Hey, this is my story, so don't steal it! Repost elsewhere
if you want, but leave it intact (including the email
address at the end).

Enjoy!

Kisses, quivering_fleshNOSPAM@yahoo.com
________________________________________________________


Pajamas, Pt3: Reunion (Mg Fm MF Mm incest father-daughter
pedo mother-son father-son)


     Sometimes I try to step back and put myself in an
outsider's shoes, and every time I'm amazed at the situation
I'm in. How could such a family possibly get started, much
less keep going year after year? I really do understand why
some people -- shit, most people -- just don't get it.
     
     Of course, day-to-day, living with Frank and Dorrie,
our relationship seems the most natural in the world. More
than natural, it seems fated. How could the three of us
possibly live any differently? How could anyone imagine that
we'd give each other up? We certainly can't.
     
     I'm taking a break from playing, just hanging around
the play room bar, working on a drink -- the first I've had
this evening, since I really don't like to drink at these
parties. Most of the other club members enjoy a certain
amount of alcohol, but I want to be as alive and open as
possible to my experiences here, and booze could all too
easily mess that up.
     
     I've placed myself so that I can watch Frank and
Dorrie, watch without them seeing me. It is so wonderful to
just hover out of sight, watching how they are together, how
much in love, letting myself be flooded with my own feelings
for them. It was happening now -- that warm liquid glow
filling me up, making me tight and restless at the bottom of
my belly, making my heart swell so it seemed ready to burst.
     
     Frank is my son and Dorrie his wife. Frank is twenty-
five. I had him when I was thirteen, and his father was --
well, I'll tell that story a bit later tonight. After all,
that's why I'm here at the party (well, one of the
reasons!).
     
     Dorrie is seventeen and they've been together for four
years (quite a coincidence that they got involved when she
was thirteen, isn't it? Not!) Together for four years, but
only married last year, since this stupid state doesn't let
girls marry until they're sixteen.
     
     Right at this minute they're busy in the play pen with
another couple. The other couple -- I'll call them "the
Smiths" (original!) -- are in their mid-twenties, and they'd
met Frank and Dorrie two parties ago. They'd played a bit,
but even at the last party were still feeling each other
out. Driving over in the car, the kids (as I call them) were
really looking forward to hooking up with the Smith's for a
third time. They sensed that the barriers would come down
this time and all four would be ready to completely indulge
themselves.
     
     And that certainly turned out to be true. Right now
Frank is on his knees behind the man, fucking him doggie
style while the two girls kiss and touch and pet them. Frank
has always been comfortable with both sexes (he's his
mother's son, right?), but it has been some time since he'd
fucked another man. Dorrie really gets turned on by watching
her husband do that, so when it emerged at the last party
that the Smith's were switch hitters, Frank and Dorrie
immediately started planning their strategy for tonight.
     
     Frank has only ever been "top" with other men. He
swears he'd love to be bottom, but says it has to be with
the right man. It only occurred to me recently that for him
the "right" man had to be older, not his own age or younger
(Frank will willing suck a young boy's cock, but insists on
being the fucker regardless).
     
     My boy is certainly enjoying this fuck, as is Mr.
Smith, who keeps pushing his ass back against Frank's
forward thrusts, taking his cock as deep inside as he can.
At the same time, Dorrie has thrown herself down in front of
Mr. Smith, presenting her asshole to him to lick -- yes,
like a dog -- which he is more than happy to do. Mrs. Smith
has joined in the anal spirit of the moment by squatting
down over Dorrie's face and giving her the opportunity in
turn to lick and suck her own asshole. Even at this distance
I could almost smell the pungent aroma of penetrated
rectums.
     
     Frank reminds me so much of my own father. I won't deny
that is an important part of why I love him so much. My
father was an Olympian god to me. We lived in California,
and he was a classic surfer type -- a big toothy grin,
tussled sun-bleached hair, and a lean, muscular, tanned
body. He always smelled of sun and sand and salt water. Dad
was more of a swimmer than surfer (in both high school and
college he was captain of the swim team), although he wasn't
a slouch on the board either.
     
     Of course, Dad could get any girl he wanted, and he
wanted a lot! I adored him and although I had my fits of
jealousy, I always knew in my heart that I was the only one
he'd keep forever. None of those other girls were around
more than a few weeks or a couple months at the most, before
Dad got restless and picked some other eager young pussy out
of the swarm that always surrounded him.
     
     From the earliest I can remember I was in love with
him. The strength of his arm as picked me up and held me to
his side, resting on his hip, the sweet warm smoothness of
his flesh, the salty smell of his body -- these sensual
memories are as vivid in my mind today as ever. When I was
little we'd go skinny dipping in the ocean. He'd carry me
down to the surf on his hip, my little baby pussy rubbing up
and down against his pelvis as he walked. I'd hug him tight,
wanting him to just walk and walk and walk. I loved looking
down at his thing, hanging from his blond bush, swaying back
and forth. When we got into the water and he'd waded out
until the swell reached up almost to my chest, he'd pretend
to dunk me in over my head, and I'd sneak a feel of his
penis. This appendage seemed to me so strange, so
inexplicable, so mysterious -- the thing that gave him his
power.
     
     We'd come back closer in, where the water was
shallower, and I'd swim around his feet playing hide and
seek between his legs, all too often shooting up out of the
water right in front of him so my face came that close to
his cock. If I managed to make a big enough splash I would
steal a secret naughty kiss on it. He must have felt it, but
did nothing to stop me. Back at home, I'd replay those brief
kisses all night long, over and over again, curled up in my
bed, wishing for more -- but what more? I didn't know at
that age, but in my heart I knew there was more.
     
     So I went to the library. Whenever I had a question,
Dad would always say, "look it up!" And I did.
     
     I sat on the floor, between the shelves in the corner
way at the back, where no one else ever came, a book open on
my lap. It'd taken me an hour looking through a dozen books
and encyclopedias before I found this one. This one told it
all straight out, and even had a diagram, a medical-type
drawing of a man inside a woman --  or rather a penis inside
a vagina. I swooned as I read it. The world seemed to tilt,
everything slid sideways in a confused jumble. I got all hot
and sweaty -- I must have blushed a bright red! I couldn't
breath for what seemed like hours, my chest was so tight.
     
     At first I didn't believe it. The whole thing was some
kind of mean grownup joke, a fairytale to tell kids just to
tease them and then only later fess up to the real boring
truth -- like telling you when you're little about Santa
Clause or the tooth fairy, and stringing you along for
years, only to admit with a laugh one day that it's all made
up and not true at all!
     
     Well, I'd already figured out there was no Santa Clause
and no tooth fairy, so I sure wasn't going to swallow this
crap about penises inside of vaginas, about actually taking
a man right into my own self!
     
     But when I went back to the other books, the ones that
seemed at first all confused and stupid, I realized that it
WAS true, that they'd been trying to HIDE it from me, not
tell the truth plain and simple. I tore the page out of the
one good book I'd found, the page with the drawing of a man
inside a woman, and ran home.
     
     That folded up square of paper in my pocket -- that was
the "more," the more I couldn't figure out on my own, but my
heart felt was possible. Those girls my dad had, that was
what they got. So by the time I got home, I'd set my mind to
getting it for myself. Now that I'd found out what it was, I
wanted it with him way, way more than any of those girls,
who just disappeared after a week and never came back.
     
     I launched my campaign. I was only six at the time, but
I was smart and stubborn. He always slept in the nude, so
I'd creep into bed with him after he'd fallen asleep and
snuggle. He was a really heavy sleeper, so I'd be there for
hours pressed against his body, tucked under his arm,
resting my head on his chest or belly. Most of the time he'd
snuggle back, probably thinking I was one of his
girlfriends, but I didn't care, since it was really me
there. I could smell him, feel his breathing, even gently
put my hand down there and let it rest on his cock -- oh
that was the best! I not only felt the thick sleepy warmth
of his penis, but discovered his balls -- heavy and loose
and so delightful to play with. I never wanted to sleep, of
course, but usually I would and in the morning find myself
back in my own bed.
     
     Did he ever snuggle back against me when he woke to
find me in his bed? Did he ever smell me the way I smelled
him? Did he ever put his hand "down there"? Or carefully
pull back the sheet to gaze at his little girl, to dream of
loving her like he loved those other girls? I felt in my
heart he did. But I wanted to know for sure, so I tried to
stay awake while pretending to be asleep.
     
     It worked. One night I felt him stir beside me, kiss me
all over, touch me. I peeked a look through pinched eyelids,
and saw his cock growing bigger and bigger! It came straight
at me and bumped against my pussy, trying to get in. It
squirted stuff all over me -- and then I woke up! It was
only a dream.
     
     But some times, I swear, it wasn't a dream, and I had
proof by his touching and kissing and holding and petting
that his heart wanted the same more I was wanted.
     
     Sneaking into his bed was only part of my plan. I also
asked him point-blank about sex. When he said, "look it up!"
I told him I had, and that the books didn't make any sense,
that they lied about the whole thing. I got him to explain
it to me. Oh joy! As he described it all, I imagined he was
at the same time showing me, imagined that we were really
doing it.
     
     I discovered masturbation and asked him about it. At
first he was embarrassed, but I acted so matter of fact he
stopped being embarrassed. I'd matter of factly tell him I
was going to bed early to masturbate, or when I came in from
playing in the middle of the afternoon and he asked why
seeing as how it was such a nice day out I'd say I was
coming in only for a minute because I was going to
masturbate; or if it took too long on the potty or in the
bath and he'd yell through the door "did you fall in or
what?" or "have you drowned yet?" I'd shout back "no I'm
just making a good long masturbation!" and he'd laugh.
     
     I got him to tell me about his girlfriends (see, I
wasn't jealous at all) and what he did with them, what they
liked -- and what they wouldn't let him do.
     
     I never wore clothes around the house, it being
California and us always in no more than bathing suits most
of the time anyway. He got into the same habit and I'd get
to look at his cock for hours and hours sometimes, like when
we watched TV or played cards or did stuff outside in the
garden (we'd wear shoes of course).
     
     Oh, it was a long patient campaign! He fussed a bit
about the nudity and the sleeping together as I got older --
eight and nine and ten. But by then that was our life. I'd
seen many of his girlfriends naked, as they went from his
bedroom to the bathroom after a fuck, or in the morning when
it didn't seem to matter.
     
     I'd promised myself that by my eleventh birthday we'd
be lovers and fucking every night and all weekend, but the
birthday came and went and it had still not happened. I
decided to try a frontal assault.
     
     First more talk, about his body, his penis, how those
girls didn't appreciate what a great cock he had. I'd
snuggle up with him on the couch in front of the TV, both of
us naked, and ask him about his penis, how it felt to have
one, how pretty I thought it was. I asked him if he thought
I had a pretty pussy and wasn't it prettier than any of his
girlfriends'?
     
     I was starting to get my shape by this time, some of my
true female shape. I was bigger now, five feet to his five
and a half, so more of a woman in his arms. I saw his cock
hard and though he tried to hide if from me I wouldn't let
him.
     
     One night he came back from partying, mostly drunk, and
as I found out later horny from not getting a girl he'd gone
out to fuck who had only teased him before going off with
another guy. I snuggled up to him on the couch and took his
cock in my hand. I masturbated him and he let me. I told him
how hot he was and what a beautiful cock he had and I just
wanted to see it cum once and that was it.
     
     Nine months later -- it took that long to go from the
first hand job, to almost one a night, to kissing it, to the
first blow job, to his kissing and feeling my pussy -- he
fucked me.
     
     Frank and Dorrie and the Smiths have uncoupled now, and
are laying around on top of each other, fingering and
kissing and licking, riding that lovely sweet languid ebb
tide of satisfied desire, knowing that this was just a
breather before the sea surged back in over them again.
     
     I won't even try to describe that first night with my
dad. It is too private, too precious, too wonderful for me
to put into words. I'll keep it to myself forever, locked in
my heart with every detail, every breath, ever moan, every
sweet tender aching loving thrust of his body and my
grateful acceptance of it.
     
     Of course, the next morning in the light of day, he
felt awful and guilty and raged at me and himself and swore
to go away so he'd never hurt me again. "Eleven years old!"
he kept shouting at himself in disbelief and anger.
     
     But of course that passed. For almost a year we lived
as lovers, still as father and daughter of course (he
wouldn't let me stay out late of example), but also as
lovers. For the first few months he kept away from other
girls. We had a big fight when he did finally stray, but
that was Dad and he always came back to me and he'd always
be my dad so we reconciled and it was even better than
before, because now he'd share everything with me,
everything he was doing with the other girls -- and
everything they wouldn't do.
     
     That's how I learned about anal. Yes! I thought.
Something only I can give him. He fought and fought me
against it, but both of us knew he was just delaying the
inevitable.
     
     The first time wasn't the wonderful earthquake of our
first fuck, I'll admit. It took a few times to get used to
it, for me to learn how to do it, particularly given his
size. But I wanted so much to give him something special, to
please him, and very soon I started to like it, then to love
it, to understand how special and intimate it was that way.
     
     For weeks in row that would be all I wanted and he'd
complain, saying he missed my pussy. I'd laugh and turn away
to show him only my butt to tease him, then jump on him and
we'd fuck (the regular way) like dogs all night long.
     
     When I was thirteen and a half I got pregnant. I'd been
on the pill of course and had promised Dad I wouldn't let
anything happen, but I still wanted more, something to keep
us together forever -- I wanted him to make a baby in me.
     
     So I stopped the pills. He only found out after I got
pregnant. That's when he left. Just disappeared. I came as
close to dying as you can and still not die. Only my boy,
when he came, saved me. I never told Frank who is father was
-- I mean I made up a story, part truth, part fiction, but
nothing about his dad also being his granddad.
     
     Frank is up now, stretching and yawning to work out the
kinks. Frank is just under six feet tall, a full inch taller
than his dad -- my dad -- was. Frank's body, like dad's, is
lean and muscular with very little hair except around his
cock and under his arms. And he has that same wide toothy
grin.
     
     His cock, still semi-erect even after a dozen orgasms
so far this evening, is just seven inches long but unusually
thick -- a powerful, aching muscle that both Dorrie and I
could hardly get enough of.
     
     Frankie spots me and he and Dorrie come over, both
grinning mischievously. They surround me, nuzzling my tits
and face and fondling my pussy and ass.
     
     "Let's go find a bedroom" Frank murmurs in my ear.
     
     "Sweetheart," I say to him, "we can fuck anytime we
want at home. You two should go play with someone else."
     
     "We want you -- now."
     
     "Give your old mom a rest. Every one of my holes is
sore."
     
     "I don't need a hole."
     
     I laugh. I delight in watching Frank cum, and is has
always been a special thrill for both of us when he cums on
my pussy or tits.
     
     "Let's go to the lake for swim. Then we'll see."
     
     The "lake" is really a large indoor swimming pool,
covered in glass and landscaped to look like a forest pond.
     
     "You two go," Dorrie says. "I'm going to look for
Mickey." Mickey is a twelve year old boy, brought by his mom
and dad to his first party. Dorrie has a special fondness
for the little ones.
     
     Frank and I kiss her, wish her good luck, and go to the
lake.
     
     It really is a wonderful, even magical place. The
lighting is kept low to the ground and of course the pool is
lit up underwater, so you can see the stars and the moon
through the glass canopy. Grass and shrubs and orange and
lemon trees give it the feel of an enchanted garden.
     
     I steer Frank toward the edge of the pool. We stretch
out together in one of the double-wide lovers chaise lounges
and fall into each others arms. He fingers my pussy and I
fondle his cock as we watch and listen to the others around
us.
     
     Couples and groups are on the grass or in lounges
fucking and sucking. People have a tendency to keep their
voices lower here, so as not to break the magic spell, but
the moans and wet slaps of flesh betray the party's still
strong momentum.
     
     Several people are in the pool, fucking or just
swimming. I draw Frank's attention to one fellow, just
approaching the diving board at the deep end.
     
     The sensuous dancing play of watery light from the pool
lights pick him out of the surrounding darkness. He steps
out onto the diving board and I feel Frank's cock stiffen in
my hand.
     
     "Who's that?"
     
     "His name's Shep," I say. Everyone of course uses what
we call "party" names, not real names. "He was here last
time. Didn't you see him?"
     
     Frank shakes his head, eyes glued to the man.
     
     Shep is fifty-five years old, although he looks years
younger. In fact, if his short steel gray hair and lightly
lined face were hidden, and you only saw his body, you'd say
he couldn't be over thirty-five.
     
     Shep is lean, muscular, and moves with the assured
grace of an athlete. His body is smooth, lightly tanned. His
upper body, his ass, his thighs, even at his age, are models
of masculinity. And his cock, even flaccid, is more than
just large, it draws your eye -- and your desire -- like a
magnet.
     
     Shep stands at the edge of the diving board, lightly
bouncing on the balls of his feet to gage its character.
Frank's cock is bone hard now. The pre-cum has made it
slippery, and my hand easily slides up and down his shaft.
     
     "God, I'm getting wet," I say to him. "He's
magnificent."
     
     Frank stills my hand with his.
     
     "I'm going to cum just watching him," he says.
     
     Shep springs into the air in a lovely high arcing jump,
bends at the waist, and plunges into the water without
raising the smallest ripple.
     
     Frank groans, barely able to contain his sperm.
     
     "Go chat with him," I say. "I know he likes men, too,
particularly younger ones."
     
     Shep breaks the surface, and leisurely swims toward the
edge of the pool.
     
     "But we came here so we could fuck."
     
     "Baby, like I said every hole is sore. We've got all
day tomorrow to fuck. There's just one thing though."
     
     "What?" Frank pauses as he gets up.
     
     "I've heard he's only a top. Never bottom."
     
     Frank hesitates. Shep pulls himself up out of the pool
in one powerful motion, water flowing off his body. He comes
toward us. Frank sits down again, trying to hide his
erection.
     
     Shep smiles at him, his face breaking into a goofy
grin, showing a mouth full of lovely white teeth.
     
     "You must be Frank," he says and extends his hand.
Frank takes it, and Shep pulls him to his feet in one
effortless motion. Frank's cock stands, unashamedly
revealing his desires. He gives my boy a warm, extended and
intimate shake.
     
     "Now I see why your wife came on to me last time."
(Publicly, Dorrie and I are Frank's "wives." We only let a
select few know the truth about us, even among club
members.) The two looked like brothers, separated only by a
few years. Shep finally turns to me.
     
     "Hi, Maria. Glad to see you again." He leans down to
kiss me, giving Frank the chance to take a good look at him
close-up.
     
     "You two have met?" Frank asks.
     
     "At the last party. My first one here." Shep answers.
"You're a lucky man. Double-lucky if your other wife is half
as delightful as this one."
     
     "Who's your sponsor?" Frank asks.
     
     "Don't know yet. He -- or she -- is keeping it a
secret. Not wanting to be embarrassed if I'm not accepted, I
guess."
     
     "I don't think there's much chance of that happening,"
Frank blurts out, immediately turning red.
     
     Shep puts a comforting hand on Frank's shoulder. "I can
count on your vote then?" Shep's own cock rose up to half
mast at the contact.
     
     "Sure. Anyone who my m-- who Maria wants to fuck gets
my vote."
     
     Shep strokes Frank's back, letting his had slip down to
his buttocks.
     
     "She's very sexy of course -- but to be honest, I
wasn't thinking of her just now -- no offense, Maria," he
says, glancing at me.
     
     "Why don't you join us?" I say, slipping off the lounge
and onto the soft grass. They both get down with me, Shep
sitting next to Frank.
     
     Sounds of love-making surround us. People are splashing
in the pool. Light from its underwater lights, the warm glow
of ground lighting nearby, and the tropical warmth of the
enclosed grounds, produce a wonderfully romantic and
permissive atmosphere for the three of us.
     
     Shep continues to caress Frank, stroking his arm, his
back and his neck.
     
     "Have you been with other men, Frank?" Shep asks him.
     
     "Some," Frank responds shyly. I've never seen him this
passive.
     
     "And how was it?"
     
     "OK I guess."
     
     "But not really satisfying. Not what you really wanted
from another man, was it?"
     
     "No."
     
     Shep has been stroking Frank's neck and caressing the
back of his head. He leans back, letting his magnificent
cock stand in all its glory, straight and long and stiff.
Then, with a strength and innate authority that brooks no
resistance, he pulls Frank down, bring my boy's face to his
crotch. Frank opens his mouth and takes it in as if he'd
been submitting to another man's will for years. My hand is
instantly at work, fingering an already soaking cunt.
     
     Frank eagerly sucks Shep's cock -- his own father's
cock, although neither of them know that. Shep keeps a
strong hand on the back of the boy's head, dominating him,
letting him know who is in control.
     
     I see Shep's other hand sliding down toward Frank's
ass. He unceremoniously presses a stiff finger into my boy's
asshole, eliciting a grunt. Shep twists the finger into the
boy until it is in up to the last knuckle.
     
     "That's a good boy, suck daddy's cock."
     
     I look up startled. How could he know? Then I
understand. He doesn't. This is just how he talks, how he
talks to the younger men he fucks. He'd been very upfront
when I chatted with him after our fuck at the last party
that he enjoyed young men.
     
     Can you imagine what that fuck was like for me? Having
stumbled across his name on the web after all these years,
secretly arranging to get him an invitation to a party,
finding a pretext to meet him, then standing before him,
both of us naked, so difficult to keep myself from jumping
at him, then feeling his cock inside me -- after twenty-five
years -- inside me again! He did not recognize me -- who can
see the thirteen year old girl in the thirty-eight year old
woman? -- so only I knew that he was again fucking the
daughter he'd abandoned, pregnant, all those years ago.
     
     We fucked, then I sucked him off (oh heaven, to have
his cock back in my mouth!). We'd collapsed together on a
couch in the play room, and had one of those lovely post-
coital chats. The subject turned to our early experiences
with sex. I was sorely tempted to reveal myself at that
point, but dared not. He'd run off and abandoned me once.
How did I know he wouldn't do it again? No, better to keep
him in the dark, and keep on being fucked by him again.
After all, I would know, even if he didn't.
     
     It was at this moment that a young boy and girl came
by, led by the hand by an elegantly dressed older woman --
Katerina. The children were brother and sister, nine years
and ten years old respectively. Katerina took them to the
stairs and up to one of the private bedrooms on the second
floor.
     
     This woman was one of the club's founding members. Her
particular letch was the very young. The two children's
parents had been seeking membership for sometime, and this
was the price Katerina exacted for their membership.
     
     I caught sight of Shep's mesmerized gaze. His eyes were
following the three of them across the room and up the
stairs. Katerina, despite being in her sixties, was still a
very striking woman, and had no trouble finding (adult)
partners of either sex when she wished. In fact, as you can
imagine, she had a reputation for being quite perverted in
many ways. But I was surprised to see Shep so interested.
     
     "She's quite a woman, isn't she? Would you like me to
introduce you some time?" I asked him.
     
     Shep woke from his daze, struggling to grasp what I'd
said, which as it turns out was far from his own thinking.
     
     "Oh, her. Sure. That would be great."
     
     And then I realized: he hadn't been looking at Katerina
at all, but rather at the children! How could this be? A man
who'd felt so guilty about fucking his own daughter at
eleven and making her pregnant at thirteen that he'd
abandoned her completely, with out a single word in twenty-
five years -- could such a man now be interested in young
ones?
     
     Maybe, maybe I was wrong about him, maybe my
assumptions were the only thing standing in the way of the
more I wanted from him now that I was grown up with a son.
     
     "They are lovely children, aren't they?" I said.
     
     "Yes," he said softly. I reached over and took his cock
in my hand. It was as hard and erect as a teenager's who
hadn't cum in a week.
     
     "You know, there are a number of us in the club who
indulge ourselves that way -- if that is something you're
interested in."
     
     He looked at me in surprise, then with a hard
penetrating look.
     
     "Have you ever?" he asked.
     
     I laughed softly. "Oh yes."
     
     "With ones that young?"
     
     I rubbed my finger on the tip of his cock, and brought
the smear of sweet pre-cum to my mouth.
     
     "Oh, younger actually. And you? You've had some
experiences in that area I would guess." I was fondling his
balls by this time.
     
     He hesitated for a minute.
     
     "Yes. When I was younger -- about thirty -- I was
involved with a girl. A young girl."
     
     I began to stroke his cock in earnest.
     
     "Fifteen, sixteen?"
     
     "No. Younger."
     
     "Thirteen?"
     
     "Eleven, at first. I -- we stopped when she was
thirteen."
     
     "Mmmmm," I murmured. "How did you get her? And why did
you let her get away?"
     
     " She seduced me, but I let it go too far -- and then I
broke it off. Out of guilt."
     
     "You don't look guilty anymore," I said, his cock
vibrating in my hand.
     
     "No. I did an awful thing to her. Leaving her, I mean.
Our love-making was wonderful. Special. I only realized that
later. And once I realized that -- well, I guess I've been
trying to recreate that feeling ever since."
     
     "So have you been successful?"
     
     "Off and on. Though it's never been the same as with Ra-
- with my first." He'd almost said my name. It was on the
tip of his tongue. I plunged my mouth down over his cock,
both out of joy and to stifle my cry of joy at hearing his
confession.
     
     As soon as I'd composed myself, I sat up again, his pre-
cum thick in my mouth. I dared another question.
     
     "Just girls, or boys too?"
     
     "Oh, no both. I've been bi since I was a teenager, but
had just never really accepted it." My mouth must have
fallen open in surprise -- I'd never suspected! My mind flew
back, suddenly remembering all those boy surfers he seemed
to adopt for a week or month before finding a more promising
protégé.
     
     With a laugh he kissed me, licking and sucking up his
own pre-cum dribbling from my mouth.
     
     "Men, women, girls, boys. That first experience taught
me to trust my desires. I just learned the lesson late. And
I've been trying to make up for it ever since."
     
     It was at this point that a scheme jumped into my mind
fully formed.
     
     And here we are, Shep pressing Frank's face down on his
cock, forcing Frank to deep throat him while he roughly
probes his rectum with a finger. Shep looks up at me. Our
eyes meet.
     
     "Fuck him," I murmur -- not an order (my father was not
a man you gave orders to), but rather a signal of my
"wifely" permission. Shep pulls Frank off his prick and
flips him over onto his back. He takes hold of Frank's shins
and pushes his legs back and apart, exposing him completely
-- putting my son at his mercy. Frank's cock twitches and
jumps.
     
     Shep takes his member in hand -- it too is throbbing,
and seems to have swollen enormously, so thick now that
Frank will certainly have trouble taking it. He places the
tip at Frank's hole.
     
     I slide forward on the grass, lifting Frank's head into
my lap, stroking his hair as if he was a little boy again.
We look into each other's eyes.
     
     Shep thrusts.
     
     "Ahhhh," Frank moans, his voice shuddering. Shep's cock
is already a third of the way in. He has no intention of
being gentle. He thrusts again, even more forcefully and
urgently than before. In one quick motion his cock
disappears completely inside my son's ass, bouncing balls on
against it, tearing a cry of pleasure from my boy's throat.
     
     Shep pauses, grinds his cock deep into the boy's
entrails, then pulls nearly out before quickly plunging back
in to the hilt. Like a locomotive gathering speed as it
leaves the station, my father's cock pumps relentlessly,
powerfully and deep into the boy's body. I cradle Frank in
my arms, my own body wet and trembling in sympathy with the
primitive assault being inflicted on my own flesh and blood.
     
     "You hold him like his mother," Shep grunts as he
fucks.
     
     Suddenly, the words jump from my mouth. "I am his
mother."
     
     This brings Shep to a halt, cock buried deep in Frank's
entrails.
     
     "Oh, Mom!" Frank exclaims in surprise and happiness
that I've so publicly "outted us."
     
     With both hands Shep leans hard on the back of Frank's
thighs, pressing him down even harder, opening him up even
further. Franks feet are now as far back as my head
     
     "You don't look that much older than him."
     
     "I had him when I was thirteen."
     
     His eyes widen.
     
     "He was my father's -- lovechild."
     
     "Oh, my god!" Frank cries.
     
     I reach for Shep's face. I stroke it, pull myself
closer to him. He's all I care about right now.
     
     "I've missed you," I say, tears suddenly streaming down
my face. "And so has your son."
     
     Shep looks down at Frank, speared by his own cock,
which he now knows to be a father's cock inside a son's
asshole.
     
     A look of panic grips his features -- and then passes.
He bends down, takes Frank's head in his hands, and presses
his mouth to Frank's. His hips thrust, harder and deeper
than before if that's possible, and he cums, spewing his
seed into his own son's gasping, hungry body.
     
     
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
     
     Our family has grown recently. There are now four of us
-- and two more on the way. At first Dottie was afraid we
this reunion of my family meant she would have to leave, but
both Frank and Shep helped to dispel that notion. Dottie is
pregnant -- and so am I. Who is the father of her baby? Who
is the father of mine? Even if we knew, would it really
matter?
     
     
     
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