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Creampie

– Previously –

“Raymond,” dad’s tone changing and using my full name warn me of the seriousness of the words that were about to follow. Mom’s cancer, mom moving to hospice, the drive home after mom died, ‘the talk,’ and his dating Rose all started the same way.

“You’re old enough to understand that some people live different lifestyles,” dad stammered to explain, “Some are very faithful to their religion; others prefer to follow a different path. Where most relationships are between a man and woman exclusively, others could be between two men, two women, or perhaps more.”

“I’m not gay,” I chided defensively, “If that’s what you’re asking… and I know several people who are who would be offended by the assumptions you’re making.”

“No,” he replied, dropping his head, “That’s not what I’m asking or saying.”

Looking back up at me as he said, “And if you are, that’s ok. Being gay is not a lifestyle choice… I mean, it is for some, but it’s more biology than anything else.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re gay… or bi?” I asked.

Dad shook his head, looked down, and growled, “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about… why do you have to make this kind of stuff so difficult.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” I replied, hoping to sound as diplomatic as possible, “But you do understand, the only time you want to talk to me… in your office is when I’m in trouble, or you have bad news to tell me.”

He looked up, his eyes had softened, and he nodded as he said, “You’re right… I guess I didn’t realize that… I’m sorry… but… it’s not bad news… I think… sorry, this is not easy for me… so… give me a second… ok?”

I nodded, wondering if he somehow knew what Laila and I had been doing all weekend, looking around their bedroom in my mind, trying to find a hidden camera of some kind, then expanding my mental search to every other room in the house.

“Rose and I spent the weekend with her family,” he started to explain, “They live a very different lifestyle than most.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well,” he hesitated, “For one… they are nudists, and… they express their love for each other in non-traditional ways.”

“That explains Rose’s tan,” I offered as a verbal compromise, “What do you mean non-traditional ways?”

Dad responded to my comment and not my question, “She wanted to change her hair color, and I suggested she go back to her natural color… the same color she had when I met her and her mother.”

“You said you and she and mom were close when you were younger,” I presented as a peace offering, not backtracking to the question he avoided answering.

Dad looked down at the ground again, muttering to himself before looking up, declaring, “Ray,” his words trying to escape before exploding from his chest like an old steam whistle venting an engine on the edge of rupture, “Your mother is my first cousin. And Rose is your mother’s daughter from another man… your mother’s father… Rose is your half-sister and your mother’s half-sister… and her daughter.”

Looking up at me, his eyes tense and serious as he detailed, “Laila is your half-sister too… she is mine… my daughter… with Rose… which also makes her your niece… and your aunt… fuck it gets more complicated the more I think about it.”

– Backstory –

Ok, well, if that doesn’t provide a frame of reference, try this; until that moment, I knew Laila as my step-sister, the daughter of my dad’s second wife, Rose. While dad and Rose were dating, I got bits and pieces of their history from dad whenever he tried to sell me on how wonderful Rose was; but obviously, he didn’t tell me everything.

Back then, he implied Rose was a close friend of my mother’s, not her daughter, from her father, and he never even implied Laila was his daughter with my mother’s daughter/sister.

I met Laila the night dad had gone out of his way to make the house (and me) extra presentable under the guise of a quiet dinner with Rose, where he proposed to my mother’s sister/daughter. Rose accepted as Laila, and I both watched in shocked disbelieve… not knowing our, or their, familial relationships at that point.

The last week of March, I obtained a love potion called Aries’ Horn that would allow me to have sex with Laila whenever I wanted, as often as I wanted, without her knowing I was there. The talisman was not real. It was an elaborate scheme created by Laila to show me she loved me; the only way she knew how.

Not long before dad and Rose returned from their weekend with relatives (an event with new and perverse imagery associated with it), Laila told me her deepest, darkest secret. Her previous boyfriend belonged to a sexually abusive fraternity, and he pulled her into his world, where they broke her will and brainwashed her into being their free-use sex slave.

What they did to her might be why Laila was so willing and eager to spend the past two days having a two-person orgy with me. They had brainwashed her into bahis firmaları believing letting her lovers have free access to her sex was how she was supposed to feel loved.

I think it surprised both of us to find out I have the same sexual endurance of an entire sex cult and having such undocumented super-powers; I unknowingly broke Laila’s will again and discovered just how much I loved her at the same time. Frankly, I didn’t know I had it in me; I mean, most of it was her always wanting more from me. I was just trying to keep up, and what we did to (and for) each other that weekend may have broken me as much as it broke her.

She willingly agreed to be my sexual submissive and insisted I use her sex whenever I felt like it, or more specifically, when I wanted to remind her that I loved her. After being more than sexually intimate with her all weekend and after she explained what made her become a love-confused nympho, I found myself wanting to make myself better and help Laila be a better version of herself.

After she detailed her trauma to me, then fell asleep next to me on the sofa, my mind had been seeking out an appropriate penance for my intended crimes against her. My spine shivered when I realized I had not committed any crimes against her she did not invite me to commit. Instead, it would be an even greater crime if I did not spend the rest of my life trying to help the woman I loved… a future where if I succeeded in helping her grow into the woman she could be, she might no longer need me as her best friend and lover.

– Three Weeks Later –

It’s been three weeks since my half-sister, step-sister, aunt, and I became lovers. And the same three weeks since my dad entrusted me with the bombshell revelation of our true familial relations.

If you don’t mind, I’m going to keep this simple and just refer to Laila as my sister or my lover, even though she means far more to me than those monikers convey.

Anyway, according to the Internet, the Moon moves into Pisces today, and that’s supposed to mean something. Ever since I researched the aphrodisiac Aries’ Horn, astrological references litter my news feeds. Today is supposed to be a day to be sensitive and insightful of my surroundings. I may experience insecurity and feel passive as I wait and see what happens in my life. If I engage in a creative or spiritual search, I’m supposed to benefit from Pisces’ imagination. And, according to another site excerpt, when the Moon’s in Pisces, it’s all about ‘fantasy.’ I should feel particularly creative, dreamy, and maybe a bit out of touch with the world.

Well, most, if not all of that was right, only about three weeks late. After dad read me into our family’s secrets, he made me swear to keep them from Laila. What he shared lacked the details I wanted, passing on a little more to me than what he had blurted out. Since he first shared his secret, he’s repeated the story differently, each revision offering a little more information.

Mom and dad met at a family orgy. The same orgy where he met a just turned eighteen years old Rose. Apparently, due to our family’s inbreeding, half the family members are sterile, and the other half can reproduce just by looking at each other; at least, that’s what dad told me. Dad, mom, and Rose won the family breeding lottery, conceiving both Laila and me over three days of non-stop sex with each other and other members of our extended family.

I specifically asked if I had any other half or full siblings out there, and I believed him when he said he didn’t know for sure. No one had contacted him, suggesting he was the father of their child, and he was pretty confident mom didn’t have any children other than Rose and me. He had a large family of full and half-siblings and, like my mom, a collection of first, second, and third cousins.

All of his stories reaffirmed that Rose told him Laila was her only child.

Dad also told me Rose and her mother/sister had some personal conflicts, which he was not privy to, which Rose used as her excuse to leave after mom and dad announced their engagement. Rose moved away, staying with and raising Laila with some other family cluster, not knowing she was pregnant when she left, let alone via her mother’s/sister’s soon-to-be husband.

When mom’s cancer manifested, dad found and contacted Rose. The last few months of mom’s life brought mom, Rose, and dad closer together, and one of the bone marrow tests we all took proved my dad was Laila’s father, therefore my half-sister… and aunt.

Anyway, dad swore me to secrecy, at least from Laila, and ever since, I’ve been walking on eggshells… no, that’s not an apt description… I’ve been walking a fine line between purgatory and hell. One foot always on fire, the other unable to find solid ground to stand on.

Think about it; I can’t tell my dad and Rose that Laila and I are fucking like rabbits (more like wild Bonobos) any and every chance we get. I also can’t tell my lover that we shared the same father kaçak iddaa or that her mother and I share the same mother. Therefore, Laila is my step-sister, half-sister, niece, and aunt, while Rose is my half-sister, aunt, and step-mother.

Dad was right; this just gets more complicated the more I think about it.

That astrological stuff was right too, just late, as I have become just as intimate with insecurity; as I have with Laila. Everything I’ve done for the past three weeks feels passive, silent, always making sure I’m unseen or keeping as low a profile as possible while I nervously wait and see what happens. Even in my classes, I try to hide from everyone and hope to blend in, constantly worried they might discover the secrets I keep.

Dad and I have grown closer since dad told me of our family’s in-breeding history. When we’re alone or Laila’s attending one of her classes, the two of us joke about how our family tree is more like a bush. He’s told me about some of our relatives, but I can never keep them straight because it seems like he keeps telling me the same stories, with different names. He’s also got repressed anger issues about our family’s secret incest legacy. I can tell he feels like he’s stuck with a family he doesn’t like and only interacts with them for Rose’s sake.

Yet, when the topic changes to Rose or Laila, he talks with such pride and reverence about them; it’s clear he loves them both as much as he loves me.

What’s not fair and only adds to my stress is that I can’t tell him about Laila’s need for me to be sexually affectionate (borderline abusive) and incredibly intimate with her. A shared secret she finds thrilling and one I fear every time we’re together. It’s hard to be a loving coupling when I spend so much time and effort keeping our shared sexual affections secret from our parents.

Dad gets to share his life experiences with both Rose and me. Not the same things, but since he told me of our family’s legacy, he now has two different people to work out his emotional conflicts, verbalize his thoughts and release some pent-up stress.

Laila confided in her friend from the real estate office, Joann, and they talk all the time… mostly about me and the perverse things I do to my sister sexually or the things she wants me to do to her. Something in the back of my mind wonders if Laila is trying to convince Joann to trick or trap her brother into becoming her lover too, which adds to the burdens I’ve been carrying around for three weeks.

I don’t have anyone to talk to about the mess I’m in… except for you. Thank you for taking the time to let me vent… to express my thoughts, feelings, and perceptions in the only way I can.

And, please don’t get me wrong, I love Laila more than I love myself, and the fact that she’s my slut… my nympho is perhaps the most amazing part of our relationship. I’m guaranteed all the sex and sexual release I want whenever I want… somewhat guilt-free. But, just because our relationship is seventy-five percent sex does not mean I don’t love my sister more than anyone or anything in the world. I enjoy spending time with her, playing video games, watching a movie, binge-watching TV shows, going shopping, or just sitting across from her at the dinner table where I can admire her beauty and share in her successes.

Successes I like to think I have a small part in fostering. That first weekend, the second day she became my submissive sex toy, I fucked her while Laila wrote a paper for one of her classes.

I told her it was good, and I was right. The TA read it, passed it on to the professor who called Laila, didn’t email her; the professor called Laila during dinner later that week and asked if Laila would let them keep it and used it as an example of the quality of work they expected from their students. Describing Laila’s paper as one of the best they had ever read.

– Changes –

Related to that success, we have added a new routine to our secret lives. I fuck my sister or dine on her pussy when she’s doing her homework, and she sucks me off when I’m doing mine, or I fuck her from behind with my study materials on her back. Our secret sibling sex is stressful beyond belief, but I enjoy slowly working my cock in and out of my sister’s cunt or ass, too much to worry about it sometimes. Casually and comfortably sodomizing my sister while she’s studying, assuming dad and Rose are watching TV in the family room or perhaps doing the same thing their children are in their bedroom.

I looked down at my sister’s upturned skirt; her tanned butt cheeks spread open my by fingers and thumb, watching my cock push, pull, tug and stretch her anal ring while her fingers blurred across her computer’s keyboard. She had complied with my directive three weeks ago, always wearing skirts, except when wearing a bikini or nothing at all. She continued to signal her anal sex readiness with an inserted butt-plug, letting me know she had prepared herself for the kind of sexual penetration she preferred.

The kaçak bahis pantyless rule proved impractical as her pussy was constantly drooling around me, or my cum was leaking out of her cunt. And, instead of undressing for me, which she did quite often when she came home, my sister would usually enter my room from her side of the Jack and Jill bathroom, lift her skirt, and removed her panties before gifting them to me. Followed by her going down on me or simply freeing my cock and impaling herself on my almost always ridged cock as I sniffed her panties or caressed what naked skin was accessible.

That was something else that had changed. I was always horny; I mean, I have been since puberty, but since Laila and I became lovers, it seemed like the moment my penis smelled her approaching, or I took a long sniff from her gifted panties, my cock was up and ready to feel her engulfing it.

And she had done as she promised, training my body through persistence and perseverance to the point where, when the conditions were right, she could get me to cum for her five times in fifteen minutes.

“Millennium is spelled wrong,” I said, glancing up at her screen.

“No, it’s not,” her butt-clenching a little as she stopped to confirm my discovery.

“It is,” I confirmed, “The spell checker has a bug. I’ve seen it before. There are two Ls and two Ns.”

“Are you sure?” she teased, wiggling her ass around my penis inside her rectum.

“I am,” I replied, thrusting a little harder until I suggested, “change it to one L and one N, and I bet it flags it.

She did, and it did, then it corrected to the spelling I suggested.

“Thanks,” she offered to resume her work as she suggested, “I knew this was going to take a while, so I used two enemas… you can switch off if you want… I know you like my pussy more than my ass.”

“I will love you any way you want me to,” I replied, “and thank you,” I added, pulling out, checking my cock was clean, before sliding it into her always hot, slippery, and silky pussy.

“Don’t cum yet,” she directed, “I need another ten to fifteen minutes; then I gotta go.”

“Cum first, then go,” I joked, “Got it… and fair warning,” I added, “It’s going to be a lot… my balls haven’t felt this heavy since you drained them this morning.”

“Put it all in my pussy,” she replied casually, “I want to feel you dripping out of me all day until you can fill me up again when I get home.”

A creak from the hallway made me twitch, the fear of discovery making both of us pause like two timid mice, mentally preparing to bolt if the doorknob rattled or twisted. After a tense moment, we both resumed, Laila, working on her paper, and me working my cock deeper and deeper into her cunt with long slow, purposeful penetrations followed by equally enjoyable retreats.

I hate having to sneak caresses and tender affections behind our parent’s back or while around the few friends we shared. I also hate having to lie to Laila about what I know that she doesn’t. And my new greatest fear added to my existing fears; how she might react when she finds out and what might happen afterward is constantly tickling and taunting the sleeping horrors in the back of my mind.

I guess that all means I’m sensitive and perceptive of my surroundings… and I am a bit out of touch with the world… after all, Laila has become my world. Maybe that astrology stuff is right; I could use spiritual guidance to find balance and harmony between my fantasy world loving my sister and the domestic façade I have to keep up around Rose and dad.

I also have a newfound respect and understanding for my dad, something I was not expecting. Walking a tightrope between two secret lives has granted me an insight into the life he’s lived, dealing with, and adapting to the ramifications of his actions and all the baggage those secrets bring with them.

I enjoy fucking my sister. I enjoy cumming in my sister, but I also enjoy moments like this when my penis can slide in and out of her cunt, then switching off to her ass, and it embracing and massaging my erection in ways her cunt couldn’t. It’s like all of my nerve endings meet or start inside my penis, and everything it feels inside her, I feel it all over my body. Almost as if I had crawled inside her. Engulfed by her heart and soul, and not just a few inches of blood-engorged flesh inserted into her silky sheath.

She closed her laptop when she finished, and in what had become our norm, I withdrew from her ass and inserted my cock into her cunt, then I took my time worming Capricorn, her glass butt plug, into her eager browneye.

She braced herself with both hands on her desk after laying an oversized iridescent stuffed fish she kept near her desk for just these occasions. A youthful prize Laila almost donated until we discovered its sound-absorbing properties trying to keep our secret from dad and Rose.

Laila pressed her face into the foam-filled scream swallower to prepare for what we were about to share. I resumed fucking her cunt, my penis having learned where and how to stimulate her secret button at least two weeks ago. My finger then circled the outer edge of Capricorn, making it sing into her ass.

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