Desperate Dreams

***All sexually active characters depicted are of age, 18 years old at least, and all sexual activities are consensual. Enjoy!***

Tiffany Bright, 42, sweats as she sleeps, with cold beads soaking from her skin into the sheets, and her head hot as she tosses and turns, sinking into slumber with that sinking feeling, rushing to relive herself at the tender age of 19. This was a night when everything changed for her, shaping her into the woman she has since become, but her heart still catches and quickens as she stands there, about to enter the bathroom.

The teen gently knocks on the wood of the bathroom door, softly calling, "Dad?" She creaks the door open upon not receiving an answer, worried about what she'll find. She enters to see the bath across the room from the door, with a light mist hanging above it, slowly edging nearer.

In the bath, Tiffany sees her father, Joven Bright, laying naked with his head barely above the waterline, still and unresponsive. She reaches out her hand to place gently on his chest, feeling a faint warmth there. She presses firmer, shaking the body of her father, becoming increasingly worried that the worst has happened.

A wisp of breath escapes Joven's lips, waking with a growling groan, not having any strength or will to open his eyes, barely enough to peer through his lids at most. Instinctually, he reaches his hand around the back of the young woman's head, wrestling her down into the bath so her belly is strained by the porcelain rim, threatening to cleave her in two, whilst she comes face to face with a wet penis.

Tiffany's eyes widen in horror, but can't voice any objection from being winded by the side of the bath. This isn't the first time she has seen a cock this close, but she blushes knowing this belongs to her father, feeling hot and flustered as her father's hand invites her to take him in her mouth. She tastes the cigarette smoke exuding from his pores, bitter and wet from the bathing. The soft sloshing of the water soothes and lulls, calming the teen's nerves slightly as she treats him well with her tongue and her supple teenage lips.

Joven strains to call out, "Claire..."

Tiffany feels extremely strange; much more strange than having her father's cock in her mouth, but hearing him thinking she is her mother, Claire Bright. This somehow has become worse, but, with a flash of insanity sparking in the teen's mind, she feels allowed to relax and enjoy this, permitted to think that she could deny this ever happening, and her father will be none-the-wiser.

Thoughts do creep in to the teen's mind, trying to figure how her father has gotten her confused for her mother, but with the drugs she knows are seeping into every fibre of his being, his mind isn't sharp, and could easily be confused. Aiding assumption of confusion, Tiffany has been compared to her mother as sisters by strangers and passersby regularly, because they are of similar, short, petite height, with a similar build, albeit her mother being anorexically thin from a poor diet and drug abuse, but she does entertain those ideas with whomever she meets.

Tiffany almost can't believes she is getting away with treating her own father to a blowjob, giggling to herself in her cute way, sending vibrations into the feeble flesh as it trembles to her teases. Her heart, however, catches in her throat, and she freezes frightfully still as she hears her mother's voice from the door behind her, echoing into her ears, "Joven, babes?"

Joven releases the teen's head, leaning up to peer over the rim of the bath on his arms as he cracks open his sleepy eyes enough to see a young woman standing with her arms folded in the doorway. Confused, he asks, "Claire, what the," looking down at the back of his daughter's head, still at his crotch.

Tiffany suddenly feels very light, and sickened as she is pulled off her father by her mother. She is thrown with a firm push, landing on the tiles of the bathroom floor with a thud, feeling it like toothache in her back. Scared, the teen slowly glances up at her mother, who seems to tower over her despite her small stature. The expression on her mother's face is burned into her brain, especially the wild and fiery eyes, furious as her face contorts with terror and disgust.

Joven rises lucidly, seeing this scene as reality and not some drug-fuelled dream, saying to his daughter, "You'd better leave," almost retching with disgust, or maybe ready to expel some of the drugs from his system.

Tiffany raises her hands defensively as she pleads with her parents, "Please, it just happened when I was checking on him. He's been in here for 2 hours, so I was just checking to make sure he's okay. I was just looking after him, like I always do."

Claire spits, "Like you always do? This has happened before? You think that you're better than us? Better than me? That you are the woman of this house? You like to pay the bills, and do the shopping, and do the chores, and think you own the place, when it's me that scrapes everything together!"

Tiffany quietly sits, scolded by her mother, daring not to contradict her, but she knows that Claire does nothing more than deal with drug dealers, whilst the daughter scrapes together any cash she can, in any way she can, just to keep the three of them in this limbo of life.

Claire nods manically, justifying herself in her mind as she seethes to the teen, "You had better leave, and you had better not come back."

Upset turns to anger as Tiffany stares into her mother's eyes, seeing the conviction there stronger than she's ever seen. All she can say is, "Fine," thinking to herself, 'Let's see how long you last without me here to keep it all together. Good fucking luck, and good fucking riddance.'

One mistake in judgment and indecision led Tiffany to leave her parents house, finding her home with those she truly loved, and still loves dearly, sharing that night with her now partner for the first time.

Tiffany suddenly feels very light, and sickened as she is pulled off her father by her mother. Now held in her mother's grip, the teen looks worried like she's about to burst into tears, staring into the cold stare looking back at her, whimpering, "Mom?"

Claire does the unthinkable, pressing her lips to her daughter's, breathing deep of that sweet, fresh smell of youth taking over the sickly scent of drugs exuding from her entire being. The mother bitterly says, "I'm so fucking mad at you, Tiffany. I am so fucking mad, it's unreal."

Tiffany does see her mother as an incredibly attractive young woman. Claire looks so hot to her, skinny, a little too much, with few curves, but unassuming muscles wrapped tight on her arms. The teen hadn't noticed, but her mother stands before her naked; a sight she has seen before when she's helped her to bed when passed out, eyeing the flat firmness of her breasts, and how her legs seem long though she stands so short.

Claire asks the teen, "Like what you see, bitch? I've never once had the faintest idea of cheating on your dad, but is it really cheating with you? I want to know," clapping their lips together in a passionate kiss.

Tiffany feels light-headed for a moment, as if falling, caught in the soft support of her parents mattress. Her mother mounts her, smothering the teen's tender body, making her tremble with fear like this is so wrong, but not having her voice silenced with the heaviness of her heart thumping in her throat.

Joven lights a spliff, spitting a stream of white smoke from his lips, then passing it to Claire, sitting upright atop her daughter to take a drag of her own. Not wanting to leave her out of the fun, Claire pats her hand to the teen's mouth so the teen can have a go too.

Tiffany is reluctant at first, fighting the urge to take in the smoke, but before she knows it, she's sucking in the smoke thick into her lungs, choking as she coughs. Her parents pass the spliff between them, laughing at their girl's expense. The teen's head feels hazy, and her muscles relax a little, though already awash with hormones.

The three of them share the spliff until the barest nub remains, dubbing it out in an ashtray. Claire, still perched atop her daughter, says to her, "You've never once partaken, or shown any interest. I know you think this is beneath you, that you don't approve, but the same can be said of me with what I saw from you. I also have heard how you've been making money, so this is how it's going to be: you want to be a whore, you have to do this with us."

Tiffany's attention is vaguely aware of her mother's talking, but she understands the voice heard deep in her mind, only able to nod to show her comprehension, and acceptance of these terms.

Joven quietly suggests of his daughter, "Answer your mom when she's talking to you."

Tiffany's head swirls stuffily, focusing on the intense staring irises so bright and blue in her mother's head, transfixed by the slightest tilt accentuating her cuteness. Finding her voice, the teen says, "I don't want to do this with you... but, I also can't help myself... Something is deeply wrong in me..."

Claire slaps the teen hard, making her face sting and bringing tears to her eyes, as the mother asserts, "You are a bad girl. You haven't been very clever, although I know you like to think you are; sleeping with half the neighbourhood, and the rest hear of it. I know you've had abortions, and I hope you get checked regular. We don't want you getting sick."

Tiffany bitterly answers back, "Rich coming from you taking fuck-knows-what shit into your bodies; probably laced with all sorts of crap!"

Claire holds her hand around her daughter's throat, feeling the thick, quick blood rushing, smearing her fingers up and over the features of the teen's face, softly speaking, "I guess we both have our vices. We can always share. Wouldn't it be nice if, instead of being at odds, we got along with each other?"

Tiffany admits, "I do wonder what it would be like. I've been thinking about it more recently; driving me mad... I want you, Mom... I hate you, so much, but I feel so hot, mmph..."

Claire leans down, smiling with the slightest giggle, "Do you feel hotter now you're being honest?"

Tiffany feels so embarrassed and helpless beneath her mother, replying, "Why? Why? Yes? Why do I feel like this? Why?"

Claire pins her daughter's wrists to the mattress, pecking a kiss just off her lips, "You've always felt like this. You just never want to admit it."

Tiffany feels a cock slip into her pussy whilst her mother holds her down, wriggling to try to free herself, but can barely twist her body by any degree. She moans, "Dad? We can't? Can we? I don't know? Oh, fuck, Dad? Mom? Please? Oh, shit... Oh, fuck..."

Joven holds his daughter's legs up against his shoulders, taking a syringe from his mouth to inject into her thighs, soothingly saying, "This is the good stuff... This is what you want..."

All fight escapes Tiffany's body, and her eyes fix on that stare off her mother up close as she feels her father fucking her. She pleadingly looks up into her mother's eyes, seeking any validation from her.

Claire strokes the teen's hair, like she's hardly ever done in her life, except maybe when she was a toddler. She comforts Tiffany, "Take it all... I know you can... I know you will... The things that feel so good are always the ones we know deep down are bad... You bad fucking girl," passionately kissing her daughter.

This makes Tiffany think of her own daughter, turning her head to the bed, peeping her eyes open to find Joy, 19, across the room, perched on some cushions on an ottoman, greasy haired and gasping for breath as she slumps and lolls. She doesn't see her daughter as she knows her, seeing her instead so clammy and restless, as if burning with desire to ingest more drugs to scratch an itch in her soul. Tiffany takes pity on her, deeply upset by what she sees; that someone so innocent and free of these urges should have surrendered herself to these cravings.

Joy moans, staring back at her mother as she stretches and strains as if possessed, smearing the cushions into the wood beneath her, while the backs of her shoulders and head push so hard to break through the wall behind. With the slightest of breaths, but loud in her mother's mind, she utters, "This feels so good... I know I shouldn't, but I want it more and more... I feel like anything is possible... Mmm, Mom... Mmm, I'm just a junkie for this..."

Tiffany hates seeing her clean and healthy daughter so dirty and defiled by drugs, but she would feel like a hypocrite now under the thrall of her own parents introducing her to their cravings whilst they share her own. It is fair, isn't it, that them indulging in sex with her is returned with her indulgence in substances? Besides, seeing Joy so unclean deepens her motherly urges to care for her baby girl, desperate to help her feel better, even if it means deeper doses of their desires.

Claire teases Tiffany, "Look at her... You did this to her... You are taking away her free will, making her want to spend every waking minute with you doing these bad, bad things... You allow it because you love how it feels; it burns, it oozes, it soothes, it fires you up, and sinks you down... You're not so different from your dad and me, Tiffany, you bad, bad girl... You are sick... Something is deeply wrong in you, Tiffany... Like doing this even though you hate us..."

Joy moans in her mother's mind, "I need you so much, Mom... I need you now more than ever..."

Tiffany answers back to her mother, numbed in her body like she's made of mush as she slurs her speech, "I ne'er got high on a- anything other tha-than sex, Ma-ma-mom-mmm... I don' need to explain my-myself to... to you or anyone, mmm... Wha- do ya wanna me to say mmm a whore, mmm... not a crack-whore at least..."

Claire laughs bitterly at her daughter, and Joven leans his head over his wife's shoulder to look at his daughter's face as he tells her, "It's all still chemicals building up in your body, affecting your mind with all these perverse things... I definitely would approve this, because it does feel good... That's all we want, right; to feel good? So, what's the harm? We're not hurting anyone..."

Tiffany sobers slightly as her heart catches, "You kill yourselves doing your drugs," feeling much more upset than she has in a long time, flooding her throat heavily as she struggles to breathe.

Joven hugs his wife, seeming to shrug behind her, "At least we'll be at peace... Isn't that the dream?"

Tiffany flops her head to stare across to Joy again, seeing her in a hot embrace with Hope, 18, the girl's brother. He stands before his sister, with his cock hard and covered in white powder, watching as Joy sniffs as hard as she can to inhale it into her nostrils, licking form the base back up to the tip before plunging her mouth back down to the balls, gagging as she does.

All of a sudden, Tiffany is on her knees beside her daughter, looking up at her son as they share his cock, giggling cutely and lapping light licks on the length. She feels full to bursting with fun, loving this moment with her children, wishing it would last forever without end.

Hope comments on his mother, "You could be twins," looking lovingly at the teenage guise his mother is in, making her blush as he says, "So adorable, mmm... You like to hear that, huh? You were so hot at our age."

Tiffany is taken aback, "Was? I am your age," seeing a mirror in front of her face, even with the frame in sight, in her periphery, the mirror is all she can see. Staring back at her is her teenage self, desperate not to blink, trying to keep her eyes open as they water, with her lids shuddering heavier and heavier until...

In a flash, she sees herself much older: wrinkled, grey-haired, worn by the ravages of time, hideous and bitter is the expression staring back. This is how she truly sees herself, beneath the facade of cuteness she wears as a veil, her face is worn by stress and seriousness. She so rarely feels the fun and flirtatious vigour of her youth, instead settling into maturity as if weighed down in concrete.

Joy laughs, "Mom, you are not that old. You are the most beautiful woman I know, and who I'm inspired by everyday."

Tiffany bites with her words to ask her daughter, "You're lying, considering you work with models, who professionally look beautiful."

Joy melts a bit of her mother's doubt away, encouraging her, "You don't try at being beautiful; you just are. Even without make-up, you look so good, and, I live to look like you."

Tiffany recognises her face in the mirror again, seeing herself as she truly is in her early forties, with no wrinkles to note, and some adorable laughter lines giving such a joyous shape to her face. She doesn't look so different to her teen self, as she views herself, but different enough that she recognises the development in her life.

The mirror fades to glass, replaced by Tiffany's son sitting opposite, mirroring how she looks. She tells him, "I see so much of myself in you, Hope."

Hope softly smiles, almost embarrassed as he says, "I don't know, I... You know what you want and need all the time, and... I just don't... I don't know who I am, like you and Joy... You've got it down..."

Tiffany smirks, "That's exactly how I felt when I was your age. I had no idea who or what I wanted to be, but I got lucky, and made the most of that luck, because I didn't know I would ever have that again. I was given a dream, and held on with both hands, and I still haven't let go; I never will."

Tiffany looks around the room, hardly recognising where they are, indistinct, with her parents nowhere in sight, calling, "Mom? Dad?"

Hope notes, "We never knew them. Why would we now?"

Joy giggles playfully, "I bet they were hot, but you never talk about them."

Conjured in smoky grey, Joven and Claire's faces appear to Tiffany, close, but distant, as she thinks aloud to her children, "I never thought of them in that way. They were not parents in any meaningful way to me, and no-one to look up to. I wanted real parents, and your nan and gramps were that to me. That's where my sexuality really started to awaken, because I wanted them to have me, and be theirs, because I never loved Mom and Dad."

Tightness really clenches around Tiffany's throat, suffocating her as she wallows in her upset, seemingly suspended in treacle. She feels shame burning so hot in her whole being as strong as any orgasm she's ever felt, overwhelmed as she reasons to herself, "Do I regret my relationship with them? Do I wish I had more?... I don't know... What does it all mean?"

"Tiffany... Tiffany... Tiffany!"

Sore eyes shy away from a blast of light through the window, rubbing them as Tiffany orients herself, "Craig?"

Craig Reid, 41, stands over his girlfriend at the side of the bed, telling her, "You slept through the alarm, and, I didn't want to wake you, but you're missing the day. It's almost afternoon."

Tiffany whines, "Fuck, Craig... I haven't slept through in forever..." Turning onto her side to talk to her boyfriend, she sweetly asks, "I'd love something to drink?"

Craig remarks, "With how you've soaked the bed in sweat, I don't blame you. I'll get you something nice to pep you up," leaving the bedroom.

Tiffany becomes strongly aware of the wetness of the sheets under her, feeling disgusted as she shuffles back to someplace dry, staring fixedly at the dark patches on her side of the bed. She rubs her arms, feeling clammy; generally feeling dirty all over, displeased as she sniffs her own musty smell.

Deep in Tiffany's mind, her dream lingers, seeing her parents' faces almost vividly imprinted in her vision, haunting her. She rubs her eyes, replaying those last moments of her dream whilst her lids are closed, disturbed as her heart thumps hard in her chest, threatening to burst free.