A Taste of Incest - Pumpkin & Candy

Candyland? Trill, the pot grower? Recipe? What HAD I been eating?

Meanwhile, my sister and I were lip-locked, and not voluntarily. We worked our teeth and tongues, pushed and pulled, slobbered, cursed subvocally, and finally pushed the glue-like caramel chunk off our dental enamel. We felt it hang between us. Ashley pushed it deep into my mouth with her tongue and held it in place till it dissolved in a slush of signals.

We pushed apart, gasping. Applause broke out around us. Jerzy grinned.

"And here are the winners! Longest time stuck together! And their prize is -- they're first at Candy Kisses!"

I was still zoned. I guess it showed in my expession. Kayla the Cretan priestess came back and waved her bare boobs in my face. My expression probably took a few new turns. She laughed and clued me in.

"Trill makes these great batches of sweet goodies filled with her Candyland breed of medicinal pot. It's all, like, over 12% THC, and it has other canna-, err cannabin-, uhh cannabinoids that make it, like, unique. It's, like, a euphoric and aphrodisiac and probably telepathic too. Can you tell what they'e thinking? Oh yeah, just like that..."

Kayla directed her last comment at both Ashley and me. We each had one of Kayla's nipples in our mouths and I rubbed her pussy through her costume panties. We seemed to know exactly what she wanted. She came quietly on my fingers and pushed away after a minute.

"Ohh, that was phat, but hey, c'mon, you're up for Candy Kisses."

Kayla and Jerzy pushed Ashley back onto a cleared-off conference table. Jerzy peeled her mask back. Kayla had a squeeze-bottle marked CANDYLAND; she laid a double track of chocolate syrup on Ashley's face.

"Okay, time to take the Candy Kisses! Do your best!"

I peeled my mask from my head. I leaned over the table, over my little sister, over her flushed face -- and I licked her off. I looked up for a moment and Kayla gave my face a squirt, too. I was smeared with gooey chocolate; Ashley's tongue worked to clean me as I vacuum-washed her.

We were not alone. As we slurped each other's faces, hands were prying Ashley from her mummy-wrap costume. I came up for air and saw my ferociously hot little sister stretched naked on the table. Kayla squirted Candyland chocolate syrup all up and down her body, across breasts and crotch and along both legs.

"Candy Kisses, Alan! Dig in!"

I did. I slurped sweet THC-laden syrup from my sister's breasts and belly and thighs. And I felt hands lift me and strip away my spidey-costume and jockstrap.

I noticed other action around me. Other tables had been cleared, young athletes stripped and smeared, many tongues and fingers at work on faces and bodies and genitalia. Some bent over tables and chairs, fucking like animals. There was Madison riding Jayden like a cowgirl, and Darius humping his sweet cousin Lydia, and... oh, I didn't know Dan and Ferdé were gay! Did Candyland syrup work well as a lube? Apparently!

The modest party had morphed into an open orgy. The boombox system continued to spew a distorted blast of rhythmic noise. Someone had switched off the hall's main lights. Only spinning chromatic party sparklers and jerkily-flashing strobes illuminated the sloppy bacchanal.

All that was peripheral to me. I was going down on my little sister Ashley.

I knew she wanted this. It was like I was receiving brain-blasts from her. She beamed it right into my head: "I only teased you because I wanted you. And you're such an easy target! Big brother, you've always been my favorite, now and forever."

"You're such a pain, Chi-Chi," I beamed back, "but you're still the best around."

I found a bottle of Candyland syrup nearby and squirted more on my sister's body. I also found a small box of unwrapped candy kisses. I methodically tongue-pressed these into Ashley's pussy, one after another, until she was fully loaded. I licked her thighs but she reached chocolate-smeared hands to me and pulled me to her.

"Not like that. You know how I want it." I'm not sure if she spoke the words or just zapped me telepathically. But, I received her signal. I lay on the table and Ashley climbed on me in a 69. I retrieved the remains of each candy-kiss from her cunt while she swallowed my cock like a rockstar's groupie.

We lay together, throbbing, slurping, vibrating, inhaling, beaming thoughts and feelings at each other. My cock probed Chi-Chi's throat like a telegraph needle tapping a rhythmic message of lust and love. My tongue signaled joy to her clit.

My cock slipped from Ashley's mouth when she raised her head and moaned. I felt another mouth on my cock. What? Who? Ashley shifted on me, sitting up, and I felt a sweet snatch slide onto my beefy bayonet. Oh ghod, double-fucking! I could see no face nor hear her voice, but her mental image burnt into my brain: Kiera.

"Finally ready to dip your wick, hey boy?" her voice spoke mystically in my mind. "Way down in my BatCave, hey boy?" I felt her roll faster, her hips on mine, my cock penetrating to her ebony core, while she leaned forward and sucked my sister's nipples. My tongue increased its assault on Ashley's clit.

Kiera's mouth joined my sister's to swallow Ashley's physical screams. Her mental screams echoed inside my head: "Oh fuck oh fuck oh Alan oh fuck oh Oh OHHHH!!"

Kiera's silent voice reverberated in my brain also, singing, "fuck me fuck me fuck me..." She leaned back slightly and rocked and rolled her hips even faster. I feasted on the mental image of Ashley leaning forward to suck and bite Keira's fat nipples. I nipped my sister's clit just then -- and we all exploded!

Kiera's BatCave cunt became a hungry mouth sucking my cock deep inside, her cuntal muscles grasping and squeezing my cherry-splitter, draining me, drawing every last vestige of orgone energy from me. That cunt-mouth screamed on me just as Ashley's blind entrance delivered another dose of chocolate-flavored orgasmic juice to my thrilled taste-buds.

And our minds melded and merged. We became as one soul, I swear to ghod. One fucking blob of eternal bliss. I felt all Ashley's internal energies, and Kiera's, and I know they felt my yang energy enveloping and penetrating their yin's, swirling around like a cotton-candy-maker's sweet pink cloud.

We could not stay like that forever. Kiera's mind worked in a different mode; she slipped away from me and Ashley, bouncing peripatetically against the backstops of her imagination. She slid her pussy off my cock, slid her body down mine through the slippery chocolate syrup that covered us, and swallowed my blue-veined piccolo, re-inflating it to the size of a clarinet.

I mentally heard messages zinging between Ashley and Kiera. From Kiera, an offering. From Ashley, a thank-you. My sister slipped off me; the two pushed me gently from the table. Ashley lay back with her legs spread.

"Big brother -- fuck me." Those were spoken words, not telepathic tidings. There was no mistaking her meaning.

Warnings flashed through my head. My sister! My little sister! But this was a logical progression, a surge from respect to lust to love to TAKE ACTION! So I did.

I moved between my sister's thighs. I looked in her eyes.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Kiera guided me in. I slipped fully inside Ashley with one smooth stroke. I sighed. She whimpered.

"Oh fuck, Alan, I've wanted this for so long, so long..."

"And you're pretty long, too, big guy," Kiera smirked, before wandering off to find action of her own. Keira, tonight's peripatetic pussy, on the prowl. Watch out, guys!

I leaned on my elbows and cradled my sister's lovely head in my hands as I moved in and out of her. Our mouths joined. Her long runner's legs wrapped around my back. Our minds merged again.

I do not know how long we fucked. Time became meaningless. We were only a single flash of love in a universe of molten colors and primeval music. We felt pressure and gravity, of course, and much, much more. We felt frozen in a hot eternity.

I know I came, and Ashley came, and came, and came... We felt no start nor finish to the cum, only an endless flow of ecstasy and euphoria. Oh fuck...

The mood was broken when Jerzy slapped my ass and yelled, "Time to go, kids! Cops are coming! Better get something on real quick now! And hey, nice going, Alan. Nobody's nailed your sister before. Keeping it in the family, hey?" He laughed maniacally and tottered off to slap other young fuckers into awareness.

When the police arrived, everyone was more-or-less dressed, the tables were more-or-less restocked, the scene was more-or-less back to normal. The spiced rum had mysteriously disappeared. I.D.'s were checked. Nobody was busted. Whew.

And Ashley and I teamed-up. But that's a story for another time. Happy Hallowe'en!

*****

An Taste of Incest: A Taste of Candy Corn

(Mom and son's first adult Hallowe'en)

*****

"Mom? I'm still at SFO. The flight was delayed -- bad weather in Denver, something like that, so it all backs up, even a hop down the coast to San Diego. They say it'll only be a couple hours. Oh, don't worry about it. I'll just catch a shuttle from SAN. I should be home in plenty of time. Yeah, love you too, Mom. See ya in a few."

Ryan stuffed the phone back in his pocket and pulled the Netbook from his carry-on. Might as well get some more done on that Econ assignment, he thought. He pushed his mind into equilibrium theory and away from family issues.

He had a hard time focusing on schoolwork. This Hallowe'en morning was warm, and it seemed half the San Francisco International Airport staff was costumed, as were many milling passengers. And many of the women's costumes were... abbreviated. This was not quite like watching poured-into-bikini babes back home on the San Diego beaches, but still... not bad.

As promised, the delay was brief. Ryan's flight skimmed through the maze of downtown skyscrapers into Lindbergh Field just after noon. He walked through his childhood home's front door less than an hour later.

Home. It was still a classic California Bungalow and outwardly seemed unchanged in the few months he was absent. But now... everything was different. Cold, empty, drained emotionally. The old vibe was gone. Divorce does that to a home.

"Mom?" Ryan called. He closed the front door and listened to the silence. A note on the kitchen chalkboard explained:

LAST-MINUTE SHOPPING - CYA AROUND 4 - MOM

Ryan dropped his bag on his old bed. No changes in this room -- except that he no longer lived here, not since leaving right after graduating from San Diego High. The summer internship in St Louis and then the fall semester at Stanford had kept him busy. If his life was an hour, that period was only a minute, but it seemed like forever.

Smells different, he thought. The scents of Mom's cooking still lingered, but the old whiffs of Dad's presence were long gone, as was he, the rat. That was a helluva Christmas present we got last year, Ryan thought.

*****

Nadine had taken Christmas Eve off from her brokerage office to prepare the family celebration. The doorbell rang at midday. The busy mother wiped her hands on her pumpkin-festooned apron. She brushed back her blonde tresses and opened the front door on a briefcase-carrying gum-chewing young Latina in a dark dress and sneakers.

"Nadine Nakamura?" the visitor asked.

"Yes. What...?"

The woman popped a pink bubble and handed her a thick manila envelope. "You've been served." She turned and walked away.

Nadine stood, stunned. What? A postal carrier, an older black woman with terriffic legs emerging from her USPS uniform shorts, crossed Nadine's front lawn and handed her the day's bundle of mail. Topmost was a plain envelope postmarked Tokyo.

She dumped her armload of paper on an empty table. The big envelope contained a bundle of forms; the first was headed PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE. What? She shook her head, dazed and confused.

She opened the letter from Japan.

"My dearest Nadine," she read, "I can no longer live as we have lived these last two decades. I will no longer return to California. I have a new career, new life, and new love in Yokohama. I have filed for a no-fault divorce. You may keep everything -- business, house, cars, accounts. I no longer need nor want any of it. Ryan's tuition is fully paid. You can contact me through my lawyers if you wish. Farewell -- Hideo"

That was the last she ever heard directly from her former lover and husband, Ryan's father, the reserved man she now felt she had never really known. He had been a quiet boy and a quiet adult. And now he was quietly gone.

That holiday season was the worst for Nadine and Ryan. Winter and spring sucked, too. The divorce passed smooth as grease through a goose. The divorcée resumed her maiden name; she was Nadine Kayle again. And she was alone except for a wild younger sister across the bay in Coronado, and Ryan -- and he, too, was gone by summer.

Now he was back. Then, he was a child. Now, he was... what?

*****

Ryan reclined on the living-room sofa with the Netbook in his lap and Keith Jarret's take on the Goldberg Variations swirling around the room when the front door swung open.

"Ryan, you home?"

"Right here, Mom." He hopped up to the door and hugged his still-young mother. He looked closely at her. She was tall, composed, and curvily attractive at thirty-six, but lines of stress and strain peeked from the corners of her mouth and eyes.

"Give me a hand with the stuff, okay?"

They hauled several reusable shopping bags from Nadine's anonymous minivan into the house.

"I had to get some last things together." She slapped her son's shoulder. "You're on the other end of the trick-or-treat line now, mister. You won't be out raising hell with your friends. You know where the candy dishes are. Start loading them."

Ryan emptied big bags into big bowls. Nadine stashed food and drinks in the fridge.

"Soon as it starts to get dark, I'll light the candelárias on the walkway and we'll set up the scene. Get those day-glo skeletons out of the closet, will you? We'll hang them outside. Oh, and I have a nice costume for you in there too. You'll like it."

They did not chat about Ryan's schoolwork or Nadine's divorced life. Not now, while their mood was delicately brittle. Later, maybe.

The trick-or-treat session was its usual rousing success. Assorted gangs of kids, many attended by watchful parents, stormed the door demanding tribute. They were met by a Eurasian Frankenstein and a pale Bride of Frankenstein in an electric blue Marge Simpson hairdo and tattered mummy-wraps. The sinister Toccata and Fugue in Dm attributed to J.S. Bach looped in the background. Hanging skeletons glowed and swayed in the offshore breeze. Holographic black cats flickered at the edge of vision.

"I thought we had a lot of candy. It's all gone now."

"Time to close down then, mister. Lights-out in front, but you can leave the cats on."

They soon packed-away everything. Ryan and Nadine stayed in costume.

"Okay, now we can have a Hallowe'en, yes! I already called Pucinella's Pizza; they'll get a carnivore combo here, just what you like." Yes, she always knew what he liked. "The local channel's all Creature Features tonight. You ready for The Crawling Eye, and both versions of The Thing?" She laughed.

Ryan shrugged. "Sure, sounds great." He tried to generate enthusiasm.

"It's your first adult Hallowe'en, well, adult enough. So here's a slightly illegal treat." She extracted a bottle from the refrigerator. "Bet you've never had this before. It's a holiday special -- Candy Corn Vodka!"

"Well, you're right," Ryan admitted, "this'll be a first for me."

"Not your first vodka, I know that. There was that time you broke into the bar cabinet and found the..."

"Alright, Mom. You can stop now. I've aleady apologized, over and over. That was a long time ago." At least a year. "I've stayed away from vodka since then. Even flavored stuff." Well, he preferred tequila.

"You're not going to get this straight-up anyway. I have a good punch recipe. Oh, there's the door. That's probably the pizza guy. Go pay him -- here's the money."

Nadine mixed a pitcher of punch. "I don't want to get the kid too drunk," she told herself. "Instead of one part candy-corn vodka and two parts pineapple juice, I'll cut the vodka in half, and throw in an extra scoop of orange sorbet."

Ryan brought the pizza to the coffee table in front of the couch.

"I'll get the other stuff, Mom. Just relax."

He poured a small cup from the punch pitcher. Hmmm, a bit weak. He hefted the frosted-glass bottle of flavored vodka and poured a stream into the brew. He loaded a tray with the pitcher, glasses, paper plates, forks, grated Parmesan and peppers to top the pizza, napkins -- and was interrupted when the house telephone rang.

"I'll get that, Mom. Hello? Oh, hi, Aunt Vivian. Yeah, Happy Hallowe'en to you too. What? Right now? Okay, I'll take a look."

He walked out the back door holding the cordless phone. "Along the ecliptic in the east, about thirty degrees over the horizon? Yeah, I see it -- a bright conjunction, sure enough. Thanks for letting me know. Okay, aunty, I'll see you tomorrow. Watch out for spooks. Love ya. Bye."

Ryan strolled back inside. "It was aunty. She was excited about astronomy again. I guess she doesn't go out at night much with that broken leg, not up to dancing, so she skywatches, right?"

Nadine carried the loaded tray to the coffee table. "You don't know how antsy she is. That girl was born to party, and now she's stuck, at least for a few more weeks." She frowned at her younger sister's frustrations. Ah, to be a party girl...

Nadine had not been inactive while Ryan was outside. She poured herself a little cup from the punch pitcher. Hmmm, not quite enough flavor. And he is growing up; he can take it. She tipped a few more slugs of vodka into the opaque mix, and another scoop of sorbet. Ah yes, that tastes good.

Neither she nor her son knew, but their additions had raised the vodka-to-juice ratio from 1:4 to 1:1. It was pretty loaded now. Soon, they would be, too.

*****

Cable-like tentacles dropped from the icy Alpine clouds to snag unwary mountaineers. Then, interstellar vegetables ravaged the arctic wastes. Much overwrought terror ensued on-screen, along with gallons of spilled special effects.

Nadine and Ryan snuggled together on the comfortable couch, drinking and laughing. The combo pizza was long gone and their spirits were suitably elevated. One dish of sweets was left: candy corn. Nibbling those little tooth-rotters enhanced the flavor of their drinks.

The creepy movies turned tedious. TV sound was switched off, replaced by softly ominous organ music in the background. Shadows and light from the big screen flickered across the darkened room.

Nadine refilled their glasses from the punch pitcher, which had itself been refilled more than once. Both were rather sloshed now.

She leaned into her son. They had finally changed from their Mr & Mrs Frankenstein costumes into the warm-autumn-evening garb of cutoff denim shorts and baggy tees suitable for subtropical San Diego. Nadine hugged her son's waist; his arm over her shoulders drew her in to him; their bare legs adjoined. Nadine had not been this close to anyone for a long time.

"You meeting lots of girls around Stanford, kid? You a big man on campus yet?" She rubbed his bare thigh with her free hand. "Getting lucky?"

Ryan blushed. "Umm, well Mom, I've had a couple dates, sure."

"You don't need to be shy. You're grown-up now." She rubbed him again. VERY grown-up, yes he was, bigger and stronger than Hideo, and more conscientious.