tagIncest/TabooTouch Me

Touch Me

byAthena_e19©

She came down the stairs slowly. She was nervous, very nervous.

In the living room before her, she could hear the fluid conversation of her parents and her older sister. They were waiting for her. They were going to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, to share her entrance into adulthood.

Her mother saw her first.

"There's my beautiful baby!"

"Happy birthday, sister!"

"Yes, happy birthday! It's hard to believe our little girl is an adult now."

She met her father's eyes momentarily and blushed. She didn't feel any different. Just the same as she had when she was seventeen years old and three hundred and sixty four days old. It was much ado about nothing.

"Come, sit here in the chair," her father instructed, a wide smile on his face. Her mother and sister's grins were just as big, and she could tell that they were genuinely happy to be sharing this moment with her.

Obediently, she moved to the tall leather arm chair that was her father's normal seat. He stood before her, his gaze warm. The leather was cool, chilling her through the long draping of her dress.

"Congratulations, darling," her father began, "on reaching your eighteenth birthday and adulthood."

Her mother and sister dutifully cheered at that and she blushed again. So much hullabaloo.

"You've entered a different world than when either I or your mother turned eighteen. And its even different from when your sister turned eighteen. This is a world that is new to you, and new to us."

She nodded her head eagerly. She had seen some of the things that they played on TV and seen what some of the young women wore these days. It was different to say the least.

"Now that you are eighteen, you have a choice that you must make. It is the same choice that your sister has made, that your mother had to make, and that your grandmother had to make before her."

This seemed ominous, she thought. No one had mentioned such a thing. Her sister's eighteenth birthday had been celebrated after she was put to bed last year, so she did not know anything of this.

"You can choose to become an adult here, and remain with your family in the safety of our lands. Or you can leave us, and become an adult elsewhere, in a cold world that does not know you, and does not care for you."

The question puzzled her. Were they saying she needed to decide if she was to stay or leave now?

"It is a decision that only you can make. We would rejoice if you remained with us, and mourn our loss if you left. Will you become a woman here or elsewhere?"

She was quiet for a moment, not certain that she was ready to make such a statement. She could hear her sister and mother both whispering for her to stay from across the room. Each was sitting primly in their normal seats, their clenched hands digging a furrow in their skirts. She had no intention of leaving home, in the near future at least. And not in the distant future, either, she surmised. That left her with one choice.

"I will stay, and come into adulthood here."

"HOORAY," her sister and mother cheered in unison. Both leapt from their seats and grabbed an arm and hauled her from the room. She glanced over her shoulder at her father, who was once again smiling brightly as he settled into his chair.

The two women on either side of her practically carried her into her parent's bedroom and then into the bath. She was surprised when they shut the door behind them, leaving them in the tiled washing room.

Her sister began to tug at the ribbon which bound up her hair, letting loose the long locks of sandy brown curls. Her mother undid the three buttons on her bodice and then the buttons on her forearms that kept her sleaves tight to her wrist.

"What are you doing," she asked, surprised by the rush to undress her.

"We're getting you ready, dear," her mother replied gently as she lifted her dress over her head.

"Being a woman is wonderful and you must be prepared," her sister laughed.

Once she had been thoroughly stripped of her clothing and stood cold and nude before her mother and sister, the two others began to remove their own clothing. When all three woman were naked and their hair was unbound, she blushed. She had not seen her sister nude in at least a few years, and her mother perhaps never. All shared the same dusty blond hair, thin stomachs and curved hips. She and her sister's busts were similar in their size and still quite firm atop their chest. Their mother's bosom was fuller, wider, and heavier. It had seen the usage of two children and thirty five years of life, but still was remarkably perky.

Realizing that her gaze was wandering, she blushed and looked to the floor.

She heard her sister start the bath behind her.

"Come darling, into the tub," her mother instructed.

Carefully she stepped into the steaming pool of gradually climbing water, and was surprised to see her mother and sister follow her into the large basin. The large tub had been an unusual expense for the family, and even with the three women in it, there was still some room.

Her mother and sister crouched into the water and she started to follow.

"No darling, remain standing," her mother corrected.

Curious, she straightened her legs and felt the hot liquid climb her ankles and calves. Her sister added some powders to the tub, and soon the smell of lavender radiated throughout the bath enclosure. It was divine.

Trying to remain calm and mature, she could only watch as her mother and sister each took small bars of soap and began to scrub her feet. They would rub the little blocks between their hands and then apply the sudsy build up to her bare body. As the water climbed and rinsed their work, they progressed higher.

Eventually, the water lapped just above her knee, and her mother tightened the faucet to shut off the flow.

It was so luxurious, so calming, she reflected as her sister and mother continued to cleanse her knees and thighs. She saw them share a glance as they moved higher.

Her mother's hands returned to her bare bottom, and she felt an odd tickle as she began to apply the soap. Her sister's hands moved to her inner thigh and the same tickle emanated from her touch. Each of the other women began to gently pet and stroke her, their hands caressing then softly scraping at her tender flesh. She shivered as she felt the sensations seeming to converge between her thighs.

"That feels funny," she informed them. Her mother's hands were now pressing between her cheeks, cleaning the hidden recess of her bottom. Her sister was pushing her digits between the softness of her thigh and the substance of her pelvic bone. Both of them were delicate, tender, and creating a significant and unique reaction in the pit of her stomach.

With a knowing smile, both of the women glanced up at her. Her mother rose from the soapy water, until her naked body was pressed tightly against her own. The touch of wet, warm skin across her whole right side somehow made that same tingling return. She began to recognize that the center of the gathering sensation was not in her stomach, but lower yet.

The soft, experienced hands of her mother began to pet her thin waist and lower abdomen. From there, they climbed, until her mother was cleansing her breasts with a soft circle motion.

"Oh," she gasped as her mother's fingers tweaked her nipples. Both her mother and sister giggled.

"Move your legs further apart, sister," her older sibling instructed.

Obediently she did, full of trust and reveling in the wonderful sensations that the bath was creating.

Her sister's fingers moved from her thigh and cupped her lightly furred mound. It was relatively smooth, unblemished but for the seam that all women had. She noticed that her mother's was surrounded by fuller pink formations that seemed to somehow extend from within her. Her own was pale, and the pink barely showed from between the outer mons. Her sister's hands were now stroking over it, all five fingers slipping between her thighs and pulling back.

The touch of her mother on her breasts and her sister there in that most mysterious of places was causing her to tremble. One of her sister's digits slipped into that soft division and gently tested her.

She moaned again, her hand moving to the back of her sister's head to steady herself. For a few more moments, her sister and mother continued their gentle rubbing and petting until she was certain she would faint. Just when she was confident she was about to explode, her mother spoke.

"She's ready."

Each of her female relatives rose from the tub and stepped onto the cool floor outside. They carefully escorted her dizzy frame from the tub and then toweled her. She was sad that the bath had ended. The feeling she was experiencing was unlike any other.

Once she was dry, her sister retrieved a nightgown she had never seen before.

"This is my gift to you," she said, "to celebrate your becoming a woman. I hope each time that you wear it, you will remember this evening."

She smiled at her sister warmly and gave her an appreciative kiss on the cheek. Her sister seemed to be as warm as she was, she noted.

The nightgown was foreign to her- it was all lace, with very little solid traces of cloth anywhere. There was a delicate flower pattern that covered the whole of the bodice of the skirt, and as it was pulled over her body she realized how little it hid. It was beautiful, and caressed her as gently and as lightly as her mother and sister's hands. When it was in place and her mother began to work on the long row of ties that lined the back of it, she smiled and clutched it tightly to her skin.

"Mother gave me one like it when I turned eighteen," her sister informed her, recognizing the cute smile that the gown evoked.

When the ties were done five minutes later, she felt little relief from the pulsing heat within her. She spun for her mother and sister, surprised by how the material floated upward, displaying the ending of her thighs and the beginnings of her more intimate areas.

"It's beautiful," she gushed, as her hands smoothed it carefully against her chest and stomach. She felt driven to run her hands all over feeling the soft material against her entire body. For a few moments she did, almost forgetting her mother and sister were in the room with her.

"Come, darling, your father is waiting," her mother broke into her reverie.

Her father? She glanced down over the gown and saw that her nipples had peaked from between the lace. She could just make out the shadowing between her thighs and across her backside when she studied those areas too.

"Father," she asked, nervously.

"Yes dear. You are an adult and will become a woman," her mother reassured. "You will come to understand."

Swallowing back her nervousness and noting the excitement in her sister's eyes, she followed her mother's guiding hand from the bathroom and the master bedroom. She was surprised that the other two women did not bother to dress. This was a strange time. Her family had always been sensitive to maintain proper discretion. Slowly, with her mother before her and her sister behind her, she descended the stairs. She was careful to avoid quick movements, not wanting to send the light material swirling around her and displaying her indecency to her father.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs her mother moved to her left and her sister to her right. They each took one of her small hands into their own and guided her into the living room. Her father was seated in his leather chair again.

As they entered, he looked up, his smile growing more widely then before.

"My beautiful women," he complimented. Her mother and sister released her hands and moved to stand beside the tall back of her father's chair. Each stood patiently waiting, seeming to be quite comfortable being nude before their husband and father and children.

She felt her face flush with blood as she suddenly felt very exposed to her father's eyes. He was unabashed as he studied her form in that near transparent gown.

"Come to me, child," he instructed, beckoning her forward with a familiar gesture that had never before seemed to hold so much significance.

"Yes father," she whispered, slowly approaching his seated form. The edges of the dress flounced easily up around her thighs with each step. She stopped a foot or two from his bare toes and for the first time noticed that he was wearing only his robe.

"Closer, dearest," he told her. His hand remain extended and she took it.

He pulled her forwards, his knees parting to allow her between them. As he did so, his robe split and she noticed an odd formation between his legs. It was covered with dark curled hair, and two heavy orbs hung from a thick rod, like apples on a tree. She swallowed nervously, uncertain of what this thing was. She had never seen her father, nor any man so exposed, and hoped that it was natural.

When he was satisfied with her proximity to him, he dropped her hand.

"You are beautiful, like your mother and sister. A beautiful woman is a treasure that needs to be appreciated," he explained. "What occurs this evening is what makes a woman a woman. It is how a man shows his appreciation to his women, and how she in turn appreciates him."

She heard soft affirmative whispers from both her mother and sister. Her father's hands moved to her hips and she felt a small nervous shock spread through her system. His fingertips found skin as they caressed the gaps between the lace pattern of her birthday gown. Her heart raced at each touch, at each little burst of heat between the press of the cool fabric against her.

His hands were slow, firm, gentle. They roamed from her hips up her waist, to her ribs and then beneath her arms. They slid forward, under her bust. She shivered again as they cupped her breasts. His thumbs flicked over her erect nipples, causing them to once more rise from between the gaps in the pattern.

For a moment she glanced up, and found his rich almond eyes staring back at her. She blushed once more and her eyes returned to study the sensual motions of his hands on her bosom. That tingling was back, with all the energy and intensity that had been abandoned in the bath.

"Ohhhh," she moaned to her own surprise. It seemed an admission of guilt.

"Let it out," her mother instructed. "Tell us how you feel."

As her father pinched her nipples softly and pulled them away from the softer flesh beneath them, she let another moan go. It was freeing, and somehow made this better, she decided.

"That feels nice," she encouraged, trying to obey her mother's direction. Her father's hands felt so large against her softer flesh. She thrust her chest forward into his palms, wishing that she could cover her whole body with them.

"Good girl," her mother added, letting her know she was doing right.

"Your breasts are quite amazing," her father told her, his eyes once again catching hold of hers. She nodded her head in agreement as he circled and pressed the pair together. "Very amazing," he added as her flesh plied itself to his demands.

Her heart was racing so fast, she worried she might die then and there. It was amazing, her father's touch, and it made her so very warm inside. She worried she would be sweating if he kept up his caresses.

But his hands were done for a period with her young orbs, and they dropped low over her stomach. As they touched on her hip bones she could not supress another satisfied gasp. Everything was so electric, so intense. His broad forefingers brushed over the meeting of her thighs to her waist. She gulped as she felt soemthing spasm within her small channel. It was a foreign feeling, unfamiliar in her lifetime. Her father's lips twitched upward in a knowing smirk as she arched her back towards him.

Something primal within her said that his hands should be between her thighs. She watched as he gathered the soft material of her new gown upwards until it exposed her sex. He took her own hands and guided them to the bunched fabric.

"Hold it there, and don't let it go," he told her.

"Yes father," she squeaked nervously as she realized that she was throwing all her modesty out with that act.

His fingers finally did dip between her thighs. One hand cupped her mound, and she felt his middle finger flex and slip over the space between her dirty hole and her womanly one.

"Ah," she gasped as the finger brushed across her once more. She felt the need to writhe away from his finger, like a response to being tickled. At the same time she wanted to feel nothing more than his finger there again.

He was obliging, repeating the motion several more times, until she grew more accustomed to the sensation. Then his palm slid back towards him, and she felt the finger between her lips. It gently pushed into her small tunnel and her eyes widened at how big it felt within her. Her head drooped down and she thrust her groin forward so she could better see what he was doing to her.

With something inside her, she could feel her muscles spasming, clenching on it.

"What's happening," she whimpered.

"You're becoming a woman. It feels good doesn't it?"

"It's good, ohhhh," she writhed, "but so strange!"

His finger straightened and the pressure behind it grew. Once more, her eyes grew large as she watched more of her father's digit disappear into the small hole she had never once explored.

As he began to withdraw it, small explosions went off within her mind, and she had to steady herself on his shoulders. When his finger was free, he held it up to her face to examine.

"See how wet you are," he asked.

"Did I pee on you," she nervously asked, her naivete showing through.

"No, it simply means that you love me and want to be one of my women."

"Oh," she answered, pretending that she understood.

"Taste it," he told her.

She glanced at him, wondering why she would want such a thing.

"Go ahead. Taste it. Your sister has tasted her own, and your mother's."

She glanced at her older sibling and saw her lift one of her own fingers to her mouth from between her thighs. It was wet. Seeing her sister lead, she obediently suckled her father's finger. Her tongue swirled around its rigid shape. The flavor was salty, a slight bit bitter, but not terrible.

When she was done, his finger returned to her hole and began its inward journey again. This time she parted her thighs and pressed some of her weight upon it. She wanted it within her. His finger bent and flexed at the first knuckle, stretching her more than it had before. She was now sensitive to her own wetness and could feel the cooling build up around her narrow entrance.

"Daddy," she squealed, when his finger pushed against something within her. It was painful and caused her to wince. "What's that?"

"That is the sign that you have been a good, obedient girl," he informed her. "And that you will be a good obedient woman."

"It hurts when you push like that."

"I know darling. But soon everything will be wonderful."

His words reassured her. She tested his finger again, gyrating her hips in small circles over the intruder. She found the touch of it against the surrounding walls of her innards made that little pulsing electric shock run through her body. Some instinct told her she should caress her breasts while her father fingered her. Doing just that, she cupped and squeezed and pulled, just as her father had. The excitement and odd tension with her body seemed to build now on a massive wave and she gave herself up to it. Her father's finger moved more rapidly at the entrance of her tunnel and soon her cries were uncontrollable.

Her eyes were closed but she could feel the tightness of every muscle in her body, as if it was preparing for some impending crash. She could smell and hear her sex accepting her father's finger joyfully. Just when she thought that the pleasure could get no better, her father's thumb pressed against the top of her little recess. Some nerve there sent an explosive jolt through her body.

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byAthena_e19© 3 comments/ 115491 views/ 18 favorites

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