5 comments/ 34599 views/ 11 favorites Incestory: Muses By: sex2xs2 Tim sensed someone was in his apartment and paused in the small hallway that connected his storage room to the main room of the loft he rented. He listened for a moment before poking his head around the corner and scanning the dark expanse for threats. The lights were out except for the small lamp over the drafting table near the back wall. A girl was standing with her back to him, her body blocking the light. "Katie?" he asked. She turned suddenly, guiltily, and stumbled back into the drafting table she'd been hovering over. She was still dressed in her uniform so he assumed she must've come straight from campus. She'd cut her hair recently too and now she wore it in a jet-black chin length Bob. "Tim ... hey," she smiled and stood up straight, "I was looking for you." "You look very New Wave," he said teasingly. She twirled a finger through one of the coal-black bangs and smiled sweetly - that only made him more nervous. "What do you want, Katie?" He couldn't help but check her out ... He'd seen her in far less clothing before but there was just something kinky about the pleated grey skirts and the tight midriff-hugging cut of the blue vests the college made the girls wear. "Well," she clasped her hands in front of her and put on her 'Damsel in Distress' look, "I need a little favor from my most favoritist ever, bestest in the world, big brother." "Can't you get one of your boyfriends to help you?" She was pale, an almost milk-white, with sexy pouty lips and bright blue eyes. Her full breasts, long thick legs, and wide hips ensured that she was very popular with the boys even if it was only her freshman year. "I need somebody smart." "Right," he chuckled, "No one smart would ever date you." "Of course they would," She turned back to the drafting table and spread a few of the drawings around to separate them. "I just don't let 'em." "Do you mind not touching those?" Tim asked with a tone that indicated that he did - and therefore that she should. "Don't you want to know what I need?" she asked, peeking at him over her shoulder. "I'm assuming it's something related to academics." She spun and smiled at him again, "See! You are a genius!" "No," he stated." I won't do your homework and I won't write your papers. Mom's paying your tuition - the least that you can do is your own schoolwork." "She likes us being together!" she stated in return, "That's why she paid for me to come here." She leaned back and put her palms on the table behind her. The pose struck him as strangely seductive. "And since we are here together," the look she gave him struck him as strangely seductive too, "there isn't any reason why you can't help me out ... academically." He had to look away from her, intimidated by her intensity, "I got a scholarship, remember? I pay for my school by getting good grades and I pay for this place by selling my work - she pays your tuition and housing out of her fund. I don't have time to help you." Her smile turned to a frown. "Are you gay?" "What?" he stammered. She looked around at the loft and the small piles of art in various places, the Spartan decor and the pile of pillows and blankets he used for a bed. "You know you're never gonna get another girlfriend living like this ... it's like you don't want to ever get laid again with this 'Mister Crazy Repressed Gay Artist' shtick you got goin' on here." "You're never gonna pass chemistry again are you?" he informed her, "And if that's your way of asking me to help you then the answer is definitely no." She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. "Okay!" She took a step towards him and held out her arms as if she wanted to hug him. "Let's make up already," she puckered her lips and imitated their mother, "Come give your Mum a kiss!" "No." She pouted at him like she always did when she didn't get her way. "Damn," she reached back and pulled a few of his sketches off of the drafting table. "I didn't want to have to do this but ..." she held up the drawing for him to see. The charcoal sketch was of their mother in a sensual pose in a window sill. "That's really good work, Tim," she held up another one. It was a sketch of their mother asleep, one breast exposed, her legs slightly parted. "Any one would recognize it as Mom." She cocked her head like she expected a response from him. "Does she know about your little Mommy issue?" Tim looked down in shame and shook his head ... she had him. She'd used blackmail effectively on him when they were children and now that they were in college together, it appeared that she intended on continuing the successful enterprise. "Bring your books with you next time," he spat. She held out her arms and puckered her lips in imitation of their mother again. "Come, come," she smiled cruelly, "Come give us a kiss!" ************************************** Tim did miss his mother - she was the only family he and Katie knew. Their father was a mystery to them. She never spoke of him except to say that he'd made sure all of them were taken care of. They'd never met any of the cousins or aunts and uncles she would mention occasionally, and as time passed, he assumed he never would. She'd raised them herself and he'd always been enamored of her. He'd never outgrown her, not like his friends had outgrown their own mothers. The difference was, to him at least, that his mother wasn't ordinary like their mothers were ... there was too much about her to love. Her image burned in him. The only release he could ever fathom was sketching her or sculpting a likeness of her. He particularly liked sculpting her and he wondered if it wasn't a pleasure derived out of some sick need to run his hands over her body. When he sketched her, he'd spend hours just shading her hair or shaping her breast. He'd linger on the line of her cheeks or the nape of her neck. He especially paid attention to her eyes ... sometimes; he'd press the image of her eyes into the paper with his charcoals so hard that he'd rip it. Her gaze entranced him - even from the two dimensional prison of the papyrus. He had hundreds of them ... sometimes he'd do three or four in a night, those times he could sleep decently for a few days afterwards - at least until the tension built up again and new images of her would burst from him in a flurry of creativity. Lately the sketches had become darker, more sensual. He wasn't blind to it. There was an obvious subtle shifting of her image as he perceived her. As if the innocent admiration of her beauty and charm so evident in his earliest work was fading and being replaced with some dark sexual obsession. He was sure it was some sort of mental illness, a form of Oedipus complex most likely. He just didn't know if he wanted any help with it - and that was probably the most damning part of it all. His sister had seen them now. She knew what they meant to him even if others wouldn't. She would use that to her advantage. ************************************** They lay on their stomachs on a makeshift bed of pillows in the center of the loft's cold hardwood floor, her books and papers between them, facing each other. She was eating a long red licorice stick and gazing over his shoulder. "Well?" he asked. "X equals negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus four times a times c and all divided by two a," she droned and buried her head in her arms. "That's right," he told her encouragingly, "You understand this stuff. I don't understand why you can't learn it from the professors." "They aren't as interesting as you are," she said off-handedly, looking up, and appearing distracted by something behind him again. It struck him that she had just complimented him without realizing it. "What is that?" she asked pointing the licorice over his shoulder. He turned around and tried to follow where the licorice was pointing but wasn't able to discern anything in the clutter of the loft to concern him. He turned back around and came face to face with one of his sketches. This one was different from the others. It was a relatively innocent picture - his very first - and one of the most precious to him. She stood in a white summer dress, her arm entwined in the ropes of a plankwood swing suspended from the branch of an Oak tree. She was caught in a beam of sunlight that shone through the dress, outlining the waiflike body beneath. The sketch was dominated by the looming presence of the old gnarled Oak, its branches spread above her in a way that somehow appeared to be both menacing and protecting her at the same time. "She told you?" Katie asked quietly, lowering the sketch so she could look into his eyes. He almost looked away but managed to hold her gaze - he'd figured out that it was bad luck to show weakness to his sister. "She told you the story about the tree?" "What tree?" he asked. She looked at the sketch again for a moment and shrugged, tossing it aside carelessly, making him cringe. "Never mind," she said. He glared at her; she smiled sweetly and stuck the licorice back in her mouth. "So," he said, opening her Calculus book to the relevant chapter, "You understand Quadratic Equations and the basics of Differentials ... you're good for your first semester." She looked at him strangely for a moment then smiled like she always did just before she vandalized something. "Will you sketch me like you sketch Mom?" she asked. He froze and looked up at her again. "Why?" he managed to ask. She pulled herself up into a sitting position with her chin on her knees. He had to sit up to keep her from kicking him in the face. "Listen," she pointed the licorice at him. "You're a really good artist- I mean it. You draw Mom how she really looks," she waved her arms as if trying to summon the words she needed to express her thoughts, "not like a picture ever could ... but you capture 'HER' y'know ... like you draw her ... her essence!" "Thanks," he said, actually very pleased that she'd been nice to him twice in the same day, even if unintentionally. "I want you to draw 'ME'." He rubbed his eyes so she couldn't see his expression. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said through his fingers. She pouted the way she always did when she wanted her way. "You don't want to draw me?" she asked as if offended. Tim knew the ice was thin. It was the classic 'does this make my butt look fat' sort of trap - only far more dangerous. "I do draw you," he admitted. "I just don't think ..." She sprang up and dashed for his piles of artwork on the drafting table. He grabbed at her but the uniform skirt was too short and his hand slipped off of her leg as she ran past him. He sprung after her and they collided when they reached the table. He slid and smashed her body into the table with his but she ignored the collision to shove away the piles of paper she'd already been through to find his sketches of her. "Katie! Stop!" She elbowed him in the jaw and he fell back a few steps. He leapt back at her, grabbed her around the waist, and slung her away from the table. She landed gracefully on her feet with several of his sketches clasped in each fist. He froze ... he didn't want her to see them but he didn't want her to destroy them in a struggle either. He didn't want them to be any more damaged than they were now. He was torn and couldn't move in his indecision and fear. She started going through them and he stood there helpless and watched. She looked at each one in turn then let them fall, one after the other, to the floor. When she got to the last one she flipped it around so he could see it and glared at him. "That's how you see me?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. "Really?" "Katie," he stepped forward but she stepped back and slid on one of the sheets of paper before quickly regaining her balance. "Don't come near me, Asshole!" "Katie, I tried to warn ..." "Fuck you, Tim!" she said evenly and stormed away, slamming the door behind her. He knelt and gathered the papers together, straightening them as he did. He looked at the last one she'd seen. Tear drops smeared the charcoal but the image was still intact. She crouched on his chest as he slept, pressing his body deep into his mattress with her weight, her long fingers clasping his head, their noses only inches apart, her short hair casting her eyes in demonic black shadow as she slowly sucked the life from him with a tender kiss. ************************************** He stared into the black of the vaulted ceiling looking for some image to appear to him but nothing would come. He rolled onto his side in the pile of blankets and pillows that constituted his bed and looked at the crumpled sheets of paper scattered around his drafting table. Each crumpled ball was a failed attempt to draw a representation of his sister that didn't make her seem like a trampy, selfish, and self-centered cunt. He sighed and rolled back over to stare at the ceiling again and tried to lose himself in its abyss. A light tapping caught his attention. He sat up and listened. The tapping increased in strength until it became a steady knock at the door. ************************************** He slung open the door but the girl who stood there wasn't his sister. He took a step back and stared at her in momentary shock. She was a beautiful young woman with long silky blonde hair. She had light-brown freckles sprinkled across her nose, classic cheekbones, and sultry rich almond shaped brown eyes that sparkled with mischief. She wore the school's uniform with the exception that the top three buttons of her blouse were undone to reveal the generous cleavage the tight blue vests encouraged. Her legs were long, thin, and athletic. The skirt seemed a bit shorter than it should have been and he was pretty sure that if he were to measure the length - it wouldn't be regulation. "Not who you expected?" she asked, glancing down at the bulge in his boxers. He stepped back another step. She stepped into the loft and looked around. "Can I help you?" he asked. She shot a look at his bulge again, looked into his eyes with a grin, and shrugged: "That depends on what you wanna help me with." They just stood there staring at each other. "Katie said you were a serious guy," she laughed and shoved an Organic Chemistry book at him with an assignment folded up in the cover. "She needs that by Monday morning." He took the book and as soon as she was free of the burden she walked past him to a set of oils he'd done last year. They'd sat forgotten, propped against one of the wooden columns that supported the roof, until now. "I know that place," she said pointing to one of the pieces, "King's Cross." She turned and looked at him, "You've been to London?" "No ... I ... I just ... it was an image - maybe a dream, I don't know." She squinted at him as if she didn't believe him and turned to a porcelain statuette next. It was an image of a Greek Goddess holding out an apple as if frozen right at the moment of tossing it away. The girl bent over to inspect the inscription. Tim couldn't resist and let his eyes wander over the beautiful vision before him. "Where'd you buy this?" she asked as if she'd want one herself. Her panties were a light blue and contrasted with the creamy white of her thighs perfectly. Her long thin legs and slender calves were elegant and delicate. "I made it," he said proudly. She looked at him over her shoulder. He caught sight of one of his pairs of overalls hanging from a nail on another column only a few feet away and ripped them down to put them on. "Kallisti ..." she said, reading the inscription he'd etched out loud. "That's the Apple of Discord, so that must be ..." "Eris," he interrupted, "She's the goddess ..." "Strife whose wrath is relentless," She turned back around just as he was struggling to pull up the braces and took a step towards him, "she is the sister and companion of murderous Ares," she took another step closer, "she who is only a little thing at the first, but thereafter grows until she strides on the earth with her head striking heaven." She was close to him now ... nearly nose to nose. "You've read the Iliad?" he asked. "It's required," she giggled. He smiled at his own folly. "Of course," he replied. "And what inspired you to so honor Discordia?" she asked. "My sister," he replied. She reached up and took his chin between his fingers and pulled his face down into a tender kiss. "What was that for?" he asked, his heart fluttering uncontrollably at her touch and the intensity of her beauty. "I've never kissed a real artist before," she stated. He leaned down to kiss her again but she put her fingers to his lips to stop him. "And now I have." She spun on her heel and strode to the door, turning around to smile at him, to see his reaction to her. He'd been around his sister long enough to control himself ... not reacting was always the best tactic when dealing with this type of girl. "Be done with it Sunday night," she said. "What?" "The assignment," she nodded at the book he held in his hand. He looked down at it and when he looked up she was gone. She'd left the door wide open. He dashed for the doorway and slid on the hardwood until he hit the carpet of the hallway and stumbled. She was half-skipping down the hall, her beautiful blonde hair swaying side to side like strands of silver, the little skirt bouncing with each step to reveal her blue panties. "Hey!" he called to her. She spun around but didn't break stride, continuing down the hall backwards. "What's your name?" "Claire," she said just as she reached the elevator door. The elevator chimed just then and the door slid open behind her. "Claire ... what?" he asked. "Don't worry, Mister Artist," she laughed and stepped backwards onto the elevator. "I'm positive we'll meet again!" She blew him a kiss as the doors slid shut. ************************************** He watched her beautiful thick Auburn hair blow in the cool wind that roared over the white cliffs while the ocean roared below her. He smiled in enjoyment at her enjoyment of the moment. Something changed ... she looked sad and a tear formed in her eye. The tear rolled down her cheek to the corner of her mouth and she tasted the salt of it. Her clothes fell away and she slipped over the rocks to disappear into the inky water, leaving only a ripple distorting the reflection of the moon to indicate she'd ever been there. ************************************** He looked up from the sketch and wiped perspiration from his brow. It was the best he'd ever done. She was frozen in time ... at the very instant that the gravity of the sea claimed her from the weight of the earth, the rocks giving her up to the deep's embrace. Her arms were outstretched in an arc like angel's wings, her eyes to heaven, her lithe nude body stretched and arched as she teetered at the point where the worlds of land and sea met, ready to return to the world she belonged to. "Why don't you fuck her and get it over with?" Katie asked from behind him. He spun to see Katie and her hot friend Claire standing only a few yards away. "I gotta start locking that goddamned door!" he spat, mainly to himself. "It was locked," Claire said with a sly grin. Katie crossed her arms and pouted at him: "Is it done?" He pointed at her book on the floor and nodded. Katie stomped across the floor and scooped the book up. Claire smiled at Tim and winked. "Can we go now?" Katie whined to Claire. Incestory: Muses Claire ignored her. "Thanks, Tim," she said. "For what?" he asked her. "For doing Katie's homework," she rolled her eyes at him. Katie walked over and stood next to her. "Anytime," he said, cringing inside, realizing he'd just been played. Claire stepped up to him and pulled Katie with her. "Tell him that you appreciate it, Katie," Claire suggested. Katie looked at her sharply but said the words: "I appreciate it, Tim." "You see," Claire said to Tim, "As Academics Secretary I am responsible for making sure that the cumulative GPA for our Sorority doesn't slip," Katie tried to pull away but Claire gripped her arm and held her, "and if she fails any of her classes, I lose my best chance of having a good year, right?" "I see," he said, realizing that what he had just started to consider a generous act was really just another angle by a girl to manipulate him for something she needed. "So," she continued with a smile, "the three of us are going to hang out together tonight and work out whatever arrangement we need to ... to see this thing through, okay?" Tim had every right to throw the two little bitches out but a sick part of him really didn't want to throw away the first time in a very long time that he'd had a pretty girl other than his own sister want to hang out with him. Katie finally managed to pull away from Claire and flopped down onto a pile of throw pillows with her arms crossed defiantly. "Here," Claire thrust a folded piece of paper at him. "What's this?" He took the paper from her. "It's a shopping list," She turned and waved for Katie to get up off of her ass. They walked to the door together. Claire opened the door and Katie stepped out into the hall. "Don't forget the candles," she said and smiled sweetly, "I really like candles." Then she slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind her. ************************************** "It's like a ... like a ... like a " he forgot what he was trying to say and looked at Katie. Katie's face was bright red and she was doing everything she could to keep from coughing. Claire puffed on the joint and blew perfect smoke rings at her. The bright blue of the rings caught the candlelight and left cone shaped trails behind them. "Don't worry, Dude!" Claire laughed, "I wasn't listening to you anyway!" Katie let go and coughed a giant cloud of smoke into the center of their makeshift circle. Tim reveled in the euphoria and smiled. He couldn't ever remember having this much fun. Claire and Katie were in shorts, Claire's were slutty tight jeans shorts, and Katie's were low-cut, light colored loose khaki's. Both wore matching 'wife beater' style t-shirts emblazoned with the school's crest. Katie wore a sports bra but Claire didn't - much to Tim's delight. "Damnit, Claire!" Katie sputtered, "You always make me fucking laugh!" They were both so beautiful and young and sexy. Tim felt himself hardening in his sweatpants and had to switch positions on the throw pillows to keep them from noticing. Claire leaned to him to hand him the smoke, Tim couldn't help but look down her top when she did. He took the joint from her and when he looked up she was smiling that sly grin at him. "Naughty boy," she said. "What?" he replied. She took each of her breasts in her hands and squeezed them. First the left and then the right giving him a good chance to look at them. Katie burst into laughter. "I wish I could sketch ... just so I could draw the look on your face!" Claire relaxed back into the pillows and smiled at them. "Okay, guys," she said, "Time to get down to business." "Can't we do this tomorrow?" Katie pleaded. "Nope," she nodded at Tim. "Tell him." Katie turned to Tim and sighed. She didn't look at him as she spoke. "Tim, I wanted to tell you that I have always admired you and I really do care about you ..." she looked at Claire and Claire nodded at her encouragingly, "I was ... jealous." "Jealous?" he asked. "Of Mom," she admitted. "I was only mean to you because that's the only time you'd ever pay attention to me." He looked at her steadily and saw she was being sincere. "Your turn, Mr. Artist," Claire said to Tim. "Well ... I ... uhhhh," Tim was distracted by Claire's tits and lost his train of thought. "Come on, Mister Are-those-teeeets!" Claire squealed bouncing her tits up and down for him. "Alright!" he laughed, "You really want me to do this?" "Yes!" Claire shouted in exasperation. "Tell her!" He looked at Katie. "I ignored you because I wanted to fuck you and I was afraid if I didn't push you away I'd ruin our relationship ... I guess I sublimated all of that ... sexual frustration ... into anger." "Holy shit!" Claire burst into laughter, "That's fucking honesty! Goddamn!" Katie just gaped at him. "But I ruined our relationship anyway ... either way it was doomed!" He stood up and staggered to the drafting table. "And this!" he shoved the stacks of sketches off of the table onto the floor, "You're right! I want to fuck my mother too!" "Oh my God, Claire!" Katie started to protest, "I swear to God I didn't know any of this ... please don't tell anyone ... Oh my God!" "Shut up!" Claire barked at her. Katie covered her face with her hands and balled in shame. Her life on campus was ruined if Claire told anyone about this night ... now Claire had complete control of her. Tim staggered and sat down hard on the hardwood with the realization of what he'd just done to his little sister. Claire pulled Katie to her and hugged her around her shoulders. She put her cheek to Katie's and held her like a true friend. "Shhhhhhhhhh, it's okay," she said. "It's not!" Katie said, her voice muffled by her hands. Claire pulled Katie's hands down. Katie turned her face away in shame. "Look at me," Claire ordered her. Reluctantly she turned back to Claire. Claire smiled at her sweetly and kissed her full lips tenderly, like a lover. Katie's eyes fluttered for a moment then she jerked away from Claire and her eyes popped open wide in astonishment. "You see?" Claire asked her. "Now we are all in this together." Tim gasped and felt himself stiffen in his pants again. He didn't bother to try to cover it up this time. Katie smiled a grateful smile. The two locked eyes and rejoined their kiss. Claire slid her palm down Katie's navel and into the top of her shorts "Holy Shit!" Tim muttered this time. They lay back together onto the pillows, Katie on her back and Claire on her side. "Spread your legs," Claire urged Katie, "Let him see." Katie spread her legs wide at the knee so Tim had a perfect view of Claire's hand rotating inside her khakis. "Here," Claire smiled at him and spread her legs too by putting one knee in the air with her foot on the ground and straightening the other. "Let's give the Artist a little something to work with, huh?" Claire's jeans shorts were so tiny that Tim had a perfect view of her ass and white panties behind the stretched denim. She ran two fingers over the seam of the denim, over her little puffy mound, pausing occasionally to press and swirl them over her clit. Tim sketched as fast as he could, his fingers flying through the motions as if magically possessed. He finished each sketch and ripped it away from the pad so it flew in away into the darkness to make room for the next. Claire and Katie kissed, moaning into each other's mouths, caressing each other slowly and sensually. Eventually, Katie started panting and rolling her hips, Claire's ministrations drawing her into a frenzied sexual state, arousing her beyond caring that her brother was watching another girl finger her and documenting it all in charcoal. "This is your moment, Dude," she said to Tim over her shoulder, "It's now or never!" He tossed the pad and charcoal away and staggered to his feet. His cock tenting his sweatpants unabashedly. "Girl," Claire said to Katie, "You are in for a treat!" She looked back at Tim. "Come here!" He stepped up so that he stood over them. "Lose the pants," she said. He dropped the sweats. His engorged penis bounced in the air, hovering over his sister. Katie tried to sit up for a moment but Claire whispered words into her ear and she relaxed. Claire jerked her shorts and panties down and Katie lifted her legs so she could slide them off. "Fuck her," Claire said as she tossed Katie's shorts away into the darkness beyond the candlelight, "She's ready for it." Tim dropped to his knees and aimed his rock hard cock at his little sister's neatly trimmed snatch and hesitated. "Need some help?" Claire asked him. Katie rolled her hips and Claire spread her pussy lips with her fingers so he could see her hot little glistening pink hole. "Katie? I ..." "Do it!" Katie snapped. Claire smiled up at him. "Told ya!" she quipped, "She's ready for it!" Tim slid the tip of his cock into Katie, just enough to tease. "Come on!" Katie cried, "Please!" He sank completely into her and she cried out in pleasure. "Oh, yes! Yes! YES!" she groaned and jerked in ripples of orgasm at the sensation of being filled by her brother's cock. "Unnnnnghhh!" he moaned - and ejaculated into his little sister, overwhelmed by the steamy hot velvet of her pussy. "Shit!" Claire laughed crawling to her feet. "I might make it to class on time tomorrow after all!" Katie and Tim lay together a moment before Katie pushed him up and squirmed out from underneath him. She crawled away to find her clothes. Claire smiled at him and tasted the fingers she'd had in Katie with the tip of her tongue. "Turn on a fucking light!" Katie said just as she put her hand down on her shorts and panties, "Oh, never mind." Claire walked around Tim to the drafting table and held up the last sketch he'd done of his mother to admire it. "Tell him you appreciate him fucking you, Katie," Claire said. "I appreciate you fucking me, Tim," Katie said as she pulled up her panties. "Anytime," he replied, realizing he'd just been played again - but not minding as much this time. ************************************** Tim stepped back from the clay he'd been shaping and smiled. It was another figurine of Claire and Katie together ... his third this week. He'd skipped all of his classes so that he'd have the time to create them without interruption. Neither of the girls had been by to see him since their little party - he didn't really expect to see them anytime soon anyway; Katie wouldn't need her Organic Chemistry assignment until the weekend. He'd been so engrossed in his art, he probably wouldn't have noticed even if they had. There was a sharp knock at the door. He turned and looked. It wasn't his sister's knock and Claire probably would've just picked the lock. The knock came again. He strolled to the door, wiping the clay off of his hands. When the knock came again this time ... it was a bit more insistent. He flung open the door and stopped short, frozen in his tracks. "Hello, Dear!" his Mother said and smiled. He gaped at her. She rushed him and wrapped herself around him. She was dressed in a nice cream colored blouse and full length skirt combo and he tried to pull away to keep the clay and three days worth of sweat covering him from getting on her. "Let me see you!" she cried, holding his face, turning it side to side. "Mom!" he finally managed, "Hi!" "Come," she said and puckered her lips, "give your Mum a kiss!" He leaned in and gently kissed her lips. She sensed something was different, an alienness to his touch. The kiss was strangely pleasant to both of them. "Oh, my," she said, putting her fingers to her lips in surprise. "What?" he asked her, confused. "Oh," she said again, regaining her composure, "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" "Of course!" He stepped aside and let her in. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked her as he took her in. Tall lithe figure, beautiful Auburn hair, light brown eyes, sleek ankles peeking from under the hem of the dress. She held up a folded letter. "What did you expect I'd do when I read this?" she asked quizzically. He took the letter from her and read it. +++++++ Dear Mother, I have missed you terribly since I've been away. I've thought of you every moment of every day and I really hope you'll come to visit me at your earliest convenience. We have so much to talk about and I have so many things I want to share with you. Please, come see me! With Love, Timothy +++++++ "Aaaaah," he said, "Of course, of course," he gestured to the drafting table's chair ... the only real piece of furniture in the loft. When she turned away, he looked at the letter again. It wasn't his handwriting and it wasn't his sister's either ... Claire had written it. She strolled through the loft, admiring the various pieces of art as she passed. "This is all yours?" she asked, "It's all so wonderful!" "That's not all of it," Claire said from the doorway behind them. Tim and his mother turned to her. "His best stuff is here," she held up a large yellow document-sized envelope. His Mother took in Claire, wide eyed, and smiling. "Dear Heaven!" she exclaimed, her eyes scanning Claire from head to toe, "Aren't you lovely!" "I love the accent!" Claire gushed, "It's slight but ... Westmeath, isn't it?" "Aye!" Tim's mother laughed, "It's been so many years that most don't hear it ..." she cocked her head in curiosity, "... so keenly." "I have an ear for melody," Claire offered. She turned to her son and smiled a huge pleased grin. "Such a clever girl! You must introduce us!" "Uhhhh, sure!" he looked at Claire in shock and she winked at him. "Claire, this is my Mother, Catherine," Claire curtsied, pulling the uniform skirt out to the sides and exposing a little more flesh than was probably appropriate, "Mom, this is Claire, she's my ..." "Fiancé!" Claire squealed, putting her hands over her mouth, "Can you believe it?" Tim and his mother exchanged a look and Tim hoped he didn't look as shocked as his mother did. Claire rushed to him, threw her arms around him, and kissed him passionately. Tim stiffened in surprise for a moment but relaxed, letting her press herself into his arms, tasting her sweet strawberry lip gloss as she kissed him. If she didn't mind his disheveled and dirty state then he wouldn't mind either. She broke off and turned to smile at Catherine: "We're sooooo happy together!" Catherine let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in and burst into tears of joy. "Thank Goodness!" she cried, "I thought he meant to tell me he was gay!" "Oh, no way!" Claire giggled, grinding herself lewdly into him, eliciting a raised eyebrow from his mother, "I can assure you that he is all man!" ************************************** They lounged on the pillows and laughed together over a few bottles of wine. They were all pretty toasted. Claire regaled Catherine with all sorts of romantic and wholly improbable stories of how they met and fell in love. Catherine shared a few embarrassing tidbits from his childhood and for a moment, all was right with the world. Tim should have known Claire was up to something but strangely he found that he trusted her and even if he didn't know what she was going to do - he realized that she was on his side and he was sure that it all would be okay. "What is it?" his mother asked him in a concerned voice. "Don't worry about that, Lady Catherine!" Claire slurred, "That's his 'I'm going to suddenly create a fantastic work of art' look!" She was right, Tim realized, and sprung to his feet. "Told ya!" she laughed. Tim ran to the table he kept his clay on and smashed the figurine he'd been working on earlier down into a lump of clay again. He focused on the clay; let his mind mold the image before he let his fingers begin their work. Before he realized it he was done ... his fingers shaping the final curve of Claire's breast, his hands shaky from the emotion and intensity of the process. When he came back to reality he realized that the loft was silent other than the soft snoring of the two women. He turned around and pulled his sketch pad onto his lap and smiled. Claire lay nestled under his mother's arm with her head on her breast. The candlelight cast them in a warm yellow glow and they looked peaceful; it was beautiful. ************************************** Tim awoke to the bustle of Claire and his mother straightening up the mess they'd left last night. "Morning, Ladies," he said. They both stopped and looked at him and then at each other. The look they shared was odd and Tim found himself the one with raised eyebrows this time. "Morning, Dear," his mother said, standing up and straightening her wrinkled dress, "I suppose I should bring some nightclothes next time I visit, eh?" "Absolutely," Claire said, "We want you to visit as often as you like!" She looked at Tim and smiled so sweetly it reminded him of his sister. "We'd love to have you!" Just then, Katie burst through the door. "Mom!" she squealed and ran to her mother and hugged her tightly, "I'm so glad you came!" Claire giggled and put her hand over her mouth guiltily. Katie noticed Claire and froze. "Hey," Claire said with little wave and a grin like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Katelyn, my darling! I can't believe you didn't inform me of your brother's engagement!" Catherine turned with Katie under her arm, "How could you have kept this lovely creature a secret from me? I'd never thought you'd have the discipline!" "Oh," she said evenly, jealousy flaring in her eyes. "You'd be surprised." ************************************** The three women went out together that evening to do whatever it is that women do together. Tim did whatever men did when they're alone and spent the afternoon masturbating. He thought of his mother and his sister, he imagined Claire and his mother together, imagined the three of them satisfying each other to satisfy him. He didn't sketch a single drawing all day. ************************************** He could hear their voices in the dark. They must have picked the lock again. They were trying to be quiet. "How could you?" Katie asked. "Shut up," Claire hissed. "I had everything under control ..." "I make the rules," he heard Katie gasp as if Claire had hit her or pulled her hair. "Don't you forget it." "I'm sorry!" Katie sobbed quietly, "I love you but ..." "Go then," she said, "Do what you need to do." A moment later he felt Katie climb onto his bed of pillows, her weight tipping him towards her a little as she crawled to him. "Tim?" Katie asked quietly. "Yeah?" he replied reaching out to touch her. He found her hair and she pressed her face into his hand. She slid under the covers and slid her hand into his boxers. He stiffened in her light, cool grasp. He pulled her on top of him. She lifted her skirt and lowered her tight little pussy onto him, engulfing him in her heat, caressing him with her slippery cavity. She took his face in her hands, rolled her hips to milk his cock, and kissed him tenderly. "I need my Chem homework by Monday," she moaned into his lips as she pressed him down into the pillows with her body. He came in her, grunting loudly with each spurt. "We're going to have to work on that, Mr. Artist!" Claire announced. ************************************** Catherine came by after classes for dinner and took the girls out to get something in the city. Tim entertained himself by sketching this time. Incestory: Muses When he was done, he had a good piece and he was a little proud of it. It was of his sister. She sat on the very pinnacle of a mountain, clouds formed the landscape. She was a fallen Angel with a broken leather wing, abandoned by Hell, rejected by God, her eyes turned up in longing to the sun, her short black hair blowing in the chill wind. "Spread your legs," Claire said quietly behind him. He spun and grabbed at the table for support. Claire and his mother were sprawled on the pillows and they were kissing. He'd been so engrossed in creating the sketch that he'd missed them coming into the loft and settling into the lounge area they'd created with random pillows the night before. Claire had one hand in his mother's blouse massaging her breast, the other between her long thin legs, the normally knee length skirt bunched around his mother's hips. "Spread your legs for him," Claire insisted quietly, "He needs to see you." Catherine moaned and pulled Claire's face to her own to breathe her moans into her lips. "Show him what he's needed to see all these years, what he needs to see ... to finally find some peace." Catherine's legs fell open as wide as they could and Claire slid her fingers under the crotch of Tim's mother's panties and inserted them into her bushy red-haired vagina. Catherine began to quiver and shake, the beginning of a massive orgasm. "So soon?" Claire laughed, "Must run in the family!" The suddenness of it sent shockwaves through Tim and before he knew it he was quivering too, his penis in his hand, masturbating frantically and ready to cum at the sight of his mother's release. "Come here!" Claire ordered him. "Quickly!" He staggered to his feet and tripped over a few pillows but managed to obey, standing over his mother, stroking his cock furiously. "Cum on me!" Catherine cried pulling herself up onto her elbows, ripping open her blouse, and arching her back. "Cum on my tits!" "Unnnngggghhh!" Tim let go, throwing his head back as he spasmed, splashing her creamy white tits and large pink nipples with his semen. "Oh God!" she cried when the hot liquid splashed across her chest, the sensation causing her to burst into another frenzy of orgasm. "There ya go," Claire purred as she increased the frequency of her fingers inside Catherine to the point that she was literally smacking her pussy with her palm. Tim sputtered and grunted at the sight of his thick arcs of creamy white semen pooling in his mother's cleavage. "Look at it all!" Claire remarked at the volume of it. Finally, when Tim had spent himself and she was exhausted, Catherine collapsed back down onto the pillows smearing her son's seed over her tits and neck. Tim fell to his knees, his head bowed in shame and exhaustion. "Come on, Mr. Artist," Claire said soothingly as she pulled Tim down on one side of his mother and laid down on the other, "Tell her." "I ... I love you," he said to his mother. "I've always dreamt of you." "Mmmmmmmmm," Catherine moaned in pleasure, sitting up to wrap him in her arms and pulling him to her cum-soaked breast, "Don't tell me you're dreaming now?" "How would I know if I was!" he cried from the bottom of a sudden metaphysical void. Claire grabbed the flesh of his cheek and twisted it brutally. "Owwwww!" he cried out, smacking her hand away as she burst into laughter. "I guess not!" Claire stated. "There's nothing wrong with dreaming a bit more tonight ... is there?" Catherine asked him. "You really owe me, Mister Artist," Claire said quietly. "More than you can imagine," he told her as he pushed Catherine back down onto her back and slid between his mother's legs. ************************************** The smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee woke him up. He looked around, confused for a moment until the previous night's adventure blasted back into his memory and he shook in the intensity of it. Claire was standing in the small kitchenette making breakfast. His mother sat cross-legged on the floor in his old robe looking through a pile of his sketches. Katie must have been in class. He sat up quickly and gasped. "Shit!" Catherine looked up and Claire spun to look at him. "You weren't supposed to see those, Mom!" he cried. Claire turned back to her cooking. "Why not?" his mother asked him, "They're ... they're beautiful!" He looked over at Claire and Claire smiled at him over her shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "Tell you?" he stammered, "How could I?" "He doesn't know yet, Lady Catherine!" Claire said. "Know what?" he asked, his frustration at his own confusion angering him. "This!" His Mother held up the yellow envelope Claire had shown them the day before. "Go ahead!" Claire laughed, "Who better to tell him than his own Mom?" "You're going to get a studio!" Catherine squealed, "There's a check for Ten Thousand dollars in here!" "That's just to get started," Claire said to him almost apologetically, "My family has money and you'll get more ... your talent's just too good to waste, okay?" Tim looked at Claire forced a smile. Claire shrugged at him and scraped the scrambled eggs onto a large plate. His mother crawled across the floor to him shedding the robe as she came. "I have never been so happy!" she said as she pushed him back down and lay on top of him. Claire turned around with a frying pan in her hand and laughed. "I guess breakfast is gonna have to wait a minute!" She set the pan down and watched intently as Catherine tenderly satisfied the part of her son that needed her motherly tending the most. ************************************** Claire and Katie admired a pair of Tim's ceramic statuettes together. Tim finished making a sale to one of the customers that browsed the myriad art pieces he'd put together for his first show and excused himself to join them. He was doing well; he'd already made more money than he ever imagined he would. "What do you think?" Claire asked. "I don't understand them," Katie replied. "This one is Eris," Claire poked her in the chest, "that's you!" "Okay," Katie said, "So who's that?" she pointed at the sister figurine. "She's a kind of Strife too, the daughter of Nyx ..." "But the other is the elder daughter of dark Night," Tim interjected over her shoulder, "and she is far kinder to men." Claire turned to him and smiled. Katie elbowed him in the ribs. "She stirs up even the shiftless to toil;" Claire responded with the next verse, "for a man grows eager to work when he considers his neighbour." Katie groaned and put her head in her hands. "This Strife is wholesome for men." Tim laughed and grabbed Claire's ass lewdly. Claire reached back and pulled him into a passionate kiss over her shoulder. Katie looked at the two of them and smiled politely. "Does this mean I can't get my homework done for me anymore?" "Don't be jealous, Eris!" Claire cooed, "I'm sure our ... Arteeest ... will always be able to take care of his little sister." ************************************** When it came time to close, Tim strolled through the dark studio, the orange light from the street casting everything in shadow. He smiled and mentally inventoried the pieces he had remaining. He heard footsteps behind him and spun just in time to see someone step into the alcove that he'd used to display the sketches. "Excuse me!" he called. "We're closed ... just now ... sorry!" There was no response. He'd hung then in a grid using dowel rods to mount each successive row of drawings a little closer to the front so that it had the appearance that the sketches were a wave about to crash over the observer. It had been a popular part of the show and he'd actually had to refuse at least a dozen offers for the entire display and several dozen requests for individual pieces. He'd refused them all without a thought. He strolled through the area he'd arranged his sculptures in and ducked under a low hanging oil. "None of those are for sale ..." he stopped short and laughed when he saw that the mystery person was his mother. She stood under the arc of sketches and looked at them one by one. "I didn't know you were back in town. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her although he was grateful she was here now. "I'd have picked you up from the airport!" "She's very beautiful," she said, "don't you think?" She ran a finger along the edge of one that presented her as a brazen Flapper in short skirt and work boots with no laces. She wore a look of pure free spirited chaos. "At least she was," she added quietly, "once." She wore a traditionally black, short cocktail dress and heels. Her red hair was up in a bun. She wore mascara and lipstick that made her eyes even more mysterious and her lips even more inviting in the play of the shadows. "She's more beautiful now then ever," he assured her. She slid a three-legged stool someone had left off to the side to the center of the alcove and straddled it, her long sexy legs spread wide on either side of her so that the dress slid up to reveal the tops of the thigh-high stockings she wore. "You wouldn't tell her that just because she was your mother, would you?" He stepped into the alcove and up to the stool. She put her palms on the stool and closed her legs around him. They were so close he could feel her breath on his lips, her breasts pressed into his chest. "All the more reason to tell her," he said with a smile. She unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis; she slid her dress up and scooted forward on the stool and held him so that it slid over her satin panties, pressing it into her moistening slit. "What about your darling bride-to-be?" "Somehow, I don't think she minds." "You're not worthy of her," Catherine said. Tim looked at her surprised. "You think so?" He slid her panties aside and slid two fingers into her while slowly stroking himself. "I'm sure of it," she insisted. "Still ... she has deigned to show you favor. She obviously loves you." "How do you know that?" he asked. "Women's Intuition," she stated as if that explained everything. "Are you sure that you'd want your young lover to marry me?" he teased. She put her hands on his shoulders and her forehead to his. "All the more reason!" He slid his fingers out of her and between her lips as he guided his precum dripping cock into her. She sucked on his fingers and rolled her hips, making the entire stool tip one way then the other with the movement. She didn't have to worry about falling ... she clung to him too tightly with her legs. "Oh no!" he sputtered and came in her. She rocked with him on every thrust as he rolled his hips and filled her with his semen. "I'm sorry!" he kissed her eyes and nose, "I ... I can't control it!" "It's okay!" she said into his shoulder as they reveled in the sensations of their incestuous coupling. "I've never been happier." She held him inside her and began to roll her hips this time. At first it hurt his oversensitive nerves but soon enough the pain gave way to pleasure and in a moment or two more, he was stroking in her at a reasonable pace again. He looked up and let his eyes wander over the sketches, enjoying the feel of his mother's cum-filled steamy hot cunt while he scrolled through the images of her over her shoulder. When his eyes fell on the one with her beneath the gnarled Oak tree, the one his sister had asked him about, a thought crossed his mind. "Tell me about the tree," he insisted. "What?" his mother startled and looked around. He leaned back and looked into her eyes. "Tell me about the tree." "Oh!" she leaned back so she could see the sketch he was referring to, albeit upside down, and he had to grip her sides to keep her from tumbling off of the stool backwards, "I was wondering how you knew about that!" "I don't." She sat back up and took his face in her hands and laughed. "You must ... how else would you have known to draw it?" "Tell me again, then," he insisted. "There is a price," she warned as she reached between them and slid him back into her. "I like it already," he laughed. She looked at him intently and put on the face she always wore when she told him tales from the old country. "Crazy Aunt Mary disappeared when she'd just come of age," she began the story in her spooky Irish voice, "and no one knew where she'd gone." She rested her chin on his shoulder and ran her hands up his chest. "Some of the children loved to play in the Old Forest during reunions." She unbuttoned his shirt. "Some said they'd see her wandering alone as if lost ..." She pulled his shirt off over his head. "Scary," he chuckled. "Go on." "Some of the older boys," she unbuckled his belt, "well; they would claim she would appear to them if they came around a particularly old tree in the heart of the forest." "An old Oak," he moaned. She gasped then and looked at him strangely for a moment as if she'd been shocked. He held her thighs to steady her. "Go on," he urged, quickening his pace to encourage her. "It was an ancient Oak at the edge of a pond someone had hung an old rope swing from many years before," she continued. "They said she would try to lure them into the forest ... to seduce them." "That's more like it," he laughed, "I can't believe I haven't heard this one!" She was the master at telling stories and he could feel the suspense building, the gentle rolling of her hips increasing in intensity to match him, incrementally, as the story progressed. "They say that one boy ..." she grabbed the back of his head and lifted her ass off the stool for more leverage, "Crazy Mary's own nephew no less ..." He held her in the air by her thighs and balanced her as she ground her thin body into him. "He was of a strange sort himself ... and ... he gave in to her charms." He felt his balls start to swell again, building up a tension of their own. "Then what?" he moaned. Her husky voice and the velvet heat of her drawing him in. "She enraptured him ... made him ... impregnate her," the movement of her hips became more insistent, her legs tightening around him, "then ... drove him mad with lust!" He felt his orgasm build, his nuts twitched and his heart began to pound, he pressed his forehead to hers ran his lips over her brow. "Oh, oh, oh!" she sputtered and dug her nails into his shoulder blades as she spasmed. "Yeeeeessssss!" he groaned as he pumped his thick semen into her quivering body again, jerking her hips into him as he thrust. They clung together, pressed as tightly together as two people could be, as close as they'd been since the day he was born. When they wound down, Tim reluctantly pulled his sweaty body away from hers and pulled up his pants. "Then what?" he asked. "What?" She stood and straightened her panties under the dress. "Oh, yes, the story ..." "Yes!" he exclaimed, "The story!" "He hung himself in the swing and no one found his body until it had rotted completely away." She undid her hair clasp, letting her beautiful long hair fall from the updo, "He'd been absorbed by the roots of the demon tree, you see; only his bones and the swing remained." "Is that true?" he asked. "Boo!" Catherine laughed amusedly and kissed his nose. "Lame!" He shook his head and laughed with her. "I need a ride to the airport." She smiled at him sweetly and he suddenly realized where his sister got it from. "I'll get my keys." ************************************** Tim rolled off of his sister, sweaty and tired, but still rock hard. Katie reached between her legs and slid her panties up to keep his cum from draining out of her and onto her skirt; she had another class today and was already running a little later than she had expected. "My textbook and assignments are on the table," she informed him. Claire sat with a blank look on her face in the chair and looked out the window tapping her lip with a pencil. She'd put her long blonde hair up in a ponytail and she looked so cute that way in her school uniform that Tim sat up to get his sketch pad. "No you don't!" Katie grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back down to roll on top of him. "I have Calculus homework for you to do." "We should get married in the summer," Claire stated. "I like the summer." "What?" Tim and Katie asked in unison. "Married," she pointed the pencil at Tim menacingly, "You're not getting cold feet on me are you?" "I thought that was just some elaborate con you were playing!" He looked up at his sister quizzically, "Wasn't it?" "Sounds about right," Katie shrugged and sat up so that she straddled her brother and twisted around to look at Claire as well. "And he hasn't done my Calc homework yet." "Maybe at first ..." she admitted, "But I kinda like the idea." "Really, Claire?" Katie asked scornfully. "Really?" Tim asked hopefully. "Why not, Mister Artist?" she asked him, "I dig your mom and she digs me," she nodded at Katie, "and your sister's alright too." "Thanks," Katie sneered at her. "Do you love me?" Tim asked. "Who says you gotta love someone to marry 'em?" she laughed, "I'm gonna marry you for your money!" Tim rolled his stunned sister off of him and strolled across the loft to where she sat. She smiled crookedly and watched him approach her, his dick bobbing with each step. He smiled back at her and got down on one knee. "Claire .... Uh, shit ... hold on a second," he looked over his shoulder at his sister with a quizzical expression. "Jensen," Katie groaned and stood up to straighten out her blouse and vest. "Her name is Claire Jensen." "Claire Jensen," he took her hand. "Will you marry me?" She looked at him and had to bite her lip to hold back her laughter. "Somehow I never pictured this moment would be like this," she flicked her eyes down to his stiff pecker, "but now that It's here I can't imagine how it could have happened any other way!" "That a yes?" he asked. "Why should I?" she asked coyly. "I've got money now," he reminded her, "and ... you are my Muse!" She broke into a huge toothy smile and her eyes sparkled with delight. "Your Muse, huh?" "I wouldn't have done any of this without you and ... now that you've brought it up ... I can't bear the thought of not marrying you either - of not having you in my life." "Oh, Lord!" Katie cried sarcastically. "I can't take anymore of this!" "Besides," he kissed the fingers of her hand tenderly, "my mother would never forgive me if I let you get away." "In that case, Timothy Fitzgerald," Claire said, reaching down to pull him up to his feet, "why not?" "Wonderful!" he cried. She took him into her mouth as he moaned her name and ran his fingers through her silky blonde ponytail. "Wonderful," Katie mocked as she strolled to the door and grabbed her books, "Now I gotta worry about getting my homework done ... and finding a dress to wear." **************************************