Angela, the Ingenue Pt. 02

Angela continues her evening at home

This story follows Part 1, which is in Group Sex. Part 1 should be read first! I wish to thank my editor, LegsFeetToes

**

Bill and I ran through the downpour into my home. My brother Paul recently had been raiding my friends as quick and easy lays, since they were now legal, but I was hoping he had brought a college slut to our home, and not one of my friends. I guessed I was going to find out.

As we entered, Paul called out, "Welcome home, Angela. You finally left that car and came in out of the rain? We're in the living room. Get a drink and join us!"

Paul didn't know I had a guy with me, and that in fact it was Bill, but we both got a glass from the open bottle of white wine, some French one, and went to the living room. Bill's face turned white, since entering the living room we saw a topless Sharon, cuddled up next to Paul, as he gently played with her right nipple.

Sharon registered that Bill was with me, and took a minute to figure out that while she was cheating on Bill with Paul, Bill was planning on cheating on her with Paul's little sister Angela, namely me! Then she must have realized that, in return, Bill was seeing her as well, in her compromised position, with Paul. Oops.

It got ugly. Paul and I left Bill and Sharon to duke it out, and adjourned to the family room, which was adjacent to the kitchen and the white wine supply. I began to explain to Paul, speaking into his ear to be heard above Sharon and Bill's shouting, some of what had happened at the party, explaining everything via the drugs, namely alcohol and ecstasy.

Paul and Sharon were yelling at each other, and quite loudly. Meanwhile, Paul asked if I had inadvertently been dosed with ecstasy, too?

"Probably twice," I said.

Paul knew I had never kissed a boy before, so he asked, "Did you manage to kiss a boy?"

I turned bright red, and laughed. I laughed out loud! Paul looked at me, his face questioning, and I said, "Yes, I kissed several boys, and lots more happened, too!"

"Oh, wow. Tell me, Sis!"

"Let's just say your sister now is a bona fide slut, and leave it at that!" I said.

"Really? Are you still a virgin?" Paul asked.

"We're not going there, Paul. You're my brother, remember?" I replied.

"Oh my God! Who was it?" Paul asked.

"It was Jean-Pierre, the black guy, from Haiti," Sharon said, entering naked. I would never had told Paul, myself.

"Sharon, you're naked!" I yelled at her. She looked down at herself, and screamed, and ran back to the living room.

"Jean-Pierre? Really? You were laid?" Paul asked.

"It was the drugs," I said. "You know how submissive I am. We've discussed this. I was aroused by the kissing. And Jean-Pierre wanted me. I just went along as if I were in a trance."

"Goodbye!" we heard Sharon and Bill yell. "Sorry about the mess on the couch," Sharon added. Did Bill just screw her again?

I began to get up to look, but Paul held me there. "It can wait," he said.

Ignoring the goodbyes from the front hall, Paul asked me, "Are you still under the influence?"

"Yes, I guess so. Diego gave me another glass of punch just before we left the party, and I didn't know, but it was spiked with vodka and ecstasy, everyone says," I said.

"This is secret, but I even let Bill screw me in his car just before we came in. This is not your usual sister Angela; this is your new slut sister, Angelslut! You can't let Sharon know, okay?"

"I love the name Angelslut. Look, Angelslut, we both know you've long had a crush on Bill. I'll keep your secret if you give me one of those kisses that aroused Jean-Pierre," Paul said.

"Okay, but remember, I'm your sister, not one of your easy sluts," I said.

"Of course," Paul said, and we kissed, with his knee up against my vag, and with my boobs pressed into his chest. I was, of course, without my bra, which had disappeared at Kayleigh's house.

"Let's get this out of the way," Paul said, and he removed both my top and his polo shirt. It was the first time he had ever seen my bare boobs, at least since I was ten years old. We continued to kiss, and then he led me to his old bedroom. Uh-oh, I thought, but like the good little submissive I often am, I just followed him to his bedroom.

We continued to kiss, standing up in the bedroom, and then Paul surprised me. "Undress," he said. Just that; one word. We locked eyes. Of course, I was already naked above the waist.

"I'm your sister, not one of your floozies, Paul," I said.

"Undress," he repeated, staring at my naked boobs, which admittedly are quite pretty, if I do say so myself.

"It would be incest, Paul. We're brother and sister," I said.

"Undress," he said a third time. His eyes indicated he was serious. He was deadly serious. I knew what he was doing: He was testing me, to see just how submissive I really was. Well, I'd show him!

"No, Paul. I'm topless for you, and that's enough," I said.

Paul kissed me. Okay, Jean-Pierre turned me on with his kisses, but they were my first passionate ones, so that has to be factored in. Plus, there's the interracial turn-on. Bill's kisses were even better, but I had long had a repressed crush on Bill, and that too has to be factored in. Neither, however, compared to Paul's kisses and what they did to me. Paul's kisses should have grossed me out, since he's my brother, and incest and all, but instead I became a huge, raging hormone!

I was a mess when our kiss ended, and then Paul said it again: "Undress."

Our eyes locked, and we stared each other down, and I slipped out of my yoga pants.

"Undress," Paul said yet again.

"I can't keep my panties on?" I timidly asked.

"No."

I took them off, too. I looked up at him, my lips quivering with nervousness. I was incapable of engaging his eyes. Paul dropped his pants, and his boxers with them. He kissed me yet again, and we fell onto the bed, Paul falling between my legs.

Since Paul's pants had not stayed on for long, I knew what was about to happen. A blithering idiot would have known. Paul spread my legs again, and they spread much too easily. I had given up, surrendered, and Paul had won. Hell, if Paul made love even half as well as he kissed, I would be rocketing around heaven all night.

As it turned out, he did.

You know how when you play a slot machine and pull down the lever, and if you're lucky the three (or is it four?) cherries come up, and then bells ring and coins spill out? Well, when Paul entered me, my eyes filled with the cherries, bells and whistles rang, and everyone knew I had hit the jackpot. It was all uphill from there.

"Sorry, I'm sloppy," I said, since my body had not yet finished absorbing all of Bill's copious cum. Paul was already pumping away, making me his very own sister-slut.

"You feel beyond wonderful," Paul said, and I knew he meant it, and I felt validated, important, successful, and most of all, loved. Paul made love to me for a good ten minutes; probably longer. The point is, he lasted long enough to give me a huge climax! Better than Jean-Pierre did, and better than Bill did, and I'm sure, better than anyone ever could!

Paul rolled off of me after he shot his load inside me. I naively thought he would pull out before the big squirts, but I reminded myself I'm on the pill, so no big deal. I cuddled into his chest as he idly stroked my breast, playing, like all men do I've assumed from my sample of three of them, with my nipples. I kissed his chest intermittently, and he affectionately squeezed my boobs, and we just lay there together in silence, for a long time.

Paul's other hand began gently, and slowly, to stroke my labia.

"Am I your second, after Jean-Pierre?" Paul finally asked, breaking the silence.

"You're my third, I'm afraid," I said. I saw no reason to lie, just then.

"And all three of us were this evening, the same evening when you got your first kiss?" he asked.

"Shamefully, yes," I said. "Paul, I love you."

"I love you too, my little carrot," Paul said. He had always called me his little carrot, presumably because I have red hair. I liked having red hair, but I hated the freckles that came with it. "Jean-Pierre, Me, and who was the third?"

"Let's just say there was a third, and leave it at that," I said.

"Who was he?"

"Who was who?" I replied, deliberately being dense.

"Oh! It was Bill, in his car! That's why you were in his car for so long; he really did lay you in a car? That's so high school! Then he came inside and laid Sharon? He's quite the guy! You need to improve on your taste of men," Paul said.

"And you with your women. You were my third tonight, don't forget," I said. I was becoming more and more disgusted with myself.

"And I'm about to become your fourth!" Paul proclaimed. He was hard again.

Later, Paul became my fifth. In the morning, before we went out for French toast, Paul became my sixth. After brunch, he took me to his secret spot in the big park, rendered me naked, and I got my first outdoor fuck. I loved it, even if I was terrified we'd be discovered the entire time we were having sex. The terror turned me on and I screamed myself hoarse when I climaxed. I lay there. limp as a dishrag, as Paul got dressed. Paul ordered me to stay naked, and he drove us back home like that.

We had sex yet again later that afternoon, and then together we cleaned up all the evidence, before our parents, and in particular our mother, came home. Paul then left to return to college.

When Mom and Dad came home, the way my father looked at me, I could tell that he knew I was no longer a virgin. The house smelled of sex, which was a big hint, I suppose. Dad had the same look of incestuous hunger I had seen in Paul's eyes. I was so glad Mom was there, and when I went to bed that night, for the first time, ever, I locked my bedroom door. Maybe I'm just paranoid, I thought. Still, I slept better with my door locked.

I began to miss all the sex. Paul was far away, in college, Jean-Pierre was a lost cause, and Bill was back with Sharon; they were fucking like rabbits every chance they got. Other guys were asking me out, and trying to get it on with me, but without the influence of booze and ecstasy, I just wasn't interested. I'd come home, molested and felt up, and horny, but feeling virtuous.

A month or so later, I came home from a date, carrying my bra and panties. My date had got that far, but I managed to stop him before we had sex. Only Dad was home. Then I saw Paul; he was there, too, for some reason! I was a little drunk, but Dad nevertheless was feeding me mixed drinks, which were totally delicious. Soon I was thoroughly drunk. Solidly drunk. Woozy. Impaired in thought.

"Where's Mom?" I asked. Dad explained Grandma was under the weather, and Mom had gone to take care of her for a few days. This left the three of us alone.

"Paul says you're no longer a virgin, Pumpkin," Dad said. This came out of nowhere! Paul stood there, with a guilty smile on his face.

I was so shocked, stunned, really, I did not know what to say! I just stood there, dumbly.

"By his count, you've had sex with three men already," Dad continued. Paul was silent, as was I.

I sat down in the middle of the couch, but remained silent. I took my bra out of my purse and placed it next to me on the couch for some reason I didn't understand. My panties remained in my purse.

"That's a lot for someone your age. You must like sex," he concluded. I nodded, still not speaking verbally.

"Paul also said you have a great body, and look great naked. How he knows that, however, I can only imagine. Don't worry, though; I have a vivid imagination. Oh, and also don't worry, I won't tell Mom, provided you show me your body. I am, after all, your father. Let's see what Mom and I created," he said, as I sat there, mute, unable to speak. I did realize, however, that I would have to murder Paul. No question about that!

"No, Dad," I said. "No, Paul, you bastard!"

Now to be fair, ever since I committed incest with my brother Paul, I had fantasized doing the same with Dad. I realized, finally, that I had wanted Dad ever since I experienced puberty, but never understood the want at first. As I got older and did understand the want, and what it meant, I was freaked out and tried hard to suppress it, to make it go away. I had consistently failed to do that, however.

Now, however, the incest bugaboo had disappeared underneath Paul's warm body as he fucked me silly a month or two ago (actually I knew the exact time he fucked me. The month, the day, even the time of day). Incest with Dad was no longer unthinkable. Nevertheless, it was still a bad idea!

Paul and Dad looked at each other, smiled, and sat on either side of me on the couch. Feeling threatened, I started to get up, but Paul's arm stopped me. God, my brother is strong! Paul turned my head, and he kissed me! A surprise attack! I went limp, not returning the kiss, but then he kissed me again. Being an idiot, and a submissive I suppose, this time I kissed him back.

We kept kissing, Paul and I, and I felt a hand caressing my boob, and I knew, I just knew, it wasn't Paul's hand. My tropical weight blue sweater was pushed up to my neck, exposing my bare boobs to my father and my brother, and I had to stop kissing Paul as it was lifted up and off. All that I had left on my body was my yoga pants. (I no longer wore skirts, nor blouses that buttoned, on dates with the high school octopuses who asked me out.)

Dad was pushing my yoga pants down, but for him to get them off of me, I had to raise my behind. I remained firmly planted on the couch, all 105 pounds of me. Paul snaked his hand under my behind, presumably to pinch my ass, and I reflexively pulled it up, away from the pinching fingers, and Dad seized the moment to get my yoga pants off, too. Maybe he was surprised I was without panties? I suppose he was.

Now that I was naked between the two men, they relaxed. Paul resumed kissing me, and Dad resumed playing with my boobs. At one point, I was so aroused (being naked around men is a turn-on for me, I discovered), I groaned. Dad's hands and fingers then left my boobs, heading south down to the Carolinas, which I secretly used in my own mind as a euphemism for my pussy lips.

Suddenly, I realized if I somehow didn't manage to stop the flow of events on that couch, I was destined to have my first threesome, and it would be an incestuous threesome, to boot, with both of my father and my brother! God help me, I thought!

I knew Dad never gives up. Mom had once confided that to me, when she was drunk. If he wants her, he gets her. Once he even fucked her with her as dry as a desert. When they first dated, he was aggressive, and when he decided it was time to have sex, she had no choice or say in the matter, and they did it. My brother Paul was conceived that day. Since Dad had laid her four times that evening, she didn't know which time had led to Paul, but probably it was the first, she thought.

"So the first time you had ever made love, you got pregnant?" I had asked.

"Actually, it wasn't the first time we made love. It was the first time we had had sex," she had replied. "Making love came later. Much later." She swigged another drink. Whoa. Too much information. I changed the subject.

Now here I was, naked on the couch, with Paul giving me those wonderful kisses that melt me. I was too freaked out to have the kisses work, though. Paul began to fondle my boobs with both his hands, as he kissed me. That was nice. Then with his third hand he began, gently, to finger me. I was as dry as the Sonora desert.

His third hand? OMG, Dad was fingering me. Holy shit! Worse, I was getting wet. I pushed Paul away and Dad took over totally. I pushed at Dad, but he weighed around twenty stone, as the Brits like to say (it sounds better than 280 pounds, that's for sure). My efforts were, to quote my Dad, like pissing into the wind. I never did understand that metaphor, but I meant to no effect.

I gave up and grabbed for Dad's penis. It was hard. Do men's penises get bigger and thicker as they age? How the f**k should I know? It felt big. It felt really big. Lucky Mom, I thought. Then I thought oh no, he doesn't intend -- does he? Where's Paul when I needed him? Oh shit, Dad's in position.

How is that possible? His monster just slipped inside me. It was scraping the walls of my passage, but the whole fucking thing is inside me. The whole fucking thing? I began to giggle at my pun. My giggling must have been a trigger or something, because Dad began seriously to fuck his very own daughter, namely me. Lord help me!

I was damned. How many circles did Dante describe? Seven or nine? Smyrna went to hell, with only her insanity left. I never got any of that, but now? Maybe Dante was on to something? Why am I thinking of hell, and the seven or nine circles, when I'm being exquisitely fucked? God, this feels good! Oh no, what's happening? Am I really going to cum from Dad fucking me? Please say it ain't so, oh my God oh my God oh my God NOOOOOoooooooo!!!

Dad's unloaded, and he's getting off me, and oh no, here comes Paul. Don't I get a break? What's the rush? Damn you, Paul. You probably set this up, actually there's no probably about it, and now here you are flipping me over, ass up, shoulders down and whoa, boy, not so fast, not so hard, don't you know I just climaxed, and I must be sloppy, as well as sensitive, and oh my God, not again, not again, YES!! Ahhh. And you're still pumping? Have mercy, I'm your sister for goodness sake!

I give up. I'm just going to forget it all and enjoy this. Hey, it's my first threesome. What was that Campari commercial? The first time was with my uncle? Well thank God he's not here, too! Maybe next time? These guys are insane, but oh yeah, so good, so very good. Thank God, Paul finally came inside me, too.

When it was all over we had Campari. My idea. Mom called, and we all spoke to her and she's glad she went, as Grandma is doing better with her help. How are we? Oh, fine. Just fine. Yes, it's nice to have Paul home, and yes, I'm enjoying having both Paul and Dad home together and -- oh my God -- DOES SHE KNOW??

Did Mom have a threesome with Paul and Dad, too? I would not have believed it had I thought about it yesterday, but there's something in her voice, her diction, SHE KNOWS! She's done it, too! I sat back and let it sink in. Somehow, I knew: Mom's done it, too!

Well, if we're all damned, we might as well enjoy it, right? The phone call ended. I heard Mom giggling when she spoke with Paul, after me.

"Let's have another round of Campari, and then, who's up for another round of sex?" I said.