant to conclude only one purpose.
Unresolved, frustration and exhaustion eventually took hold. Even the unnatural passion that drove them to fuck like rabbits couldn't supersede the fatigue and the energy needed to sustain such a maddening pace.
Paul pulled out and dropped prone beside her. His chest heaved as he worked to catch his breath.
Martha's immediate reaction was to cover her face with both hands and whimper.
As diminishment of the craving subsided, she began to think more clearly. She felt relief knowing that fatigue gave a brief respite, but that awkward pressure remained and continued to urge her to be nasty. It was at that moment that she garnered the true nature of her condition and where it would lead.
Mournfully, she said, "This can't go on. I feel so fucking dirty. It's so wrong. My god, it's torture."
He exhaled a sigh and then used the sheet to wipe the sweat from his chest. "What you've just experienced is what I've dealt with for over a month. I'm not telling you the things I've done, but what you did doesn't even compare."
Turning her back to him, she reached between her legs and drove a finger into her hole.
What she discovered was bothersome and perplexing. Her pussy wasn't just moist. It was sodden and dripping. How could her vagina remain so wet? It was baffling that any woman was even capable of producing an excessive amount of lubricant as she was now.
Upon pulling her finger out, a long gooey string dribbled down in an arch. It reminded her of pre-cum that drooled from the tip of a man's prick.
She felt as if she'd become something twisted. A woman that gushed as she did now, would always be wet, ready, and willing. Such a woman would make the perfect whore. How had she been made to fit that description?
"This isn't natural." She said with a whimper.
"No, it's not, but I've already explained it to you. We've been cursed if you believe such a thing possible."
As if shocked by a thought, her head whipped around to face him. Distress evident in her widened eyes, she exclaimed, "Harold? Carol?"
He'd hoped she'd forgotten about them. The tone of her words implied grave concern and it tugged his soul. As he'd felt earlier today, that hot serrated blade now stabbed at his gut.
Sliding to the edge of the bed, he sat upright and momentarily stared at the closed bedroom door. After a sigh, he leaned forward and reached under the bed. He revealed a small duffle bag and placed it upon his lap. With a hand frozen on the zipper, he fixed his stare on the floor and said, "Yah—about them."
Frantic, she scooted to sit beside him. "God damn it, Paul, tell me."
His only reaction was to slide his hand to open the bag.
Angrily, she moved to stand in front of him.
Grasping his head in both hands, she forced him to look at her. It was his watering eyes and the wrinkled crimp of his jaw that moved her beating heart to race. In that moment, a burst of true emotion trickled through the turbulence and she cried, "What have you done?"
After reaching into the bag, he handed her a baggy containing three pills and two energy bars.
She questioned, "What's this? Why won't you tell me?"
"The pills are to keep you awake and focused. One pill is to reduce the pain. If you haven't noticed, I've had a hard-on the entire time. After a spell, it hurts to maintain an erection. Contrary to belief, a cock does get fatigued. Do you think your clit is immune to the same? Eventually, over stimulation will cause pain. You can guess about the energy bars. With no end in sight, you get the picture. Our condition might be abnormal, but our bodies still experience the frailties of being human."
"Why won't you answer my question?"
"First, take the meds and eat. Here's a bottle of water. You'll be a bit flighty from the pain pill, but the other two should offset the dizziness. I'll give fifteen minutes for a rest. Then after, I want you to face the TV, get on all fours, raise your ass in the air, arch your back, spread yourself like a whore, and then invite me to fuck you. That's when I'll show you the answer."
REPORT
____
***
Hot Little Box
Paul was pleased when Martha giggled. Her goofy demeanor gave relief. It was a sign that the meds had taken effect. He loathed deceiving her, but it was necessary. She hadn't yet spent the grinding long hours on her knees as he had. Her degradation had only just begun and she had no need for it yet.
If he'd given the pill, it would most definitely numb the pain, but it had an adverse effect on dimming sensation to sexual stimulation. He needed her wide awake and energized to feel everything. It was obvious with each vigorous lunge backward to impel her pussy on his cock that it had indeed given her a second wind if nothing else.
He'd been partially honest. The deception was for her benefit. She needed to be flighty so she wouldn't care. Showing her the video had always been a line item on the list. However, there was concern over how she'd react to that reality. He realized from the conception that no matter the affliction, such knowledge would most likely be devastating. These three had strong family bonds. He simply couldn't take the chance.
Regardless of that blasted gypsy's order to never use drugs, he'd defied her rule simply for the sake of mercy.
Overall, it wouldn't impede her ability to play the whore. It would enhance it and make the experience more enjoyable.
He admitted to being naturally turned on by watching his 23-year old dick glide in and out of his 41-year old mother-in-law's steamy pussy. Their age difference wasn't a barrier when passion was included in the mix. It was a quirky concept, but he'd begun to forget that it was Carol's mom he was poking. Except for stretch marks on her abs, both mother and daughter were physically identical in every way. This was the honeymoon he should've had.
A kinky idea struck him. He thought, perhaps I can use what I did with the father and daughter make this a bit livelier. Make her pretend to be the daughter and it might soften the impact. Between that and her drug induced mood, it might be the perfect formula to get us both off.
"Martha, I'm about to show a video that I recorded earlier. You've asked for an answer and I'm giving it to you, but I also want to play a kinky game. I want you to roleplay and pretend to be your daughter."
She laughed at the silly request.
He said, "I'm serious. My honeymoon was a catastrophe and I doubt after today that I'll ever be given a chance for a redo. I know it's a dorky request, but who knows, maybe this is your trigger. The bitch is sick like that. She plays games with people's heads and makes them do stupid shit just to find what'll get them off. Regardless, I can't shoot my load until you come, so I'll do crazy if I must. You don't have to pretend for long. Just for a bit to see if it trips your switch."
After a protracted giggle, she responded, "Okay, husband. I'll masquerade as my daughter, but you better fuck me like I'm your wife. It's ridiculous, but it's also funny and I don't care. Let's do it."
He pressed play and then stiffened in anticipation for her reaction. On his knees behind her, he grabbed both hips and allowed her move upon his prick.
The scene that displayed on screen had been a prerecorded selection from earlier that day. It had Carol facing the concealed camera with her rear in the air. Her father was clearly visible and was ramming into her from behind. Paul was both nervous and curious as to how she'd react.
After minutes' past, he became bemused by her lack of response. She continued to lunge back into him, but her strokes became momentary hesitations like she was trying to choreograph her movements with those displayed on TV.
Upping the ante, he'd continued the game. "You enjoy watching your dad fuck you. You're such a naughty girl. You love daddy's big dick. You're turned on watching yourself on video. It makes you want to come. Just let go and let it happen."
It was then that her body gave a small seismic tremble. Although she'd yet to voice an opinion, he took it as a sign that perhaps he was on to something.
"Yes, that's it. You love me fucking you when you watch daddy fuck you. You get wet at the mere thought of his cock plunging into your hot little box."
She then raised herself to all fours but remained silent.
When she stopped moaning, he worried that perhaps she was shocked after all. He expected she'd at the very least provide a verbal cue by now. It flustered him.
Shortly after his thought, she quivered upon seeing her daughter thrust back against the father. Immediately following, she mimicked the same move and rammed her rear against him.
It was a brutal and unexpected action that caused him to grunt. "Damn it, Martha! Not so fucking hard. That freaking hurt. I never said you couldn't talk. For Christ sake, tell me your thoughts. Doe's the video upset you?"
It was then that she ceased moving and pivoted her head back to look at him.
He gulped.
She acknowledged him with a glazed look. As Carol spoke on the video, Martha's lips moved to imitate the nasty banter. She was verbalizing the speech word for word and it spooked him.
It was so peculiar that it drove him to ask, "Are you okay?"
She blinked and then crooked a smile. She calmly said, "Of course silly. Give me a baby, Paul."
Her response didn't fit the script.
"Oh, shit, something's not right," he exclaimed with worry.
She said, "How did you know?"
Aggravated and confused, he replied, "What are you talking about?"
"I never told you about my fetish. How did you know I get turned on watching my parents fucking? I get wet at the mere thought of daddy plunging his hard cock into mom's hot box."
He was now officially creeped out. That statement was almost word for word from what he told her, but only reversed. It was as if she'd took his words to heart and twisted them.
"Martha, enough. Please, stop playing the game. It's not funny anymore."
"You're being silly. I'm playing me. I'm not mom, so quit. What's wrong with you? I'm serious, I want a child. I know we talked about waiting, but I've changed my mind. It's strange, but I have a desire to be a mother."
He pulled out and scrambled from her.
Frustration evident, he then stood and began to pace. Talking to himself aloud, he said, "I don't understand. What's changed? How could this happen? It's too weird. She isn't playing, she believes she's her daughter. Damn, what the hell am I going to do?"
"Paul, what are you blabbering about? There's nothing wrong with me. I'm just horny as fuck and need to come. If you're not going to satisfy me, then I'm sure daddy will. Or, perhaps I'll do it myself. There's defiantly something about the video that tickles my nipple. Either join me or brood in some other room."
Remaining on her knees, she resumed watching the pair. On screen, Harold plunge into his daughter's asshole.
The sight caused a jolt that stirred Martha with excitement. She uttered, "Ohhhhhh!"
That loud verbalized exultation was enough to stop him from pacing. He turned to investigate.
She stared at him with a thrilled gaze of anticipation. Eagerly she quipped, "Paul, look what dad's doing to mom. I want to do that. I've never done anal and I want to try. See how Mom's enjoying it. I want to feel what she feels. Please do this for me."
"Trust me," he said. "The first time isn't always pleasant."
Her response was to arch her back and wiggle her rear with a tease. Grasping her butt cheeks, she said, "I'll never know unless we try."
It should've excited him, but instead, it made him feel hopeless. Her enthusiasm had a numbing effect on him. This had never been part of the plan. The gypsy wouldn't be happy. It was irksome to think he'd failed and that the remainder of his life would be as a bitch groveling for cum. Forever hard and begging for scraps wasn't the life he wanted.
Then again, his real wife, Carol, was expressing extreme happiness at having her dad ream her ass. Go figure, from a prude to an anal whore in a day. Perhaps the mother was like her daughter. Fucking the woman's rectum might be the trigger that ends this. At least, it was his hope.
Reaching into the small bag, he grabbed a tube of lubricant. It wasn't for her; it was for his discomfort. Having a rock-solid cock for this length of time pained him. Pushing into her ass without lube would be like tossing him at a wall with his erection leading the way. On his first day as a man-whore, he'd already experienced it and it wasn't pleasurable. After such an experience, he'd acquired a greater taste to receive over any desire to give.
After moving behind and applying it, he gave a grunt and then pushed in with little effort. He'd expected she'd react from having a thick tube pushed into her rectum, but she seemed oblivious.
As she'd done earlier, she mimicked out naughty words and sighed with pleasure in concert with her daughter. It was as if the woman stared into a mirror and reflected her daughter's words and mannerisms. He'd given up trying to understand how this was possible. No doubt the woman was screwed by the curse, but this was just one degree more than before. He couldn't fix her, so he might as well fuck her until the mission was complete.
Overall, this catastrophe needed to end. Regardless to the family's wellbeing, his only goal was to save himself. His only option was to complete the deplorable deal. After twisting this family, his only recourse would be to disappear.
He'd questioned why the witch was so determined to utterly debase these good people. The woman's scheme was so diabolical that he now questioned whether he'd even survive with his sanity in tack.
***
Poetic Justice
Pining over his thoughts, Paul simply moved through the motions. He received no pleasure from plunging his member repetitively in his mother-in-law's well-rounded derriere. Already on the edge, it had simply become a task that became a means to an end.
In a short span of time, he noticed an obvious change. It began the moment she excitedly ratcheted back with intent to plunge him deeper. He gave a surprising yelp the instant she crimped his shaft tight with a strong anal grip.
Perceiving it as a sign that something was amiss, he widened his smile and turned his eyes towards the screen.
His real wife, Carol, was surging towards a noticeable climax. Just like her daughter, Martha gyrated and quivered with the same intensity. He wanted to express joy but feared it might impact the event. Instead, he cried out his delight within the confines of his mind. This is it. Her trigger is the daughter.
Finally, he'll find sweet release.
It was happening. Both were coming at the same time. Already, he felt the glorious throb of his rod as it prepared for ejaculation. He had only to wait for her wall to break.
From behind him, Carol screamed, "How could you?"
In a panic, he turned to look and then screeched, "Oh, no, no, not now!"
Tossed from the bed and onto his back, Paul looked up at Carol in horror. His dick stood out from his groin and waved while pulsing red and waiting.
Upon hearing Martha's orgasmic event expressed as a loud keening, both Paul and Carol shifted their gaze to the bed.
The mother shuddered from her forceful orgasm.
Paul felt a tremendous weight of despair upon realizing his prick remained thick. He wailed, "You ruined it. My cock had to be in your mother to cum!"
Towering over him, she yelled, "You bastard!" She slammed her foot down upon his meat.
Paul curled from the pain and groaned.
Lying satiated upon the bed with a dreamy stare and a nonchalant care, Martha addressed her daughter and purred, "Hello mother."
Standing confused by that awkward welcome, Carol was unsure how to respond.
The rustling of fabric and disturbance of the air gave Carol but a second of warning. She was too late to fend off the needle that pricked her neck. Draped by the arms of a stranger, she blacked out.
With a smile and then a chuckle, the gypsy declared, "Boy, come help or I swear..."
***
Disobedience Grants Opportunity
Martha had been seated in front of a mirror. The strange consequence of the act had the woman smiling at herself and twirling a lock of hair around a finger. She seemed locked in the moment and distractingly unaware. It was an odd behavior that befuddled them. She not only appeared to be admiring herself, but it was as if she waited for her reflection to react.
Kasha sprang into action and displayed a skill reminiscent of a person with a background in a medical field. The seductive swing her hip abruptly altered to a natural stride of a determine professional.
It was so out of character for the gypsy that Paul shuffled like a spider into the corner to cringe.
After checking Martha's pulse, Kasha produced a pin-light from a pocket and strobed a beam into the woman's eyes. Upon completing the examination, she dropped her accent and said, "Mart—no, Carol, look at me. Answer my question."
The seated woman continued to gawk into the mirror.
"Damn it," Kasha said.
Annoyed, the gypsy repetitively clicked her fingers in front of Martha's face. "Listen to me, woman. When you see yourself in the mirror, what color are your eyes?"
The mother continued to gaze, but responded, "Blue. My eyes are pretty—blue. Gorgeous. Lovely. Beautiful. Hot. Attractive."
Turning away, the gypsy stood, folded her arms and walked over to confront Paul.
He cringed and put his face in his hands.
"You've placed yourself in a pickle, boy," Kasha said. "What the hell have you done?"
He was still in pain from his wife's raging kick. Furthermore, it was difficult to look at the irritate woman that stared down at him with the same anger demonstrated earlier by his wife.
"How did you do it? Tell me. The mother truly believes she's Carol. When she looks in the mirror, she sees her daughter's face. She observes her spawn and she sees herself. Not even I can do that. You've deviated from the plan somehow. Her pupils are dilated and her pulse is racing. It's as if she'd been drugged. What did you give her?"
"Just a pill. I wanted her goofy so she wouldn't care. Seeing the father and daughter fucking would've been too much. It was meant as mercy. I didn't want to risk failing, but I never intended to harm her."
"Stupid boy. You've altered the curse. I've reasons for rules. I told you to never use drugs. They have the potential to change chemicals in the brain and body. It's obviously changed her perception and it's interfered with—Didn't it occur to you that I wanted her to break when she saw them together? That was my expectation and you've taken that joy from me. Argh, I can't reverse it and even if I could I'm not sure I'd want to."
"What do you mean? I don't understand. For Christ sake, you need to fix her. She believes she's my wife. Fuck...she even wants me to give her a child."
His last statement was like a jolt that instantly brightened her demeanor.
It was an instantaneous cackle that had her bending at the waist to catch her breath.
"Say it isn't so," she crooned. "The mother wants a baby? That idea is even more fiendish than my original scheme. The ultimate humiliation."
She followed her statement with a mischievous snicker that gave him a creepy chill.
He tilted his head to look up. "Why are you grinning? That isn't funny. I'm not doing that to her. I'm done. I completed the deal. You promised to remove this curse. I can't go on like this. Please, I beg you."
"You defied me, so no, I'm not removing it, not quite yet. This is nowhere near being done and you're still owed punishment. But, then again, your disobedience has crafted an opportunistic event that favors a redevised plan. This is more tantalizing than I expected."
"I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"
"Oh dear. Listen, boy. I made you a deviant whore for a reason. Doing detestable acts are behaviors that now define you. It's your nature to be sexually perverse. As such, your torment continues until the mother's belly is heavy and rounded. You'll continue to fuck the woman until you fulfill this amended agreement. This is your punishment. From this instant onward, that 40-something milf is your kinky new wife."
Paul stood with broadened eyes and panicked. "You're crazy. Your plan is insane. It's evil. What about Carol? The husband? Did you factor them into this? This is ridiculous."
"You really are dense. I didn't curse you with stupidity, boy. You still believe this is all about you? None of this has anything to do with you. You're a tool and nothing more. Your only value to me is that pitiful rod sticking outward between your legs."
Pointing to Martha, the gypsy laughed and then continued by saying, "Like a reflection, what goes for the mom is the same for the daughter. Your job isn't to impregnate Carol, it's to make sure the father does. You'll have help. The mother's still driven to perform. Since she'll only orgasm when the daughter does, she'll do absolutely anything to make it so. I'd prefer it only happen when Carol's frolicking with her father. The mother will most definitely be an enthusiastic partner."
"You're a lunatic. Her father's a good man. He'll never agree to this. He'll kill us all before he'll harm his daughter. You don't know what you're asking."
"I doubt he'll murder us outright. Truly, he'll fight to protect his family, as most men would. But as you're quite aware, I've methods to break a man and deflect their resolve. I've already initiated a process to fracture him, so we'll see. Regardless, you've been given a task. How you achieve it, is up to you. Additionally, I expect you to continue streaming video of every shameful activity. Your nightmare ends the moment I observe both mother and daughter with bountiful curved tummies. Fulfill the bargain and you'll both be fixed."
"That isn't a deal. We'll all be ruined by then. Turning this family into sexual deviants is too sick."
"First, you failed to realize that it's already a tragedy. Your aberrant lives began the moment you and the father plunged your dicks in their holes. Whatever results from this fornicating family of incestuous bimbos isn't my concern. By years' end, such atrocious deeds will become inherent behavior. It's inevitable the women will become so institutionalize to such a life that they'll believe their only worth is to spread their legs and bear children."
At the completion of her statement, the bed violently rattled. A series of seething curses followed.
"U asturds!" Carol screamed repeatedly with the inclusion of hostile statements.
For the second time within 24-hours, her hands and feet had been bound and she now tugged and tussled with those restraints.
Kasha said, "Our kinky new whore is awake and quite spirited it seems. It's time she further wallowed in sin and degradation. I plan to redefine that foolish girl's definition of inappropriate touching."
Again, Carol shouted out a series of scathing words.
"Sissy-boy, I'm a little stumped as to why you fitted her with a cock-ring instead of the standard ring-gag. What...you couldn't tell the difference? It wouldn't have been my first choice, but I guess it'll work just the same. You've acquired an understanding of gag-speak. Tell me what the bitch just said."
Upon looking at Carol's hateful stare, he choked.
His thoughts were jarred by her expression. Her blue eyes seethe with hatred, yet oddly they also provided calm. It was an enchanting contradiction that gave him clarity. He could now see how he'd been manipulated and bamboozled by the gypsy. Additionally, with such truths, he knew he'd gone too far. He stood no chance of reversing the destruction he'd brought. For him, the battle was already lost. Cowering back into himself, he gave up and resigned himself to his fate.
REPORT
____
He replied, "She said, you're not breeding me with my dad. I'm not an animal."
"No dear, you're not an animal. You're a daddy loving cum slut. You've already shown you're not revolted by such a role. Calm the fuck down or you'll hurt yourself."
Raising her head off the pillow, Carol eyed her mother's back. "Mo—om, Plz elp me!" she wailed.
"Oh dear, she needs her mommy. Boy, after we're done here, I want you to go around the house and cover every mirror. I have a notion as to the cause of Martha's obsession. Regardless, she'll be useless to my agenda with such a fixation. Moving her about the house would be a chore. For now, toss a blanket over that one."
Turning to address Carol, the woman said, "Your mother isn't quite herself anymore. No doubt you're confused over her odd behavior, but it's fortuitous and funny to me. It's gratifying to know that she's a more promiscuous version than her daughter. But, I promise, I'll make a great effort to even out that minor disparity."
After the mirror was covered, Martha awoke from the trance. "Paul, who is that tawdry looking woman and why is my mother tied naked to our bed?"
His attempted reply was a stutter that ended with a blank stare.
Kasha leaned and whispered in Paul's ear. "Don't just stand there like a ninny, boy. Divert her attention from questions and get your new wife hot and bothered. Bring her to the to the edge and then playtime will begin. I promise, do as I say and you'll get your chance to shoot your wad."
***
Lurid Examination
Carol wanted to scream.
Instead, she growled and turned her head sideways to avoid slobber that dribbled from her mother's chin.
She was unmoved by her mom's eager performance to give Paul a blowjob like a porn-star from some fetish deepthroat movie. She no longer found such lurid acts distasteful.
They conducted that explicit action while hovered inches above her face, but even that didn't disturb her until drool rained upon her cheek. She was perplexed as to why they'd been propped in that position. It inhibited her field of vision to just a pair of dangling balls and her mother's slithering bottom lip. She found nothing erotic about it.
There were no rationalizing today's events. Although she'd come to terms with the affair with her father, what the couple was doing was irrational and it prompted her to remain cautious. Admittedly, she felt demoralized but refused to give in by overreacting and flaunting that dispirited mood. Other than that, she was emotionally exhausted. She felt no sorrow at knowing her mother debased herself like a skank inches above her face.
It was obvious their deplorable action was intended to humiliate and demean her. Instead, she was unresponsive and impassive. No doubt, her best course of action would be to remain so and refuse to participate in their attempted shame.
She needed to acquire understanding as to what was going on, so she remained silent, watched, and listened.
She heard the grunts, moans, and the salivating pops and smacks produced by her mother's working mouth.
She felt their profuse sweat falling as driblets upon her face.
She smelled the heavy aroma of a musky scent from sex that radiated from their genitals and perforated the air around her.
She heard their pronounced exhaustion voiced as painful squeals and heavy exhalation of breaths.
Yet, even fatigued as they were, they seemed driven to perform and unwilling to stop. What drove them to conduct themselves in this manner?
She noted their incessant actions were increasing at a feverish pitch. After a time, that abnormal behavior became puzzling and it led her to question why they were incapable of concluding that sordid act.
The entirety of her scrutiny urged consideration at the possibility that neither of them was willing participants. If so, how did that nefarious woman acquire the power to sway them into performing like human sex-toys absent an off switch? Why didn't the bitch do the same to her?
Those questions led to pondering over her dad. She was now concern over his well-being. It manifested as profound worry causing her to fidget with her restraints. Most assuredly, the commotion from earlier would've awakened him. Such a man as he would forfeit his life to save anyone from harm. Yet, he hadn't heroically appeared. After the blond woman instructed the couple to their task, she'd left the room. Where did she go and what had she done with her father?
There was no question the incestuous masquerade from yesterday had awakened her. That unorthodox encounter had tapped into unconditional love and flowered it into an unconventional passion. She felt uninhibited. She now yearned to once again embrace her father without deceit. Something precious was lost in that process, but in return, she felt as if she'd been gifted back something unique.
***
Here it Cums
Kesha waltzed into the room with a sorrowful expression and calmly said, "Paul, I give you permission to cum."
He immediately reacted with a loud groan and a forward thrust followed by a creamy torrent that was jettisoned to the back of Martha's throat. Having carried such a need for a lengthy time, his seed streamed as powerful spurts of globular white splotches. It became a cluster amounting to more than a tablespoon and drooled from around the mother's lips to trickle down as collected plops at the corner of Carol's mouth and upon her cheek.
The consequence of such a release was jarring and euphoric. It caused him to teeter backward followed with a shuffle from the bed. With unsteady footing, he attempted to stand, but his legs wobbled and gave way. With a grunt, he dropped to his knees and then flopped onto his back. He said not a word to express satisfaction, only a head nod, a sigh, and a weary connotation. He closed his eyes and simply went to sleep.
The gypsy said, "Poor boy. Hasn't slept for over a day. Let him rest to recharge his honey."
"No!" Martha cried. "This isn't fair. I haven't come yet. Why won't you let me—like you did him? I'm so damn horny. I need to fuck. I need release!"
"Bah, you've become a rambunctious slut since becoming the daughter. You're like a spoiled little girl with her hand out demanding candy. Do as I say and you'll get your chance. The boy will be needed later. I require him rested. Your responsibility is to clean the hussy. She carries the smell of sex from her day-long dalliance with dad—ah, I mean, her husband. Get a wet rag and then diligently cleanse the filth from her body. That's your task. After you're done, I'll let all of you rest."
Martha was perturbed that she'd been left on the edge. It made her frazzled and desperate. How did the woman expect her to rest in such a state? Why was she being designated a nursemaid with a rag? Why was that ghastly woman doing this to her?
Kasha sat in the chair at the mirror. As the mother left the room to get a wet cloth, she directed her gaze at the reflection of Carol lying bound upon the bed. She was annoyed that the daughter seemed unmoved by events.
The young woman exhibited a stubborn fortitude, but unlike her, the once stoic man in the other room was in the preliminary stages of snapping. She admitted the father's initial reaction moved her. It had been bad enough to make her cry. Just like the other previous two fathers, he'd responded with the same insufferable grief over knowing he unwittingly bonked his daughter in every egregious way imaginable.
To show such emotion was unlike her. She was determined to never allow it to happen again. She hardened her heart because the job was to utterly shatter his. Replaying their incestuous wickedness in an incessant loop was one method to indoctrinate him. The second was to stream the family's depravity live on another monitor and force him to watch with his dick in his hand. She planned to check later to see if he enjoyed the show.
She'd expected the daughter to at least display a minimum of hysteria at seeing what she'd done to her mother. Instead, the tramp looked at her from the mirror with acute observation as if she were studying her instead.
When the mother's returned, Kasha thought, perhaps it simply requires pulling the right string to dislodge the slut's disposition. Casting her eyes into the mirror, she grinned at the judgmental sinner looking back at her from the bed.
***
Damn it, Mom, I'm Your Daughter
Martha sniffled and her eyes watered as she began the task to clean the dried sweat and carnal secretions from Carol. Starting at the legs she repeatedly mumbled, "Why won't she let me come?"
With effort, she stroked upward. What she thought to be a simple job proved to be a difficult chore. As she rubbed, a pleasant chill rocketed up her leg.
Folding back upon her knees between Carol's feet, she stared down with mouth agape. She excitedly said, "Oh my—it's not just Paul—I also feel it when I touch you."
A contorted smile broke upon her face and she purred, "Oh motherrr."
She then giggled and tossed the rag in an arc to the floor.
Dropping to all fours like a cat about to pounce, she crooked a smile and crept forward. Slithering upward along curvy hips, she emitted a rasping hum and then lunged down to lick a swathe with a wet tongue against the daughter's clammy stomach.
The voracious cougar aligned her seductive eyes with the goggled gape of the woman she had just called mother.
It was at that precise moment that Martha hovered in place. There was something about the intensity of Carol's vexed appearance that joggled her being. It was a mesmerizing gaze of brilliant color that tapped into her soul. She saw herself reflected in that glossy mirror.
"Your eyes. They're blue...blue, like—oh my god, you're not my mother. You're me!" she cried.
Kasha whipped her gaze from the mirror and directed it on the two women. "What?" she said in disbelief. "It's not possible. How?"
Martha watched the obscuring drape separate and reveal a reflection of herself. It exposed reality and brought clarity. It shattered the image. She had become her true self once again.
Now aware, Martha broadened her eyes at the ring-like wedge that was fitted to a makeshift harness which was secured to Carol's head. Distressed at the sight, she grasped the bindings and frenziedly removed it. On her elbows, she tossed it to the side and then touched her nose to the tip of her daughter's and gave a cocky grin.
"Ma?" Carol shyly questioned.
Martha responded by exhaling a heavy breath along with a resounding groan. She said, "Sweetheart, please forgive me."
Clamping her daughter's head between both hands, she gave a wink along with a smile. A sweaty heat radiated from her body and her chest reverberated with a low-pitched growl.
Without forewarning, she tilted her head and lunged. Her frolicking tongue thrust itself dagger-like between her daughter's gaped mouth. Driven by passion, she fermented her love with a firm joining of their lips.
Carol was most definitely troubled by this turn of events. She struggled upon the bed to break her mom's hold. It wasn't just the awkwardness of having her naked mother lying on top and kissing her like a crazed lover, it was also the tingle produced by that unwelcome touch. Her mother's actions effectively ruptured the passive composure she'd labored to maintain.
Her mother kissed like a French whore. With a gallivanting tongue forcibly exploring her mouth, she had no choice but to reluctantly return the kiss.
Breaking the smooch, the mother's tongue flickered and slid upon her cheek with the obvious goal to remove the splotches of cum that had fallen earlier.
Between licks, Martha huffed, "I smell your daddy on you, little girl."
Carol cried, "Mom, please stop. This isn't right. What's wrong with you?"
Moving downward, the mother's slobbery tongue slid along her daughter's neck. Ignoring the plea, she said, "I don't need a rag to clean this filth."
When her mother grasped her boobs to pleasure both nipples, Carol shivered as if from a creepy chill.
Upon feeling moisture between her legs, she whimpered.
Finding herself aroused by her mom spurred desperation. She said, "Damn it, mom, I'm your daughter."
With a tit in her mouth, Martha looked up and furrowed her brow.
Releasing the nipple with a wet smack, she said, "Honey, I'm sorry. You must give it to me. You'll enjoy it and we'll come together. Neither of us has a choice. It's the only way this ends. If it helps, pretend I'm your father."
It was like a reprise from yesterday with her dad. She whimpered at having to relive the helplessness.
Just like before, she was forced to accept her mother's passion driven caress.
However, unlike then, she was now a changed woman. She felt no shame. That fact alone bothered her more than she'd admit. Without it, she felt uninhibited. Although liberating, it also a negative. It made it too easy to act on those impulses. She'd already played this immoral game. Now, she was being made to do it again with her mom. The only way to survive would be for her to buttress the barrier with a Teflon coating of shamelessness and unflinchingly play the deviant role.
As her mother licked downward along her tummy, she raised her head and directed her voice to the woman named Kasha. She heatedly said, "Untie me, bitch. I'll play this perverse game, but you can't break me. I'm already broken. If you plan to change me, you've failed. I already know I'm a sleazy slut. I'm no longer repulsed by licking a cunt as well as a cock and I find both equally satisfying."
Kasha was put off by her statements. There was a reason for not placing the father and daughter under the sway of her charm. It was an attempt to break them naturally. The process made such trauma lifelong. It became a permanent tragedy of heartache and pain that would haunt them for an eternity. It was ineffective when the victim was willing.
For the young woman to so easily accept the degradation was like thrusting the knife back upon her. It was as if success had bloomed defeat. The tramp whined over her discomfiture, but it was a sham meant to conceal delight. She didn't expect the woman to relish the role or find joy from such wickedness. Yet, in less than a day, the prudish young lady had wallowed in sin and embraced it like a drug addicted crack whore.
How is it possible to break the spirit of a woman that fully accepts the title and clings to the definition as if she'd been born for it?
Carol claimed to be broken, but in truth, the woman hadn't even fractured. Kasha saw it as plain as day. The woman's assertion was simply a falsehood to justify the reason for her thirst.
To see such unbridled lust pinioned in that strumpet's eyes was proof that she'd only accepted her lot, not shattered. She hadn't been molded or made. That woman was an inborn floozie and had always existed. It's possible she never even knew.
She didn't just meet the clinical classification, her actions indicated extreme hypersexuality with mild OCD. Add in a woman with daddy issues and you had a diagnosis that was quite unique.
If she'd had known the prudish young lady was a closet nymphomaniac, she'd have redevised the plan.
Usually, that insatiable craving was a weakness easily manipulated, but in this case, the abnormal condition hindered her grand design. Even nymphos experienced shame, but this bimbo seemed to exhibit resilience to overcome humiliation and it aggravated her.
For now, let the promiscuous woman frolic in sin within the family. Let's see if such a woman remains aloof once her belly's heavy with the product of incest. Would such an indignity be the tool that breaks her? Can a woman like her even be disgraced?
***
Riveting Exhibition
Carol was grateful when the ropes were removed. Her wrists and ankles were sore and bruised from earlier attempts to struggle with the bindings.
She rubbed her wrists to stimulate circulation and then tried to do the same for her feet.
Upon folding her knees to reach her ankles, she hadn't anticipated that her mother would nose-dive between her legs.
Those actions produced a shuddering jolt that instantly broadened her eyes and left her mouth agape. A tender tickling against her clit triggered a quiver that made her utter a long droning, "Ahhhhhh," followed by hyperventilation.
"Oh fucking shit!" she screamed. She immediately shot both arms downward between her thighs to crimped her mother's animated head between her hands.
Becoming delirious she smothered her mother's face firmly against her honeypot. "Eat me!" she cried.
The pleasurable tickling sensation intensified causing her to clinched clumps of her mother's hair between two tightened fists.
"Oh god, Motherrr!" she howled. "You whoreee..."
Tossing her head from side to side, she moaned and then cursed out, "Jesus—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."
Gyrating her pelvis to her mother's festive caress, she wailed.
Martha sensed her palpitating thrusts and demanded, "Come for me, baby. I need it. Give it to me!"
Kasha wrenched Carol's hands from her mother's head while saying, "Oh gracious no. I won't let this party end so quick. Martha, 69 your daughter. Let her pleasure your pussy. She'll taste just how wet she makes you. I find it extremely erotic to watch a parent and offspring get off at the same time. Show intense searing passion. Tear into that tender young twat and give me an exhibition of some serious lesbian hardcore. I want that sluttish tart to know the dissolute touch of her mother's horny tongue."
As her mother moved to maneuver in position, Carol's frustration was expressed as a directed retort to the gypsy, "You evil bitch!"
Her attention was then redirected when her mother's moist crack sprang into view.
On the fringe of her thoughts, she was indeed troubled and it had nothing to do with her actions. It had everything to do with what she felt.
Why wasn't she distraught by the glistening gaped pussy descending upon her face?
The very idea that her mother's snatch straddled her mouth excited her as much as her father's dick. If her mother wasn't already dipping, she'd have soaked it with her watering mouth. Feeling no shame was one thing, but lusting for her mother's pussy took it to a disturbing level. Just how sick was she?
To have an intense desire to pounce upon that steamy gash couldn't be normal. Had she literally lost her mind? It was insane to have such an urge, yet it felt natural like an extension of her soul.
Untying her from the bed had been a mistake. It was monstrous to unleash such a craving and allow it to feed. Such a creature as she had an insatiable yearning to devour her mother whole.
Kasha panted heavily at the sight before her. Her skin flushed and beads of perspiration began matting her dress. She'd always been aroused from watching girl-on-girl sex, but this display was far beyond expectation.
She found it impossible to separate the mother from the daughter because both were physically indistinguishable from each other.
The spectacle was a riveting exhibition of two voluptuous and curvy forms interlocked like two flawless pieces perfectly fitted to a jigsaw puzzle. It gave her the impression of Siamese twins born connected with their lips embedded against the other's crotch and forever intertwined to eat each other's cunts. She couldn't help but get wet from such a thought.
Kasha became frenzied and hurriedly disrobed. Tossing the tawdry garment to the floor, she stood at the foot of the bed appearing flushed and glossy from excessive sweat. Her stature was that of a naked Amazonian goddess with heavy-laden bosoms. Those slumping jugs flaunted large dark-tinted areolas encircling thick elongated nipples with milk driblets forming at their tips.
REPORT
____
The blond braided seductress witnessed the incestuous coupling with lustful intent. Such a sight induced hunger and a need. She circumvented the urge by pressing three fingers against her swollen nub, arching her pelvis and then rubbing her hand in a vigorous circular motion.
Carol felt awkwardness over being positioned in a 69 with her mother, but that specific weirdness was the source of the prickly chill surging like electricity along every nerve and it intensified her actions.
She couldn't help but react to the oral ravishment upon her sex. Her mother may have been unnaturally driven to perform, but she was motivated by something instinctually primal. She didn't just reciprocate in an identical manner, she feasted upon her mother's pussy like a famished lioness. It was as if she'd become a self-sustaining dynamo of sexual energy gathering an accumulating charge for release. They'd become a livewire feeding off each other's need and it made them wild.
When her mother's muffled moans shifted to a series of passionate squeals, their entangled position became contortions, gyrations, and shudders.
Their arms intertwined each other's legs and locked open their thighs. With a tense determined grasp, their hands pressed between each other's buttocks to allow more freedom for their zealous heads to play.
With tender licks, sucks, and gurgles, the couple twisted, wiggled, and thrust as they flopped and rolled wildly upon the bed.
Groaning, moaning, screaming along with slobbering, licking, and slurping became reverberations that rattled the house.
There were no voiced words beyond the cries of intense passion derived from a sexual orgy consisting of two women. It was incest between a mother and a daughter, but it far exceeded the simplicity of the definition.
"Oh, my..." Kasha murmured between breaths. "You're making me cum...Oh, fucking yes...do it..."
Carol came.
The repercussions of the event were like a domino falling against another. Following that climactic resonance came her mother's enunciation depicted by rapid short lunges of her pelvis. Along with those thrusts were jiggling convulsions that caused her to squirm and curse.
Trailing that came the gypsy collapsing at the end of the bed both pale and shaken with two inactive fingers thrust between her crack.
Having consumed the desire, Martha no longer felt driven. What she'd just done with her daughter left a traumatic imprint. Unlike the ghostly images that earlier drove the urge, this was more tangible and recent. It made her feel dirty and ashamed. She spooned in behind her daughter and curled her head down against her back. Sorrowfully she whimpered, "Baby, please forgive me."
During that incestuous exhibition, none of them were aware that Paul had been watching the entire time. Their processional love making had been enough to awaken him from his fatigue induced slumber. The finale left him stunned. He'd watched girl-on-girl, but mother-on-daughter was an entirely different scenario. It was both wickedly erotic and astonishing at the same time.
He was aware that something dramatic occurred while he was out. He'd observed the mother and noticed her mannerisms and expressions were no longer like those of the daughter. He didn't question how or why she'd returned to her former self because the reverse was even weirder. He was relieved because he hadn't necessarily been comfortable with the change and blamed himself for psychologically ruining her. The entire day had become a circus of unusual that bordered on lunacy. He'd given up trying to make sense of it weeks ago.
He cried when he saw Martha's response to the aftermath. There was empathy over what she was feeling. He'd experienced the same after every ejaculation. As the driving urge ebbed, thoughts became clearer. It was as if every demeaning degradation became part of a collective of immoral deeds shelved in a library of gathered sins. He'd suffered so much from the abuse that he was becoming anesthetized to it.
He knew the impact was worse for a mother that had just forced intimacy upon her daughter. Having to relive that tragedy and the guilt that followed was intended to dishearten and torment the victim. He'd seen the shattered result first hand and it horrified him.
The demented woman wouldn't stop until this entire family had been altered into something malformed and cruel. If it was anything like the previous two women and their parents, then they were doomed. Those innocent families had been turned into deviant sex dolls and then sold to a gang of Mexican bikers. He feared it would be far worse for this them in the end.
Those worried thoughts drifted when his beautiful wife turn onto her side to face him.
Unexpectedly, Carol gave a drowsy wink and a sated smile. She remained silent, but her gaze communicated forgiveness and understanding.
He saw courage twinkling behind her captivating stare. It gave hope that perhaps they still had a chance.
Exhaustion eventually took hold and her eyelids began to droop. Before she slumbered, she mouthed the words, "I love you."
***
Story continues in Chapter 3: The family is immersed in sexually deviant wickedness. Can they cope with the maelstrom of degradation forced upon them?
REPORT
DAD'S KINKY NEW WIFE CH. 03
A family is immersed in sexually deviant wickedness.
Story description: A family is immersed in sexually deviant wickedness. Can they cope with the maelstrom of degradation forced upon them? The story continues from chapter two.
*****
Adding Cream to the Fire
Carol awoke and batted her lashes from the bright light beaming through the bedroom window.
Although rested, she felt expended and weak. She hadn't eaten in over a day. Drowsily she yawned and caught movement in the mirror.
There sat the blond-braided gypsy from yesterday. The woman was naked and appeared fixated on her reflection. Carol was observant and perplexed by the woman's action to swing and twirl a shiny locket before her eyes. The woman mumbled phrases that were deciphered as compound fragments meant to demean herself. It was as if the woman was reinforcing how diabolical she truly was. It was a strange behavior that marked the woman's madness.
She no longer doubted the woman required psychiatric help.
The smell of frying bacon permeated the house and made her stomach growl. That turbulent rumble called the woman's attention.
Kesha said, "It's about time. I hope you recovered stamina for the day ahead. I saw no harm in letting you sleep, but I do admit impatience."
Grasping the gaudy dress from off the floor at her feet, she pocketed the silver bejewel trinket and then tossed the clothing upon the dresser.
After standing, she walked seductively to the bed and said, "Unfortunately, events have taken an odd twist and I'm pushed to modify my plan. Understandably, you have no idea what I'm talking about. Although what's happened is quite a boon, it disappoints me and leaves me confused."
Carol became unsettled when the woman dropped down beside her and raised a weighty breast with both hands to offer a milky tipped nipple. Widening her eyes at the approaching tit, she cried, "What the fuck? You can't expect me to...that's disgusting."
"Oh yes, I do anticipate it. You require feeding and I need to be emptied," the woman said with a smile.
"Lady you're fucking sick as shit. I'm not doing something so perverse."
Kasha said loudly in a pitch just below a shout, "If you refuse your family suffers. For their sake, heed my warning and suckle my nip like a babe!"
That rant garnered enough attention to bring Paul to the bedroom doorway. He stood shocked and expressed a degree of horror at seeing what the woman wanted Carol to do, but on the other hand, it wasn't new.
"Tell her, boy. Tell her I speak truth."
Paul stuttered at first but finally said, "Carol, you have no choice. I'm so sorry..." His words trailed off into a blubbering fit and he burst into tears. The emotion showed he'd suffered trauma and inferred there was a back story that hadn't yet been told. Unable to add further, he turned away and vanished down the hall.
Carol heatedly said, "What the hell did you do to him?"
The woman answered her question with an impish grin that gave her the creeps.
"It's your choice, girl. Everything asked of you is a decision that has consequence. Doing as you're told is often the lesser of two evils. Your husband experienced the result of refusal. I'll never physically force you, but I'll coerce you to perform by giving you an option."
"You're trying to humiliate me."
Kasha laughed and then said, "Yes and no. It's a twofold expectation. In truth, I find extreme enjoyment from demeaning you in such a manner, but you also require feeding and my leaking boob needs to be emptied. Enough with that doe-eyed stare. Place you pouty red lips upon my nipple and suck."
Carol felt anxious. The image of Paul's terrified expression haunted her. What was so horrendous that it would provoke such hysteria? The woman now resorted to a veiled threat to make her comply.
Something had obviously changed while she slept and that was cause for concern. Did this woman truly have the means to make it any worse? She'd thought they'd already hit the bottom. How much deeper could that woman take them? Until she had a better idea of what was going on, she couldn't take a chance the bitch would follow through with a blind threat. After all, it was just a woman's boob. The only reason it churned her stomach was the action she was being made perform upon it.
Reluctantly she leaned in and drew the thick elongated nipple into her mouth. She grimaced from the taste and tried to pull back.
The horrible woman had anticipated the move and had grasped the back of her head with a hand to press her mouth firmly against the meaty flesh.
"Don't just diddle with my tit like your trying to pleasure it. Suck the damn milk. I want to hear slurping, not gagging."
A gurgle of creamy fluid spewed out from around Carol's mouth as she choked.
"I don't understand you. You'll gobble your father's prick and swallow his jism without flinching, but sucking milk from a baby feeder disgusts you? Most people would find the reverse more perverse. Who's the sick one darling?"
Carol was humbled and repulsed by the deed to suckle breast milk from some stranger's udder. It was most deplorable act she'd ever done. It sickened her and it made her feel filthy.
She disagreed with the woman. Codling her dad's dick and swallowing his cum didn't bother her anymore. Sexually, it turned her on. She couldn't even explain it to herself, it just did.
The sudden tingle produced by that thought bothered her. She needed to silence the ghastly woman. The only way to shut her up would be to perform as expected. At least that's what she hoped. Regardless, all talk about her dad needed to be avoided.
Since yesterday, thinking of the man now caused arousal. It baffled her. Her love for him hadn't changed, but after extreme intimacy, she'd somehow fallen in love with him. She felt more like a lover than a daughter. No matter the case, she found it difficult to keep those nasty thoughts at bay.
She refused to get wet while sucking on this bitch's tit. The woman would no doubt think she'd become excited over the act and would taunt her for it.
Now committed, she drew milk from the woman's breast like an adult infant.
"Girl, I want you to look up at me with innocent baby eyes. Quit grimacing. I promise you'll acquire a taste over time. No doubt, after a few days on an empty stomach, you'll begin to look forward to feeding time."
The morbid woman's statement provoked illness that caused Carol's skin to flush pale and she almost gagged.
Grasping Carol's hand and interlocking it with her own, the woman moved it down between the young woman's legs.
"Touch yourself, girl. Let's change your color from white to a rosy hue. You might as well enjoy it while you feed."
A foamy drool bubbled from around the young woman's mouth as she mumbled out discomforted disapproval.
Placing a finger behind one of Carol's, the gypsy shoved both between the girl's slit. "I dare say, you're as dry as the crusty cum on your father's unwashed dick."
Carol wiggled and tried to twist away. The embedded finger between her crotch was like an anchor keeping her in place.
"Hum, did daddy wear out his daughter's little pussy? Your twat is puckered like a whore's over-used cunt. No doubt, you're sore from all that fucking."
The brunette head nodded an aggressive, yes.
"Well, it's your lucky day. I had forethought to bring a salve that'll reduce that painful swelling. You'll literally be tickled to know it has an added effect to produce a warming itch that'll make you sopping wet. A woman can fuck for days with minimal abrasion and no painful side effects. If you thought your mother rambunctious, you've yet to see what this can do."
Knowing her dilemma, Carol jiggled her head from side to side and spewed out burbling words along with creamy colored bubbles.
Such a thing as described would ruin any woman, especially one already open to such urges. When aroused, she now expressed a voracious craving for sex. Until yesterday, she had no clue she was like this. She'd always considered herself a cloistered prude.
It was diabolical to apply a cream that would produce such a stimulating effect. To keep a woman lubricated for incessant penetration was to make her an object for only one purpose alone. Just envisioning it was horrifying. What evil had she perpetrated against the woman that would warrant such devastation?
Kesha shouted, "Boy, get your ass in here and help me! The whore's not docile anymore."
Carol bit the woman's tit and wrangled herself away. As he entered the room, she rushed to cling to him. She fearfully cried, "Paul, let's get the hell out and get help! That bitch is a monster."
Crimping her in a tight embrace, Paul tearfully said, "You don't understand. She won't let me."
The gypsy exclaimed, "You slut, you'll pay for that."
Expressing pain, the older woman half-heartedly cackled as she approached.
Holding a large jar in one hand and a glob of white cream in the other, she said, "You've hurt me, but know this, once you've felt my creamy kiss your pleasurable aches will cause mine to go away."
***
Collaring the Cougar
Carol was in torment.
This was the third time in less than two days that she'd been bound upon a bed.
Spread-eagled like a distressed damsel, Paul was made to repeatedly run a vibration wand up and down her slit. She was being forced to fuck it while feeding on a woman's tit.
The gypsy had intentionally applied an excessive application of salve and Carol was literally frenzied from it and the vibrator. Forced to feel desire, she maddingly thrust and gyrated her pelvis in a crazed attempt to rub her pussy against the magic pleasure tool.
If this was her punishment for biting the horrid woman, she vowed to never do that again.
Under the sway of lust, she gobbled and slurped the older woman's boobs like an eager child. As she moved her head from nipple to nipple to appease the woman, a drool of milk became smeared and coated her face with a pasty film.
Kesha had purposely made her delirious. In such a state, it allowed the woman to craft morbid scenarios of disgusting and perverse fantasy which she used to drive urges that no sane woman would ever lust for. Pushing her to commit deviant acts of sin within the confines of those dreams she forced Carol to cream and orgasm to them.
After about an hour of degrading the young woman, Kesha said, "Boy, stop. Enough punished for now."
Plunging a finger deep into Carol's sodden hole, the woman gave a broad grin and then said, "Lordy, girl, you're more of a prize than I ever anticipated. You're palpitating on my finger like you're about to come once again. What a fucking whore you've become. I suspect you'll be more cooperative after this. Yes?"
The perverted woman had one last act of humiliation left to do. Using Carol's surging climax, she began finger fucking the young lady while shaping a new fantasy.
Excited, the gypsy said, "Oh my, you're a nasty bitch in heat. I love watching you get off on the doggy cock. The beast is ramming you. You can't stop grinding your pussy and milking it for its seed. Make us some pups little whore."
Carol cried, "Oh god—no!"
"That's it, gutter slut, fuck the little animal dick."
Upon feeling a tremble rumble within her loins, she cried out for mercy, "Please...it's sick...don't make me—"
Carol couldn't continue. Although it was an extremely morbid fantasy, she'd been brought too close to the edge and had no willpower to fight. At that instant, she had been made to perceive herself as a human bitch in heat.
She quivered and undulated while thrusting herself upon the invading finger. Even though the wand no longer plagued her, she still felt the phantom vibrations it. She'd been turned into a fuck machine without a speed control.
Now in a fevered state of mind, the visual imagery had been made vivid. She was mounted by a wild beast that repeatedly plunged into her. Like an animal, she became desperate to breed. Growling her urgency, she tightened her vagina around the thrusting digit and began milking it to spew its seed.
Caught in the moment of rapture, she was incapable of voicing distress over what she doing. Instead, she screamed her displeasure by blending it with the elation produce as she orgasmed.
Carol had thought being forced to suck milk from a woman's bosom was horrible, but what she had just done far exceeded it. This effectively shamed her. She felt dirty and was sickened by it. She puked up milk.
"Boy, hurry, untie the disgusting dog fucker. I believe I've taken it a bit too far this time. Such an exhibition requires rest and a bathroom break. Clean the bitch up, but don't allow her to hump your leg." She laughed and then added, "I'll check on the mother and prepare for the next event."
When the older woman left, Paul crept over to loosen the knot on her right wrist. He hated what the evil woman had just done to his wife. He diverted his head to avoid looking at her.
Carol raised her head and lunged up to get his attention. Squinting her eyes, she whispered, "Did she take your fucking balls, Paul? Are you no longer a man? How the hell can I ever trust you after what you did."
He was hurt by her words and his expression showed it. "You don't know how close to the truth you are. Your words pain me more than you know. I'm sorry for what just happened to you."
"What the hell did she do to you? Why do you do everything she says?"
"You don't understand. I can't stop her. You've seen firsthand what she's like. She did something like that me. I still have nightmares over it. This wasn't part of the plan. She's addled because of what happen to your mom."
"What are you talking about? What's wrong with my mother?"
Untying the left wrist, he replied, "It's not what's wrong with her, it's what's not wrong with her. Somehow she's broken the curse."
"Your right, I don't understand any of this. You can't seriously believe such hogwash. That woman isn't a gypsy and she doesn't have magic powers. Can you not see it?"
"How else can you explain this shit? You're not affected, but you act like some oversexed bimbo just the same. You've just sampled what we've endured. She practically has my balls in her hand and she squeezes whenever she wants something. If I don't, she punishes me like she did to you. I'm not telling you what I've done. It still disgusts me to think about it. Honestly, I've never seen anyone react the way you just did. It was more intense than anything your mom and I experienced."
"No thanks to you. We need help. I can't keep going through this. My god, that horrible woman made me believe I fucked a dog and it felt real. How is that even possible? In the end, I wanted to do it and I orgasmed from it. How can any woman deal with knowing that? Paul, you need to find a way to save us. She's twisting me into something deviant. I'm losing myself. I won't survive."
Struggling with the rope on her right ankle, he exclaimed, "Jesus...Carol, I know. It's eating me up inside. I'm trapped. I can't save anyone, including myself. I'm practically her slave until the curse or whatever is removed. I know you hate me."
Rubbing her sore wrists, she replied, "I don't hate you. I thought I made that clear last night. I knew something was wrong with both of you. Mom never liked you. There's no way she'd suck dick, much less let you fuck her in the ass. I'm still trying to piece it together. Right now, I can't trust you. Not while that bitch holds your leash."
"I'm complicit in whatever's happened to you. Think about it, you had sex with both your mom and dad and you're not the least bit disturbed by it. That's not rational behavior and it's made the bitch loopier than usual. She expected you'd be hysterical and ashamed, but you're completely unfazed. I don't think she was prepared for that."
She reached down to untie the left ankle rope and said, "I can't explain why I'm so horny. You deceived us. You placed me in an awkward situation with no way out. At first, dad's touch did freak me out. It felt nasty. I couldn't blame him because he thought I was his wife. Damn it, Paul, it aroused me and not necessarily because of sex stuff, but because it was sexual taboo. Being so naughty made me want more. Now I crave it. It's not a fucking sickness to desire it or even fantasize about it. Quit inferring that I have some problem that needs fixing. I'm not that screwed up, I'm still the same person, I'm simply more open-minded."
"No, you're wrong. You're not the same, at least, you change when you get lustful. You're like a hungry cougar on the prowl. Oh, your mother still hates me. She made that perfectly clear earlier. My face still stings from that slap. Also, don't say anything about me fucking her up the ass or anything about breeding. She doesn't remember what happened when she was a slutty version of you."
"What about dad? What has she done with him?"
"He's in the master bedroom. He's been there the whole time, but...she's done something to him. When she found out about your mom, the woman freaked and spent over an hour with him behind a closed door. After she was done, he wasn't very pleasant to be around. Truth is, he's scary as hell."
"Oh my god, did she hurt him?"
"Not that I can tell. But there's something—"
"Well, damn it, tell me."
"You're not going to be happy."
"...and you think I'm enjoying all this crap?"
"Ah, okay. He was forced to watch a video of both of you together in a repeated loop. No doubt it broke his heart. Also, he's seen everything we've done in this room on a second monitor. It's made him angry."
She curled with her chin on her knees. Cocking her head, she gave him a sorrowful look.
Moved by her expression, he continued by saying, "I'm sorry, that atrocious woman is a fiend."
"Why does this woman hate me so much? I don't even know her. I don't remember doing anything bad enough to make anyone do something so horrendous."
"You're not her first. She's done this to two other women and their families. Apparently, she hates lots of people. I'm not telling you what's become of them. It'll only frighten you."
She sobbed and then said, "I feel helpless. After what she just did to me, I'm afraid to go against her. The bitch has practically collared me with that fucking goop. I can't explain it, but it does something to me. I'm scared at what she can make me do. You saw what I was like. No matter what you think, I don't want to do any of this."
He sat beside her and then gave her a hug.
She whispered into his ear, "We need to find out who that woman really is. At some point, you need to find your balls and help us."
***
Here Cums The Bride
Carol became agitated when her mother was waltzed into the bedroom wearing her wedding dress that she'd wore a week ago. It was heartbreaking to see her mother's mascara smeared face and her eyes filled with tears. There was no lust in that gaze, only fear.
She found herself at odds. There was an impulse to grab her mom and run the hell away, but fear of reprisal held her at bay. She understood why Paul wouldn't lift a hand to save them. No doubt the gnawing guilt she felt was the same for him.
The wicked gypsy stood bare before them. Her only adornments were the sparkling silver necklace, black meshed stockings, and garters. Given instructions, both Carol and Paul were made to stand naked on either side of Martha.
Kasha smiled and then said, "Paul and Martha, I now pronounce you husband and wife to forever fuck until I say otherwise. I give you both permission to turn to each other and kiss like passionate whores."
Martha wailed.
Carol exclaimed, "This is insane! You can't do this."
REPORT
____
Ignoring the outburst, the chuckling woman said, "Paul, embrace your new wife. Do as I say."
Hesitantly, he grabbed Martha into his arms and tried to lock lips.
She made a face and turned her head. Pleading to the woman, she cried, "Give whatever you did to me back! I can't do it like this. I feel nothing for him. Please, don't force me to do this without desire. This is filthy, he repulses me."
"Of course, I'll give you what you want, but never forget that you asked for it. Unfortunately, you're only motivated naturally as a normal woman. I'm unable to make you what you were."
"You can't make me feel something that isn't there," Martha cried.
"Oh darling, you simply don't know, do you? Here's a surprise that'll wobble your noggin. When you tumbled with your daughter like a lesbian slut, that was entirely the real you. You weren't driven by my curse. What you felt was natural lust. Apparently, it's not just physical attributes that you share with her."
Both mother and daughter gasped at the same time.
Martha was desperate to substantiate that those sensations weren't real. "No, you're wrong. I can't accept that I did that on my own. That would make me—"
"Oh honey, I don't care what you believe, but understand, you were most certainly driven by desire. There's no doubt about that. What the two of you did was true passion on an equal level to the amorous fling she had with her daddy. I gave direction, but you were the ones guiding your tongues. If you dug deep in that sordid mind of yours, you'll find that you've always had that yearning. You only needed an excuse to move on it and you did. Yes, indeed, what does that make you?"
Acknowledging that reality left Martha stunned. Dismayed, she stared and gaped her lips.
Paul used that discomposure as an opportunity to lunge his mouth upon hers.
She whimpered over the awkwardness of having him kiss her like a lover.
Yesterday had been an entirely different circumstance. She didn't feel in control and had no choice but to act upon those impulses. Now there was no compulsion urging her to submit and no desire to drive her onward. It left her standing in his embrace like a manikin completely numb. She felt dead inside and devoid of emotion.
The gypsy said, "Girl, you need to help the new bride. Make her livelier in her response. I won't allow them to consummate the marriage until they've had a lover's kiss. Lift the back of her gown and get her in the mood. I feel a certain a touch from her daughter will light that spark."
Carol said, "You can't be serious? You want me to finger fuck my mom until she gets wet. That's insane—hell no. All of this shit is crazy."
"What? Do you require an attitude adjustment? Are you rebelling again? I'm warning you. Do as you're told without lip or your father suffers the consequence of you being an insufferable bitch. I want unquestionable obedience, especially from you."
In a fit of frustration, Carol mumbled aggravation and then said, "Argh."
Moving behind her mother, she clinched the frilly lace at the bottom, squatted and then moved under the fold. With forceful hands, she leveraged her mother's legs open and with frisky fingers, she molested the woman's crack.
Martha expressed a series of discomforting moans that coincided with a nervous shuffle and a slow gyrating hump. The sexual stimulation from a rubbing thumb, goaded her to aggressively travel her tongue alongside the ridge of the rambling other. She couldn't hide that she was becoming undone.
Kesha became excited and moved to lie with her widened legs draped over the edge of the bed. Pleasuring herself with a rapid finger, she said, "That's exactly what I want. Show me love and firm caresses. I don't want tender, I want heat. Step it up."
The gown rumpled and swayed from vigorous movement undercover.
In a frenzied act, quite like yesterday, Paul grasped the cleavage of the dress and ripped into frayed strands down the middle. Panting heavily, he snatched the top from her shoulders.
With her heaving boobs now in play, Martha reacted to their exposure by cupping their weight and offering them to his frolicking lips. Jiggling her hips to drop the bottom of the gown, she kicked with her knees to release it to the ground.
Carol was tossed and landed on her rear when their fondling caresses increased at an accelerated pace.
Kesha said, "Boy, present your dick to the maid-of-honor. Let her have the privilege of inserting it into her mom's baby maker."
Reluctant to express a disgruntled demeanor, Carol reached between her mom's shuffling legs and wrapped her hand around the pulsating gland. With an aggressive pull, she wiggled the bulbous knob between the fissure and with a yank of his balls, she enforced a vigorous deep thrust upward into her mom's enveloping tunnel.
"Boy, lean back against the dresser and grasp her buttocks and spread her rectum. Pull her up to entwine her legs behind you. Arch her back so I can see her anus. I want to watch as your shaft rams her twat. Fuck her hard. Make her ride you fast."
Martha wrapped her arms behind his neck and used it as leverage to plunge herself up and down. With every descending rebound, the furniture rattled and shook.
"Girl, don't turn around. I want you to watch your ex-husband fuck his new bride. Know that you'll never experience his pleasurable shank between your slutty thighs."
Carol was startled when a plastic phallus attached to a jangling harness flew from around her waist. As the straps tightened, the curvy crotch plate seated against her genitals.
"What the hell? Why are you fastening a dildo to my waist?"
"It's called a strap-on, dear. You can't be that naïve."
"Oh Jesus, you've smeared something wet inside."
Upon feeling a familiar warmth prickle her flesh, she panicked. "Oh god, no, no, no, no, not this!"
After coating the stiff dong with a film of lubricant, Kasha enveloped it with a hand and wiggled it against Carol's pussy.
It caused the young woman to react to the itching cream. As if to scratch, she pivoted inward to tickle herself against the interior nodule designed to stimulate a clitoris.
Carol involuntarily ground her inflamed nub against that specialized rib. When the crotch plate was yanked outward and away from her skin, she found herself humping a few steps forward
"That's it. Follow it to your destination."
"Why—doing—to me?"
"You're going to give the new bride a gift. It'll be a wedding present that she'll never forget."
After guiding the rounded tip to Martha's anal ring, Kesha clasped Carol's hips from behind and pushed.
Martha yelped and then crimped her anus in a frantic attempt to keep the intruder out.
Having resistance caused the inverted tickler to press against her daughter's itchy clit and that drove an instinctive humping thrust. Every lunge stretched the sphincter and shoved the lubricated rod an inch deeper.
With a ramming cock from the front and a plunging dildo in her rear, the mother was double penetrated and filled.
Kesha was ecstatic over the wicked display before her. Having them both fuck the mom was a just a step to institutionalize their perverse nature and drag them further into degradation. She was pleased by how easily they'd fallen.
Of course, finding out the mom wasn't swayed by the charm had been a shock. She assumed it happened when that odd alteration disappeared. For such a powerful charm to be completely removed was befuddling and still worrisome. No one ever recovered from it unless she allowed it.
She blamed the boy. The mood enhancing drug probably played a part. Perhaps when it wore off, it dropped the affliction. There was simply no way to be sure.
Regardless, it was now a boon. To force a family to commit such atrocious acts was simply an action. Normal people couldn't be made to behave in such a deviant manner unless they were coerced. Although psychologically traumatic, it had no lifelong impact beyond that. It was a momentary goal that provided short-term gratification. The primary objective was to immerse them so deep that those aberrant behaviors became their established norms.
It was like telling a body builder they couldn't work out. Once they've instituted a routine, doing the opposite caused an addictive ache. Make that perversion so sexually pleasurable that it creates desire and it becomes a recipe for obsession that compels them to embrace it. She planned to drag this family through the muck until they wore an un-washable coat of mud.
As now, she watched the mother. That face depicted the natural state of a sincere woman enjoying two cocks at once. There was no misinterpretation of that contorted face. She might be groaning and cursing but those were true sounds of passion. You couldn't misidentify her screams with that of deceitful women who faked cries with intent to faux appeasement for their lover's benefit. Her wide tearful eyes and accompanying sobs were a genuine expression of rampant happiness.
Even if Kesha's immediate observation was false, she was determined to make it a reality. After rubbing a dab of the itchy cream on the mom's clit, she moved back to gawk.
It was an attempt to add an incentive to stimulate the need. If successful, it'd be the right ingredient to make such a deed a dreamy fixation. No doubt, such a conclusion would bloom into a yearning for more.
After chuckling over the mother's rabid reaction, she said, "That's most definitely the face of a woman pleasured by two dicks."
Wiping a cloth across the woman's sweaty brow, she loudly demanded, "I'm going to allow you to achieve a blissful end with the help of two mighty thrusts at once and then hold. Do it now!"
As one, they arched their pelvis and then pushed deep.
Martha had been surging towards the edge and would've orgasmed regardless, but having both tubular shafts plunge into her at the same time was like pressing the plunger and igniting dynamite.
The experience was a series of explosions set off by multiple charges. The first caused her grasp Paul's head against her bosom in a tight embrace and climax with a mellifluous moan followed by clinching muscles that seized both members in a vise-like crimp.
The second was expressed as a squeal coinciding with Paul ejaculating a powerful jet of warm sperm that blanketed her cervix with a wall of cream.
That reaction was heightened by the thought that her 23-year old son-in-law just jettisoned a stream of fertile seed in her 41-year old fuck hole. In any other occasion, such a horrid taboo would have had her distressed and shattered, but in this instance, it enriched the emotion beyond expectation.
It was during that crippling shudder that passion became driven by a deviant drama represented as visualized fantasy. It was used as the carriage to move her urge forward. She remembered how turned on she'd become upon first hearing her daughter's incestuous banter in the hallway before she'd known.
Her third orgasm occurred when she inserted herself in that dream. She was the spectator that watched Harold unload a payload of semen in their 22-year old daughter's hot little twat. The imagery of that coupling was enough to cause a contraction which rippled along her vagina and spewed forth a foamy emulsion that splattered against Paul's scrotum.
Still energized by lust, Martha undulated upon the impaling shafts in a crazed effort to milk them for more. Those movements produced friction that stimulated a feverish response from Carol.
Now driven by need and unable to eliminate the itch, Carol became frenzied. Like an instinctual animal mating, her movements became pounding humps that circled back and fed her mother.
Now expended, Paul's cock deflated and he was forced to release Martha to stand.
Finding himself no longer useful, he moved himself out from under her bent frame and away from the dresser.
He recognized Carol's expression. It was identified as the lusty cat look of a sexual hunter. In such a mood, she'd refuse to let go and she wouldn't pull out. He had no doubt that she wouldn't stop until she climaxed or dropped from exhaustion.
Watching her incessantly impale her mother's rectum worried him. It was quite possible that Martha might become damaged from such abuse.
With urgency, he moved behind Carol and released the buckles that secured the strap-on. Even then, she continued to hump the inside of the crotch plate.
Reaching between her legs, he cupped her mound and used his middle finger to stimulate her clit. Pulling her from her mom, he walked her to the bed.
He turned to look over his shoulder and said, "Martha, I need your help. You need to get between her legs and make her come. I don't think I can get her off with just a finger alone."
Pulling the dildo from her ass, Martha walked clumsily to the bed. With concern, she shuffled on her knees between Carol's legs and without hesitation, she dove upon the pussy to pleasurably lick.
Within minutes, Carol orgasmed and then passed out.
Martha yelled, "My god, what's wrong with her. Baby, do you hear me? Please wake up."
Like a doctor in ER, Kasha rushed to the bed and shoved both the husband and mother from the bed. "Both of you, leave the room. I'll tend to the girl. Go eat, rest, fuck, suck or whatever whores do when they're not on the clock. Close the fucking door behind you."
***
Martha sat naked on the Livingroom couch and wiped a rag between her thighs.
She was whimpering when Paul appeared from the hallway wearing boxers and a t-shirt. Tossing the cum stained cloth, she then reached up with both hands to brush tears from her face.
He tossed a robe over her legs and said, "Put that on. She'll allow it when we aren't fucking. Understand, seeing you naked causes that blasted curse to kick in and I don't have the stamina. I'm spent."
"What's wrong with my baby?"
"Ah, what do think? Carol warned me that this was too much for her. Other than a couple of breaks and a few hours of sleep, she's practically been forced to have sex continuously. It's too much stimulation and on top of that, she hasn't been allowed to eat solid food. That bitch is doing everything she can to ruin her."
"Paul, we need to do something. This can't go on and you know it."
He looked down at the gypsy's wrinkled dress lying on the coffee table. After pausing for a thought, he reached down and snatched it. Fumbling through the pockets, he produced a set of car keys and crimped them in his hand.
Looking at Martha, he said, "I'm aware."
He turned from her and began walking towards the front door.
She said, "Where are you going?"
With a finger to his mouth, he whispered, "Shush," and followed up by saying, "I'm searching for my balls."
***
The Beast in the Bedroom
Carol awoke to the smell of cooked ham. She immediately sat up and cried, "Mom!"
Martha said, "Baby it's okay, I'm right here. I brought you food. You need to eat."
Scanning the room, Carol said, "Where is she?"
"She left. Said we have three days and then she'll return."
"Did I hurt you? I couldn't stop. I'm so sorry. I had terrible dreams about it."
Her mother laughed and then said, "Oh gosh, I feel ashamed to answer that. But, after what we've shared, I can be open and honest with you. Baby, I've never experienced something so pleasurable. I've never come so hard."
"Where is my mother?"
"Silly. Yes, it's freaking weird, isn't it? I experienced something so wickedly kinky and terrible at the same time, yet from that encounter, I found overwhelming joy. I'm still trying to understand it. I feel like a degenerate for acknowledging the urge to fill both holes once again. Does that make me depraved?"
"That atrocious woman's done this to us. We've been manipulated into finding pleasure from humiliation and now we've begun to crave it. My god, we're in so deep that we can't possibly reverse course. This was probably her goal all along. If this continues, we'll forget who we are. We'll become unrecognizable. We need to contact the authorities. We need to stop her before it's too late."
Martha tilted her head and momentarily fixed her gaze on the untouched plate of food. Her face contorted to express worry and she replied, "We can't."
"What do you mean? You sound like Paul. Get dad, he'll stop this."
"He's the reason we can't. She's done something horrible to him."
"Oh my god, what? I need to see him."
"Carol, listen to me. Don't go in that room. He's not the same man. You don't understand, but you need to promise to stay away from him."
"I just survived a bizarre roller coaster ride of insanity. You said we're speaking truth, so tell me. What's happened to him?"
"Okay. He's still your father, but he's turned nasty. She's made him a dreadful perversion of himself. Earlier we went to check on him and to feed him, but—"
"Go on, what did he do?"
"Your dad forced Paul to his knees and made him suck his cock while he jerked himself off. The young man is now stuck in that arousal state. Unable to cum until I do, he's being forced to do everything your dad says. I couldn't stop what was happening. Watching what's become of your father and seeing the young man disgraced in that manner was too much. I had to leave. That's when I came to bring food and check on you."
"You're telling me that at this very minute, dad's torturing Paul and making him do sexually perverse things. I can't stand by and let that happen. We've got to stop it."
When Carol lunged up and off the bed, Martha's grasp was broken.
In a panic, Martha said, "Carol! Please, don't go in there. I'm begging you. He's worse than that foul bitch and he's angry with you."
At the doorway, she turned to her mom and said, "This isn't Paul's fault and we know that now. Dad doesn't. He's punishing him for a perceived injustice. You've seen him angry and in a vindictive mood before. If you're now saying he's become a monster, he'll kill Paul in the end. I won't allow that to happen. I need your help to get my husband out of that room. I'll deal with daddy."
Rushing to her daughter's side, she said, "You've not seen him this way before. This isn't going to turn out well for any of us. I'll do what I can, but I'm telling you, he doesn't see you the same way anymore. I'm afraid."
Cocking her head, she replied, "Mom, have I ever been given a choice in any of this?"
***
Carol rushed through the door and came to a halt a few feet from the entrance.
She expected to see an awful exhibit, but observing Paul upon the bed with his shoulders pressed against the mattress and his ass raised to await penetration was more than she envisioned and it caught her off guard.
It was alarming to see her dad angling his dick towards the upraised sphincter.
The situation would only be made worse if she overreacted.
In a calm tone, she said, "Daddy, stop. Please don't do that."
With his attention now diverted, he turned to her and said crossly, "Only whores call their master, daddy."
He then slid from the bed and stood to confront her.
"Then subdue me, father."
Glancing back over his shoulder, he said, "Ah, I see. The naughty little tart desires to swap places with the bastard. Is that it?"
Walking slowly towards him, she said, "Perhaps, but not when you're like this. This isn't you. She intentionally made you this way."
"No, you've done this to me, strumpet of a whore mother! You deceived me. What type of daughter plays such an immoral game? You're all wicked liars. I demand justice with depravity and humility." Flexing his fists, he looked down at her.
Raising a gentle hand to each of his cheeks, she turned his face to the dresser mirror. "That's not you talking, it's her. Look at yourself. That man isn't you."
REPORT
____
He said heatedly, "I only see a man and his twisted spawn."
Guiding him to stare at her, she said, "Then you're not looking at your true reflection. Look at me. I've not changed. There's no lust in my eyes, only a daughter's love."
He saw himself reflected in those enthralling blue eyes and felt a tremble. Uncrimping his fists, he found himself incapable of responding.
Sliding her hands to his hairy chest, she placed a hand over his heart. "You've been deceived, but it's not by your family. That woman may have altered your perception, but no one has the power to remove what's here."
His skin paled and his hands shook. "Carol," he blubbered and then burst into tears.
Sliding both hands down his chest, she leaned in to peck kisses between them. "Shush," she said.
Her lips hesitated upon reaching the top of his pubic mound. She then lavished the area with a swathe of licks which resulted in him shivering as if he were chilled.
Pulling back, she looked up at him with a playful smile and an endearing expression.
Again, he tried to voice a discomfited objection, but she silenced him by grasping his pulsating rosy colored dick between her hands. After inhaling a deep breath, she centered her gaze upon the bulbous red head. It broadened and jerked in anticipation. With an obsessive need, she dove her mouth upon it.
When she vibrated a pleasurable hum, he mumbled with a throaty grunt and then said in a whisper, "My god, who taught you—"
After licking underside along the veiny ridge, she responded with laughing eyes that displayed a teasing thought that provided him an answer. You trained me, daddy.
***
Seated on the living room sofa, Paul thrust with his pelvis and ejaculated.
Martha pulled back onto her knees and wiped a string of spunk from the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand.
Feeling sticky, she finished cleaning the filmy residue with a curved swath of her tongue.
She exclaimed, "Oh fuck me, I can't believe I just swallowed the entire load my son-in-law's cum. What's worse is that I'm getting used to it."
Paul giggled and then replied, "Ah, thanks—mom. I needed that. We could've fucked. You didn't need to finger yourself to orgasm."
Laughing in response, she said, "I wanted to feel the girth of your cock in my mouth."
"No, I think it has more to do with you getting turned on from watching Carol give her dad a blow job."
"Young man, I can always torment you by holding back next time." She winked, snatched her robe and then stood.
"How long have they been in there?" he said.
"I suspect around two hours. Argh, I can't believe we're discussing this. What the hell's wrong with us? I know what they're doing and it doesn't bother me. How did she manage to calm him down? He's returned to normal."
He replied, "It's quirky, I know. I saw it yesterday before she went to sleep. She gave me a calming look that gave me hope. She's forgiven me. I'm flabbergasted by the change. Her sex drive is off the charts."
Martha walked to the kitchen sink to wash her hands and teasingly said, "Apparently, she and I are similar in that respect. Paul, regardless of what you think, I've never disliked you. Honestly, I felt Carol could've done better, but you've grown on me. I've acquired a taste, so to speak. I don't deny that the intimacy has brought us closer. It also helps that you have a big dick."
"Most men would fantasize over a mother-in-law that looks like you. Perhaps that makes me a perv, but I'll not apologize for natural attraction. It's kind of strange, but I believe I'm enamored with you both because you look alike. I want you to know that I love your daughter. Does this mean you've forgiven me?"
"Let's just say, get us out of this mess and I'll give you restitution. That's the moment I'll show you glorious absolution for an entire day." She blew him a kiss and added, "You'll be given unlimited freedom to show how sorry you really are. Hopefully, that's encouragement enough for you to find your fucking balls."
"Well, I did find paperwork in that bitch's car, so that's a step. Although she took our phones, she didn't know about the computer in the den. Later, I'll show everyone what I found. We need to discuss what to do next."
***
Revelation and Answers
The family gathered in front of the monitor as Paul moved the cursor and clicked a button on the mouse.
Carol said, "So, her real name's Anna Coulter. She hasn't been active on her social network page in over five years. It says she was a sex therapist that used hypnosis as a tool to help people."
"I'd say the bitch isn't helping anyone anymore," Paul replied.
Carol pointed a finger at a posted message, and said, "Look here, her last post was a depressing statement. She apparently miscarried after her husband killed himself. That's obvious anguish over those tragedies. She doesn't appear to be coping."
Martha said, "So she spoke the truth about her husband."
"Looks like her friends ditched her afterward. That is if she ever had any," Paul said.
Harold said, "Look, there are several links to videos. Play the oldest first."
The movie showed Anna and her husband at a park. They appeared happy and were celebrating. After a few minutes, the couple kissed and congratulated themselves for their second anniversary of marriage.
Carol said, "She sounds nothing like Kasha. How could someone so pleasant turn into a monster?"
Pointing a finger at the husband in the video, Martha said, "Oh my, see him. He turned to ogle those two teenage girls on the left. I know that look. That's an unmistakable perv gaze if I ever saw one."
"Paul, try the next one," Harold said.
The next video showed the woman around eight months pregnant. She wept and expressed sorrow over the death of her husband. She became angry and began spouting blame on everyone, but her husband. The mirror reflected her raising a silver bejeweled locket and swaying in back and forth causing a refraction of light to hit the camera lens. In misery, she displayed it as her husband's last gift.
That's when Carol shouted, "That's it!"
"What?" they said in unison.
"It all makes sense now. She utilizes some wacky form of hypnotism using a mirror. The gypsy persona is just a disguise to convince people they've been cursed. It's a brilliant way to reinforce the trance."
Martha responded by saying, "I don't understand how any of it is possible. Not even an experienced hypnotherapist can make people do things against their will."
"No, it's most definitely unusual, but a skilled professional can effectively change a person's perception and mood. If you truly accept the hypnotism, then anyone can be made to feel cold when their hot and visa-versa. She's gone a step further and uses a mirror to twist a person's perspective of themselves. It's unique and genius."
Martha exclaimed, "Oh my, I remember now. The mirror. She did it to me. I was made to feel extreme sexual arousal. I couldn't stop touching myself. Oh, Jesus, I'm remembering what she made me do. Those weren't fantasies, she did those things to me for real. I think I'm going to be sick."
Paul added, "I still don't get it. I don't remember a mirror."
"Probably because you were drunk as a skunk," Harold said.
Banging her fist on the table to get their attention, Carol said, "Listen, it's proven that if a person unquestionably believes in something with conviction, they can be easily manipulated. There's nothing more powerful. Religions have always used the power of belief to control their flock. People with a limited capacity to think for themselves become fanatics. Dressed as a gypsy, she covered the hypnotism by making you believe you were cursed."
Again, Paul said, "I still don't get it."
Carol responded by saying, "For example, look at the 2016 election. People were desperate for a savior. Even smart people were duped into believing every lie spewed from their candidate's mouth as fact. It's the hysteria effect. Tell people the same lie of doom and gloom over and over and they begin to believe it without questioning the facts. Tell those people that you're their only savior and those misguided people would willingly give away their freedom and their country. It's known that a voodoo priest can kill with a curse. His power is only effective if that individual believes without a doubt. Essentially, that person destroys themselves."
Harold questioned, "Honey, I'm amazed. Where did you learn about all of this?"
"Dad, I'm a psychology major. You know that. This was one of my studies."
Paul said, "So, I'm not cursed? She fucked my mind and my dick stayed hard because I'd been manipulated into believing I was horny?"
"Yes, that's a simplified way of explaining it. You became sexually aroused because she'd outlined what turned you on. You believed so strongly in the curse that your body functioned based on those predefined triggers. Basically, it's mind over body."
Martha said, "Damn, we did all of that sick shit and we could've stopped if only we quit believing."
"I'm sorry, but what I'm about to say might throw you. It contradicts what I said earlier. You're partially correct. Basically, mom, the truth is...you wanted to fuck, Paul. A spark of desire had to exist to motivate you to go through with it. If you were truly repulsed by him or the action, you could've successfully refused the compulsion."
Paul paled at that announcement. He immediately thrust himself up from the chair. "Now I'm going to be sick. Argh..." He then barreled past them and rushed to the bathroom.
After an epiphany over his reaction, Carol exclaimed, "Oh Jesus."
"What?"
"I should have left that out of the conversation."
"Why?"
"Remember, Paul told us what she made him do. I think it has to do with what he did to dad and with all those other men."
Martha responded, "It's still not his fault. He was influenced."
"Let's change the subject. Please don't bring it up when he returns. He needs time to deal with that on his own. We have enough information to go to the authorities."
Harold angrily said, "Hell No!"
"Dad, why not?"
"After what she's done to us, justice must be served, but not by law enforcement."
"You can't kill her. That's murder."
"I said nothing about eliminating her from existence. This is retribution by a family that's been irreparably harmed and forever damaged."
"I understand it's been a nightmare, but some good came from this. I also know what's happened to the woman. I saw her hypnotizing herself. She intentionally created the Kasha persona to deal with her grief. She turned herself into a vengeful fiend. Dad, she practically made you a male version of Kasha, so I know it's possible."
Martha said, "Harold, what are you suggesting we do?"
"I don't know yet. We'll have to discuss a plan, but for now, we can't give any indication that we're no longer under her control. Until she shows, we must continue pretending."
"Daddy, what we've done together was no act. What I feel for you is real. Are you saying this is temporary until you've dealt your so-called justice?"
"Paul's not the only one dealing with his demons. What's befuddling to me is that neither of you seemed disturbed by it. Perhaps that bitch really is a witch and she's turned you both into actual whores."
Martha quipped, "How can you say such a thing? Neither of us understands why we feel the way we do. The desire exists and we've opened ourselves up to it. It doesn't make us sick. I feel more normal than I ever have. It's liberating."
Carol placed a hand on her father's arm and said, "It's okay. I know it's difficult dealing with this. I'll live with whatever you decide, including mom. Isn't that right, mother?"
"Sure, sure. Give a kitten catnip and then take it away. How does one go back to doing humdrum once they've savored the taste of kink? Ah, I'm not so sure I'm willing to give this up as easily as you are dear. I say we shelve this discussion until we have time to talk as a family without pressure. Harold, at some point, you and I need to talk privately as husband and wife."
"I can't believe you're seriously considering continuing such wickedness. What's happened to you?"
"I said drop it. You and I will discuss this later when you're not so angry."
"Mom, dad, stop. Someone's at the door. I heard the chime."
Paul reappeared and said, "I just checked, it's not her, she wouldn't use the doorbell. She'd enter without announcing herself. It's some fat redheaded man with freckles dressed in a blue pinstriped suit."
Martha said, "Damn, that describes my boss. Why is he here? With everything that's going on, I forgot to call in sick. Then again, that horrible woman took our phones. I'll get rid of him."
***
Revealing Pictures
After the door opened, the man grinned broadly and shifted his gaze to her parted robe.
Damn, the appalling chubby man is ogling my boobs.
Blushing, she frenziedly crimped the housecoat together in a fisted grip. Exhaling a heavy cough into her other hand, she croaked, "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to call in sick. John, why are you here?"
"Martha, there's no need to pretend. I received your pictures along with your text. I'm here because you begged me to come. It didn't take much to persuade me. Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"What pictures? What text—I never—oh god..."
"Well?"
"Ah, please take a seat on the sofa. We need to talk about this."
Walking to the couch with a confident stride, he said, "I'm not here to waste time chit-chatting. You were rather direct in what you wanted. You sent so many revealing pictures. Only a horny skank would pose herself in those stances. You've never shown interest before, but now I know the truth."
"I believe I can explain. It's all a misunder—"
"Stop. No need to express how you feel. I'm not interested in your love. I already have a wife. Where do you want to do this? Here or the bedroom?"
"You need to underst—argh. Okay, John. Yes, the bedroom. Specifically, my daughter's old room. Down the hall, the door on the right. Take off all your clothes and fantasize about me. Give me a few minutes to prepare myself."
"So, I give you a raise and you give me a rise, just as you said in the text. Don't worry sweet cheeks, I'll give you a new position. I'll even let you pick your preference, missionary, doggy, or cowgirl."
She wanted to gag. Instead, she kept her face neutral and replied, "Ah, I'll get back to you on that. For now, position yourself on your back and wait for me. Since you're not into wasting time, get yourself raging hard. I want it pulsating and angry. John, can you do that for me?"
Watching his fat ass wobble down the hall, she bit down on her bottom lip and grimaced.
"Oh hell no," she whispered to no one.
Rushing like a gazelle to the den, she stopped in front of her family and said, "What's this about pictures? Harold, did you take sexually explicit images of our daughter?"
Harold stuttered.
Carol moved in front of him and said, "Mom, he believed I was you, pretending to be me. Argh...that's confusing. Yes, he did, but it's my fault, I made him do it."
Martha replied, "Well, the bitch sent them to my boss and arranged for me to have sex with that disgusting bastard. Those aren't even pictures of me and I'm humiliated. Regardless, I know the man. He'll use them as blackmail and make me his office slut. No fucking way am I whoring myself to that asshole."
Harold exclaimed, "Paul and I will get rid of him. There's no need to do any of this."
Martha cocked her head and gave him a naughty smile. Flipping the robe from her shoulders with both hands, she stood voluptuous and naked. "Weren't you the one that said we should continue the masquerade? That nasty woman is no doubt watching and expecting it. What do you think I should do, huh?"
Carol said, "Well if you're not having sex with the man, what's your plan?"
"Dear daughter, you have much to learn. Men manage the office, but pussy irrefutably controls the home. At work that bastard always stares at my breasts and never at my eyes. I'm taking a page from that foul woman and will use manipulation to stand up to that gawking son-of-a-bitch. If you want to watch, go to the master bedroom. I'm sure the video's still streaming."
"You're actually going through with it?" Harold worriedly questioned.
Directing her eyes to him, she said, "Husband, do I detect jealousy in your voice. Hon, I love you and I'm still your kinky wife. Go watch, but don't get a hard-on just yet. I'm not entirely sure my plan will work. If it looks like trouble, I expect you'll intercede of course."
Paul giggled and said, "Jeez, you've changed. Now I'm curious."
***
Delusional Ding-a-ling
Entering the room naked, Martha pranced and swayed her hips seductively about the room as if to seduce him with a dance. "So, John, you like my pictures, huh? Did you share them with anyone?"
With an air of intimidation, he replied, "Of course not. Provide satisfaction and I see no reason to distribute such gifts. Our romance will remain between us. I don't know why you're concerned. You sent them to me."
"Ah yes, but with an expectation that our affair stays discreet. You understand."
"I'm not in a chatty mood. Get over here. I'm hard, just as you asked."
Sliding upon the bed beside him, she said, "Oh my, you do have an adorable little prick."
He was so smitten over her delectable jugs that he overlooked the tone of ridicule veiled behind her use of adorable.
Walking two fingers' over the hump of his pudgy stomach, she said, "You're perspiring heavily and shivering at the same time. Do I turn you on that much?"
"Yes, you're my dream."
She said, "You flatter me. It's exciting to watch you. It makes me so wet. Oh, baby, keep jerking it."
Feeling frisky and brave, he reached out with his free hand to touch her breast.
Along with a yelp, she swatted and then grasped his wrist. "Oh no, not yet, lover. I need my juices stirred. Keep yanking."
Redirecting his hand, she shifted it down and made him cup his hairy balls.
In frustration, he said, "Martha, come on, enough with the tease. Move between my legs and put my massive cock in your mouth or at the very least touch it."
She was bemused by his statement. The man was delusional to think the ding-a-ling between his legs had any impressive girth. She estimated it to be five and a half inches, which is average for most men. However, it was a wrinkled uncircumcised penis of thin flesh with a pointed head. The reality of that made it less than acceptable. She doubted a woman would find gratification, much less feel the spongy hard-on between their slit. A self-guided finger was more than adequate and always knew the pleasurable spots.
Like his egotism and skewed idea of self-importance at work, his misplaced arrogance over his own endowment might be an advantage to end this.
Contorting her face, she turned to the concealed camera. There's no way I'm putting that pathetic wiener in my mouth. Crumpling her brow, she expressed that thought to her voyeurs. It allowed her to calm the queasiness of her stomach.
After drawing a smiley face on his sweaty chest, she traveled it playfully upward. She giggled girlishly while drawing a line along his throat and up to his chin. With emphasis, she purred, "Oh, John, show me how wet you are."
She then tapped two fingers upon his bottom lip to encourage him to open.
His eyebrows pulled down over his questioning eyes.
Dragging her tongue in a curve along her bottom lip, she cooed and batted her lashes seductively.
REPORT
____
Reluctantly, his lips parted.
She gave a comforting smile and then plunged both fingers between the gap.
He gurgled as her fingers wiggled against his tongue.
"Your mouth's watering over the possibilities. Look at your huge dick and fantasize. Imagine how that monster would feel in my hot pussy."
Thrusting slowly with both fingers, she continued, "In and out, licking the head of your manhood. That's it, swirl your tongue around it. Just like that. Keep jerking it for me. Baby, watching you makes me so hot."
His groans of pleasure were accompanied by resounding smacks from his vigorous moving hand.
Pulling her fingers from his mouth and slithering them wetly down to his chest, she said, "Na, na, na, sweetie, keep your mouth open. Like this lover." Widening her lips into an O, she flickered her tongue to represent licking a lollipop. "Oh baby, yes, that rouses me. I'm so hornyyy."
After gliding a swirling finger along the sweaty surface of his rounded stomach, she moved between his legs.
His damp skin flushed with excitement.
"I bet you've collected lots of porn. Like some men, you hide dick pics among the pussy pics and when the mood strikes, you know..."
Grasping his stroking hand, she maneuvered it to one of his buttocks. At the same moment, her other hand curled around the shaft and resumed jerking.
She continued by saying, "There's nothing wrong with a man experiencing an urge to be naughty. It's simply a taboo fantasy. It doesn't make you gay."
With her free hand, she folded his legs at the knee and pressed them to the side to open him wide.
Giving him a wink along with a smile, she said, "You're one of those men, aren't you? You like watching me caress Moby-dick and point it towards your open mouth. I feel you pulsating and shaking with a desire to see it spew. Your testis is full of tasty sweet cream that begs to be eaten. Don't you think, lover? Can you pleasure it with your mouth? Come on, make the whale blow."
When he bucked his hips, she found herself troubled.
Oh, gosh no, I was so wrong. I don't want it to end quickly. Damn, I'm enjoying this too much. Demeaning the asshole stimulates me. Fuck, I'm horny as hell. Why am I having fun doing something so wicked?
Looking at the man's centrally focused eyes, she thought, at least the cretin isn't obsessed with looking at my breasts. Harold's probably having a fit watching me humiliate the bastard. Then again, suffering from years of debasement and sexualized as some prized office bimbo demands restitution. The cocksucker earned this.
She sensed an urgency to slow him down and assume control. Keeping the bastard from cumming before fully degrading him was now important to her.
Reaching down to cradle the hand that clenched his nuts, she relocated it to his other butt cheek. Now in control of his stimulus, she measured her movements and worked to master him with the crimp of her magic hands.
Massaging his bushy scrotum, she said, "That's it, baby. Keep gawking the bullet of your cock."
He gulped and then utter, "Jesus, woman, let me cum. You don't need to crush my dick like a vise. Let's stop this foolishness. Just straddle my wonderful prick and ride me, slut."
That was enough to piss her off. Working in tandem, her hands played upon his genitals to drive his surging need.
She quickened his heart with false idioms and moaned to swell his throbbing prick.
With determination, she successfully brought him to boil.
Now in heat, he was tranced by the moment and bewitched by her words.
Squinting his eyes lustfully at his pecker, he curled his tongue and rolled it around a phantom shaft. He now yearned to envelop that needle-like appendage.
Seeing his response, she encouraged him further by saying, "Close your eyes and imagine your gargantuan dick coming towards my pussy. Yes, you're doing it. Lift your butt and bring it closer."
Immediately after those words, Carol's sudden arrival joggled her.
She remained silent due to her daughter placing a finger across her closed, but upturned mouth. Her daughter then walked soundlessly passed her and turned to face the open door.
Martha's disconcerted expression altered to amusement upon seeing Harold stroll into the room sporting a magnificent boner. As he moved up to the bed, she got the jest of what he intended.
Holding back a boisterous laugh, she widened her eyes and folded her lips under. Her chest heaved from stifling that hilarity and her boobs jiggled as the result. After a moment to composed herself, she gave Harold an adoring grin.
With a signal from her husband, Martha said, "John, it's time baby. Open wide and envision a real man's schlong in your mouth. Such a fantasy turns you on, but if it were real would you pleasure it? Would that experience make you cum? Nod your head and I'll make that dream reality."
She had no care for his approval and saw no need to wait. The bastard was wired into the fantasy and already on the cusp of ejaculation. She knew it'd only require a timed execution to ruin the man forever.
With a head nod, she signaled her husband to proceed.
Harold thrust the knob between the man's yawning lips.
John was in the lurid dream drafted by Martha's guiding words and hadn't yet realized he was licking and sucking the robust dick of a man. He only knew he experienced pleasure from Martha's two hands and he reacted by frenziedly returning it kind.
Carol was also active behind her dad, playing and teasing him to surge his urge. As they'd planned, she remained steadfast in her purpose to keep him worked up.
Watching John slobber on a man's hardened penis gave Martha a sense of satisfaction and pride for her husband. Harold had a normal sized dong that swelled and became a thick meaty pipe. Unlike John's pathetic toothpick, her husband's dick was a gift that pleasured.
Martha uttered a question meant to coax the man into unleashing his need. "You enjoy sucking my husband's big husky cock, don't you, John? He likes to watch, but he also loves to participate."
That was the moment the man opened his eyes and rationalized the truth. It was also the instant he shuddered from an intense ejaculation.
The discharge of spurting jism was the marker that drove Carol's enticing hands.
As some people experience on unique occasions, John found himself in that temporal minute where orgasmic bliss and cognitive shock caused the slowing of time. With his wide eyes pivoted on the bulbous head of a man's cock, he watched in horror as cum jettisoned out in slow-motion as a clumpy stream of globular white cream to accumulate and slide down his tongue. Adding to his disgrace, was the splattered plops of ejaculate unloaded with ballistic precision from his own pointed tip that intentionally targeted the same orifice.
In the twinkling of an eye, the man learned the true meaning of shame and humility.
***
Twisted Family
Gathering in the den, the family shared their laughter, except for Harold. He stood grim-faced and silently observed the others.
Martha said, "Oh my, did you see his face. Paul, your timing was perfect. Strolling in and saying it was your turn had the bastard tripping in his pants. I don't think he could've left any quicker."
"It was dad's idea," Carol said.
Martha embraced her husband and attempted to give him an intimate kiss.
He didn't reciprocate. He pushed her away with a nudge and then crossed his arms across his chest.
It was a slight that confused her.
Shrugging it off, she said, "You were wonderful, dear. That was fun. Knowing that man, I have no fear of consequence, but it'll definitely be awkward in the office from now on."
Paul said, "We may have a problem. That woman had expectations that you'd be shattered over being forced to screw your boss. Turning that around probably set her off."
"I agree, if she's already unhinged, then she'd most definitely be maddened by what we just did," Martha said.
Watching Paul tap his flaccid penis, Carol became amused. She placed a gentle hand on his arm and then said, "Do you still feel cursed?"
"Yes and no. It's not what you think. My damn dick won't get hard anymore. I don't know if its stress or if she's done something else to me. I'm horny as hell, but it won't get hard. Is this what happens to a man with erectile dysfunction? If so, it's damn frustrating."
Harold turned from them and then exclaimed, "Welcome to my fucking world."
Disregarding her husband's outburst, Martha replied, "More likely it's because you had an erection for long periods of time. Hopefully, it's just fatigue. I certainly hope it's temporary because I need your dick later. It's clear that we all need to rest. There's no telling what that woman plans to do next. I hope we never see her again."
Carol replied, "It can't be as easy as that. The crazy woman wouldn't just abandon her wacky misplaced vendetta."
Harold walked over to the wall, crimped his fists and then raised them above his head. In anger, he smashed them against the structure.
After that booming resonance, he yelled, "God damn it, this isn't over! I won't allow it to be."
Now concerned, Martha rushed to his side and wrapped an arm around his back. She whispered, "Honey, it's okay. We're all okay. We'll get through this as a family."
He tilted his reddened face and fixed his watering eyes to hers.
In his response, he spoke with sadness lined with an accusatorial tone. "My fucking family is twisted. It angers me that all of you comfortably embrace such wickedness. I've listened and I'm shocked. Each of you talk like this is your normal behavior. You're not my family."
Those last four words caused an upswell of emotion and he began sobbing.
The weight of his torment crashed upon him.
She pulled him from the wall and embrace him. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I didn't understand how deeply this bothered you. Harold, please, we're still your family. I love you. We'll work this out. I know we can."
He pulled back at arm's length. His brow furrowed and his eyes broadened. "My god, woman, I had sex with our daughter and enjoyed it. How can any father accept that? I feel unclean. Unlike you, I can't easily wash away such guilt. You're both incest loving cum sluts. Like that, you tell me to deal with it. How can you both accept the role and then expect me to be fine with it? That fiendish woman did this to us. She'll pay. Such injustice demands retribution and I'll not rest until my vengeance is gratified."
Hurt by her father's descriptive words, Carol shouted, "I'm your daughter, I'm not a fucking cum slut!" She wailed and then fled from the room and down the hall.
Paul was at a loss. He gave Harold a look of disapproval and then rushed behind Carol to offer comfort.
Harold was unmoved when he watched them go. Thinking his case made, he shifted his attention back to his wife.
Martha was now incensed. "Enough! You're a damn fool. What's done can't be undone. So, you fucked your daughter and blew your load. So, what? She loves you, as do I. Nothing's changed. What do you expect me to say?"
He tried to respond, but she clasped the cup of her hand over his mouth.
"Harold, you're going to listen. It doesn't matter how it happened. Your daughter's a consenting adult and she's accepted the incestuous relationship. She isn't damaged by it. You may have unwittingly played that immoral game, but I saw your reaction. It was clear that you contributed to her demise and you must live with it. You've no moral high ground in this matter."
He mumbled through her hand, "But, I—"
She gave him a stern look meant to shut him up and continued by saying, "But...fucking what? Were you tricked? Husband, you deceive yourself. Pretend or not, your actions left no doubt that you wanted to fuck your daughter. Four days ago, I'd have been sickened by that knowledge, but like her, I've also been changed by this experience."
He pulled her hand from his mouth with a gentle touch. He felt anxiety, but her heated words did provide calm and redirected his troubled thoughts. Thinking she'd finished, he tried to speak.
Again, she silenced him by continuing her rebuke. "I've acquired a new perspective. Not only do I condone the relationship, I'm extremely aroused by it. Understand, whatever you think you believe, we've not been harmed from this experience and that especially includes you. Don't refer to us using derogatory terms. We're your family. That detestable woman didn't magically turn us into sluts. We were simply exposed to situations that opened our minds to the kink and we found ourselves pleasured by it. For once, be honest and accept this for what it is. Don't damage yourself by measuring your morality by societal standards. If you continue to obsess over it, then you'll be the one that destroys this family, not that woman. You'll lose your wife and daughter in the process."
He was humbled. In his heart, she spoke truth. The difficulty was admitting she was right. She was often direct in her approach when riled. It took hearing the blunt reality of her words to allow him to acknowledge it for himself. The whole time, he'd been justifying his guilt by brewing discontent within himself. By verbalizing it, he was effectively fermenting the divide.
His wife was correct, he'd deceived himself. Why did he feel guilt over that perverse fantasy? Sure, being a father made that stimulus morbid by its very nature, but that's because he applied morality based on what humanity considered right or wrong. Was it truly improper when both partners are consenting adults? Did society have any business interfering with what occurred privately behind a closed door? That argument could be used with same-sex couples or for that matter it could apply to any sex. If an individual isn't harmed by the act, it shouldn't be anyone's business. Acceptance required him to acknowledge it and emancipate himself from those concerns.
After exhaling a deep breath, he gave a broad smile and embraced his wife. He said, "I'm sorry. I'd say it's more than your perspective that's changed. As you said, I'm a fool. I've accepted it, but I stress, this secret must be kept within the family. If it gets out, people won't understand. That's my worry."
She gave him a kiss and then grinned. She replied, "Ah, I wouldn't fret over it. We'll discuss it as a family and move on. I'd also like to ask that you hear me out without judging me. When I said, I've acquired a fresh outlook, it was a generalization. To be candid, I'm more liberalized in my views towards sex than I expressed."
"Martha, just spit it out. I've just accepted an incestuous affair with our daughter. I don't think anything else you say will be any more shocking than that."
"Well...dear...damn it, okay. I'm always horny. It's like I've awakened to my sexuality. I don't want to reverse course. Although I'm satisfied with you and Paul, it's not enough. I desire to explore kink beyond the family. I'm asking for an open marriage."
"I have a feeling that there's more."
"Harold, I'm ashamed to admit that calling us cum sluts was an incomplete description. You neglected a sentence full of adjectives. I fear we're far worse than the definition. Honey, I'm not only seeking approval for myself. Like mother, like daughter, Carol feels the same as I."
He exclaimed, "Oh my god, that woman did this to us! She's turned us into a family of—"
She placed a finger over his mouth and wrapped her other hand around his dick while running the tip of her tongue between her lips.
She then finished his sentence by saying, "...whores."
***
Story continues with Chapter 4. After months with no sign from Kesha, the family drops their guard. Martha and Carol are soon thrust into a world of sinful degradation. Their lives take a dark turn as they're forced to succumb to the deviant woman's master plan. Can they survive their new life as sex dolls for a special club that caters to perverse men? Will Harold and Paul ever find them? Can there ever be a happy ending? Will these questions ever be answered?
REPORT
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