- Incest/Taboo
- Entangled
- Page 4
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
"How did you get along with your aunt?"
"Good vibes. We got on famously, as you foretold."
They climb back up to the garden. She ahead.
A bruise at the back of her right thigh.
He tries to recall. Was it Isabella's right or left thigh? No, he totally can't recall.
Isabel glances back that moment as if she read his eyes. She says nothing. Smiles a very small smile. Her lips shift maybe a tenth of an inch and stop, as if returning to their original position is too big a hassle.
***
James never did see Isabella again.
The End
- COMMENTS
dillfober15 days agoYou seem always to have this talent to make us believe we are right there with you when your story takes place. I love your stories, as I'm sure everyone does who reads them. Thank you for taking us on a fantasy trip that we can enjoy and get very aroused too. Thank you for being such a great writer, and helping many of us live the fantasy with you. Don't ever stop submitting your work, it's perfect.
Anonymousabout 1 month agoOh wow! The most beautiful, subtle, sublime description of a boner:
“ As she rinses more sand from her thick hair, her eyes lower, fastening on him. She makes no pretence. She is watching him as she washes her arms. Her eyes moving slowly on him. Watching its movements in the shower spray. A beautiful sight in and of itself, which makes her feel responsible. As if she is aiding and abetting this sordid perfection.
He knows she is taking his measure with her eyes.
“Mmm...,” is her appraisal.”
Anonymousabout 1 month agoMost beautiful prose & conversations.
“Isn’t this rich? Are we not a pair?”
“Yes. A universe without us will be thoroughly mundane.”
Chuckle
Isabel glances back that moment as if she read his eyes. She says nothing. Smiles a very small smile. Her lips shift maybe a tenth of an inch and stop, as if returning to their original position is too big a hassle.
Isabel flushes the sand grains off her body and swimsuit. She writhes her body this way and that so that the shower water can get at all her parts. A kind of bossa nova. She is living testimony to the joys of being Latin.
Anonymousabout 1 month agoI’m an amateur songwriter and lyricist. A humanities major. I love the way you infuse song lyrics into your story, some directly, others subtly and incidentally inserted.
I spotted these: On The Boardwalk; Sitting On The Dock of the Bay. More subtly: Send In The Clowns (Isn’t it rich, Are we not a pair?); There’s something in the way she moves (Beatles); Put your head on my shoulder.
Lovely, just lovely. The placements and renderings are so apt for the particular scene.
Lovely musical references to Brahms, Ravel, Bill Evans, Billie Eilish.
You are truly a unique writer.
