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A Family's Christmas Stockings

By: templeton_rose



Author's Note: This is a 2013 Winter Holiday Contest submission, so please vote. Your comments are also greatly appreciated--I would love to hear from you. Thank you again for reading.

Prologue

They were both in their pantyhose, still holding each other as she awoke.

She looked at him in the dim morning light. Christmas morning. How could she have ever imagined it would be like this? Even a few days ago, she never saw it coming.

She felt so safe and warm and good in bed, his body against hers as they spooned. She felt something hard press against her. She knew what it was, of course. It had been inside her quite a bit recently, after all. She could still feel his seed inside her. He'd gotten quite adept at tearing a narrow hole in her hose, and then fucking her through them. As a matter of fact, he wasn't the only one that had gotten good at that. And she wasn't the only one that had gotten good at receiving cock that way.

But for the moment, there was simply him. She turned around, and facing him cupped her hand and stroked his nylon encased balls with one hand. With the other, she stroked his morning wood even harder through the material.

His eyes fluttered. He wasn't fully awake, but it was as though his cock pulled the rest of his body. He rolled on top of her.

"That's it, baby. Fucking do it again. You know what I want."

He did. Even half asleep he knew, because he needed it too.

He freed his dick from his pantyhose, pulling down the front of his waistband. She wrapped her own nylon clad legs around his ass.

"That's it. Put it in my pussy. I need an early morning Christmas gift." He pushed his cock inside her wet slit, and she breathed in sharply. "Tell me how much you need this, baby."

"I need it so much," he said. "I need to keep fucking Mommy's pussy.

***

December 22

"They upped the accumulation totals again," Jessica Hollings said as she checked her iPhone.

Her brother was driving them along the winding road leading to their parents' house. Pewter colored clouds blanketed the afternoon sky ahead of the coming storm. "How much now?" Chad asked.

Three days ago, the nor'easter was still being projected to head out to sea. Now its track had shifted hard inland, and weathermen were starting to call it the storm of the decade.

"Over two feet in the city."

"It'll be worse out here," he said. "Best Christmas vacation ever."

They were both college students, albeit attending schools on different sides of the country. They'd timed it so they'd both arrive at JFK at the same time, then take a car up to deepest, darkest upstate together.

"It'll be nice to have a white Christmas."

"Assuming mom and dad are speaking to one another."

"They'll play nice around us, if nothing else. Besides, I'm kind of looking forward to being isolated from the outside world for a little while," Jessica said.

"Why's that? I'd have thought a freshman would be chomping at the bit to get back to the party."

"I'm sick of partying."

"You must have had a crazy first semester then," Chad said with a smile.

He'd meant it as a polite joke, and Jess understood that. But he was more right than he knew.

It wasn't that the first semester had been crazy, but that she had been, pursuing with reckless abandon all those supposed rights of passage that college--far more than the academics--is about these days: the campus party scene, getting drunk, having sex. With Jessica, those first two led inevitably to the last one.

Perhaps it was inevitable being on her own and having grown up on CW shows and old Sex and the City reruns. She was a biology major, and wondered now if those shows' messages weren't similar to viruses. If so, they'd infected her because she now saw how unconsciously she'd followed their script.

You had sex. A lot. With lots of different people. It was fun and exciting and no big deal.

The reality had been markedly different. She didn't feel very sexy or powerful or fulfilled walking home hung over after a hookup with some upperclassman she'd only met the night before. No, she felt empty and cheap, a cold ache in her that only deepened when he passed on her texts inviting him to grab coffee with her later that afternoon.

Which wasn't to say she didn't hear from him again. He'd text her telling her to come over to his apartment to hang out. It amazed her how happy she was to hear from him, as if the (drunken) decision to give him the gift of her virginity would be validated now that there was a continuing relationship.

Except it wasn't really either continuing or a relationship. It took her a couple more times of this routine to figure out that "hang out" was code for "use her for sex" and nothing more.

There had been others. Once you break the seal, why stop, right? Besides, doing it a lot just reinforced that sex wasn't that big a deal.

Her body had seemed to agree. It started to crave sex, from that wonderful, tiny hurt of first penetration, to the warm fullness of having him fully in, to the rush at the end as she was being jackhammered by his cock as he could no longer contain himself. It helped justify that she was doing this for recreation, and nothing more. It made it easy to accept the late night booty text, and not expect anything meaningful after he emptied his load into the condom.

Seven. Seven dicks inside her in the four months she'd been at school.

There came a morning in the middle of finals when she was staring at herself in her dorm's mirror.

She was a pretty if not beautiful girl with strawberry blond hair, smooth skin, and a dynamite smile. Tall and thin, like her mother there was more leg than anything else to her. She dressed nice, preferring skirts and dresses even when going to an early morning class when most girls on campus were content bumming around in pajama pants and sweatshirts. The kind of a girl a man should want to keep, in other words.

So why was she alone? Why, after letting all those men fuck her, had none of them invited her to visit during Christmas vacation? Or even mentioned seeing her when next semester began? Or at least sent her a text wishing her good luck on her exams?

In her reflection, she noticed a weariness--a disappointment--in her eyes that didn't belong in a girl still so young. And seeing it, she realized that while her body may have craved sex, she herself wanted something more: simply someone that loved her.

Being home would be a chance to regroup. Get away from the parties, alcohol, and texts. She hoped she'd be able to pull herself together before she went back. She wanted to be more than just a slut passed between men who didn't really give a damn about her.

Maybe the storm would help. After all, isolation helped protect fragile things. On islands, it allowed new and exotic life forms to thrive where otherwise they'd have been snuffed out. Perhaps it would be the same for her, allow a new her to emerge. In that way, maybe the storm could be a kind of Christmas miracle.

She hoped. She so desperately hoped.

"Yeah, this past semester was something I'll never forget. What about you? You must be having a good time at school to be so down on coming back home," Jessica said, trying to get the subject away from herself.

Beyond the road ahead of him, Chad could see gray, rolling hills. A few flurries began to fall. He spared a glance over at his sister. Or rather, what she wearing.

Jess had inherited a fashion preference for skirts over jeans from their mother. Which in turn meant they both wore hosiery a lot. His sister was wearing a pair of jet black hose now, contrasting nicely with her tan boots.

This bugged him. Always had. For as long as he could remember, Chad had had a pantyhose fetish.

He couldn't remember when it started or what incident had forever fused nylon stockings with sex in his mind. The fact that his mother and sister wore them a lot, however, seemed both a likely and troubling root cause. In high school he had masturbated on pairs stolen from the both of them, and the disgust he'd felt with himself after he climaxed on them continued to be felt all these years later.

Chad regarded his fetish as crippling as being born with a disability that forever held him back. Like his father--or more accurately, like his father had once been--Chad was a visionary programmer. Or almost was. He could never quite realize the breakthrough he felt was somewhere just beyond his reach.

In computer systems, if you have a useless program that sucks up a lot of memory running in the background, it slows the machine's function. Always on guard, always hiding his fetish from those that knew him, Chad wondered if all that wasted mental energy was why he never seemed quite able to live up to his potential.

It transcended mere work, though. Tall, handsome and intelligent, he sometimes marveled at how much he had going for him, and how it seemed all undone by his recurring thought: I'm a pervert.

The thing about any fetish is that if its "carrier" isn't comfortable with it--refuses to embrace it--he rejects a crucial part of himself. It's not too far from there to simply start hating yourself, a small step that Chad had long ago taken.

He hated that he needed them being worn by his partner to enjoy sex, otherwise it was a more of a chore performed with an only semi-functioning tool. Women aren't stupid, of course--they can sense with an uncanny ability when something is wrong. The few girls he'd confided what he liked had been surprisingly willing to accommodate him. At first, at any rate. Eventually, it seemed like they all began to ask him if it was really them he loved, or the nylons they were wearing.

If that was the way things inevitably went, how worse would it have gone if he'd admitted to any of them that he wanted to wear them as well? It's hard to overstate the pain of wondering if you're ever going to get so yawning a need met by a real person, or if it'd just going to be your hand and a high speed internet connection forever.

Chad's most recent relationship had ended in an argument that began when she'd tried to initiate wearing a negligee that would have been sexy to anyone besides him. She could tell he wasn't that into it, but when the inevitable question arose about whether he loved her or the hose, he was unusually candid: "I love you, and I need you to love it as much as me." That hadn't been the answer she was looking for.

Given his mother and daughter's fashion preferences, it would be impossible not to be reminded both of why he was alone, and all it had cost him.

Of course he didn't tell this to Jess, saying instead, "Yeah, things have been going great out west. I guess I just would have preferred staying out there, keeping up the momentum."

Jessica looked at him. "You're lying," she said.

He almost laughed at how transparent he was. But at least she couldn't guess the exact truth. "You're right," he said simply.

As they continued down the darkening road, Chad found himself thinking about Christmas miracles. He wished something would fix him or at least ease his self-loathing, but doubted very much he would find it snowed in with his family.

Flurries began to fall.

***

"The kids will be here in a little bit! I just received a text from Chad!" Rachael Holloway shouted over the sound of incoming small arms fire and exploding RPG's.

Her husband Gene was downstairs in the media room. With stadium seating, a wide, hi-def protection screen, surround sound, and recently added 3D capacity, the room had been meant as the family's private movie theatre when the home was built back in 2001. Even before the kids had left for college, however, it had devolved into Gene's personal Xbox room.

He was playing it now. On the screen, his SEAL team was meeting heavy resistance as they moved up the streets of Fallujah. 

"What?" he shouted back, not looking at her.

"The kids will be here soon! Oh, fuck this," Rachael said, walking to the front of the room where the Xbox sat neatly next to several other game consoles, she hit its power button.

"What the fuck?" he said, the room suddenly quiet.

"Jess and Chad will be here shortly. You know, for Christmas. Where we, say, interact as a family, as opposed to hiding from life playing video games."

Gene got out of the middle row's center, cushioned chair, walked over to her. He was a tall man and decently built. Though she held her ground at his advance, her heart beat did pick up at his approach. Being rich meant he could spend his time doing whatever he wanted. Anymore this consisted mostly of video games, but also lifting.

He slowed, however, as he approached. In a calm voice he said, "I know family is important. I manage our money. I've grown our investments. It's because of me the kids can attend college debt free."

"It's because of something you did over a decade ago! What have you done recently? You could be doing so much more with your life--with our lives!"

He sighed. She was right, of course. He had been coasting for years now. And every day, the apathetic momentum gained speed with him. "We have more than most. This house alone--"

She cut him off. "A house you never leave! I'm the one that drove thirty miles to the nearest store and back to get supplies for the blizzard while you spent the morning screwing off."

"I leave the house all the time."

"Going for runs on property you own doesn't count! It's like saying the people you play your shooter games against counts as social interaction!"

"It counts in my book."

"You're not engaged in anything--not with life, not with your kids, certainly not with me. Christ, when was the last time we had sex? At least pretend like you give a damn about something besides a high score. Acting like you care that our kids are on the road would be a good start."

She was provoking him. She was always trying to provoke. Part of her almost wished he'd get upset and overturn furniture or punch through walls. At least that would mean there was still some energy inside of him. 

His face was red, and she thought this might be the moment.

But no. He turned from her, picked up another remote control. In a small corner of the screen, images from the house appeared. The image cycled through exterior shots of the house--with the sun having set they were in night vision. Then the images moved to the house's hallways, living room, kitchen, indoor pool, gym--even the media room they were presently in--before stopping on a scene of the front door.

"There. Now I'll see them when they come in," he said, then powered the Xbox back on.

She picked up a game controller laying on the floor and threw it at him. It beaned him in the head. Maybe that would get a reaction.

"Glad you're getting into the Christmas spirit too," he said, rubbing his bruising forehead before turning back to the booting up game.

She stomped up the stairs, knowing on some level that the fact that she was angry was probably a good thing. Anger meant there was still emotion there, that she at least still cared.

And she cared because she understood.

Gene Holloway had been a brilliant coder when they'd first met. His intensity and passion had been what had attracted her most--it certainly hadn't been his money because he didn't have any when they first met. But they married scandalously young, had Chad within first year as man and wife.

Years before Facebook or YouTube, he'd come up with a video sharing platform, and sold it to a Silicon Valley company for stock options. When he was permitted to cash them in several months later, suddenly he was worth a quarter of a billion dollars.

Then, exactly two weeks later, the dot-com bubble had burst. Within a few months, the stock he'd sold had become worthless. He had dodged the bullet, gotten out at exactly the right time.

And it had scared Gene to death. The difference between success and failure had not been all the hard work he'd put into the technology, but stupid, blind chance.

He'd ripped his family out of California and moved it up into the rural New York where he'd grown up. Here he had bought a hundred acres and built his high tech castle, and hidden from the world ever since. The exciting man she'd known--passionate and possessive about both his work and of her--had disappeared.

When was the last time they'd had sex? Weeks. When was the last time they'd had filthy, hot sex? Probably about the same time he'd given up on life. It was hard to overstate how much she missed that Gene Holloway, how much she longed for his return.

At the top of the stairs, she looked down the hall to see his study's closed door. It was the one room in the house that was locked to her. He still went in there from time-to-time. Rachael hoped he was working on something, but it wouldn't have surprised her to learn that all he did in there was masturbate or buy 80's toys on eBay.

The house--villa, really--that Gene had built included an indoor pool which was essentially their home's heart. It was modest at 12' x 28', but jets on one end allowed Rachael to swim "laps" in place. The pool was surrounded by an interior courtyard, rising two stories up. The upstairs bedroom had balconies opening onto the atrium. Christmas lights adorned those balconies now, their multicolored bulbs glowing warmly. Large panes of glass held in place by a latticework of wrought iron formed a skylight ceiling reminiscent of a Victorian conservatory.

Conservatory was appropriate. The pool was kept warm, and the atrium itself could sometimes feel like a sauna. Fountains trickled here and there amidst the trees and plants that lined the walls of the courtyard's first floor. In a house that was so separate from everything else already, this room could make one feel as though they were on another continent.

Whenever she was angry, Rachael would swim her stationary laps in the pool. She was angry a lot, which while it had fouled her marriage had at least helped keep her in exquisite shape. 

There was a changing room immediate off the pool area. She quickly shucked off her blouse, then unhooked and slipped out of her black bra. Her wool skirt slid off her nylon covered legs, and hitching her thumbs into the waistband she peeled off her pantyhose as well.

She quickly put on a swimsuit from a drawer, and tossed her clothes on a deckchair by the pool. The warm water was a relief, easing some of the tension she felt in her shoulders and calves. Her wet auburn hair looked black once wet. The windows high above her were covered in condensation. Her hands drifted down to her waist, then to the interior of her thighs. She lightly touched her bathing suit where it covered her pussy. She relaxed some more. Her workout could wait. It wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten herself off in here. It wouldn't even be the first time this week.

And as her fingers pushed aside her bathing suit's crotch to give complete access to herself, Rachael imagined giving herself completely to a man. Someone with passion and intensity, someone with strength sufficient to impose his will on her. She imagined the pleasure it would give her, knowing that she was the object by which such a man himself derived pleasure. Being used as his vessel. She longed for that as she massaged her clit beneath the water, biting her lip as pleasure began to move through her body in waves. If her husband was that man, as he once had been, so much the better. If not, in her fantasies she found herself increasingly open to something new.

Above her, snow began to slowly fall onto the atrium's glass roof.

***

It's going to be a long Christmas vacation, Chad thought.

It was a little before midnight, and Chad was sipping his beer as he sat in the darkened living room. The Christmas tree and fire that he'd built in the hearth were the room's only source of light now. Four kitschy, red, Santa stockings, each with a family member's name on it, hung over the fireplace. He glanced over at the large windows that looked over the vast property the house commanded. Even without the outdoor floodlights on, he could see the windswept snow falling steadily. The distant hills were already covered with a thin crust, and now shown dully silver on the horizon. The wind howled as it beat against their home.


A Family's Christmas Stockings



He and Jessica had just beaten the storm, and walked into find their mother relaxing in the pool. She was clearly happy to see them, jumping out to towel herself off, then giving them quick kisses on the cheek while being careful not to get them wet.

It was as she kissed him that Chad noticed the clothes she'd left on a deckchair. Her skirt and blouse on the chair, and over these had casually been thrown a pair of her suntan pantyhose. He felt a rush at the sight of them, and felt his dick begin to get stiff. He didn't see any panties peeking out from the clothes pile. The thought of a woman wearing hose without anything between them and her pussy turned him on at any time. Evidently, his body if not his mind, considered it hot even when the woman in question was his mother.

He stuck his hand in his khaki's pocket so he could hopefully reach it to keep it down. He didn't think either Jess or his mom noticed, but becoming hard then had acted as a perverse radar. The kiss he'd just received from her seemed to linger warmly on him. He noticed the pleasant swell of her breasts and her wet, smooth legs, and felt sickened with himself. 

"Where's Dad?" Jessica had asked before a deafening boom had risen from the basement media room.

Chad was grateful for the distraction. Medal of Honor?" he had asked.

"The latest SOCOM," his mother had fumed.

Her mom's anger upset Jessica. This wasn't a good start for the separate peace she was hoping to find here at home.

Jess and Chad had gone down to see their old man. It was obvious he too was happy to see them. He'd even paused his game to chat with them a bit.

"Well, I've already seen your grades, so I know you've both been good girls and boys," Gene had said with a laugh. "I can assure you, Santa and Amazon.com will be rewarding you appropriately."

"Another year of not having to leave the house for presents," Chad thought. He realized his father was trying to be nice, but there was something sad in how out-of-touch he was, telegraphing how he avoided leaving the house while not even realizing it.

After talking a little bit about the weather and the drive in, Gene had concluded their audience. "Well, I'll let you guys go grab something to eat," he'd said, and then returned to his game.

His mother had, as ever, been more involved and made them something to eat, but her frustration with their father was obvious despite her best efforts. To Jessica, it felt like the visit had already curdled. To Chad it felt much the same, made all the worse by the fact that his sister in her stockings had continued to distract.

Now he was sitting alone, alternating between listlessly watching the fire burn and the snow fall. The house was silent--Dad evidently had gone to sleep because he couldn't hear any explosions. He was on his third Sam Adams. He was reasonably sure another two were still in his future.

He heard some movement behind him. The kitchen was a modern, open-concept of stainless steel and granite that meshed elegantly into the living room. He saw Jess getting a beer from the fridge.

She had changed into an oversized USC T-shirt. But she had also left on her hose. And on top of everything, she sat herself next to him.

Really? Chad thought. If it's cold, why don't you put on a pair of flannel pants or tights? I do not fucking need this right now. 

He was surprised at how agitated he was seeing her in them. The beer probably wasn't helping. He reminded himself that it wasn't a big deal for her--to her they were probably no different from socks. It didn't really make him feel any better. "Thought you went to sleep," Chad said evenly.

"Couldn't. Churned up." She folded her stockinged legs beneath her and stared at the fire. Her lacquered toenails shined in the firelight through her nylons. He probably would have gotten up then and there if his dick hadn't stiffened at the sight. Unsure if he could hide it quite as well as in the atrium, he just took another swig of beer.

"Mom and Dad's drama?" he asked.

"No, that I'm kind of used to."

"Then what?"

She didn't know how to begin. She didn't want him to know much she'd been slutted up this semester, but it was gnawing at her and the reality was she didn't have many friends that she could talk to about it. "I've really fucked up this semester," she said.

"Dad was impressed with your grades."

Chad watched her as she chugged half her bottle. "It's not that. It's that I... haven't been very chaste while at school."

"No one is."

"But does everyone feel as empty after?" She chugged the rest of her beer.

"Easy there," he said.

She was beginning to tear up. "I thought that being away from school would help, you know? But lying in bed, I just relive all the mistakes I made, and I realize that it's not something I can run away from."

Chad put his own beer down, placed his arm around her. "That's not true. Whatever happened, you can start again."

She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing. "I don't know if I can. What if I'm just like that? Some dumb slut that's always going to be alone, always be the girl that gets used."

As she pressed against him, her nylon covered legs brushed against him. He wanted more than anything to comfort his hurt sister, and yet his body was reacting to hers. He put his hand onto her leg, and feeling the material was like an electric charge buzzing through his arm. He'd thought his dick was hard already, but now it was becoming painfully so.

He focused as best he could. "It's okay, Jess--it's okay."

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me," she said.

"Come on--nothing's wrong with you," Chad said, rubbing her back. Despite himself, he felt that she hadn't any bra on beneath her T-shirt.

Jess was fighting a losing battle to contain herself. It was all coming out now. "I just want to be loved, you know? I mean, it's normal for a girl to like sex, right? Why can't it be with someone who, you know, gives a shit about me?"

"I care about you," Chad said dumbly. His hand continued to rub her knee. He breathed her in--she wasn't even wearing perfume and she still smelled amazing, like something mixing the sweetness of honey and the cleanness of linen. He'd never noticed it before, but then they'd never hugged this long either.

The beers made everything feel less real. The firelight helped as it played over her long legs, the nylon's sheen making them look inhumanly perfect. The snow was already accumulating on the decks, and added to the sense of isolation. The otherworldliness felt real, as if he was someplace where normal rules didn't apply.

In the days to come, Jessica would think about what happened next, and how it had changed everything.

She felt something brushing against her leg. She was no lightweight, but pounding a whole beer in a minute still made her head swim. She felt less in control, more like she was simply reacting to stimulus.

How many times had this happened to her previously while over at a guy's apartment? Feel, reach, stroke. It's what sluts like her had been trained to do. Without thinking, she reached down to feel what it was.

It was her brother's hard cock, bulging through his khakis. Automatically, she rubbed it twice lengthwise before remembering herself, and pulling back.

Yet it was too late. Whatever precipice Chad had been balancing on, feeling her touch his cock had tipped him. He kissed her full on the mouth then.

Jessica's slut past caught up with her again, and her mouth opened for Chad's probing tongue. The beer on his breath tasted sweet to her, as it had so many times before with so many other boys.

His hands felt her ass. If he'd still been capable of stopping before, feeling that she wasn't wearing panties beneath her hose made what was about to happen inevitable.

Chad thought about seeing his mother's pantyhose draped on the deck chair. The thought that she didn't bother with underwear while wearing pantyhose had seemed so sickening then. Now it made finding his sister did the same thing all the more hot--like mother, like daughter.

He pushed her down on her back, then laid on top of her. Her shirt hitched up, and he saw that the hose she was wearing were sheer-to-waist. She was exposed, unprotected, the only thing hidden from view was her pussy itself behind a cotton panel. It wouldn't be hard to tear through.

Looking up at him, it was a familiar position for Jess, finding herself on a couch and suddenly a guy positioning himself between her legs on top of her.

His hips pinned hers. He was still kissing her, and Jessica could feel his dick pressing against her through his pants and her hose.

She broke the kiss. "No, don't," she said. Yet just as in far too many apartments that she'd found herself in the semester before, the words came out almost beckoning--long and whispered, almost coyly--instead of a short, sharp command for him to stop.

"No," she said again, and it surprised her it came out in the same hushed whisper. She had to be afraid or embarrassed of waking mom and day. That had to be it. It couldn't be that she wanted this, like she'd wanted the other men. "Please don't do this."

"I need this," he said in a baritone so deep it could have been a wolf growling over a fresh kill. Then he pressed his mouth again to hers, stabbing his tongue into her mouth. She tried to turn her head away from him, but his mouth followed hers. Again she found herself responding, her tongue cautiously meeting his.

She was amazed how warm his hand felt as it stroked her legs, then ran up towards her crotch. He rubbed her pantyhose directly over her pussy.

Despite herself, her body responded. The warm need of his stroking hand was met with a rush of wet need at her pussy. She felt disgusted with herself--why was she doing this? Yet there was just something about unyielding male need that made her want to submit to it.

Chad wasn't stopping. She looked down to see that he had freed his dick from his pants. In the firelight, she could see its thickness. It seemed to get even bigger as it touched her pantyhosed leg. Through her nylons, it felt hotter than his hand.

Seeing her brother's cock made it all both more and less real. What was coming was obvious, and yet it still stunned her.

He tore the crotch of her pantyhose. She felt how exposed she was for only a second before he leaned down, placing his dick's shaft directly on the top of her hairless entrance. The warmth of it made her even wetter.

"Oh my God," she breathed. He shifted, angled himself at her. Her young tightness made for some resistance as he shifted, angling the head of his cock to her slit. A slow, hard push and he was inside her.

She gasped, and looked up at his face. Firelight flickered across it. His eyes were dark, intense, focused on her as though there was nothing else in the world. His teeth were bared as he felt a pleasure so intense he instinctively tried to resist it.

Her brother through the crazed haze of his own lust studied his sister in the instant of that first, penetrating thrust. Her eyes were soft, looking at him with almost wonder. Her lips were parted as though moaning silently.

"Oh my God," she said again. "You're fucking me."

The wrongness of feeling her brother's warm hardness stretching her... it heightened the pleasure. She tried to fight it, but it was rising in her too fast. She was so wet now--probably soaking the couch cushions she realized. A moan rose from her.

Chad's hand quickly covered her mouth. "No--Mom and Dad can't know that I'm raping my sister."

Raping. Yes, she was being raped, wasn't she? So it wasn't her fault. She shouldn't fight what she was feeling--she couldn't. She wasn't responsible. And freeing herself from any control, it somehow seemed to free her mind to give into what her body already decided it enjoyed. She nodded that she understood and he removed his hand from her mouth.

He thrust deep into her, an electric pleasure running through his cock. Christ, she was tight. "We're fucking, Jess," he whispered. "I'm fucking my sister through her pantyhose."

Her legs wrapped themselves around his ass, trapping him. It gave him better access to her too. "We shouldn't be doing this, Chad. We shouldn't be fucking through my pantyhose," she said, mirroring his comment.

"I don't care we shouldn't be fucking--I need to get this out of me," he said.

"Do you like fucking your sister through her pantyhose?" she asked, noticing the slight, pleasurable wince he gave at the word's mention.

"Yes--yes, I need this," he said. He began to thrust faster and faster.

"You need to fuck me through my pantyhose?"

"Yes--you can't stop me. You're so fucking wet--you don't even want to stop me."

"I can't stop you, Chad. Whenever you want to fuck your sister through her pantyhose, she can't stop you." He pumped her faster, and at the thought that she could be used by him whenever he wanted, she felt an orgasm begin to rise. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum, Chad. My brother is making me cum, my brother is making me cum," she repeated again and again, the phrase becoming a crazed mantra beckoning her climax.

It beckoned Chad's climax too. He'd been fighting it, wanting to make the moment last, but hearing his sister say that he was making her cum had tripped some switch.

She began to buck against him as she came, even as he started to feel his cum load boil over inside his balls and begin racing up his cock.

The pleasure consumed him, but there was still some part of his mind's intelligence functioning, could still distantly process consequences. It was that part of him that both made him cover her mouth as she began to scream as her orgasm broke into her, and pull his cock from her before he came.

It was a close thing, however, the tip of his head began to shoot his seed thickly onto her pantyhose covered abdomen a split second after he pulled out. Jerking his dick, the white of his cum contrasted sharply against her jet black nylons. Some of it shot further, up beyond her hose's waistband and onto her hiked up T-shirt.

The sensation that had begun with his exploding cock tip had torn through the rest of his body, and in that moment there was nothing except the amazing pleasure he felt. But as it passed, his intelligence began to reassert itself. His normal self--it was hard to know then if this was the real him, or if he'd been his real self the instant before while inside Jess--looked down at his sister.

Her face sweating in the firelight, cum all over her, hose torn, his slick cock lording over the entire scene.

A wave of disgust washed over him. He'd gone from nicely buzzing to feeling more sober than he ever had in his life. "Oh God, Jess, I am so sorry," he said, quickly pushing his dick into his pants as spare drops of semen fell onto the couch.

Jess looked up to him, amazed at how quickly the lust in his eyes had shifted to embarrassment, self-loathing, and concern for her. For her own part, she didn't know what to feel. The storm of her orgasm had passed, all that was left now for her was the shock of what had caused it, and how to deal with the destruction that might have been left in its wake.

"Chad--" she began, but he cut her off.

"Don't look at me, Jess. There's something wrong with me. I have this fetish--this stupid, disgusting fetish."

"Pantyhose?" she asked. She'd never known, which amazed her considering how close she thought the two of them were.

He winced at that. "I've had it forever. I'm so fucked up. I need help. I'm just--I'm just so sorry," he said, before turning to leave the room, his head in his hands.

She lay there, still in shock as she heard him race up the stairs to his bedroom.

Jessica picked herself off the couch, the world seemed to sway beneath her. Unthinking, she flipped over the cushion so the cum stain wouldn't be obvious. Outside, the snow continued to fall in large, wet flakes. Everything was so silent.

She walked slowly up over to the kitchen bathroom, then looked at herself in the mirror.

She was a mess. Runs in her hose from the tear Chad had made ran down her legs. Her shirt was wet with his spunk. She could smell his seed on her as she wiped it off. Her hair was tangled.

She should be angry at him, she knew. She wasn't, though. He felt bad, afterwards. She almost wondered if she should check on him except that would have probably just made him feel worse. He had a need, had probably been fighting it for all his life, and together they had managed to inadvertently set it off. 

And yes, they had done it together, even if she had only become an accomplice at his initiation. It had been easy in the moment to shirk off responsibility on Chad, but the reality was that she could have yelled for help. She could have said no forcefully. She could have fought him. But she hadn't. Why not? Chad had ran away talking about what was wrong with him, but in the bathroom's harsh light, she began to wonder what was wrong with her.

And worse yet... her heartbeat was still pumping fast. It had felt good. It had felt really good being with him.

She looked at her face. How many times had she looked at herself like this, wondering how she'd allowed herself to get used by some asshole. This time was different, at least. Chad wasn't an asshole. He loved her. The fact that he did had been obvious their whole lives, including when he'd just ran out of the room in shame.

And then she saw it, an elegant solution to the problem of good sex without love. What shocked her wasn't just that the thought, so taboo just twenty minutes earlier, crossed her mind, but that it seemed reasonable to heal the hurt she was carrying in her, and also the pain she now saw that her brother had in him.

She took off her shirt, looked at her body wearing only the torn hose. 

Yes, Jessica decided, she could get used to this. Hell, she could even love it.

***

December 23

"What the fuck is this?" Chad asked as he entered the kitchen. 

"Coffee. Want some?" Jess asked. She was holding a mug, but the way she said it sounded suggestive, as if she were talking less about espresso and more about what was on her legs. She wore the same T-shirt as last night, but had on a fresh pair of coffee colored nylons underneath.

"Why are you wearing those?"

"Chad, everything is okay," she said with a smile. "Just relax."

No, it wasn't. Shame made even the sight of her painful. Seeing her in pantyhose? It practically made him suicidal after what he had done.

Chad looked over her shoulder out the kitchen window. It was still coming down hard, and would continue for the better part of today and tomorrow. Barely after dawn, the snow looked blue in the uncertain morning light. He wondered about getting his father's Hummer. It had a plow mounted on the front during the winter. He wondered if he could get away from here in it. Being stranded in a snow drift at this point was a risk he was willing take.

He turned to leave, but Jess grabbed his arm. "Chad, stop. We need to talk."

"No, we need to forget it."

"You fucked me last night, Chad. You fucked your own sister." The bluntness of the comment stunned him. He winced, wondering if despite the house's enormous size, their parents might hear. It was then that she put her arms around him, pressed her body against his, and looked him hard in the eye. "And I liked it."

He stared at her. "You're fucking insane," he said, beginning to push her away.

As usual, he had worn soccer shorts and a T-shirt to sleep. She drew up one of her pantyhosed legs, pressing it against his bare thigh. "You liked it too, Chad. Don't pretend that you didn't. I have the proof on my T-shirt. And on a ruined pair of hose up in my room as well."

"Look, I'm sick, and I think you're sick now too." His dick was getting hard, but after his weakness last night, he wasn't giving in again. He gently pulled her arms off him.




A Family's Christmas Stockings



"Maybe," Jess said. "Maybe you did infect me with whatever you were feeling, like a virus. I like it, though. I feel like we can both give each other what we need."

"What we both need is major counseling and probably a ton of pills," Chad said.

"No, what we both need is to be loved. Accepted for what we are. To feel good without feeling any shame. There's no reason we can't give each other that."

"How about we're related and it's wrong?"

"We already crossed that line last night, Chad. The question now is what we do going forward. I know what your problem is. I read all about fetishism online last night. I know you want to wear them. It's okay. I want you to have that. I want to give you that happiness. I want us to wear them together while we give each other love," Jessica said.

Chad felt dizzy. His dick was hard in his shorts, and his face felt warm. What planet had he woken up on this morning? It certainly didn't feel like the real world anymore.

Jess smiled, looking at his soccer shorts as his cock bulged through the light material. "Come on, big brother. I can tell you want to."

Before he could even think to answer, they heard footsteps approaching. Chad quickly sat at the breakfast table to hide his erect cock while Jess went back to sipping her coffee.

"Hey, guys," their father said.

"Morning, Daddy," Jess chirped. Chad grunted a greeting.

"Spill something on yourself?" Gene asked absently as he went to the espresso machine.

Jessica looked down at her cum stained T-shirt. "Yeah, when I was foaming some milk for my coffee." Her delivery was perfectly nonchalant even as her face turned red. She winked at her brother who at that moment would not have been surprised if lightning from heaven hit the house.

Gene quickly grabbed some coffee as he turned on the radio. Jess sat down next to Chad at the breakfast table. The announcer said that the governor had declared a state of emergency. The National Guard was being called up to assist as power outages swept some areas.

"With all that going on, I don't think plowing these country roads is going to be a priority for the next week," Gene said grimly.

"So we're really trapped here?" Chad asked. Beneath the table, Jess rubbed her stockinged foot against Chad's ankle.

"Don't worry. We have supplies and a backup generator, if it comes to it," Gene said. He announced that he'd already did one pass of the driveway with the Hummer's plow early this morning, and was going to do another now, trying to keep ahead of the accumulation. Their father may have been afraid of life, but he certainly wasn't afraid of hard work, as long as he could stay on the property.

"Need some help, Dad?" Chad asked, leaving Jess at the breakfast table.

Outside, the temperature hovered in the teens. The snow kept coming as the wind whipped plumes of it up off of drifts. It was slow going with the plow over their half-mile driveway, but Chad was grateful to be outside. It felt easier to forget.

An hour into it, however, he started getting Jessica's texts.

"It's nice and warm in here," the first read. "Why not come back in."

He ignored it. "You can't stay out there forever, ya know."

Watch me, he thought. It wasn't much longer after that when the pic texts begin.

"Remember these? Jesus it felt good, didn't it?" read the message, the attached picture being a pair of ruined pantyhose that had to be the ones Jess had been wearing when he had raped her.

Another pic text, this one a selfie in Jess's bedroom mirror. She'd changed from her stained T-shirt to what looked like the button down shirt he'd worn the day before, but the coffee colored hose she wore underneath remained the same. "Mmmmm, I like this look. Can smell you on your shirt, btw."

His erection was becoming painful in his jeans. All the more so because he was sitting next to his father in the Hummer.

Another one, this time with her picking up the front of the shirt. The hose were sheer-to-waist. "You know you'd like to tear through these pantyhose too."

The next was a selfie of her pantyhosed ass. "You got me from the front last time. This is what you'd see tagging me from behind."

He knew he should throw the phone into the snow, or at least turn it off, but the photos... they looked so good.

Yet another, this one of a pair of black pantyhose laying on her bed. "I have a pair that will fit you. Cum on in and try them on."

"Who's blowing up your phone?" his dad asked, taking to plowing as he had to his driving games.

"It's Jessica. Something about her having some trouble jumping on WiFi and wanting me to talk her through it," he lied.

"Well, go on back to the house and give her a hand," Gene said, enough empathy in his voice it sounded like he considered an absence of internet access to be as serious as a heart condition.

He walked back to the house in the snow, the area they'd plowed already covered again. Its lights burned warmly against the absolute white that surrounded him. It was so welcoming. His phone vibrated again in his jeans with another of Jessica's messages.

No picture this time. "Wish you would write me back. We could be so warm in here together." Another followed: "Could be so happy together too."

Inside the house, he could see his mother doing her laps routine in the pool. At the top of the stairs, he found himself turning towards Jessica's room instead of his own. He was trapped here. And he was tired of fighting. All he wanted was to feel good for once. Feel accepted and comfortable with himself.

He didn't knock on the door, just opened it, then kicked it shut behind him. She was sitting on the bed with her phone about to text him another message. She looked up startled, as though she thought he might be angry at her, even hit her.

He walked over to her quickly, and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Jessica tossed her phone aside, wrapped her arms him. He pressed her down on the bed, and it amazed her how right it felt. His hands reached for her pussy. It was already slick through her hose. She'd been thinking about it. "Oh my God, I'm so fucking turned on right now."

He pressed the material against her opening so it became even more moist as she bucked against him. "I am too, little sister."

"Do you want to fuck your kid sister?"

"More than anything."

"Okay, but first you have to put on your pantyhose. I want us to match."

She watched her brother strip, then pick up the black hose she had laid out for him.

"Excited?"

"Was my erect dick a dead giveaway? It'd be my first time wearing them. It feels... like I've been waiting for this so long."

"You're overdue then."

She watched as her brother put on the pantyhose, watched as his nude form's lower half was suddenly encased in the dark material. She could see his cock through the hose he now wore, see it straining to get free already. Straining to enter her, she realized.

He stood up before her. "What do you think?"

"I think you're everything I ever wanted in a man."

Jessica reached out and stroked his dick through the nylon. "Oh fuck," he breathed as she felt his cock, heavy and warm, in her hand. His precum glistened through the hose.

"I can't believe how much I want this in me right now, Chad. How much I want my big brother's dick."

He pressed her down, their hosed legs intertwining. "We're trapped here, sis. Snowed in."

"Will you keep me warm this week?"

"Yes," Chad said, reaching down for her pussy. Instead of a cotton panel at the crotch, these only had a simple, center seam. With a single finger, he pressed into Jessica's pussy, then tore the seam neatly. "Will you give me this pussy whenever I need it?"

"Yes," she whispered. "You can fuck your baby sis's pussy whenever you want. It's what I'm here for."

"Turn around."

She did as he asked, raising her ass to receive his cock. He pulled down his pantyhose's waistband, freeing his dick. His cock's head pressed into her, and for the second time in twelve hours, he was fucking his sister.

She turned around so that she could see the look on his face. "Do you like it, Chad? Fucking baby sister?"

"Christ yes," he said.

"We need sex, the both of us. We should give it to each other. That's what families do, right? Help each other?"

"Yes," Chad said again, almost mindlessly. The slick tightness of his pussy combined with wearing hose for the first time made him feel as though he might cum at any second. He wanted to pace himself accordingly, but Jess wasn't having it. She jammed herself against him in quick succession.

Chad slapped her pantyhosed ass at that. The pain heightened her own pleasure, subsumed her even more into the role of her brother's slut. She ran with it: "Girls my age just want to fuck."

"Yes," Chad said mindlessly.

"We love getting our pussies filled. But if we're not careful, we'll fuck guys that don't love us. Isn't that terrible?"

"Terrible," he groaned, holding onto her nylon covered hips for dear life.

"So it's also a big brother's job to give baby sister's sex so she doesn't go slutting around."

"Yes," Chad agreed mindlessly. "You should only slut for someone that loves you."

"And you love me, don't you, Chad? Love your baby sister?

"I love you, baby sister."

"But it's not just me that needs to cum. Big brothers need to cum too." The filth spilling from her mouth surprised her. She and the other boys she'd fucked had barely spoken during sex. But by breaking so profound a taboo, some other part of herself she never knew was there had also broken free. It was predatory, unsatisfied by ordinary sex, reveled in whatever could be perverted, and was willing to do whatever it took to get these new yearning met.

Chad was being infected with something similar. "They need to cum even more than their sisters, college boys being so horny," he said, pounding her even harder.

"That's right," Jessica groaned. "And whenever my big brother needs pantyhose sex, he needs to come to me. Whenever you just want to wear them and be jerked off, you come to me. You want your cock sucked through them, you come to me. Do you understand, brother? Only me."

His dick throbbing inside her, Jessica was the center of his universe. "I understand. This is the only pussy I want."

"Don't pull out this time, Chad. Shoot your cum into my pussy. Every single fucking drop."

He gripped her nyloned ass hard. "Can't get baby sister pregnant." He almost came at every word he grunted.

Something inside her stirred at the thought of her brother fucking her pregnant. "Stop thinking, just let it go! All of it, all your seed, just fucking empty it into my pussy, Chad." 

"Oh fuck, I can't hold it anymore!"

She was shouting now, so in the moment she didn't even think to be quiet. "Don't hold it, baby! Your sister wants all of it! Every drop you've got in that babymaker of yours - give it to me!"

He cursed, gripping her hips and jamming himself deep as he could inside her pussy, pouring all his cum into her womb. The sensation made Jessica buck even harder against her brother's spurting cock, and she came as the raging jet of his seed pumped into her. At the moment of her orgasm, she insanely thought about how she wished they had more siblings.

As her climax detonated from her pussy and rolled in a wave over the rest of her body, she felt the wonderful warmness of her brother's cum inside her. It made her feel complete. She knew she wanted to feel this warmth again and again. She was about to tell him after he pulled out and they lay together, whispering in their hose.

But then their father walked in.

***

Gene Holloway sat in his media room. The start screen for one of his shooter games was on the screen, its dramatic, military intro music rumbling through the room's speakers. But for once in what seemed like forever, he couldn't concentrate on the game, couldn't even get himself to press "start". Sipping at a rock glass of Johnny Walker Blue, what he had seen that morning had been burned into his memory, and it kept replaying in his mind again and again.

He'd sent Chad back in to deal with the supposed Wi-Fi problem, he'd managed to get the Hummer stuck in a snow bank. When Chad hadn't responded to his texts, Gene had walked back to the house to get him.

Passing his wife as she was getting out of the pool, she'd seemed impressed that he was doing something active in the real world.

"Helluva storm. I think it's getting worse. I'm going to go get Chad--need him to help me push the Hummer free. Have you seen him?" he'd asked.

"I think he went upstairs."

Jessica's room was at the crest of the stairs, and as he came onto the second floor, he'd heard some commotion in her room. It sounded like she was in pain.

It had happened so quickly, he hadn't been thinking to even knock--all he could imagine was that she'd managed to cut herself badly with a broken perfume bottle or maybe slip on her bathroom's tile floor. Things that would have been bad but manageable in ordinary weather when a medic could get here quick enough, but would have been life-ending now because the storm had cut them off.

Opening the door, he'd seen everything. His son was still inside his daughter. He'd been fucking her from behind. Their bodies were covered in sweat. The room reeked of sex. And they'd both been wearing pantyhose, and nothing else. In a way, that was the most unreal thing, a perverse detail that his mind kept latching onto.

They'd looked at him as he had rushed in in stunned, horrified silence. The shocked looks on their faces must have mirrored his own.

He hadn't said anything. What the hell could he have said? Nothing in all his years of being a parent had prepared him for this. Like the programs he'd once created, he lived his life assuming that reality ran within certain parameters. What he'd seen--his son and daughter having incestuous, fetishistic sex--was so far outside those parameters he could barely wrap his mind around it.

Gene had backed away slowly as though he'd accidently come across a murder scene, and closed the door behind him. He walked blankly downstairs, passing his wife as she finished toweling herself off by the pool.

"Oh, did you find Chad?" she'd asked.

"Yes," he'd said robotically.

"Are you guys going to be able to dig out the Hummer?"

"No. I just need to think."

She'd looked at him, wondering why he was acting so strangely. "What's wrong, Gene?"

"Nothing. Just need to think."

For a moment, she'd thought he was going to head to his all too infrequently used study, and she wondered if this was the moment when he would break out of his funk, create something amazing again. Perhaps that's what he'd meant by needing to think.

But instead, he'd turned down the stairs to the basement media room, and she'd felt her blood boil.

In the hours since, though, he hadn't played. He just kept turning the image of his children fucking in their pantyhose.

What had made them do it? He honestly wished he understood. He wondered how long it had been going on. And even though he felt disgusted, he couldn't deny the scene's power.

Their bodies were both young and firm and beautiful. Both had taken pride in their appearance growing up. Along with exercise, good genes had made that easy for them.

But it had to be more than just their bodies. He'd seen them both swimming in the pool before. And he could find attractive people to watch fuck online whenever he wanted.

No--it was the wrongness of what he'd seen that was so compelling. It had been wrong on so many levels. And it made him feel more alive than he had in the decade he'd been hiding here in the house.

Part of it was the pantyhose. What the fuck was it about them? His wife and daughter wore them a lot, and while he liked the look of nice legs as much as any straight male, he'd never looked at nylon-specific porn. 

Maybe it just added more wrongness. His daughter wearing them... and his son. It sickened him thinking about it. It sickened him too that it made him hard replaying it in his mind's eye while he sipped his scotch.

It was late afternoon now. He'd never bothered going back out for the Hummer, and by now with the amount of snow that had fallen since the morning, there was probably no point even trying now. But he had left the media room once today. To go to his daughter's room.

He had watched them on the internal cameras off-and-on during the day, studying their interactions, saw them sitting in the living room by the fire. They had dressed, although Jess was still in a skirt, still wearing coffee colored hose. Gene wondered if they were the same ones that her brother had fucked her in. He wondered if he was wearing his under his jeans and socks.

They had been holding one another. They looked sad or fearful. It hurt him seeing them like that.

He would have expected though if they had been truly ashamed they would have hidden not just from their father, but from each other. Instead, they held each other. From time to time, Jess would kiss him tenderly on the neck, and Chad would rub her pantyhose clad legs.

While they had been in the living room, Gene had found himself taking the back staircase up to the second floor, found himself going into his daughter's room, found himself going through her drawers until he found where she kept her stockings. It felt like another person was doing all these things, including pulling out a black pair similar to the ones that his son had been wearing, and then slipping back down to the media room. He could always blame it on the scotch.

He downed the rest of his drink, then held the hose noticing how his hands looked transformed beneath the semi-opaque material.

His daughter was almost as tall as he was. Gene was a trim guy. They'd probably fit him, he realized. And then... his dick could be held tightly in the material. Right where the hose had previously been rubbing against his daughter's pussy.

The scotch made him feel warm, reckless. The door was closed, but there wasn't a lock on it. Oh well--it wasn't like his kids had standing to say jack shit to him about being perverted. And he had a feeling Rachael probably wouldn't waste her time coming down here--yesterday's confrontation had been an aberration set off by the kid's impending arrival. As long it was nothing about the kids, he was safe down here.

He took off his pants, feeling vaguely ridiculous but the alcohol helped quiet his ego.

They were a little tight on him, but that only seemed to heighten the sensation. They hugged his balls and his ass. He felt bizarrely sexy. Gene could understand now why his son would be turned on wearing them.

His dick was hard in them. He began to stroke it, imaging the scene of his kids fucking. His cock became all the harder as he imagined himself in the scene. Precum was beginning to stain the material. It shimmered even in the media room's subdued lighting. He moaned.

He barely noticed it through his half-opened eyes, but his wife had come into the living room, was now talking to Jess and Chad. Rachael's legs looked nice and tan in the hi-def image in the screen's corner. Wearing suntan pantyhose, no doubt. His own experiment in paraphilia making him more noticing of these things.

She looked agitated in the video feed, but before he could cut on the sound, she was already leaving the room. His pantyhosed dick in his hands, he didn't have time to switch the view to see where she was going, but he figured it out when he heard the upstairs door open.

"Gene, do you know what's wrong with the kids? They're acting as if someone killed their puppy or something."

Terrific. Pointless trying to hide--no time. And three glasses of scotch in, having seen his children fuck, and being cut off from civilization in a monster blizzard, he didn't really give a damn if she saw him.




A Family's Christmas Stockings



When she came down the stairs, he stood up for her to see.

"Hi," he said casually.

Gene's was still wearing his shirt, but she saw that his legs were encased in black nylons. Her eyes immediately settled on his cock, the dark material barely holding it back. "What the hell, Gene?"

"Do you like my new look? It's very popular these days, I've learned."

"What's wrong with you?" she said, sounding less angry than genuinely concerned. "Come on, get dressed. Don't let the kids see you like this."

He laughed at that.

"What so funny?" Rachael asked, annoyed.

"Where do you think I learned to dress like this?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Rachael said, the worry palpable on her face.

He walked over to her. Buzzed as he was, emotionally screwed up as he was, he didn't feel like he could betray his children's dark secret to their mother.

But he needed to do something to get what he was feeling out. He had been planning on having it spill onto his hand as he jerked off in his hose. Now his wife was here, though.

He walked up to her. "Feel me in these," he said.

"Have you been drinking?" This wasn't like Gene at all.

"That isn't what's driving this," he whispered, putting his arms around her.

"Stop," she said.

"No." He rubbed his legs against hers. "Look. We match."

She pushed away from him. "I said stop."

"And if I don't, where are you going to run to?" he asked with a smirk, starting to rub his nylon-clad dick against her leg.

Her heartbeat suddenly was jackhammering. The look in his eye was nearly deranged with lust. It was terrifying and yet... somewhat familiar. The man she had married had been passionate and possessive. Intense. He hadn't taken no for an answer, either from work or from her. It had only been in the absence of his strength over the last decade that she had become more willful.

So she recognized some of her old husband in this crazed, pantyhose wearing pervert standing before her. Except his passion somehow seemed more warped. It scared her.

"Gene, I think you need to settle down," she said, trying to push away more gently this time.

One of his hands went to her throat, and gave it a strong squeeze. The other reached beneath her skirt. "Oh look. You're not wearing panties. Another thing we have in common."

The throat grab was both alarming and yet she suddenly felt more docile. What was happening to her? "Don't," she whispered. She'd left the upstairs door open. Strangely, if she was going to be raped she didn't want the kids knowing about it by crying for help. Rachael had no idea her daughter had faced a similar choice the night before, and made a similar decision to be quiet.

Gene placed more force on her throat, pushing her down onto the carpeted stairs. She resisted kissing him, be but he forced his tongue into her mouth. With his other hand, he popped a hole in her nylons.

"Look at how wet you are, Rachael. See? Daddy knows best."

She was wet, she realized. Something about the perversity of the scene and also his unyielding male intent, so absent these last several years. It was strangely exciting.

Him wanting to be called "Daddy" was a bridge too far though. Incest wasn't her thing. "You can fuck me, but I'm not calling you daddy," she said.

He applied more pressure to her throat. "You may not be able to say anything in a moment."

Her vision began to darken slightly at the edges before his grip, though still firm on her, slackened. Gasping, she felt strangely docile, responding to this show of dominance by submitting to it.

He kept massaging her pussy through her hose. "Doesn't that feel good, baby girl?"

She looked in his face, those madly yearning eyes. She knew what he wanted her to say. And she was surprised how much she now wanted to say it too. "Yes, Daddy. It feels very good."

He grunted at hearing her call him by the name. "Daddy needs to be inside your pussy, baby girl."

Obediently, she reached out, felt his cock in his black hose. "I want that too, Daddy. I want your nice dick in my pussy."

"My nice pantyhose dick, you mean?"

Christ, she was wet. Even being corrected was a turn on, brought her more into whatever fetishistic world he now existed in. "Yes, Daddy, your nice pantyhose dick. I want it in my pantyhose pussy, please."

He pushed his finger into her slit. He felt how slick she was. She reached up and pulled down the waistband of his pantyhose, freeing his dick. "Do it, Daddy. Fuck me."

He hiked up her skirt, and then pushed in.

She gasped at the initial penetration, and wrapped her suntan hose-covered legs around his nyloned ass. "Oh, Daddy," she said.

"I need my little girl's pussy," Gene said. "I need it so bad."

"Your little girl's pantyhose pussy," Rachael corrected, and took pleasure in seeing Gene respond to her use of the word.

He pushed harder and faster into her. "Do you like being filled by Daddy?"

"I like it so much, getting my hose nice and torn like a bad girl by Daddy."

"Daddy is going to fuck you like this from now on, with us dressed the same way--do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy--I want us to dress the same," Rachael said. "I want us to dress in matching hose and then have you fuck my tight, little girl pussy. I want you to fill it with your cum. I want you to use your little girl for pantyhose sex any time you need it, Daddy. Oh fuck me, fucking just shoot your cum in me, Daddy!"

Gene was pushing into her faster and faster, his eyes closed, letting the feeling wash over him as he could feel his orgasm begin to erupt at the base of his balls. At his cum load began shooting up through his dick, he opened his eyes.

She didn't see it, so focused she was on pleasing her husband, but at Gene saw Jess and Chad standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs. His children, watching him and their mother fucking in their pantyhose.

They had looked so dejected earlier, but now they were both smiling at him knowingly. Both had their hands at their crotches, masturbating themselves through their clothes.

Gene kept looking in his children's faces as he shot his cum load into their mother. Seeing how happy his children looked down on him, and feeling his wife's pussy take in his seed so greedily, it felt so good and liberating. He realized that whatever had gotten into him--and into his children too--during this storm, that there was no stopping it. He couldn't wait to see where it led next.

***

December 24

Rachael woke up alone, which surprised her. Gene had taken her to bed after their tryst on the media room's stairs, and he'd fucked her twice more before she'd passed out, exhausted. She'd expressed some concern about turning in so early, not having put anything out for them to eat. 

But Gene had simply said, "I'm sure Jess and Chad will find some way to amuse themselves," before grabbing Rachael by her hair, and pushing her face down to clean the cock that had so recently cum again in her pussy.

It had been nice having her old, passionate Gene back. She wondered if he would stay, or if this was just something created by the isolation of the storm. She'd gladly call him Daddy and keep him well-stocked in pantyhose if it meant that it would continue.

She checked the alarm clock--a little after midnight on Christmas Eve. It hadn't really felt much like Christmas yet, between fighting with Gene, getting ready for the storm, and the kids seeming so... off. But in the warmness of their bed, feeling so loved and protected, it felt to Rachael that there was a little bit of that Christmas spirit in the air.

So where was her man now?

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and sent a text: "Hey, where's my pantyhose daddy??"

Almost instantly, she heard the message alert ping on his cell phone. Turning on the light, she saw Gene had left his phone on the nightstand. She picked up and, being a wife, couldn't resist looking at his phone. Gene readily admitted to being so boring that he never even bothered with a passcode for his phone. 

It was for the most part as she'd expected. Hardly any texts except from her, usually asking him to do something while he was busy playing video games downstairs. But she did see a curious exchange between her husband and daughter around midnight.

"Yr mother's asleep. Let's talk," the exchange had begun by Gene.

"Talk about what?" had come Jess's response.

"You know. Meet me downstairs."

"Should I invite Chad?"

"Not this time but you can tell him what we're doing."

"Ok :)"

Kind of weird, Rachael thought. Maybe they were wrapping presents? That... didn't really seem to make sense, especially given the ominous "Let's talk" intro. Maybe there was a reason why Chad and Jess had looked so down when she'd found them in the living room this afternoon? Maybe Gene knew and was trying to deal with it while not troubling her with whatever it was? That seemed more plausible.

She was still wearing her suntan hose, and nothing else. There were cum stains on it. She decided against changing into a fresh pair though. It was fun feeling dirty at Christmas, being such a naughty girl.

Gene and Rachael's master suites took up the second floor's west southern side, was the only bedroom that allowed both an exterior view of the surrounding mountains on the one side, and a balcony overlooking the pool. She slipped on a silk robe, and opened the balcony door. No one in the pool. No obvious rumbling of the media room's speakers.

She walked down the upstairs hall. The hallway itself had doors on either side -- those rooms facing the atrium, and those looking outside. Both Jess and Chad had outside bedrooms, and both of their rooms were dark, the doors ajar.

Okay, now she was feeling weird. Where the hell was everybody?

Rachael crept downstairs. Not seeing anyone in the kitchen or living room, she went down to the media room.

"If he left me in the middle of the night so he could play Medal of Honor, I'll fucking strangle him with his pantyhose," she said under her breath, but she found it empty.

Deciding that this was getting ridiculous, she turned up the media room's security cam feed. A quicker way to find out where everyone was than searching the entire damn mansion.

She cycled through views before she found them in the gym. And she didn't believe what she saw.

Her husband and daughter were fucking in their pantyhose. That was the brutal truth of what she saw, and it struck her like lightning.

She watched as they moved together, her daughter's darkly hosed legs wrapped around the ebony hose-encased ass of her husband. They had left the gym's lights off, but the camera's night vision view saw all. Looking at them from above , it was amazing the detail she could make out as he pounded his dick into her. The sweat glistening on them was as easily seen in the video feed as the fact that the seam of Gene's pantyhose was off-center with his ass crack.

Rachael couldn't help but watch, unbelieving. She inadvertently hit the control's audio, and suddenly she could hear them too.

"--oh my fucking God, Daddy, you're so deep inside me!" Jess's voice came in Dolby digital surround sound.

"Oh, I love fucking my little girl slut!"

"Do I make your Daddy-cock feel good?"

"Fuck, yes."

"I love making my family's dicks feel good."

"Like you did your brother's?" Gene asked.

"Yes, Daddy. His cum is still in my pussy. Can you feel it? Is it making me feel extra wet to you?"

"Yes, baby. I can feel all your brother's semen in your pussy, rubbing against my Daddy dick. It feels so fucking good."

"I loved watching you fuck Mommy on the stairs today," Jessica said. 

"You're a pantyhose wearing slut just like her."

"I know--and I love it! Are you going to pump me full of your cum like you did her?"

"Yes, baby--I... don't think I can hold it much longer."

"Then don't--just let go, Daddy! I want to feel the babymaker that gave me life shooting off in my pussy, nice and bareback! Do it, Daddy! Fucking cum in my pussy!"

And Rachael watched as her husband did, making the exact same grunts and saying the exact same curses as when he'd emptied his balls into her.

As their labored breaths could be heard while the two lovers--father and daughter--laid together on the couch, Rachael began to step back, her hand covering her mouth as if to suppress a scream.

Her mind reeled, but nothing she had just seen had prepared her for what was next.

"Hey, Mom," Chad's voice called from behind her.

She turned to see Chad standing on the stairs. He was wearing black, cum stained pantyhose. Just like his father's.

"Chad, oh my God, what the fuck is going on? Why are you wearing those?"

"I guess I may as well tell you, Mom. It's probably your fault anyway," he said, walking down the steps towards her.

"What are you talking about?"

"I've always had a fetish about nylons, Mom. I can't remember but it's probably because you were always wearing them. I mean, damn, you're even wearing them right now under your robe."

This was insane. "Then I'm sorry, Chad! I had no idea. I'll stop."

He snapped the waistband of his hose. "Doesn't it look like we're a little past that point now, Mom? Anyway, the whole pantyhose thing really fucked up a lot of my relationships. Hard finding a girl that'd be that into a guy wearing them, right? But then it turned out Jess was looking for someone that would love her unconditionally, and loving me unconditionally, she had no problem indulging my fetish."

"Jesus Christ, you guys really had sex?"

"Yes," Chad said. "She wasn't just talking about my cum inside her to get Dad hot."

"How did your father get involved in this filth?"

"He caught us having sex, Mom. And when he saw us, something switched in his brain. He liked what he saw. He wanted to be part of it. Needed to be. So now he is."

"Chad, sweetheart, you need to listen to me. You all are not well. None of you are. I don't know how this all got into your heads, but you all need some serious professional help."

"Honestly, Mom, I haven't felt this comfortable with myself in my entire life. And did you know how miserable Jess was at college? She was telling me after we fucked tonight that this is the happiest she's been since leaving for out west. And Dad? He'd been a shell of a man, until today. Talk about a Christmas miracle."

Rachael was fighting an increasingly losing battle to keep from becoming hysterical. "You... are all... fucking insane! Do you have any idea what this will mean for our family? There's no coming back from this!"

"I don't think any of us want to come back from this, Mom. If anything, we want to move forward with it." Chad took a couple steps closer to her, his nylon encased feet silent on the carpet. "I'd like you to come with us on this journey."

"No!"

"I guess I've developed another fetish," Chad smiled. "Family. Learned this one from Jess. And as you can tell, Dad has really taken to it. When you think about it, it makes sense, doesn't it? We can all give each other whatever we need while loving each other unconditionally. Doesn't that sound like something you'd want for your family?"

She tried to run past him then, but Chad grabbed her.

"No, Mommy. I need you."

She tried to claw at him, but he grabbed her wrists. He was so much stronger than she was, and easily forced her down onto the carpeted floor.

"When I watched you and Dad fuck, it was so hot. Instructive too. I saw how nice and docile you get when a little force is applied in the right area," Rachael's son said to her before grabbing her throat with both hands.

She tried to fight. Really she did, even as her vision began to blur. Her son was so much more rough than her husband had been. She felt her body becoming more docile and submissive once more.

Leaving one hand on her throat, he yanked open her robe, and began feeling her legs. "These are nice, Mommy, but I think I'd like it even more if we matched. Wouldn't that be nice?"

He applied some pressure on her throat until she answered. "Matching would be nice," she heard herself say.

With his free hand, he began to feel her slit. "You're wet, Mommy, like a good pantyhose slut should be."

She felt herself, just as she did with her husband. Her body responding to certain cues of dominance, giving into the strong man. And her son was so very strong.

He was going to fuck her, she realized. Nothing was going to stop him. Knowing it was inevitable made her placidly compliant. Her muscles relaxed. Her legs spread slightly. There would be consequences to this. What would they be? She had no way of knowing. In the moment, she simply accepted the reality he was creating for her.

Chad leaned and kissed her hard. She responded, moaning in her son's mouth as he kept playing with her clit.

She watched as he pulled down his pantyhose, freeing his dick. It was longer than her husband's if not quite as thick. His hand gave her another choke to her throat, ensuring her compliance. "We're going to fuck now, Mommy, do you understand? I'm going to fuck the pussy now that gave me life."

The pressure on her throat, Rachael realized it felt wonderful. "Do it," she said to her son.

Chad's eyes widened at her words. He licked his lips. Then he brought his dick in close to her pussy. "I've never been so excited in my life," he whispered. And Rachael knew that neither had she.

He first probed the outside of her pussy's lips with his cock until its head was slick. Then he pushed into her slowly, and his mother gasped.

"Oh God!" Rachael moaned.

"That's it, Mommy. Take your son's cock into you."

"It's in me, Chad! It's in so deep." She wrapped her nyloned legs around him. He kissed her breasts and she began pumping his dick into her. "That's it, baby boy. Suck Mommy's tits. Just like old times."

Chad almost came at that comment. "Do you like having your baby boy back inside you, Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I didn't know how much I missed it."

"Do you want your son in you every night?" Chad asked.

Rachael couldn't control the emotions she was feeling anymore, nor the words that spilled from her as she tried to express them. "Yes, I want my son's cock in me every night. I want to be fucked by my son. I want to see him dress up in his pantyhose, and dress me like a slut in mine, and then shoot all of his cum in me. And I want it every fucking night!"

Chad kept pounding his dick into his mother. "That's good, Mommy. Because boys need sex, do you understand, Mommy? So it's right and good that they get it from someone that loves them."

"Yes," Rachael grunted. "I want you to have all the sex you need. I want your father to have all the sex he needs. You can both fill my pussy whenever you want. And I want you both to fill Jessica's too. If being a bunch of incestuous sluts will make our family happy, then this is what I want!" Pledging herself to this ultimate perversion tripped something inside her, and she gasped as she felt an orgasm let loose inside. "Fuck, son, I'm cumming, you're making Mommy cum, you're making Mommy cum so fucking good!"

The joy Chad was feeling at his mother's conversion was only matched by the pleasure arcing up his cock--far too fast. "Fuck, I'm going to cum too, Mommy! I'm cumming in my Mommy's pussy!"

"Do it!" she said, grabbing her son's pantyhosed ass and squeezing so hard she caused runs in the black material. "Mix it in with what your father already gave me! Fucking Christ, son, I want it, I want all of it, fucking fill me with you cum!"

He wouldn't have thought he had very much left after fucking his sister so much, but to Chad's surprise, he felt a torrent flow from his dick. Instinctively, he jammed himself into her as deeply as he could, filling her womb with his seed.

They laid together for a while, looking at each other's faces, so familiar and yet revealing a world so new. "I love you, Mommy," Chad said.




A Family's Christmas Stockings



"I love you too, son," said Rachael.

In their hose, mother and son crept from the media room. The house was dark except for Christmas lights. It was silent except for the wind that continued to howl by the windows.

By the pool, they saw Jessica and her father stalking from the gym towards the upstairs staircase in their hose. They stopped cold at the sight of Rachael and Chad.

This hadn't been some grand plan to seduce his mother that they had all cooked up. Jessica and Gene had thought it would have to be a secret they'd take to their graves. If she hadn't crept out of bed looking for her husband, only to be seen by her son, that's precisely what would have happened.

Chad was about to explain things when Rachael spoke up. "I just had sex with my son. Since we're all having incest now, we should probably talk about what happens next."

***

"What was it like fucking Mom?" Jessica asked her brother.

"Mommy, you mean," Chad corrected with a smile. "It was so intense. I couldn't believe I was doing anything that fucked up. It was very primal. Like I was reclaiming her. Maybe from Dad or something."

"Daddy, you mean," she said.

"Thank you for correcting me. Daddy," he said, as if trying out the word. It tasted strangely good rolling off his tongue. He noticed how, beneath his hose, saying the word had gotten a twinge out of his cock. "What about you? What was it like being fucked by Daddy?"

"Primal would probably be the best word to describe it. Like you did with Mommy, I felt like I was being claimed. Owned. But it also felt very natural. As if I should be giving him sex, as if I'd always wanted to, and only then realized it."

"Maybe it is natural," Chad said. "Maybe this is how things ought to be."

"Well, it certainly is how they're going to be from here on out."

The brother and sister held each other in their nylons beneath the covers. It was late morning now, and they'd just woken up. They'd earned the rest, though. After they had all seen each other by the pool in the middle of the night, the Holloways had discussed their family's future.

It was quite a scene, Jessica had thought, as the four of them had sipped hot chocolate in the kitchen. Mother, father, brother, sister, all together chatting, wearing nothing but their pantyhose.

They were all aroused, talking like this--pretending like this was a normal discussion when nothing was normal, or ever would be again. Their bodies betrayed their arousal, and there was no way to hide it. Gene's and Chad's dicks were both hard beneath their hose. Jessica's and Rachael's nipples were firm as bullets. Their hair was disheveled. Cum was on all their pantyhose. The women's shaved pussies stood exposed in their torn hose. They all reeked of sex.

And each of the Holloway's eyes had looked over one another hungrily. Even the women had studied one another's bodies, not really trying to hide it. The men had glanced at each other more quickly, but each caught the other looking at his cock through their hose.

It was obvious what would be the answer, but the question was still asked: did they want this to continue? Or would it be something that passed with the storm, never to be talked about again?

"We all have to be on the same page here," Gene had said, every bit the strong father. "All of us need to be in, or I don't know if it can continue like this. Chad, what do you say, son?"

He was sitting on the granite countertop, the smooth surface cool against his nylon clad ass. "I've never felt so right about anything in my entire life. For the first time ever, I feel at peace with everything. I want this to continue."

"You also want to keep cumming in your mom and sister's pussies, don't you?" Rachael said, smiling.

"Yeah, there's that too," Chad had said with a laugh.

Gene almost fell over from where he stood at hearing his wife say that. His dick rose in his hose. "Well, it's to you next, Rachael, but I think I can guess."

She sat at the breakfast table, across from Jess. "I feel like whatever's happened to us, it's given some spark to us. I'd felt so sad and adrift for so long." Gene had looked down, knowing that he'd been the cause. "But I don't feel like that anymore," Rachael had said. "I feel so alive. I want this to continue too."

"What about you, Jess?" Gene had asked.

"I feel loved. I don't care if people think it's wrong. The outside world hasn't given me this kind of love--both the sex, and the feeling," she'd said.

"What about you, dear?" Rachael had asked.

"I feel... awake. For the first time in years. I feel so alive, sharing my wife with my son and having my daughter. I feel like there's a fire inside me again. I need this to continue."

"So we're all in agreement," Chad had said.

"We're all going to keep fucking," Rachael said. "But we'll have to keep it a secret," he'd continued. "No one outside the family can ever know."

"I think we're all clear on that, Mom," Jessica had said.

"Not Mom anymore. Mommy," Rachael had said. Her son having called her that had been such a turn on. Telling her daughter to call her that made her wet.

"And you'll both call me Daddy," Gene had said.

Their children had smiled and nodded.

"Do we have any other rules?" Jessica had asked. She rather liked the idea of rules all of a sudden.

"I'd like to volunteer a uniform requirement," Chad had said.

"You mean the pantyhose?" his father had asked. He touched his dick through the pair he was wearing. "Look around the room, son. I think we've all developed that fetish now."

"And it's a special symbol too. If not for Chad's fetish, he wouldn't have fucked me that first night. And if not for that, we wouldn't be together now, as a family." Jessica had looked deeply into her brother's eyes from across the room. "I'm so grateful for his fetish."

"I think a family hosiery uniform would be fun," Rachael had said. "Make our perverted sex even moreso. Jess and I will take care of the shopping in that regard. Can't have you boys buying nylons and having people wonder what goes on at the Holloway house."

Chad beamed at that.

"Then it's agreed--we'll all be nylon wearing sluts," Gene had said happily. "Any other ground rules we need to cover?"

"We give each other what we need, whenever it's needed," his wife had said. "That's this family's main rule from now on."

As Chad and Jess had retreated to his room, Rachael and Gene had gone to theirs. Closing the door, Rachael had asked her husband, "Are we insane? We're fucking our children, Gene."

"Yes, we're fucking our children. And they're fucking each other." He'd put a finger to her lips hushing her, then with the same finger reached for her pussy, and inserted it in. "And we're fucking each other too."

The next morning, Chad and Jess had showered, changed into fresh hose. Her brother tossed her a T-shirt. "Why should I wear this? I feel pretty confident in just hose."

"Because you'll put out someone's eye, your nipples are so firm."

She laughed and put on his MIT T-shirt over her jet black pantyhose. "Here," she said, pulling out a wife-beater from his drawer. "It's important that we match in this family."

"Do you think a white wife-beater goes with suntan pantyhose?"

"It's a nice look," his sister said. "I like the blend of masculine and feminine."

They followed the smell of coffee to their parents in the kitchen. Gene and Rachael were at the breakfast table. Both wearing robes, their pantyhose were obvious on their crossed legs.

"Morning, kids," Gene said.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Mommy and Daddy," Jessica said, getting herself a cup. "Are your robes like wrapping paper? Are you guys our gifts tomorrow?"

Her parents had laughed. "You won't have to wait that long to get us as gifts," Rachael said.

Outside, the skies were still overcast but lighter. The snow still fell, but it wasn't coming down nearly as hard. The storm was finally beginning to slacken. Jessica felt a little sad at the prospect. It was easy to be in here now doing this, all isolated. But what happened when she and Chad went back to school? She didn't want to think about giving up all the wonderful things that her family had together discovered.

"Well, I'm off for a swim," Rachael said, putting down her tablet. "Anyone care to join me?"

"I will," Jess said, wanting to shake the sudden worry about what would happen when classes began again.

"What about you, husband? If you're ditching me to play Xbox after all this, I may kill myself."

Gene laughed. "No, I think that's finally out of my system. Actually, I'd join you, but there's a project I've left alone for too long. Chad, want to come take a look? Maybe some younger, coder's eyes might be able to tell if what I was working on is actually any good. I've been out of circulation so long."

"Sure thing, Daddy," Chad chimed.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd even seen Gene set foot in his study. She kissed him. "Well, you boys have fun exercising your brilliance. Us girls are going to go keep in shape for you."

By the pool, Rachael let her robe fall to the floor, exposing fully the black hose she was wearing underneath. As the night before, she wore nothing else.

"You're not changing into a swimsuit?" Jessica asked.

"You're thinking like your old self. This is now acceptable pool wear." Rachael jumped into the water. "The water's fine." Her mother's wet breasts so prominent, Jessica couldn't help but stare.

Well, when in Rome. Jess shed Chad's T-shirt, and got into the pool wearing only her hose.

"Wow, this feels so different," Jessica said. Her nyloned legs felt strangely insulated in the water--caressed, even--and the water felt amazing on her exposed breasts. "I've never skinny dipped before. Well, if wearing hose in the water still counts as skinny dipping."

"I think it counts," Rachael said. "I'm glad it's just us girls, by the way. I thought some girl time might be nice. Compare notes on the boys." Rachael almost felt like a school girl again talking like this.

"I guess we could compare a lot. We've both had their dicks in us," Jessica said, unable to suppress a grin.

"I think it's special to have both men's cum in us. And I think we have a special obligation to keep them happy."

"How so?" Jessica had already committed herself body and soul to making them all happy.

"What I mean is that I want to keep up the momentum they've got. We know your father was a broken man. But I wonder if Chad wasn't similar. This whole fetish thing must have weighed on him his entire life. He's so smart. If he'd been more comfortable with himself, I wonder if he'd be farther along now."

"Chad pretty much told me it's held him back. He described it kind of like a computer virus running in the background, chewing up memory."

"That's what I want us to protect against with the both of them. They're brilliant, but maybe too easily derailed, too prone to making themselves miserable. I want us to watch them and communicate with each other. Make sure they're never like that again, and if we see them slipping, we work together to fix it immediately."

"I want that too, Mommy. I'll do anything it takes to keep this family happy."

Her daughter's enthusiasm warmed Rachael's heart. "You're a good girl, Jess." Rachael reached to give her daughter a hug.

They embraced. Rachael hadn't thought of it as anything other than a hug, but almost instantly they felt something pass through each other's bodies. Their wet breasts were touching, their firm nipples pushing into one another. Beneath the water, their hosed legs touched.

The hug lingered. Rachael moved her hands down her daughter's narrow back, stopping at the waistband of her hose.

Jessica's hands reached below the water. The men hadn't torn either of the women's new hose this morning. Jessica rubbed her mother's clit through the nylon, the material rubbing against her, heightening Rachael's pleasure.

"Oh my God, Jess. What are we doing?"

"What comes naturally," she said, and then she kissed her mother.

It wasn't as hard or rough as her husband and son had been with her. Jess's tongue was gently exploring, and Rachael's tongue played back.

Now Rachael reached down, and touched her daughter's pussy beneath the water.

"Mommy, you're touching my pussy," she said in a hushed voice.

"There's no need to whisper," Rachael said. "There's nothing to hide anymore, remember?"

"My Mommy is touching her little girl's pussy," Jess said, her voice echoing in through the atrium. "Mommy is touching my needy pussy and it feels so fucking good."

Rachael pressed her finger deeper into her daughter's nylon covered slit. "We're family, Jess, and we said it's our job to pleasure our family. It would be sexist if that only applied to the men, now wouldn't it?"

"Yesssss," Jessica hissed as her mother kept fingering her.

"We're going to fuck now, Jessica. Do you understand? You and Mommy are going to have sex."

"I've never been with a woman before, Mommy."

"It'll come naturally to us, Jessie Girl, just like you said. It'll come naturally as sleeping with your brother and father did."

Rachael led her daughter by the hand to the edge of the pool, then ordered her to sit up on the edge. Rachael stayed in the water. Pushing her daughter's legs wide, Rachael leaned in toward's Jessica's pantyhose covered pussy.

As her mother's tongue met her wet hose, Jessica felt the pleasure break over her. "Oh Christ, Mommy, keep doing that," she said. Rachael obeyed, lapping even harder against Jessica's nylon encased cunt. "Fuck, that feels so good, Mommy. Keep doing it, keep licking my pussy."

Her mother did. Jessica laced her fingers into her mother's soaked hair, and pushed her wet pussy harder into Rachael's face. Beneath the water, Rachael was fucking herself with one of her hands. "Fuck me like Daddy and Chad fucked me, Mommy! I want to be fucked by all three of you all the time! Make me cum, Mommy! I'll do anything just make my pussy cum!"

Rachael was masturbating herself furiously. Tasting her daughter through her nylons, knowing the pleasure that she was giving Jessica, was making Rachael cum too. She licked her daughter's pussy even more intently.

"Oh Mommy, I'm going to cum now, Mommy, I can feel it, I'm going to cum in pantyhose I'm going to cum, oh Christ, my Mommy is making me cum, my Mommy is making me cum, I'm cuuummmmingggg," Jessica screamed.

***

Chad and his father walked into the study. Chad had imagined in the years since he'd last peeked inside his father's study that it had devolved into a dusty, cluttered disaster area worth of being featured on Hoarders.

But no, the place was actually quite Spartan. Books on computers and programming architecture, some of them more up-to-date than Chad would have expected, lined the bookcases. No pictures hung on the walls, the burdened shelves themselves serving as the room's sole decorations. The floor was hardwood, and it felt chilly to Chad in his stockinged feet.

Bare as the place was, the one exception was the large, C-shaped desk at the room's center. Littered on here were piles of notes and diagrams drawn on graph paper. The desk accommodated three CPU towers, each connected to two screens. The flatscreens, six in total, ringed the desk. Along with the large, leather chair, it gave the impression of being a starship's bridge, even if the hardware was a bit dated.

Gene woke up the computers. The screens blinked on. "I've kept working," he said. "Just didn't show anybody. Some of them are just simple games. One builds maps of relationships between IP addresses based on site visits and email contacts, then compiles profiles. So a mix of the silly and the sublime."

"How many programs?" The screen's open windows each held dozens of folders.

Gene shrugged "Couple hundred."

"That many?"

"Being rich means having the time to tinker. I'd usually sneak in here at night when your mother was asleep. I didn't want her to see me working since I couldn't tell if anything I was doing was worthwhile."

Chad hated hearing his father sound so regretful. "Daddy, you didn't have to feel like that."

"I know that now. The past couple days woke me up. Showed me that amazing, exciting things are possible, that if life is a game of chance, maybe they break in your favor because you deserve it. I feel like I can do anything again. Or at least try. That's enough. Just to feel liberated and alive enough to maybe show myself again."

"I like that," Chad said. "Do you want to show me what some of them can do?"

"Yes, but the reason I wanted to talk to you was because I was hoping we could work together. I've got the capital and experience. You've got the fire of youth and the cutting-edge skillset. Maybe you could take some of this stuff I've created and make us even more money with it. Maybe I could buy a house closer to MIT for your mother and me, so you and I could build a business together."

"That would be great," Chad said, leaning over to open some of the folders and see what sorts of things his father had been tinkering on in isolation.

The white light of the snowscape outside was coming in the window. Gene watched as it played on his son, especially his legs. The material had a slight gloss, and it caught the muted white light nicely.

He kept looking at his son. There was something compelling in the pantyhose and tank top T-shirt he wore--some blend of the masculine and feminine. Looking down at himself, Gene realized he was adorned much more femininely in his silken robe and black pantyhose.

As Chad leaned over the workstation, Gene couldn't stop looking at him. He could see his son's cock. He'd seen it several times recently. Chad wasn't aroused as he looked at the computer, and his dick sat politely for the moment sheathed in nylon. And yet it was that dick that had violated both his wife and daughter. That dick had shot its cum into them. The thought while watching Chad aroused him. Gene was getting hard in his hose again.

What he was feeling was wrong, he knew. He'd never had this kind of reaction to the male form before. But then fucking his daughter had been wrong, and what had it gotten him? A happy family. The return of his motivation, and by extention his manhood. How much better could things get if he pushed the wrongness just a little bit more?

Gene reached out, and gently touched his son's pantyhosed ass.

"Oh," Chad said, startled. He stood up, turned to his father and was met by Gene's forceful, meaningful stare. Chad felt something stir in him at that look, some desire to give into what he knew his father suddenly wanted. Yet he resisted. "Dad, I'm not gay."

"It's 'Daddy', remember? And this isn't about being gay. The rules were that we were family, and that we would give one another pleasure while wearing our pantyhose." Gene's hand reached out, gently stroked at his son's dick. "Well, we're family. And we're both wearing our pantyhose."

"No, we can't do this. It's too far," Chad said.

Gene grabbed his boy's dick through the nylon and stroked it. Chad gasped. He might have resisted his father's advance otherwise, but this was too much. His father's touch seemed to be amplified by the nylon, and instantly Chad was fully erect, a dab of precum already staining his hose. "Oh fuck, Daddy," Chad breathed, and then father and son kissed.

Chad reached up, and pulled on his father's robe. It fell open, exposing Gene's own hard dick, straining in his black pantyhose. Through Gene's nylons, Chad began to pump his father's cock.

Slipping the robe off completely, Gene groaned. "That feels so amazing, son."

Their bodies kept pressing together as each masturbated the other. "I guess it's not fair if the girls are the only ones that get to touch us in our hose, huh Daddy?"