tagNovels and NovellasWhy Do I Write Incestuous Erotica?

Why Do I Write Incestuous Erotica?

bySusanJillParker©

Why do I write erotica, especially incest stories? The short answer is because I was bitten by a vampire.

This is a true, sexually explicit story that shows actual sexual experiences. Caring only of protecting the innocent, I used actually first names to reveal the guilty. For those of you who may be offended by reading such a graphic, incestuously erotic story, please do not continue reading. For those of you who enjoy reading a private glimpse into the sexual life of an innocent, nearly virginal, albeit sexual woman, please continue reading. All characters depicted in this story are over the age of 18-years-old. There are no underage characters in this story. If you chose to read my story, please give me the courtesy of your vote at the end of the story. Thank you for reading Why Do I Write Incestuous Erotica?

So why do I write erotica? Because I was bitten by a vampire. Vampire? C'mon, seriously? What does a vampire have to do with erotica or incest. Besides, excluding ex-husbands, ex-boyfriends, ex-wives, and ex-girlfriends, there's no such thing as a vampire, a non-human thing that sucks the life out of you, is there? For me to make the connection of erotica and vampires, perhaps a bit of a stretch for some, allow me to explain why I write erotica, especially incestuous stories by reading this story. I shall explain why having and/or writing about incestuous sex is much like being bitten by a vampire.

* * * * *

"Being that I'm a woman, a beautiful woman, and a modest woman, why do I write erotica, especially incestuous stories?"

Having been asked this question many times before from readers, and for those who'd like to know why I write erotica, especially incestuous stories, this story is my answer. Only you'd better pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable, smoke 'em if you have them, and make yourself a drink or a cup of coffee because it's a long story that has taken years to surface enough for me to understand why I write erotica, especially incestuous stories. Being that my passion is writing, for some strange, inexplicable reason, out of all of the stories that I've written, I enjoy writing erotica, specifically incestuous stories, the most.

Why do I write incestuously erotic stories? Not questioning it, I never knew why until, one day, when I sat and pondered the question by looking back on my life. Filled with emotional upheaval, sex, violence, incest, debauchery, and depravity, a much harder life than most women, my life hasn't been an easy one. By my true confession that I enjoy writing erotica, especially incestuous stories, and with my response begging the question to be answered as to why I enjoy writing erotica, especially incestuous stories, I figured that I owed my readers my answer. For those of you who have read some of my stories, especially Who is the Writer, SusanJillParker? story, now that you know something about me, why do I write erotica, specifically incestuous stories?

Yet before I answer the question, as troubling to me to write as they are exciting for me to write, why do I seemingly enjoy writing incestuous stories, especially mother and son incestuous stories? Weird yet the reason is psychologically understandable, once I scratch the surface by telling you some of the horrible events that happened to me in my life for me to help you understand the way that I am today. Alas, no doubt, I'm a disturbed writer who is as twisted as much if not more than many of my readers. For those of you who care to know, once you understand my tarnished background, troubled past, and my tormented mind, you'll no longer wonder why I not only enjoy writing erotica but also why I enjoy writing incestuous stories.

* * * * *

"I Love You, Mommy!"

I wrote that story under my WmForrester name back in October of 2009. I Love You, Mommy was the most read story in all of 2010. Presently, it sits at #77 of the 250 most read Literotica stories of all time with more than 1.2 million hits, not bad considering there are more than 50,000 writers and 3 million stories on the site.

My stories, Stripping My Mother-in-law Naked and Sex with my Sister-in-law Samantha, written under my BostonFictionWriter name, would have been in the top ten most read Literotica stories of all time had I not pulled them a few months after I wrote them in 2007 to publish them. After only appearing on the site for 3 months, my mother-in-law story had already amassed 850,000 hits and my sister-in-law story had already amassed 650,000 hits, quite a lot on this site in such a short period of time. Being that it has taken me three years to amass 1.2 million hits with my I Love You, Mommy story, I can't imagine how many hits my mother-in-law and sister-in-law stories would have amassed had I left them on the board. Five years later, I figure they would have had a few million hits each.

Nonetheless the success of some of my incestuous stories, it's a bit disconcertingly weird that a mature, college educated, and sophisticated woman would enjoy writing incestuously erotic stories about a mother having sex with her son. What's inherently wrong with me for me to enjoy writing stories such as that? Yet, for some bizarre reason, I do enjoy writing about a mother lusting over and seducing her son or a son lusting over and seducing his mother. Notwithstanding my passionate love for writing and for my preference in writing erotica, specifically incest, even I didn't understand why I not only enjoyed writing erotica but also why I enjoyed writing mother and son incestuous stories, that is, until I made a connection to what happened to me in my sordid past.

Sometimes, when writing my mother and son incestuous stories, I wondered if I had a son if I'd have sex with him. I'd like to think that I wouldn't but, honestly, I don't know. Being the way that I am, as twisted as much if not more than many of my readers, perhaps had I a son, I may have had sex with him. No doubt, based on that confession alone, albeit sexually satisfied, had I had a son, I would have been a terrible mother.

* * * * *

In thinking about all of the sexual scenarios, incestuous sex between a mother and her son makes me wonder what if...

"You have a beautiful penis Johnny," said Susan to her 18-year-old son while reaching out to take him in her hand to touch him and to hold his throbbing cock. Having lusted over her son since he became a man and since his father left, she's been waiting for this moment for a long time. While looking up at him, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and slowly stroked him to an erection. "Do you like Mommy touching you in this way?"

"Yes, thank you mother," he said watching her stroking him. "I love watching you stroke my cock."

A loving mother holding her son's cock in her hand, she looked up at him with as much sexual lust as he was looking down at her. Not even pausing to ponder the question whether she should stop or continue forward, instead she paused with excited anticipation and sexual trepidation before asking her question.

"Would you like me to take you in my mouth?" Already knowing his answer, Susan stared up at her son before looking down at his pulsating prick.

"Yes mother," he said staring down his mother's low cut and loosely fitted nightgown that had suddenly fallen forward and open. Immorally and immodestly flashing her son her tits, Johnny leered at her exposed breasts. "I would love for you to suck me."

As if this was the first time that this mother had sex with her son, this was their incestuous game that they enjoyed playing whenever they got together. His mother had beautiful, big breasts and he couldn't wait to see them, touch them, feel them, caress them, and suck them again, as she always allowed him to do while she masturbated him before blowing him.

"Would you like to cum in Mommy's mouth?" She asked while on her knees stroking her son and looking up at him adoringly with her big, blue eyes before giving him a sexy smile.

"Oh, yes, Mother," he said putting a gentle hand to the back of her blonde head before impaling her mouth with his hard, hairy cock.

* * * * *

Now that I think more about having sex with my son, had I had a son, I probably wouldn't have sex with him. Even though the thoughts of having incestuous sex with my imagined son is an exciting sexual fantasy to have, the repercussions of having forbidden sex that would certainly take years of therapy on psychiatrists' or psychologists' couches to unravel wouldn't be worth the few minutes of incestuous sex. Especially after all that's happened to me and after all that I've been through, I wouldn't want to put any son of mine through any and all of that.

If I had been blessed with a son, I wouldn't want him to start his sexual life as scarred and as scared as I always was. Besides, the thoughts of having sex with my imagined son doesn't excite me in the way that it does when imagining one of my female characters having sex with her son. To me, the incestuous erotica that I write about a son lusting over his mother, doing whatever he can do to see his mother naked, writing about his attempts to seduce his mother, and a mother willingly wanting to have sex with her son are just a fictional stories. Surely, the incestuous, fictional stories that I write don't really happen in real life...do they?

* * * * *

"You have a beautiful body mother?"

Looking at her as if she was naked, Mike, Susan's 20-year-old son, stared at his mother's figure as if she was a decadent dessert on his personal menu of sexual foods. He leered at his mother with as much lust as she stared at him with surprised confusion that he'd dare blurt out such a so shockingly sexual compliment. She was her mother after all and he was her son. Mother and sons weren't supposed to have sexual thoughts for one another.

"Thank you, I think," she said pausing as she seductively fingered her lush, blonde hair. As if afraid to ask the question, she contemplated him with her blue eyes. "Tell me," she said wetting her full, red lips with her tongue, "how do you know I have a beautiful body?"

Sexually frustrated and always so very horny, all it took was for her son to compliment her for her to imagine stripping herself naked in front him to show him the beautiful body that she truly did have. When he said that she had a beautiful body, as modestly embarrassed as she was sexually excited, she nonchalantly looked down at herself to see if any part of her was exposed. Even though she's had incestuous thoughts about her son and even though she wanted to, other than seeing her in her bikini, she's never inappropriately walked around him when not fully covered. Other than giving him a few, discreet, accidentally on purpose flashes of her panties when slowly crossing and/or uncrossing her legs after having one too many glasses of wine, she's always acted like a lady in the way that any mother should when alone with her son. Other than giving him a few down blouse views of her bra and cleavage when purposely leaning forward on the pretense of picking up something from the carpet while wearing her low cut, loose tops, she's more acted like his mother than the incestuous slut that he obviously wishes her to be.

Yet, recently and out of character, perhaps it's hormonal, she's had this wickedly wanton desire and incestuously lustful need to walk around her son in her nearly transparent nightgown. Wanting him to see her naked body, after he complimented her on her body, now she was intent on flashing him her body. With the impressions of her nipples, the dark shadow of her blonde, pubic hair, and her ass crack clearly visible, especially when leaning forward to stretch the thin material of her nightgown across her backside, she's been so horny lately. Acting oblivious on the pretense that she wasn't aware that her nightgown was so shockingly see through, she's been walking in front of their big, bay window every morning to open the drapes.

As the sun poured through her nightgown clad, 40-year-old body to show her son her nakedness, she didn't have to guess what he was thinking when she saw his erection tent his pajama bottoms. No doubt, she was enjoying her flashing show as much as she was having fun flashing herself. Only, not wanting to open that forbidden door, content with just teasing him with sexy flashes of her nearly naked body, she didn't dare cross the line of incest for fear of the lifelong consequences. Later, when alone in her room masturbating over him and, on doubt, with him in alone in his room masturbating over her, she'll remember all that she showed her son.

She reminded herself again that he was her son and she was his mother. Her son had been so dependent upon her since she divorced her husband and even though they had become close, sometimes too close with all the pelvis to pelvis hugging, prolonged holding, and constant kissing without tongues, she wondered if their mother and son relationship was a normal one. If she was to go by how she felt about her son, she knew that her feelings of wanting sexual attention from him wasn't normal. She feared falling to the dark side and taking up residence in the Devil's playground by submitting her will and her body to her son.

She looked at her son with as much shame and embarrassment as he looked at her with incestuous lust and sexual excitement to notice her body enough to compliment her. When she looked more closely at him again feeling a familiar wetness between her legs, she shared his forbidden sexual desire when she noticed the big bulge in his jeans. Suddenly, she felt guilty for all the incestuous thoughts she's been having about her son when pleasuring herself with her dildo and vibrator. Imagining him French kissing her while touching and feeling her where no son should ever touch and feel his mother, she's been imagining making love to her son before sucking his cock and allowing him to cum in her mouth.

Nothing more than a sexual fantasy, just once, she'd love to flash him her naked body if only to see his reaction. Would he want her in the way that she wants him? Would he touch her, feel her, and make love to her in the way that she yearned to make love to him? Nothing more than an excited reaction of her private sexual fantasy when she's about to cum from rubbing her clit with her finger while fingering her nipples, just once, she'd love to see, touch, feel, and stroke his cock to know how he measured up to his father.

"I've been watching you dress and undress on my hidden video camera mother," he confessed while making eye contact.

Dizzily delirious with incestuous depravity, her son watching her strip naked was a speeding freight train on a collision course doomed for disaster but she didn't care. Obviously, he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Unable to move and unable to respond, imagining him watching her while masturbating over the sexy, naked sight of her, she stood there silently stunned that her son had invaded her privacy by watching her strip naked. With a million sexually wicked thoughts flashing through her mind but unable to take the lead on any of them that meant crossing the incestuous line, he made that decision for her.

As if happening in slow motion, she watched her son unzip himself and pull out his already erect penis. As if he was someone else other than her son, with her pulse racing and her heart beating, she stared down at his cock before staring up at him and before returning her stare to his engorged prick. Even if it was inevitable that she'd be fucking and sucking her son, it had been a long time since any man wanted her enough sexually, albeit incestuously, to so brazenly expose his penis to her, in the way that her son was doing and so wanted her now. As if she was hypnotized to touch him, she reached out her hand and wrapped her fingers around his big, hard prick before stroking him. With a gentle hand to her shoulder, her son pushed her down to her knees. Wantonly and lustfully, as if this was meant to be and she was playing a character in a porn movie, she willingly opened her mouth and took him inside.

* * * * *

So, again, especially mother and son stories, why do I write erotica? As best as I can figure, I write erotica because I'm a survivor of incest. Moreover, I was bitten by a vampire.

"Whew! There I said it. That's big load off my busty chest. I feel better now."

Especially in my case, being that I can only write what I know, just as it takes a sexual predator to know another sexual predator, it takes an incest survivor to know another incest survivor. Allow me to count the ways how I've been sexually abused and incestuously used. Certainly, as there were so very many other sexual experiences that I successfully denied men from having with my body, if I counted all of the times that men have tried to force me to do sexual things that I didn't want to do, I'd have a 300,000 word life story entitled, Susan's Story of Shunned Sex. Now that I have your interest, shall I explain why it is that I write erotica, especially mother and son incestuous stories?

* * * * *

Not counting my 22-year-old prom date, Mike, I was barely 18-years-old, when he forced me to give him a blowjob in the backseat of his car, a new Chevrolet Camaro Z28. After the prom and after having had one too many drinks at our makeshift bar outside by his car, we drove to a secluded spot by the beach. Walking, talking, laughing, hugging, and touching, we were having a good time kissing.

"It's getting late. Let's go back to the car," he said.

Being that it was just before midnight, as if I was Cinderella at the Ball, I figured our prom date was over. I figured it was past his bedtime and he had to get up early for work the next day. I figured he was being respectful of me and wanted to deliver me home safe and sound at a respectable hour. I figured wrong.

"Thanks for a wonderful evening Mike," I said trying to fit my dress without squishing it in the front seat of his car and without flashing him a down blouse view of my bra or an up skirt view of my panties, which I so wanted to accidentally on purpose do anyway.

"Let's get in back," he said. "We'd have more room to make out before I drive you home."

Shocked that he wanted to make out with me, having just started dating, I was so young. I was so naive. I was so innocent and I really liked him.

"Okay," I said still swooning that this 22-year-old college senior wanted to make out with me, an 18-year-old, high school senior.

Once we closed the door, kissing and kissing me, his sexy lips were attached to my red, full lips as much as his horny, impetuous hand was attached to my breasts. Feeling my big tits through my dress and bra while fingering my nipples, always having to swipe guys hands away from my big breasts at the movies, tonight was different. Tonight, as tipsy as I was horny, I wanted him to touch me and to feel me. Being dressed up and having a good time at the prom, I felt more like an adult than I did an immature 18-year-old teenager and I willingly allowed him to feel my big breasts and finger my erect nipples, so long as it was outside of my dress and not down my dress and bra.

Then, as if he suddenly grew two more pair of hands, he was all over me. As soon as I thwarted him from sticking a hand down my dress to fondle my naked breast, he successfully stuck his hand up my dress and in between my legs to finger my pussy slit through my panty. I'm not going to lie and write that I wasn't sexually excited by him touching me in such a sexual way. Even though I was embarrassed when he pushed my panty aside with his finger and touched my wetness, I was aroused. Now sexually excited enough to allow him to finally stick his hand down my dress to cup my breasts and finger my nipples, I would have done anything at that point.

Now with my tits nearly out of my dress, he fingered my pussy and rubbed my clit, while alternating between sucking my nipples and French kissing me. Then, when he put my hand on his bulging cock through his pants, moved it around while holding it there, and humping my hand, I didn't try to pull my hand away. No harm done, only feeling him through his pants, it was sexually exciting to feel his cock through his pants. Yet, not wanting him to get any more sexually excited than he already was and not wanting to start something that I couldn't finish, I finally pulled my hand away when he started directing my fingers to fondle the head of his cock while squeezing his shaft. Quite the ambidextrous, dirty devil, I don't know how he did it as I never saw him but somehow, while kissing me, he managed to unzip himself with one hand and pull out his cock while feeling my tits and fingering my pussy through my panty with his other hand.

Report Story

bySusanJillParker© 19 comments/ 10923 views/ 8 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

Next
3 Pages:123

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel