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A Taste of Incest - Spirits

By: Hypoxia



Author's note: The following incidents are probably mostly fictional. All sexual participants are aged 18+. These unconnected standalone A TASTE OF INCEST tales include incestuous and bisexual groups, erotic horror, and bad jokes. If you object to these themes, please stop reading. Views expressed are not necessarily the author's. Your constructive comments are welcome. This is an entry in the 2014 Hallowe'en contest. If you like this, join the 1%ers and VOTE!



A Taste of Incest - Spirits



Judi stood and walked around the campfire. She knelt next to her brother's outstretched legs and patted his jeans. She needed both hands to unzip him. She reached inside and massaged his quickly-rising cock.

"Yeah, you're a real sucker for me. Or, well, I'm your sucker."

She leaned over and deep-throated her brother as she had at the séances but much more quickly. She pulled him from her mouth and grinned.

"Yeah, you're still okay. Now put that thing away and let's hear the next story."

Jaime sheepishly tucked himself into his pants and took another slug of beer.

Pipe and bottles continued to circulate.

Elena exhaled her hit of Candyland. "Guess it's my turn," she said. "I've got to warn you -- it's not as funny as Jaime and Judi's story. It still creeps me out."

----- ELENA'S TALE -----

My younger brother Esteban's longtime girlfriend Layla had just broken up with him -- and he felt like shit. They were virtually inseparable since grade school. Then she went to college and met smooth, wealthy Hassan, and dumped Steve. 

He slipped into terminal moping mode. What a fucking pain.

I hated his hang-dog-ism. Could I fix him? Find him another girl? No, he needed time to recover first -- no good to spread his misery around. Distract him with games or some shit like that? No, he ignored me. Provoke some real-world crisis? Yeah, sure, make things worse for him -- THAT would do the trick, right? NOT!

After a couple weeks, enough was enough. He was hunched over on the couch. I grabbed his ears to focus his attention.

"Listen up, kid." I shook his head. He scrunched his face. I shook him again. "You are the greatest bring-down in recent planetary history. This stops, NOW. You sit here all day, all by yourself, wallowing in blame and self-pity. This sucks. SUCKS. So, we are getting away from here. Breathe some new air. See new things. Think new thoughts. Pull your head out of your ass and smell the fucking petunias."

"Oh, leave me alone. My life is over. Nothing is left. I'll just eat worms and die."

He pinched my hands and freed his ears. I grabbed his head and forced him to look at me. His gray eyes seemed filmed-over with masochistic despair.

"You'll eat something and die but it won't be worms. Look, this is how it's going to be. We ARE getting away from here. You WILL have new experiences. And it starts right now. I called our offices and arranged time off. I booked us into a house on the coast for the weekend. Sure, I know it's Hallowe'en, but you're not fit for any parties, or anything esle, are you?"

Esteban sighed. 

"Okay, okay, I'll go with you to bumfuck wherever-it-is. Just stop torturing me."

"ME torture YOU? Ha! It's all self-inflicted, kid. C'mon now, stand up. Remove head from anus. Go sit in the car. You don't have to do fuck-all else, just sit down and shut up. Well, take a piss first, then move out. I'll pack your stuff for you and everything else we'll need. Now GO!"

He rose. He aimed himself at the door. He stood silently. I put my foot against his ass and shoved, not too hard.

He moved slightly. "Okay, okay, I'm going," he whined. I shoved again. He went.

We drove to the coast under cloudy skies. Steve mostly laid against the headrest, eyes closed, mouth slack -- not unconscious, just brain-dead. What a pissant.

I chattered.

"So this house we're going to, it's an old classic, out on its own little peninsula, very private, very atmospheric, and real cheap. I was surprised at the great rate we got. The nearest cheap motel costs twice as much. You'll love it."

No response.

"The website said it has rich European decorations and actual antique furniture and even a ghost story or two. Strange shapes in mirrors and windows, and sounds when nobody's there, stuff like that. And there's the hedge maze where people go in and never come out."

Still no response.

"Then there's the playroom filled with sadomasochistic toys like chains and leather straps and even branding irons and a Procrustrean rack. There's supposed to be a were-wolverine den under the house, right next to the bottomless-pit bat cave ."

Finally, a reaction.

"Ain't no were-wolverines. That's just in X-Men, and he's not even a shape-shifter."

Well, it was better than nothing.

"Look, it's a new environment. We're away from everything tying you to the past. This place has its own past and you can jump off into your future from there. Dump all your bad memories, just like that bitch dumped you."

Another reaction. Esteban tensed and sat up.

"Don't call her that! She's..."

He fell silent, and leaned back, and closed his eyes again.

"Yeah, she was yours forever, and now she's not. That's life. Life fucks you over and then you die. Just don't be in a hurry. She's not coming back, right? Right?"

Again, no response.

"She's not coming back, and you're not going back. There's nowhere back there for you to go. If you stay where you are you'll only drown yourself in pain. You can't go back and you can't sit still, so you might as well move forward, right? Fuck, you're a programmer -- it's only applied logic. Use your fucking logical head."

My brother snorted but said nothing.

"So you'd rather whine and snivel and cry and crawl up your navel and play with yourself from the inside, right? What a wussy! How'd I ever get a brother like you? You're from some different genepool. Maybe they found you under a cabbage. Maybe your head is a fucking cabbage."

I reached over and slapped his cheek. He sat up and glared at me.

"That's right, wake up. You can go commit hari-kiri after the weekend. Until then, you're stuck with me and our little retreat. Get used to it."

I refueled at the last town before the turnoff through the coastal mountains to the remote house. The directions I printed from Google Maps were not the clearest. I asked the Quik-E-Mart's clerk about the route.

"You're going WHERE? The old McTavish house? Why you want to go THERE?"

"Umm, well, I rented it for the weekend, and..."

"A weekend, huh? Well, maybe you'll last that long, and maybe you won't. The place is haunted, you know that, right?"

"Sure, the website talked about ghosts and weird sights and sounds, and..."

"And I bet it didn't tell you 'bout the McTavishes and why they ain't there no more."

"Well, no, not really..."

"Let me tell ya," the fat woman said, spewing a stream from her tobacco chaw into a spittoon behind the counter and wiping her mouth on her plaid flannel sleeve, "it's just a damned place. I mean DAMNED, like go-to-hell. And all because of jealousy. You got a couple minutes? I'll tell ya the story."

I leaned against the counter. Might as well hear the local legend, I thought.

"It was nigh on fifty years ago. Melinda McTavish was going to marry herself a rich guy, Dylan Davis, heir to the Davis Dynamite fortune. She'd always been real, real close to her brother Morgan. Morgan never got along with Dylan -- thought he was too pedestrian. The McTavishes had been old, old money, but their family went broke, so they needed the Davis money.

"Yeah, Morgan and Melinda were close. Maybe too close. Morgan felt Dylan was a tawdry interloper. And Morgan was jealous, so very jealous of him.

"Dylan Davis built his fiancée the big fancy house on the sheer clifftop with formal gardens and hedges and grottos and everything." She unloaded another brown stream into the spittoon.

"But Dylan was... oh, a bit twisted, sexually. Into funny sex games, I dunno, we hear rumors but they're not for repeating. Something about Dobermans... Anyway, Morgan thought Dylan was playing too weird with Melinda, besmirched his sister's honor. So Morgan challenged Dylan to a duel.

"Morgan didn't stand a chance. Dylan had trained with firearms since he could walk. Hey, his family made explosives! The guys strolled out past a grove of oaks to the dueling grounds with their seconds. Melinda stood watching from the house's widow's walk. She heard two shots. 

"When she saw one figure walk out of the oaks, and the figure was Dylan, Melinda knew her loving brother was dead, dead, dead. She screamed -- and she threw herself over the railing, down to the surf-swept rocks at the bottom of the cliff.

"Except Morgan WASN'T dead. He missed, and Dylan's shot went through his shoulder. Dylan walked away in satisfaction while the seconds bandaged Morgan, who emerged from the oak grove just in time to hear his sister's scream and see her plunge from the house. He ran to the clifftop and saw her body on the rocks. He yelled, and jumped after her. The next big wave washed their bodies away. They were never found."

I shuddered. Damn, that was a tragic tale!

"Dylan left and never returned, never went into the house again. Took his damn Dobermans with him. His family trust owns it and pays for maintenance and tries to sell it, but nobody ever stays longer than overnight. People talk, say they see and hear ghosts calling to each other, searching for each other, opening doors and windows and secret panels, pushing furniture around, the works.

"Yeah, nobody stays beyond overnight. At least, nobody is ever seen there a day later. Maybe some just run and no-one sees'em. And maybe... some can't leave."

Ah, now that was a good ghost story! Very traditional. Lonely, lost spooks. Haunted house. Vanishing visitors. Didn't I hear that one in Girl Scout camp when I was a kid?

"Thanks, but we'll give it a try," I said, gathering my purchases: rotisserie-roasted chicken, canned food, wine, local maps.

"Got any next of kin we should notify?" the clerk asked.

I shrugged and threw her a business card.

"Call my office if I'm not back in a week, okay?"

We found the house. It was goddam imposing. A jet-black and navy-blue three- or four-story Victorian (depending on where you started counting floors) lurked at the edge of a sheer ocean cliff above deadly rocks. Wild-looking hedges and gardens had gone feral. The sun setting behind thick dark clouds left the whole place in shadow. Yes indeed, it sure LOOKED like a haunted house!

I dragged Steve and our stuff inside. We explored and found all the living space we needed on the ground floor: two bedrooms and baths, kitchen and dining, parlor and billiard room and well-stocked library. We unpacked and explored further.

Museum-quality black-oak furniture filled the rooms. The upstairs rooms looked mothballed with everything covered in protective sheets. That was okay; we did not need the space, not just for the two of us.

We climbed to the roof and its widow's walk. The landward sides overlooked the hedge maze, the overgrown formal gardens, the carriage houses and guest houses and other outbuildings. The ocean side looked straight down the sheer cliff and its deadly rock base. Melinda's jump looked all too easy.

A stack of seasoned logs fed the greatroom's massive fireplace. I resisted an urge to light oil lamps. I threw together an easy dinner of roast chicken and cob-corn, potato wedges, deli-counter cole slaw, and red wine. Lots of red wine. We needed the wine. Well, *I* sure did.

We ate and drank and almost talked a little. We gazed into the blaze till late. I said goodnight to my little brother. I donned flannel pajamas and crawled into my bed. 

And I heard things and saw things. Things that were not right, not normal, not human. Not just things going BUMP in the night, but that howled into the night, into the empty black sky, the far reaches of the uncaring universe. Into Hell.

I do not frighten easily, and Steve is not exacty the Rock of Gilbralter, protection-wise. But I was SCARED. I ended up in my brother's occupied bed.

Steve's pajamas were thin cotton. His socks were thick. His attitude was... dismissive.

"No, of course I don't mind. Just shut up and let me sleep."

Fat chance. And, not my fault. The things I saw and heard earlier followed me in. And they dove inside me, and inside Esteban.

Ghosts.

Spirits that took us.

Spirits that filled us with their agony and their love.

I saw Morgan first. Wiry like a runner, handsome as a leopard, he looked like an advert for the CIA (which did not exist when he was born). I knew this was Morgan because I was already possessed by Melinda.

I saw Melinda's face, not mine, reflected in Morgan's eyes. Esteban's eyes. The eyes of Esteban possessed by Morgan. I saw Steve's consciousness held captive behind the terrible reflection of Melinda's stunning immortal beauty hovering in his masculine eyes. My brother and I were trapped inside our own bodies.

I could not move. Oh sure, my body moved, but Melinda pulled the strings, not me. I could tell Morgan moved Steve's body. Damn! I could not even scratch my nose.

"Morgan, finally," Melinda whispered, "we're together finally! After all those years, all those people, none of them the right people. Oh Morgan, we finally have the right people! We need never part again."

My hackles would have risen if I'd had control just then. What was she saying?!

"My darling sister, yes," Morgan rasped, "together at last, with the right bodies. All those others were wrong. None of them were brother and sister. We were not compatible, like transfusions with the wrong blood type. No wonder they all died or went mad or fled!"

"Yes, dear brother. Our love can only survive when we're of the same blood, the same heritage. None of the others were close enough. We had to reject them all. But THESE two..."

I saw the desperation in Steve's consciousness. What would they do to us, with us? But, like me, my brother was trapped and impotent.

Melinda embraced Morgan and kissed him. A lover's kiss, not a sister's kiss. Morgan stroked Melinda's face and neck while their tongues danced a genetic ballet. His hands moved down her body, and hers found his. Hands drifted over taut skin and tight muscles, into creases and spaces, and back to faces. And then to buttons.

The ghostly siblings undressed each other. My brother and I could only witness the mating ritual. We could not speak or protest or interfere. Lovemaking proceeded.

I could feel but not control my body. I felt his lips on my face, my neck, my breasts... oooh, what his tongue and lips did to my breasts! I felt my hands on his biceps, his hips, his butt, and then his swelling cock. His magnificient cock. I felt his mouth worship my breasts forever while his fingers eased inside me, teased and probed me, drew patterns around my clitoris. I screamed silently.

My silent screams ran off-scale when his deathless tongue craftily replaced his tidy fingers at my immortal pussy. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck... 

I heard Melinda scream to the leering, laughing stars, the obscene voyeur galaxies -- those insane gods, gibbering and chanting and mirthlessly, mindlessly tittering.

And I screamed when Melinda shifted around into a 69 atop her brother, my brother, our brother. My brother's cock in my mouth. My brother's tongue at my clit. My brother's heart at my heart.

Do mortals possess souls? I do think so. Where are those souls located? They are mapped inside our auras, I am sure. And how do they enter and leave mortal bodies? I think I know now. I think I sucked Morgan's and/or Steve's soul into me through his penis. I think he sucked my soul, our souls, away through my vagina.

Soul-sucking did not drain us -- it filled us.

I felt filled with souls, with my own and Melinda's and Morgan's and Esteban's and more. Other spirits rode in while mouths kissed genitals and sucked souls. I heard echoes of old souls, souls who came to this house and tried to escape, who could not break free. More trapped souls, like Steve's and mine.

He brought us to climax more than once. We sucked him to the brink, and then slowed, and took him to the brink again, and back, over and over, an endless cycle of stimulation, temptation, and desperation.

We shifted again and I screamed once more. We opened my legs. He lay on me and entered me (smoothly!) and filled me. In. Out. In and out. In-out-in-out-in... Our brothers' cock inside us, pumping in an immortal rhythm, forever and ever, world without end. Love without end.

And yet, everything ends. Maybe it begins again. Maybe SOMETHING begins when something ends. Our eternity ended with a bang. Not the Big Bang... well, probably not. Not in this universe, anyway. Is every bang a Big Bang in the quantum froth of the multiverse? Does every action create a new universe? String theories say so. 

Our eternity ended with a bang, an ejaculation, a spewing of molton matter into a willing recepticle. Their sperm shot into me. I hungrily drew it in and cherished it. I was on The Pill? No matter; magical sperm are more potent than hormones. And more potent than mere sensation. Melinda and I climaxed to consume universes. Esteban and Morgan filed the void with new universes. And I was fertilized -- a goddess.

I felt it happen. I felt gametes merge into zygote and cleave into blastomeres and gastrula and beyond. Embryogenesis sped on a madly accelerated time scale.

Was that merely a distorted sensation of our intertwined selves? No. All those souls trapped within us freed themselves by following the flow into my womb. All those souls filled the new embryo, whose name is Legion.

And I mean ALL those souls! Melinda and Morgan screamed together in an ecstatic harmonic chorus of joy and joining. They joined together, and joined all the other souls, and flowed into me.

And Esteban and I were alone together, unpossessed by spirits, all on our own -- and locked in a lovers' embrace.

Our eyes locked together. I locked my legs around his back. I locked him into me. We rocked together, again and again, while the grandfather's clock next to the great room's fireplace chimed midnight, Hallowe'en.

We slept entwined. We woke with the dawn, my brother's erection still inside me, still pumping fruitless sperm, still joining us into one inseparable being.

We eventually rose and cleaned and dressed and ate and talked and kissed and undressed and fucked and fucked yet again. We spent the day in bed, and the night, and the next day. We only left for bothersome biological necessities. We spent the whole long weekend loving each other forever.

I drove into the same Quik-E-Mart the morning we left. The fat old tobacco-chewing gal jumped when Steve and I walked through her door.

"What?! You're back?! Did you actually stay in the McTavish place, or did you sneak off to a motel?" She eyed me suspiciously. "You had more sense than to stay there, didn't you?"

"We stayed, we saw, we conquered," I laughed. Steve picked out snacks for our ride home... or, to what had been home. "Guess what? We scared the ghosts away! I can't tell you more now, but just wait, we'll be back -- when we buy the place."

You've heard the cliché, "she looked at me like I'd grown a second head"? Well, she did. Exactly like that. I laughed again.

"The curse is broken. The ghosts are gone. Nothing to see here, move along."

We drove off to a new beginning.

-----

A cold bottle of Colt Malt found its way to Elena's hands. She drank deeply, wiped foam from her mouth, passed the bottle on, and leaned back against her brother and lover Esteban. Their daughter Tyra slept in her father's arms.

"The Davis trust was glad to dump the place at a really good price. We got the deal of the century. And it cleaned up pretty nice. The gardens are trimmed and the hedge maze doesn't eat people. Usually," Esteban said. "We turned it into a B&B. It still has the reputation of being haunted, so we've set up a mini-son et lumière rig to provide nice, safe ghosties and ghoulies and things bumping in the night. The city folk LOVE it! Each room has its own haunting. All quite organized, yes."

Sara took the next hit of Candyland. Smoke dribbled from her nostrils.




A Taste of Incest - Spirits



"But what about all the ghosts and spirits and other stuff trapped there? What happened to them? You say they left you when you came so hard?" Sara took another hit.

"That's kinda funny," Elena said. "They all went somewhere, yeah. And we have our suspicions..." She looked at her sleeping daughter. "I have a feeling Tyra is going to be a very complex person when she's older. I sure hope we can keep up with them, er, I mean with her."

Sara tried not to stare at the child. Filled with souls, Sara thought -- yeah, she could be trouble. Or a savior. You never know know how these things work out. She passed the glass carburetor pipe to her cousin Maddy.

Madison took a deep hit and then shotgunned a lungload into her partner Mike's mouth. They passed the smoke back and forth between them almost a dozen times with their lips sealed together. They broke apart and gasped.

"It's your turn to tell a tale, Maddy," Sara said. Madison sighed.

"Yeah, we've got a story. It was really spooky." Maddy leaned her willowy body into Mike's compact form. "I mean, really. When the folks' Cessna went down, we were totally freaked. If it hadn't been for you guys, I don't think we'd have made it. But we never told anyone what happened when they came back a year later..."

----- MIKE & MADISON -----

A small plane disappeared from radar. That was all it took.

Their parents' loss devastated Mike and Maddy. The young couple took leave from college to face the reality of lawyers and business agents and advisors and other assorted leeches at home.

Mike and Maddy's parents shared a business and maybe more. Their children were thrown together almost at infancy. They liked each other, grew into each other, and their connection seemed ordained and inevitable. Just one big happy family.

Then came the flight of no return.

The plane last blipped the radar in the rugged wastes of the Canyonlands northwest of the Four Corners. This was Navaho country. An intensive search combed tens of thousands of square miles of eroded desert desolation. No trace was ever found.

After the empty-coffin funerals, Mike and Maddy picked the seemingly least greedy and most loyal leeches to run the joint business while they resumed their educations. Concentration on classwork was difficult but necessary. Supportive family helped them maintain balance. Their love held them together.

The landline telephone buzzed in Mike and Maddy's modest off-campus Berkeley apartment one late autumn evening as they studied.

"You rang?" Mike dolorosly answered. They had been viewing old ADDAMS FAMILY episodes in their free time and Mike loved to play Lurch, the cadaverous butler.

"You must come, you absolutely MUST, it's vital, you must believe me!" an unfamilar voice grated over the phone line.

"What? Who is this? What do you want?"

Maddy glanced up from her books at Mike.

"No time for that! You've GOT to come! I'll tell you where! Do you have pen and paper there? Write this down."

"What? Is this some sort of joke? Who is--"

"No! Just get a pen and paper. Right now! It's of the utmost importance!" The voice was insistent.

"Look, until you tell me what this is about, I won't do fuck-all--"

"Listen, Mr Finch! It's about your parents. Both yours and Ms Ackroyd's parents. Now, are you ready to write this down?"

Mike heistated. "Our parents?" Maddy looked at him sharply.

"Yes, your parents. About their plane going down. If you want to know what happened, write this down!"

Mike reached for pen and notepad. "Okay, whoever you are. Go ahead. You'd better not--"

"Didn't you hear me? No time for that. Just be at this place at this time." The voice rattled-off an address near Durango, Colorado, and a date: 31 October, Hallowe'en, just a few days away. "Be there by sundown, both of you. It's absolutely critical that you're both there. Do you undersand?"

"No, I don't understand at all. What the--"

"Don't ask questions now. You'll learn everything. Just be there." The line clicked and went dead.

Maddy stood next to Mike. She pushed her long chestnut hair back from her face.

"What was that all about?"

"Fuck if I know! A voice I didn't recognize telling me over and over that both of us MUST be in Durango at dusk on Hallowe'en. He just said it's about our parents, the Cessna going down, that we'd learn everything, but we HAD to be there. I don't know if this is some sick joke or what?"

"Hallowe'en in Durango, hmmm? Where in Durango?"

Mike was already at his keyboard.

"I'll check Google Maps... let's see, the address is a ranch in the foothills, ten miles out of Durango, looks like it's right at the edge of steep, rugged country. No ground view pictures, but the aerial shots... looks like a ranch, doesn't it? Pens, corrals, cattle, barns, a couple pickups, and what looks like a flatbed truck... doesn't seem suspicious, but this isn't real-time, so who knows?"

He pushed back from his desk.

"I don't know. It's not we can't go, that's no problem. We'd miss hardly any school. We can certainly afford a flight. But... should we be paranoid at all? If this is a trick or setup, then maybe we shouldn't go directly to Durango. We can catch an executive hop to Farmington, the big petroleum center just an hour's drive away."

"That's if we decide to go," Maddy said. "Do you have a feeling about this?"

Mike shrugged. "I don't get psychic flashes. This is strange. I'll put it this way -- I can't think of a good reason NOT to go, as long as we're careful, don't be conspicuous, learn as much as we can first. I'll search the county records database, see what I can find about the ranch's ownership and history."

"Good idea." Maddy stretched and pushed her slim shoulders back and her generous bra-less boobs out. "I can certainly use a few days off here. So let's take our Hallowe'en break in and around Durango. I'll take my cowgirl costume, sure."

"Yeah, and I'll go as fucking Wyatt Earp in plainclothes," Mike smiled. "I'm too short and healthy to be Doc Holliday. No, better if I'm Ranger Rick in denim and khaki. Or if we want to be inconspicuous, we'll just be plain-vanilla business-class tourists. Boring but safe."

Maddy grimaced at him. "Spoilsport. But you're right. Plainclothes it is. But that's then and this is now. Time for no clothes." She slipped her long UNEASY tee over her head and wiggled her pink-tipped musk-melons at her lifelong lover. She wore nothing else.

"Yup, time to turn in," Mike said. He peeled off his running pants and GOT FEZ-BURGER? tee and stood naked before his best friend. "Race you to the shower!"

They collided heading into the bath, and stayed connected through the night. Their fuck-a-thon was less ferocious than usual; their minds were distracted by the phone call's echoes. But hormones and lust pushed aside those intrusions. Mike's cock intruded nicely into Maddy's mouth and vagina. (She promised him her ass as a graduation-plus-wedding present.) Maddy's screams intruded nicely into the night.

Daylight intruded into their dreams. They disentangled and showered again and made their breakfast and their plans.

"Mmmmph," Mike mumbled, one hand forking french toast into his mouth, the other working his Netbook's keyboard. "The ranch doesn't ring any alarm bells. It's been owned by the same family for over a century, isn't a corporate spread or anything agribiz, just traditional Western steal-the-land cattle ranching, with a truck garden."

Maddy sipped her mocha. "So you still want to be paranoid?"

"Safe is better than sorry, right?" Mike shrugged. "I'd normally say not to worry. But this isn't normal. Yeah, we'll go vanilla. I found a jetshare flying San Jose to Farmingon that morning. Late morning; no rush. We'll be on the ground by early afternoon and up to the ranch well before dusk."

"How about we take some toys?" Maddy asked. She finished her meal and gathered used tableware and breakfast toppings. "Like your Pentax superzoom, the Zeiss binocs, the Icom UHF scanner, whatever could let us check the place in advance?"

Mike carried his share from the table to the sink counter. "Good idea. I'll get some topo maps when I'm out today. And I think a little cash might persuade our pilot to fly fairly low near the ranch on our way in. I can get shots of the ground truth."

"Do we need a gun?" Maddy frowned.

Mike shook his head. "More trouble than it's worth. Overconfidence kills."

Maddy was not sure she agreed, but stayed silent.

The sun was an hour over the western horizon. Their rental Explorer sat behind a cottonwood grove near the ranch. Mike and Maddy's lenses surveyed the scene from their surveillance perches just inside the grove. The radio scanner hissed and occasionally blared passing signals, but nothing suspicious seemed to be happening at the ranch.

Their flight had been routine. Mike snapped his aerial shots and scrutinized them on his Netbook's screen. They stopped enroute to Durango to pull off-highway behind a rocky outcropping for privacy. A thick sleeping bag provided sufficient padding for their lovemaking. Maddy insisted on cowgirl-riding Mike. Who was he to object?

"Oh babe," he wheezed. Her breasts swung before his face as she bounced and moaned. "That's all the cowgirl costume you need, just your flesh, oh yeah..."

Well, yes, flesh, sure -- and the red bandanna around her neck, and her Zuñi-crafted petit-point Bisbee Blue turquoise earrings, and the faux-tattoo tarantula riding her shoulder, and the stiff schwanzstucker sliding in and out of her hungry fluffy mantrap. What more did a cowgirl need? Well, she had left on her rattlesnake-skin Hidalgo de Parral cowgirl boots.

Their survey of the ranch turned interesting as twilight shadows stretched from the San Juan Mountains to encompass them. 

A voice crackled on the UHF scanner. "Equinox," the scratchy voice grumbled. "I repeat, equinox." The scanner went silent.

"Lookee there," Maddy said from behind the binoculars. "Everybody's leaving."

Mike swept his long lens across the homestead. "Yeah, funny about that."

Jeeps, pickups, the five-ton flatbed truck -- all visible vehicles raised slight dust clouds on the dirt road out from the ranch.

"Think somebody knows something? Or was told to get out?" Maddy quizzed.

"Looks like. Hey, what's that? At the front door." He switched to five-frames-per-second mode and pointed his lens for a close-up. The camera machinegunned.

An arm reached from behind one side of the double door and blocked it open. A shadow moved across the interior. The other door was blocked open.

"Looks like an invitation," Maddy said.

"Sure does. Let's see who's doing the invite."

He scanned the burst of pictures on his Netbook. Some seemed to show a figure in the open portal. Mike punched-up ENHANCE on the image app. Darkness faded away, leaving a grainy outline of... what?

"Can't tell. Well, it's about time. Sun's past the mountains. You ready for this?"

"Yup." Maddy did not mention the .32 Lady's Special stuffed down her boot. Steel-jacketed slugs can cure many problems, she thought.

"Okay. Let's roll."

They crawled back through the grove to the rental SUV. Ninety seconds later, they parked in front of the ranch house and cautiously opened the car doors.

Mike carried his camera (wearing its wide-to-tele walkabout lens and the ISO dialed up) slung over his shoulder and a flashlight in his right hand, nothing more. Maddy's tooled-leather Mexican cowgirl purse held a spray can of Mace. They were ready.

Across the dusty yard. Onto the covered porch's oak planks. Up to the open door.

And inside. Mike switched on the flashlight and swept the front room. A large, high-ceilinged plaster-walled room, with hewn wood furniture and bookcases, Western paintings and Zapotec weavings on the walls, Navaho rugs on the terra-cotta tile floors, Acoma and Hopi pottery on tables and shelves. Nobody in sight.

All doors from the great room were closed save for one in the wall opposite the entry. Candlelight flickered, illuminating what looked like a den or library. No movement but for the fluttering flame shadows.

Mike looked at Maddy. She nodded. She did not reach for the pistol in her boot but her hand rested on the Mace can in her purse. The walked to the open door, and through it.

Bookshelves lined the walls. Long cowhide-covered timber couches formed an ELL in one corner. Figures sat on those couches, two each. Lean figures, plainly dressed.

The figures stood. "Hello, Madison," her mother said, Maddy's father beside her. "Welcome, Michael," his father said, next to Mike's mother. All four figures stepped toward the cautions couple with arms extended as if to embrace.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Maddy screamed! She would have lunged forward but for Mike holding her arm. 

"Wait Maddy! Something's wrong!" Mike aimed the Maglite's beam at the figures' dark eyes. No light reflected.

The four figures of the supposedly dead parents enclosed the youngsters in a hominid barricade, arms interlocked, lips smiling, eyes flat. They held and kissed the students. Mike and Maddy found themselves powerless to resist.

"We did not die," the figure of Mike's father said. "We ran into turbulence and crash-landed in the Dark Canyon wilderness. We were injured, with broken arms and ribs, and Elle even broke her lower leg. Radios didn't work. We used our first-aid supplies, and trapped rabbits and squirrels for food, and found a water seep. We were there for months before we all healed enough to crawl to the outer world."

"We finally made it out," Maddy's father continued the account. "We followed rim trails up the Colorado River till we reached Moab. We got a room and saw a doctor and read the news we'd missed for so long. We thought it best to remain 'dead' for now, to help our business, and to help you both."

"And now we're here with you, and we love you so much!" the figure of Mike's mother said. She held him tightly and kissed him -- not a motherly kiss. A deep, soulful kiss; her tongue probed him and her soft breasts pushed into his chest. 

Maddy's father similarly embraced and Frenched his daughter. The other parents held them and stroked them sensuously.

Portions of Mike and Maddy's brains tried to resist the tactile onslaught. Those mental guards were overwhelmed by waves of lust and vetigo and... obedience. Strict obedience.

They MUST do what their parents wanted. Mike MUST grind his mother's breasts with his sweaty palms. Maddy MUST stroke her father's massive erection. They MUST disrobe, and their elders stripped beside them. Maddy MUST bend over a wide leather chair with her father's paternal cock in her cunt and Mike's father's cock in her mouth. Mike MUST lie on a rawhide couch with his mother riding his ramrod and Maddy's mother's pussy poised wet-and-willing over his tongue.

The sex was slow and languorous. The parents were in no hurry, and so neither were their children. Time froze almost to a crawl.

Mike fucked his mother, and then Maddy's mother, with long, slow, deep strokes that seemed to last forever, loading them brim-full with endless eruptions. Into his mother's pussy, and out, and in, and spew. Into his lover's mother's cunt for yet more. Mike's possessed body cried, "Oh Mom!" His trapped mind gasped, "Oh shit!"

Maddy thought her father would never stop cumming down her throat nor Mike's father cease spewing into her vaginal void -- and then exchanged places for more. The daddy-cock felt huge, infinite, inescapable. The daddy-sperm flowed into her womb, flooded into her, smothered her qualms, drowned her soul.

Maddy felt filled with squirming sperm; Mike was drained of his.

They switched into daisychains. Mike mindlessly swallowed his father's cock as his mother enthusiastically slurped his own. His sequestered consciousness sensed Maddy in shifting alliances with her parents, eating her mother who ate her father who ate her, and around for more.

Mike and Maddy came, and came, long after all their orgone energy should have been depleted. Orgasms drank their bodies till their life-sparks flickered and faded.

The students felt consumed by darkness. Their trapped minds flailed impotently against barriers woven of blood and ancient evil. Everything dimmed...

And then, a FLASH! The mental barriers dissolved. The parental grips loosened. The figures fell away from the young couple, and froze. Dazed, Mike and Maddy crawled away from the scene of the uncanny orgy.

A crystal glowed multi-spectral colors from the upheld hand of a thin man wearing Mexican-style peasant whites and leather moccasins. The crystal seemed to beam almost-solid rays at the four fallen figures.

"Come away, children," the thin man's thin voice rasped. "Come away from the skinwalkers. Come away their doom. May you talk in beauty. May you walk in beauty. May you live in beauty."

Mike stood and pulled Maddy to her feet. They huddled together, naked, shivering.

"You have nothing to fear now. You will feel better if you dress. And young miss, you will not need your weapons. Do not fear; do not hurry. The skinwalkers will go nowhere."

Mike and Maddy pulled on their clothes. 

"Wha-wha-what...?" Mike stuttered.

"Be seated. Rest. Calm yourselves. I will explain. These are indeed your parents, almost. They indeed survived in the Canyonlands for months, almost. They did return to your society, almost. But not as they were." He paused.

"Skinwalkers are witches preying on our Dinéh people and others. With blood magic, they shift shapes, become whomever they want, control minds, feed on the living. We know these witches as yee naaldlooshii and they are very evil -- but not the MOST evil. Those are clizyati, pure evil, the strongest of witches. They gain their terrible power by fucking and killing close blood relatives.

"These four yee naaldlooshii wished to attain ultimate power. They found a way -- by taking your parents, and forcefully merging their flesh and minds and spirits together, and becoming your parents. And once achieving this, their path to clizyati power was simple -- your own selves."

Maddy shook off her fright. "How do you know this? And what have you done?"

The man smiled thinly. "I am from a family of what you call medicine men, a family dedicated to defeating evil. We are bred and trained to hunt skinwalkers and defeat them. My crystal is an amalgam, melted-together minerals from atop the Four Sacred Peaks absorbing the Sun's healing energy with least atmospheric filtering. The forces of evil cannot withstand such power. Good prevails -- when applied knowingly."

Mike shook himself and clutched Maddy. 

"So they were going to--"

"They were about to kill and consume you." 

His statement hung in the air like a black cloud.

Maddy stood straight. "And now---"

"And now they are trapped, prisoners of holy power and their own evil. I will use a tiny speck of their magic to transform them into fat little ground squirrels. The transformation will erase their power. They shall be set free to pursue their fates, one atop each Sacred Peak. But the transformation must happen in sunlight under holy rays descending from above. Good does not hide in darkness. Love is not a prisoner of midnight.

"Midnight has passed. Gather yourselves, children. You do not belong here. Go back to your vehicle and drive to town -- the nearest lodging is not far, and you will be welcomed there. Return home in the morning. Live your lives. Pursue your dreams. Know that your parents themselves did nothing wrong, nothing more than survive in tragedy with as much grace and dignity as they possessed."

Maddy was troubled. "Is it really so simple? I mean, my father and Mike's father, well, the skinwalkers possessing our fathers, they... they fucked me. They shot huge loads of sperm into me. I'm on The Pill but they were... is there any danger of them impregnating me? Will I be mother to evil?"




A Taste of Incest - Spirits



The thin man shook his dark head.

"The healing crystal rays have already transformed all their ejaculations and ejecta and diseased bodily fluids into pure water. You have nothing to fear. All that I cannot transform are your memories. Your memories will stay with you. You will not forget any of this. I am sorry, but it is not for me to alter your innocent minds.

"Now go. I will finish here. May you talk in beauty. May you walk in beauty. May you live in beauty." His blessing followed them out the door and down the road to town.

-----

Mike sipped beer and finished Maddy's account. "We couldn't tell anyone this. I don't know why we're telling you now. But all that's done." He patted Maddy's hip as she undressed beside him. "We're doing fine now. But we have absolutely zero intention to ever return to the Four Corners area. Enough was enough."

The pipe of Candyland pot circled in silence except for inhalation and exhalations.

"Hey, how about this one," Franz cracked. 

"The phone rings and the lady of the house answers, 'Hello.' 'Mrs Sanders, please.' 'Speaking.' 'Mrs Sanders, this is Dr Jones at Questor Laboratories. When your husband's doctor sent his biopsy to the lab last week, a biopsy from another Mr Sanders arrived as well. We are now uncertain which one belongs to your husband. Frankly, either way the results are not too good.' 'What do you mean?' Mrs Sanders asks nervously. 'Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer's and the other one tested positive for HIV. We can't tell which is which.' 'That's dreadful! Can you do the test again?' asks Mrs Sanders. 'Normally we can, but Blue Cross will only pay for these expensive tests one time.' 'Well, what am I supposed to do now?' 'The folks at Blue Cross recommend you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town. If he finds his way home, don't sleep with him.'"

The yells were louder this time; the thrown objects were heavier. Franz grinned with no remorse. "And that's the way it is, folks!"

"Oh, come on, Franz," someone yelled, "it's like your daughter asked: Is that the best you can do?"

The sounds of laughs and slurps and rude noises circled the campfire.

"Okay, okay," Franz said. He slugged the beer again and passed it on. "Felicia won't like this, but here goes. Hey, why are we confessing to all this incest shit? Not that I really mind." He watched Judi lean over to dig out her brother Jaime's cock and give it another slurp. Sara had her pants off and sat in her cousin Steve's lap, lazily riding his erection. "The stuff you learn at family get-togethers...

"Anyway, it wasn't so long ago, and we were drinking and smoking then too, but not like this. No, it was really tasty."

----- FRANZ TELLS -----

Yeah, it was not so far back, just last Hallowe'en, in fact. My big sister Felicia over there with Maddy (he pointed across the campfire at two naked women locked in a torrid 69) was going to a party with her lame boyfriend Chuck. Should call him UP-Chuck, 'cause that's what he did all day and night. Dude should know to lay off the Mad-Dog 20-20 shit, the worst fucking wine around, for sure.

So Felicia calls me and asks, "Oh, my little brother, my favorite brother," (her one and only brother) "can you, like, be a BIG help to me tonight? Huh, pretty please?"

And I look at the phone and I'm thinking, Big help, huh? Big help deserves a big price. I wondered what the quid pro quo would be.

"But of course, oh my lovely big sister, my favorite sister," (my only sister, too) "you know I would do ANYTHING for you. How may I be of assistance tonight?"

"That fucktard luzer Chuck has barfed his brains out again. Not that there's much in the way of brains left inside his skull, but whatever. Anyway, we were going to a party and now he can't go 'cause he's such a dweeb and I really need someone to go with, and that's you, isn't it?"

I could almost feel her batting her pluckable eyelashes at me over the phone.

"Well, I sorta had plans, but shit, I was going stag, and Lou doesn't throw such good parties, so what the fuck, sure, I'll take you. Where are we going and what are we wearing?"

"Oh good, I'm so glad you'll go! It's at Patty's place. The theme is CAVEMAN. I've got this little zebra-skin bikini and I got you a leopardskin loincloth. You'll look like a real buff Alley Oop and I'll be your stripped-down Ooola. How does that sound?"

As you guys could probably tell when she got naked over there and climbed on top of Maddy, Felicia's body would turn Siegfried and Roy straight. Party with my near-naked fox of a big sister? With her bouncy butt and tits, and taut legs that go on past infinity? And Patty is giving the party, the same remorseless Patty who blew me crosseyed the week before? Hmmm, let me think about that...

"Hmmm, let me think about it," I told her. "It all sounds good, but I know you, I think. I mean, I think I know how you think, or something. What's the catch? There's always a catch, huh?"

"No catch. Oh, you'll have a big papier-mâché caveman club for beating off the girls, I mean beating the girls off, you can beat-off yourself all you want." (giggle) "We were going to borrow a Great Dane costumed as Dinny the dinosaur, but Patty's building doesn't allow animals, so that's out. Just bring yourself. And me."

My multicore supercomputer brain crunched the numbers (36-25-34 plus 35-23-34 times D-cup equals...) in about 3.14159 nanoseconds. The results looked good.

"Sounds good. Get you at your place, right? What time?"

We negotiated the details and hung up. Mmmm, I looked forward to a night of Cretaceous-era love. Just no Neandertal chicks, please.

I reached Felicia's at the appointed time. She looked great. Her kiss on my lips felt great. My bulging boner hoped it would feel great before too long. She saw my bulge, and swatted it, and laughed.

"Good, you're in the right mood. Let's party!"

The crowd was totally nuts at Patty's condo, inside and out front and in back and around the sides and probably on the roof and in the basement if the building had any such. The hot-tub on her back deck was like a seal pool for mostly-nudes. Felicia spun off from me after we passed the front door. I had taken maybe five steps inside when Patty grabbed me -- through my loincloth -- and led me away.

"Hey ya, big guy, let's have a taste of that big guy again!"

She pushed open her bedroom door and yelled at the quartet actively occupying her bed to change the sheets when they were done. She led me into her little bath and shoved the door shut. I heard the lock click.

Patty dropped to her knees and raised my leopardskin loincloth.

"Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" she breathed, and took me in her mouth.

She blew me up. She blew me down. She blew me three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around. She blew me high. She blew my low. She deep-throated me till I had nowhere to go... but straight down her gobbling gullet.

I emptied into her insatiable mouth. Fuck fuck fuck... She grabbed my butt and pulled me closer, deeper. I was seriously over stimulated now but I could not escape, nor did I try.

Good thing she was holding my ass. I would have collapsed otherwise.

When I had nothing left to contribute to her nutritionally, she released me. She stood and held my head and pushed her lips against mine and gave me a tongue-lashed mouthful of my own secretions. I did not mind. I have tasted worse.

"That's how we say HELLO around here, Franz," she said. "And now it's your turn to greet me. Don't be shy, huh?"

Patty wore what looked like a snakeskin loincloth and bikini top concealing little of her abundant assets. Her skimpy costume nicely complemented her fluffy afro. She shoved me onto my back on the fluffy bathmat, pushed her loincloth aside, lowered her torrid ebony twat to my mouth, and squirmed.

Damn, she tasted good! I did not bother with low-and-slow romantic techniques. I reached up to dislodge her top; my fingers found her nipples. I knew just how hard to squeeze. My nose nuzzled her fluffy muff -- briefly. My tongue carefully probed her delicious depths and circled her labia and teased her clit -- just long enough. I sucked that clit, and tongue-teased again, and sucked, and pinched and nibbled.

I was rewarded with a shattering scream and a mouthful of pussy juice. Aahhh...

"You're welcome," I said when she fell off my face. "See me again soon, hey?"

Patty rolled on top of me for another long, deep kiss. Her perspiration and vaginal ooze painted her own face with a glossy sheen. 

"Gotta get back to my party," she whispered. "Gotta keep the animals from tearing-up the place. Gotta be responsible. But that's tonight. I don't gotta be responsible tomorrow night. Come back soon. Don't make me wait too long." She slurped my face and tongue again.

We straightened ourselves and emerged from the bathroom. A different quartet filled her bed. No, make that a quintet -- I did not see Zoë under there at first. Patty yelled at them to change the sheets.

Our paths forked in the main room. She squeezed my cock and pushed through the crowd in one direction. I pinched her black boob and pushed to the kitchen with my caveman club over my shoulder. Patty always had good snacks and tonight was no exception. Mmmm, what great samosas!

I munched and drank and puffed a bit, and dropped my club and danced a bit, and squeezed a nice bit of female flesh, and was squeezed in return. And after a bit, my sexy big sister Felicia snagged me.

"You've had fun since up front, I can tell," she accused me. She sniffed my face. "Smells like Patty, of course. And poor me! I haven't found anyone tolerable yet. What a bunch of porkers! C'mon, let's get away from these critters. I have something special."

Felicia held my hand and led me out back. Her straight black hair fell all the way to her bouncing bubble-butt. Her boobs bounced nicely too. She was fun to watch and she knew it.

My sister led me to a ladder set in the building's outer wall.

"Up here," she said, and started climbing.

The ladder was not entirely shadowed. I paused to stare at her twitching gluteus maximi torturing the zebra-skin bikini bottom into submission as she climbed. She looked down at me.

"Enjoying the show? Get your own butt up here, mister."

She climbed over a railing. I followed. We were on the back deck of another condo unit with its own unoccupied bubbling hot-tub. Felicia reached into the shadows and extracted a tray with two green and white bottles and two double-shot glasses. She set the tray on the edge of the tub.

"C'mon. I've always wanted to try this," she said. She lowered herself into the tub, zebra bikini and all, and poured the two shot glasses full, half from each bottle.

I lowered myself beside her into the water, leopard loincloth and all. She handed me a glass and tinkled hers against mine.

"Poison is as poison does," she toasted, and chugged her shot.

"Fuckin' A," I replied, and mirrored her move.

Holy shit! That was strong! I gasped at the burning licorice liquor.

"Holy shit! What the fuck is this?!"

"Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. Do you feel fonder yet?" She squeezed my thigh. "It starts off at one-forty-eight proof, that's seventy-four percent alcohol, which is why I dilute it by about half."

"Absinthe? I thought that was illegal in most places."

"Oh, there's legal absinthe all over now. But not this stuff. This is from one of the banned recipes, plus. Patty got it from her dealer but she's afraid to try too much of it so she gave it to me."

"Banned, plus? Plus what?" I was more curious than worried. And buzzing.

"Oh, plus some designer indole-ring alkaloids to enhance the effects. It's supposed to be perfectly safe as long as you remember it's strong spirits. Want some more?"

"Sure, hit me."

She refilled the glasses. We linked arms and drank. Zap!

She refilled again. We held the glasses to each other's mouth. Prosit!

She refilled again and chugged hers. I held mine in my mouth, pressed my hot lips against hers, and squirted her full. She laughed.

"Yeah, getting fonder, I can tell." 

She squeezed my thigh again and refilled. She only held up one glass this time.

"Turnsies." She emptied the glass into her mouth and kissed me with absinthe. "Your turn." 

I took the other glass and returned the electric licorice kiss.

Felicia pushed away from me. Not too far, just a bit.

"That's fun. Want some more shots? How about a body shot?"

Like I said -- who was I to refuse? I nodded. The world nodded with me.

Felicia poured more two moe glasses. She oozed from the tub and lay on its edge.

"Hit me," she said. Her voice seemed to echo in my head.

I fuzzily looked at my big sister lying flat, tits and hips protruding, belly sucked in. Mmmm... I poured a glass into her navel and the surrounding concavity. Only about half a glass; I did not want to spill any.

I prepared to lap the licorice liquor from my sister's lovely omphalos. Mmmm... I had to steady myself to do this right. One hand on her smooth thigh, one just below her firm breast. Dip my head just so, stick out my tongue, lick around the edges of the sweet puddle, then move in closer and slurp it up, mmmm...

The puddle was gone but the taste remained on her slick skin. I licked all around her belly to retrieve every last milliliter. Waste not, want not.

I felt her hand push my head away.

"Okay, enough of that. Turnsies. Get up here, mister."

I replaced her on the hot-tub margin. I stretched, relaxed, and listened. I thought I heard faint impossible music. I know I heard her voice.

"Go on, suck it in. I don't want to waste any, either."

Suck it in? Oh, my gut. Sure. Not that I was fat or bumpy or anything, no; I kept in shape. But I was having trouble concentrating... oh yeah, my gut. I sucked it in. I felt the wet fluid puddling on my belly. I felt her tongue on me, then her lips, nicely siphoning the absinthe, and then her tongue slurping around my belly. I giggled.

"Ticklish, are we? And we can't get very drunk that way. C'mon, sit up again."

We lounged in the water. She poured more drinks, and more. We drank with lip-squirts again. Damn, you get high fast that way! I was beyond buzzing, and I sure did not feel drunk. Must be those, what did she call them? Indolent-ring sigmoids or something. Yeah, something like that.

"So tell me, what's with those mole-ringing sigmacisms or whatever you said? What do they do?'

"Umm, in the absinthe-plus, yeah, those stuffs. Riki-tiki-tavi, he's Patty's dealer, funny name, yeah? Anyway, Patty said Riki-tiki-tavi said they make the absinthe stronger, and absinthe makes us fart stronger... no, that's not it. Oh yeah, he said, aphrodisiac and hallucinogenic and... they're like for visions and telepathy and euphoria and more visions and... oh, look at the light waves, they're all wavy..."

I looked at the girl next to me in the hot-tub. She looked familiar. She looked like... Lindy! My girlfriend from tenth grade! But now she was all grown up! And she looked like she'd let me get past first base for a change. Really?

"Lindy..." I murmured. I reached for her. I felt a voice in my head. "Billy," it sang.

A movie played inside my head. I saw this girl and she was with a guy she called Billy and he looked like... he looked like what I thought I looked like. Was I really Billy? I looked into the girl's eyes and it was like a movie playing there too, a movie with me and her, and she was Lindy, the Lindy I had always loved but never...

I called her without using my voice. "Lindy..."

I heard her voice inside my head. "Billy..."

I touched her. She touched me. I kissed her. She kissed me. I stood in the water and pulled off my leopard-skin loincloth. She stood beside me and stripped off her zebra-skin bikini. I held her. She held me. I pulled her down on the deck around the hot-tub. She rolled on top of me.

I called her silently. "Lindy... I love you."

Her silent voice replied. "I've always loved you, Billy."

We rolled again, putting me on top. She spread her legs and looked in my eyes.

Her silent voice again. "Love me, Billy. Love me as you should have loved me all this time. Fuck me, Billy. Make me yours. Only yours."

I positioned myself above her. She guided me inside. Oh fuck. That's what we both said with our silent voices: Oh fuck. I lay on her and kissed her breasts. Oh fuck.

And we did fuck. Slow and fast and slow again. Me on top, her legs wrapped around me. Her on top, her tits the most beautiful shimmering toys. Both on our sides. Her on elbows and knees, me sliding into her. Her on top of me in a 69, drowning me under her close-shaved pubes. Me on top of her in a 69, cock-fucking her face and tongue-fucking her pussy.

And the moans and groans. Lindy, that's her, did not scream, but she moaned a lot. Billy, that's me, did not bellow, but he or I grunted a lot. We all came a lot. Whew. 

We locked ourselves together. We slept.

I woke cold but knotted-together with warm female flesh. Our arms and legs were impossibly tangled. I somehow extracted myself. She groaned, and twisted, and pulled me close to her. I did not resist. I felt warm again. I slept again.

My bloated bladder woke me in the pre-dawn. I needed relief! No way was I going to break into the condo, or crawl down the ladder. I regretfully escaped from the warm naked female body and pissed over the deck's railing onto shrubbery below.

I heard movement behind me. I turned and saw... my big sister, naked, beautiful, fresh-fucked, and squeezing her legs together.

"Uhh, I wonder if I can do that... Franz," (yeah, that's me, I'm not Billy) "maybe you can help me here? I can sit or squat on the railing and hang my ass over the edge and take a piss, but I can't keep my balance. Would you hold me so I don't fall off?"

"Sure thing, Felicia," (yeah, that's her, she's not Lindy) "just sit here and I'll hold your legs. You won't fall, I promise."

It is easier for a woman to piss off the side of a boat than off a deck railing. I had to lie across her thighs to hold her in place. Yes, my sister's sweet, sexy thighs. Her golden stream cascading down the building like Angel Falls. Her sigh of relief. Her boobs atop my head. These are a few of my favorite things.

The tub water was still warm. We both slid in to wash off. And to think, and talk.

"We really did it last night, didn't we?" Felicia sat in my lap, her back to me, her head leaning on my shoulder, hy hands cupping her breasts.

"Yes, we really did. Hallucinations, right? Absinthe-plus, right? I'm not Billy and you're not Lindy, right? Hey, who's Billy?"

"Yeah, right. Billy was a guy I knew in high school. He never had time for me. You thought I was Lindy, that girl from way back then? You never got her either, did you? Not then, only now, only in your mind. Just like I got Billy inside my head."

We snuggled silently. Time passed. The sky brightened. Birds sang.

"Are we going to stay here forever?" Felicia asked.

"I wouldn't mind, as long as you're here. How about you? You twitchy yet?"

"Well, I am getting wrinkled and rotten. So are you. But if we were dry... yeah, I'd stay here. With you. For a long time."

She leaned her head back and pulled my lips down to hers.

"For a brother, you're not too bad. Even for a little brother."

"You're not bad either, even though you're not Lindy. Ouch!"

She had turned to bite my nipple. Hard. She grinned at me. The grin faded.

"So what do we do now? Other than getting dressed and escaping, I mean?"

"Well, how about we get dressed in our cave-people drag, and we grab the evidence, y'know, the bottles and glasses, and we escape, and we go to my place, nobody else will be there today, and we crawl into bed and fuck like rabid weasels till we're raw and drooling, something like that?"




A Taste of Incest - Spirits



"Sounds like a plan." She pulled my mouth to hers again. "A good plan. And then?"

"And then we figure out what's next. It's too early to think now. I need breakfast, coffee, a good dose of sunshine, some hot music, and a brain transplant, that's all."

"Yeah, you're not bad for a little brother. Let's get out of here."

We crept back through the remains of Patty's condo over piles of naked bodies in various states of consciousness and involvement. Some of them were rather tightly involved, all right. Some were even moving. 

We peeked into Patty's bedroom. It looked like a seven-plex now; I could not tell if Patty was in there. Damn, she knew how to throw parties!

-----

"And that's how Felicia and I got together," Franz said. He took another hit from the pipe. "And I guess we'll stay together for a while." He looked down fondly at his naked big sister casually blowing him. "Yeah, for a while. It's all good. Umm, excuse me for a minute." He laid back, eyes closed. Felicia dragged a wet, sloppy climax from him. "Unh, unh, oh, oh fuck, yeah... ahhhhh..."

Sara stirred in Steve's lap and lazily looked at their host Nathan. His partner Kamala's head was in his lap. Kamala was busy. Sara turned and watched various sexual activites around the campfire. She turned back to Nathan. His eyes were open, watching her, measuring her.

"So Nate, how come we're all so wild tonight? Telling these stories and living them right out in front of everyone? Did you slip something into our food? Hey, and it's all incest all the time! Are we all a bunch of pervs? Everyone but me, I mean?" Well, me too, she thought, wriggling on her cousin's cock.

Nathan smiled. "One word: Candyland. The Candyland pot my friend Trill grows, and she's a licensed medicinal producer, it's special stuff, no shit. Like Patty's absinthe-plus, it is... potentiated. Trill calls it aphrodisiac, hypnotic, euphoric, telepathic, energetic, and transformative. 

"It's also a bit of a truth serum. It's hard to tell lies when you've smoked it. It's easy to tell if someone else is lying. It makes you feel good, and horny, and energized, not dopey. And it's all natural, no gene-splicing or -modding, no added chemicals. She just knows how to get the plants to grow the right cannabinoids and terpenoids. Mmmm... ah..."

"Awesome," Sara said. "And this is medical- or consumer-grade?"

"No, you won't find Candyland in dispensaries. Trill saves it for special friends and parties. Like here, tonight. Oh, wait, Kamala's almost got me... ah, yes... unh!"

Kamala sucked Nate dry. She raised her head and smirked.

"Only one way to shut up this guy. And I have to shut him up a LOT. Woman's work is never done." She licked her lips and then licked Nate's cock again. He groaned.

Kamala sat up. 

"Pass me the pipe, please. Mmmm..." She inhaled deeply and lay back. She coughed and sat up again. "I really love this Candyland stuff. Hey, is anybody asleep here?" She put her fingers to her lips and blew a piercing whistle.

Bodies in various states of undress had stopped writhing and bumping. Some were even sitting. All eyes turned on Kamala.

"Good. Now that I have your attention, it's time for my story. It's not like what you've already heard."

----- KAMALA'S TALE -----

This was before I knew Nathan. I know some of you do not know me too well, so here is some background. I was once young and stupid. (Voices of dissent and disagreement emerged from the listeners.) No, really. What's the saying? "Young girls, like butterlfies, need no reason." That was me. I was a wild young thing and my folks... well, I was just too much for them. For almost anybody.

Even for Byron. Damn, he was a beautiful boy! And I loved him, sort of, and he loved me, sort of, and we fucked freely, really, and BANG! We are sixteen and I am pregnant. In Spanish it's embarazada, very embarrased. That was me.

But I was too much for Byron. He dropped out of school and ran away. Nobody in town ever admitted hearing from him again.

My parents gave me a choice. I had three options. Abortion. Or abandonment, just go away and never bother them again. Or... arranged marriage, to Dad's younger stepbrother Ashoka, my own Uncle Ash.

It all sucked. I wanted to die. But I could not. No, I could not do anything to hurt my unborn baby. So I married Uncle Ash. It took a while to stop calling him Uncle.

Ash looked a lot like me. Not too tall, not too dark, not too ugly. Not that we looked like close kin or anything. But it's a good thing Byron was a dashing Black Irish guy. The baby looked as if Ash could have been the father, sort of. And Ash was not horribly older than me although it seemed so at the time. I was sixteen and he was twenty-eight. Way too old for me, I thought. But I really had no choice.

Ash was not a bad man. He worked hard and made good money. He was kind to me, gave me whatever I wanted if we could afford it. I learned not to want costly crazy stuff. I had never been greedy for anything except fun and love.

But fun and love were exactly what Ash could NOT give me. He never touched me, never molested me. He had no sexual interest in me. He was strictly gay.

I poured out my heart to my best friend Alysha.

"Ally, it's crazy. I'm going to be a good wife for a man who only needs a wife as cover. I'm going to give a son to a man who only needs children for decoration. I'll be a good wife and mother and I'll go nowhere. At least he supports me in taking classes, getting an education, so I won't just another, another... I don't know. What would I be?"

"You would be lonely, Kammy. Very lonely. Your son will be born when, in three months? You will be busy with the baby for years. You'll still take classes?"

"Yes, I must. I must change my dreams, but I must still dream, and study, and know how to work and be in the world. Ash needs an educated woman to run his household, and he knows it, and is totally supportive. I'll just need to work twice as hard as an ordinary housewife."

"You know I'll always be here for you. I'll help you study. I'll help with the baby when I can, but I'll be busy with school a lot. Have you asked Ash about getting outside help? Maybe a housemaid? You won't have to worry about him screwing the help, will you, HA! Unless he get a houseboy."

"No, no houseboy. Ash is quite discreet. And yes, we've talked about getting me help, a live-in housekeeper who can also help me study. Just as long as she doesn't cost too much."

Ash and I worked out the household situation. I bloated up like a balloon in my last months, of course, but Kendra the housemaid was so much help!

And Jayant was such a beautiful baby!

It was not a long labor, not too painful. Alysha was there for me, and my mother, and even Ash. My father was nowhere near. He mostly avoided me, even after the marriage. I know he was quietly ashamed of me.

Jay was a wonderful child. Yes, he had his problems, and so did I, and my emotions were not always under control, but I was very careful not to be negative on the outside, not to show anything to Ash or to the world. I sometimes felt things eating away inside me. I hid those things, mostly.

Even with Kendra helping (and she became more of a sister than an employee) I was fully occupied at home until Jay left for pre-school. Kendra and I did all the housework and she was a wizard at helping me study. I did all I could to be a good wife for Ash when he was home.

Ash was often not home. His work (he was a software consultant) took him all over the country, sometimes around the world. He never brought troubles home with him. He never brought boyfriends into our part of the house. There was a separate unit attached to the house, with its own entrance and kitchen and everything. Ash entertained there. Never too loud, never too drunk. Never disrupting home.

Home. For all the energy in it, it was a lonely home.

Once Jay started elementary school, I took classes at college. I was the same age as unmarried students so I fit right in. I made friends, many girls, some boys. Some boys wanted me even though I was married. And I wanted some boys, even though I was married. Especially since I was married to Ash.

I played with some boys. I did not feel guilty; Ash played with boys too. But I had to be extra discreet, extra careful. Even though I would have loved more children, and I know my mother and maybe my father would like more grandchildren, they were not an option. I had to strenuously avoid pregnancy.

Guys fucked my face and my ass. I tired of this after a while. I had no desire for women -- Kendra and I were sisters, not lovers -- and I would not bring men home, nor spend nights away from home.

I discovered porn tapes and sex toys and lubricants. I became my only lover.

This is the world in which I raised Jay, a world with two mothers (almost) and a rarely seen father (almost). With a birth mother who would not find outside love (almost). A rich world. The suburban American dream on steroids, with a twist.

Jay was just another American boy. He did well in school studies and school sports and after-school activities. He played football and trombone and chess and hookey when he could get away with it. He made bad friends and watched bad TV and movies when he could get away with them. But police never had to bring him home.

Kendra was his second mother until he entered middle school. She moved on then. 

Ash only came home on odd occasions. He did not bother me with his personal life. But Jay seemed okay with a mostly-absent non-father.

Jay was a heartbreaker as he grew up. Girls swarmed to him. If he got any into trouble, we never knew about it. He was on his high school football team so he certainly had the opportunity. But he graduated with no paternity charges and no shotgun-carrying fathers following him.

Jay entered the local college with a full scholarship. In engineering, of course. He worked hard and played hard and was again chased by girls but he did not bring them home. He was always so polite. But he was growing distant.

I grew also. I took my degree in literature, and advanced degrees, and writing workshops and seminars. I had no intention of teaching or working in publishing. Instead, I wrote magazine articles and silly books. I could do this at home and travel when I needed but I was always the mother, the housewife (with hardly a husband), the anchor. I did not need the income because Ash was a generous provider. But it gave me a semblance of independence and autonomy.

--

Enough background. Here is the story. It is not too long.

It was a Hallowe'en night. Our neighborhood was aswarm with trick-or-treaters, same as every year, and I set out the candy and decorations, same as every year. Jay had stopped trick-or-treating when he started high school; he thought it childlike. And he never liked just handing out candy. So, this was my own activity.

It was late. The doorbell had stopped ringing. I turned off the lights and put away the last of the candy and debris. 

I was tired. I was horny. I changed into a light, thin, very short robe, and I picked out some of my favorite porn videos to watch. I drank a glass of cranberry vodka -- and I was going to drink more, and lube my favorite toys, and drive myself to the best orgasms I could, as many as I could. My fingers and vibrators would do the walking and my thirty-five-year-old pussy would do the talking.

I had just switched off my bedroom lights, plopped myself on my bed, and grabbed the video remote control, when I heard a noise in the front room. What could it be? I rolled out of bed and picked up the pistol I keep in my bedstand. I peeked out my door.

"Hey Mom, you home? C'mon, be home!"

It was Jay! He wore his Count Dracula costume; quite dignified. But what was he doing here? I knew he planned to be at late late parties.

"Jay! Why are you--"

"Oh, it was a bore. It was all a bore. I couldn't take it any more."

"Just boring, is that all? Did you maybe have fights with your friends or girlfriends?"

"No, no fights. They're just all so boring. All the guys are morons. All the girls are sluts or princesses or frigid or dykes. None of them are as interesting as you." He hugged me.

What, were my ears working right? Jay never talked like this! He always said how much fun he had at school and with his friends; he never called them names and he never swore. And he said he felt confined here at home. Since he started college, he only came home to sleep, and not always then. At least he came back for meals every now and then.

"Are you drunk or high or something?" I sniffed him as he held me. "No, not that I can smell. What's got into you?"

And what was getting into me? I had been horny before Jay came home. I was even hornier now.

"They're just not, not... they're all so provincial and narrow. School, games, drugs, drinking, bullshitting. Nothing real, Mom. Not like you're real." He hugged me tighter.

I felt strange. I felt... excited. Excited by my son! Maybe it was the vodka talking.

Jay let me go and ditched his costume, piece by piece, almost like doing a male strip tease. Off came the hand-knotted bow tie, tossed over his shoulder. Off came the black suit jacket, twirled around his head and thrown aside. The braces snapped off and slingshotted into a corner. Jay subtly danced as he disrobed. Bend over to untie his shoes, then kick them across the room, and keep kicking. Reach down and discard the black socks. Untie the cummerbund and drop it to the floor.

He reached for his belt.

I opened my mouth. "Hold it right there, young man, that's about enough..." is what I intended to say. Something made me hold my tongue. My mouth stayed open. I felt myself panting like a bitch dog in heat. What was happening?

The belt slipped from its straps; Jay snapped it like a whip before tossing it aside.

He teasingly spun while unbuttoning his ruffled-lace shirt, bottom to top. Undone, he slipped it off one arm and then the other. He twirled it as he had the jacket and sent it away with the same studied nonchalance.

Jay wore no undershirt. His well-muscled athletic body, the magnet for so many cheerleaders and hormone-driven teenybopper butterflies, gleamed with a light sheen of perspiration. He stood unmoving except to twitch his muscles.

My son looked like a god. I felt my pussy flood as my eyes devoured him. Oh shit.

He lazily spun again. His hands worked at the front of his suit trousers. Pop the button. Lower the zipper. Push at the waist. Drop the trousers to the floor. Step out of them, leaving only op-art boxer shorts, thin shorts that did nothing to hide his erection. A large erection. A beautiful erection, revealed when the boxers obeyed gravity and fell to his feet. He kicked them aside. He stood naked before me.

My mouth opened wider, I know. My breath grew shallower and faster. My skin flushed. I sweated. I dripped. I flooded. I wanted nothing more than... my son.

My son moved to me gradually, ever so slowly. He took my arms and drew me to him. His hands reached to the cord holding my thin robe shut and untied it. He held the lapels of my thin robe and pulled it from me. I stood naked before him.

"I love you, Mom," he said, and held my head in his hands, and kissed me. 

Jay took me in his arms. I collapsed into him. His erection pressed into my groin. I felt the heat, the strength, the steel in him. I felt the weakness in me. I puddled.

Jay picked me up and carried me like a child. I had no idea he was this strong! He gently laid me on my bed and lay beside me. He hands stroked my body -- my legs and hips and belly and breasts and shoulder and arms and back to my breasts. He put his mouth to my nipple and suckled. Oh god! Oh joy! Oh oh... And then my other nipple, while his fingers softly rolled the first. Oh fuck!

My almost-adult son worshipped my breasts for an eternity before he moved between my legs and spread them. He kissed my mouth and stroked my inner thighs. He crouched over me and aimed his erection at my soggy vagina and entered me.

I thought I would be disappointed at the lack of oral stimulation. I'd had enough sort-of-competent lovers in my youth, and seen enough ordinary porn videos, and read (and written!) enough erotic fiction to know the routine. I expected his tongue in my pussy and his cock in my mouth, maybe at the same time. I thought he was rushing into copulation.

I was wrong. I was not disappointed. His cock slid into me like a magic wand. His glans caressed my labia and said hello to my inner muscles and did not quite tickle my cervix. His cock radiated heat and strength and need and determination and love. His cock filled me as I had not been filled since he left my womb.

He stroked long and slow. Every stroke was a miracle. He sped up and worked me like a pleasure machine. Every stroke was a short blast of joy. He paused to change angles, pulling my legs up, moving so his shaft brushed my super-sensitive clitoris continuously. Every stroke was an explosion of rapture. He sped up again and pounded me, pistoning in and out of me, relentless, irresistable. Every stroke... merged together, into a never-ending bolt of ecstatic electricity.

And he talked to me.

"THIS is what's real, Mom! THIS is what's true! THIS is why I love you! THIS! And THIS! And..." His words degenerated into animal grunts, and then a howling.

I heard screaming. My foggy mind wondered, who could that be? It was me.

I have climaxed before, many times before, in the last two decades. I had never cum like THIS before! So burning! So enveloping! So long! An infinite orgasm!

Jay slowed but did not stop. My breathing decelerated from hyperventilation to mere uncontrolled gasping. I cooled, but quickly heated again when he resumed pumping harder, faster, more intently. 

And his voice resumed. "THIS! And THIS! And THIS! I love you, Mom! THIS! And..." My repeated screams masked his words.

I do not know how long he kept at me. He moved my legs again, first atop his shoulders, then flexed at the knees and pressed against his chest so I was bent nearly double. He pounded again. My cunt exploded again. I screamed again, again...

Stopping was almost a relief. The relief was brief. 

My son pulled his penis from my vagina, from the vagina that had delivered him to this world, half my lifetime ago. I flopped limply. But then he flipped me over and raised me onto my knees with my butt up, what they call doggy posture, and entered me again. He leaned over me and kissed my neck and held my breasts and whispered in my ear, words I understood but cannot repeat.

And he pounded me. Oh fuck, he pounded me! He fucked me like a dog, like an animal, like the human animal I was and am. While he lovingly and brutally assaulted me from behind, I twiddled my clit. I came and came and came. 

Jay was relentless. He held my hips firmly to steady me and provide a ready target for his attack. My buttocks were his punching bag. His thighs pounding against me were his gloved fists. And his ramrod cock -- was a god.

We know of many gods, gods good or bad or indifferent or playful or crafty or stupid or insane or transparent. We know of gods that create and/or destroy and/or do not give a shit. And some gods fuck. My son's cock was a fucking god.

This god had delivered pleasure but nothing else, not yet. My son had not cum.

Jay turned over me again, and nestled between my thighs, and entered me, and pushed my legs up, and machinegunned me into another continuous orgasm train. I screamed into his body. My face was against his chest. His left nipple was at my mouth. I sucked on him, and bit.

And he came.

I had felt semen in my pussy long ago in the months before Jay was born. Those splashes of semen were the cause of his existence. Semen in my pussy felt good -- I can remember that, even though it has been so long.




A Taste of Incest - Spirits



Jay's cum was nothing like that. It smoked and burnt and bubbled. It washed inside me like a tide of lava. It flooded imy womb and radiated into my omentum and leaked into my nerves, my spinal cord, my circulatory system, everything. My blood boiled. My heart sang. My brain exploded.

And Jay spasmed, and bellowed, and fell onto me. I barely felt his weight.

We lay together for I do not know how long. I pulled his mouth to mine. We breathed together, in and out, gentler than fucking but just as intense. You know 'soul' means 'breath'? We shared our breaths. We shared our souls.

Jay rolled off me. We lay side by side, not gasping, not breathing normally, but somewhere in between, just as we were in between joy and pain, life and death, the past and the future.

Jay turned to me and held me close. He kissed me lightly, sweetly. No tongue, just soft, warm lips. A kiss of love and promise and eternity and just the slightest hint of cranberry vodka.

"I have to go, Mom," he whispered. He held me tight and kissed me again. "I love you, Mom. I'll love you forever. Never forget that." He rolled off the bed and walked naked out the bedroom door.

I wanted to call after him. "Wait," I would say. "Wait, where are you going? Why are you going? Come back!" I wanted to call but my voice did not respond to my instructions. Why did my voice fail me?

I lay back in bed. I felt ecstaic and dazed and well-fucked and lonely and...

And the doorbell rang. What, now?! It rang again.

I crawled out of bed and looked for a robe. Not the one I wore earlier; that was in the living room, and anyway it was positively indecent for strangers to see. I found a worn, heavy, ugly-green hausfrau winter-night's covering to drape over my flushed nakedness. I staggered to the front door.

I pushed the intercom button. "Who's there?" I sounded grumpy, even to me.

"Police. Is this the Govinda residence? Hello?"

Police? What? I cinched the ugly robe tighter around me, hit the porch light switch, and opened the door.

Two uniformed cops stood outside. Black and white, young and old, short and tall, just like the stereotypes in the movies.

"Yes?" I was still dazed.

"Are you Mrs Govinda?" the short fat old bald white one asked.

"Yes." I started to worry.

"Is your son Jayant Govinda, nineteen years old?"

"Yes." I felt my blood pressure rise.

"Mrs Govinda, I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but your son was killed in a traffic accident earlier tonight, about three hours ago. His car was blindsided by a cargo truck that ran a red light. His death was probably instantaneous."

I said nothing. I felt changes in my body. My head...

The next I knew, I was lying on my couch. A blanket covered me. The young tall black officer knelt beside me, holding a glass of water to my lips.

"Mrs Govinda?" he asked. "I know better than to ask how you feel, but I must ask: How do you feel?"

"Jay is dead? But he was just..."

I was going to say, "But he was just here. He just left, only a few minutes ago." That is what I meant to say. But I looked around the living room where Jay had performed his strip-tease and tossed his clothes everywhere. There was no sign of his discarded Dracula costume.

Instead I asked, "Did you or the officer pick up anything in here?"

His eyes narrowed. "No. We can't do that unless we have a warrant or see signs of criminal activity. Why do you ask?"

"It's just... I thought... oh, I don't know what I thought. Jay is dead?"

I closed my eyes. My head...

The next I knew... I was in Hell. I do not believe in Heaven or Hell, not the monotheist kind, but I was there anyway. Hell looked like my living room but with police and an efficient paramedic and a kind clergyman of some monotheist sect, probably one of those Jesus-followers. I knew it was Hell because the smelling salts the medic held under my nose burned. And because everyone was looking at me. And because Jay was dead.

Ash came home for the funeral; Kendra came to comfort me; even my parents attended. I try not to remember any of that. Ash and I stood together at the funeral. He held my hand. He was always a kind man. He did not object when I asked him for a divorce.

How can I say this plainly? I fucked my son's ghost. And I loved it.

-----

Kamela snuggled against Nathan. Her hand still toyed with his semi-erect cock.

"Ash left me with lots of money and his good wishes. I moved from the city, traveled around a lot, mostly just camping out in quiet lonely places. I was up on the north coast when I ran into Nate. It was love at first sight. Or maybe second sight, you know, premonitions. We both thought we saw someone in our future. We were right."

Sara passed her the last beer bottle. "What about pregnancy?"

Kamela laughed. "I've been on The Pill forever, to keep my periods regular. And I don't think ghost sperm are viable anyway. So I've skipped that excitement." Nate's cock wiggled in her hand.

"You're the most exciting woman I've ever met, Kammy," Nate said. "As soon as I saw you on that pier with the wind blowing your hair crazily and you laughing at the approaching storm, I knew we were fated. We've done pretty well so far, right?"

She squeezed his cock. He stiffened immediately. "Right," she said, and dipped her mouth to him again.

The wind faded in the tree branches overhead. The campfire died down to little more than embers. Sleeping bags near the fire circle, and tents just beyond, hosted various sexual activities. Everyone fucked or sucked somebody. All were peaceful.

This Hallowe'en gathering proved once again that the family that lays together, stays together.