Family Locked in a Basement Ch. 02

**All characters are 18+**

I'm no good at keeping secrets. I'm even worse at hiding how I feel about someone. My innocent boyhood crushes were always discovered. I guess I've always just led with my heart and did what felt the most me. When I first kissed my sister, Susie, that was what my heart was singing at the time. When we took each other's virginities and swore we'd complete each other forever, that was me, that was us.

I opened my eyes to the bright row of downlights packed with light bulbs advertised to last five years. We put their claim to the test during our time in the dungeon, they lied. I reached over, feeling for my sister but her space was empty, just crumbled-up blankets. My mother was sleeping, naked as usual, but this time her blanket rode up and her legs were open. In its full glory, I saw my mother's pussy. I'd seen her naked countless times and became accustomed to it. But her pussy which I would one day taste and penetrate was normally covered by hair. She had recently shaved and this was the first time I had a true long look.

My mother's right pussy lip is larger than the left. Susie's pussy has a bright pink hue about it, my mother's pussy is darker than the skin she displays publicly. My mother was sound asleep. For an unknown amount of time, I gazed longingly at the place where I was born from. I admired each fold and adored every lovely dark strand of hair that sprouted sporadically on her groin. Her face drew my attention like a moth to a flame. Now I'm not sure if this is right, justifiable, or proper practice, but it happened. I scooted my body forward and planted a soft subtle kiss on my sleeping mother's lips. Years later I confessed to my moment of weakness and she claims to have no memory of it. I swear when I returned to my side of the mattress a smile was on her face. The same smile she wore when I was young and cut red paper into hearts and gave them to her.

"Ahem," my sister fake coughed and startled me. She's held a loaf of bread in one hand and three cans under the other arm. "I give you your first blowjob last night and you're already checking mom out and kissing. Tsk tsk."

"It's not like that, Susie," I defended honestly. "I'm just so damn cooped up ya know? And don't talk about this out loud."

"It's fine, Connor, she's asleep. If she didn't hear us last night she's not hearing us now."

I sat up and took a good guilt-free look at my sister. I looked at her pale freckled legs and her white and yellow drawstring shorts. The night before I'd been inside her and saw everything and it was all for me. Mr. Dunlap was due to visit that day so she wore a shirt. I felt as if my new experience granted me X-ray vision through my sister's shorts. Though her body was covered I could see her puffy labia through my mind's eye. I could make out her excited clitoris and mound. Susie smiled at me and started preparing the sausage and eggs.

We had a typical morning with a splash of secretive incest. I brushed my teeth and my sister kissed me in the bathroom before Mom woke up. I picked her up and put her against the sink and her back pressed into the mirror. All my attempts at bringing up what we were doing were shut down. Today, was a grown man with life experience under my belt, I know exactly what she was doing. She was behaving how women behave when they like you but are too afraid to risk change. When they just want to let their bodies do the talking and shut up for a while. Eighteen-year-old me with no prior experience with the opposite sex kept pressing the issue. Oh to be young and ignorant again. Legally I was a man, old enough to fight for my country but too young to have a drink. In those five years of hiding, I felt suspended in time. I left that basement the same age I came in.

The passage of time could only be gauged by Mr. Dunlap's clothing. If he wore boots and knitted hats, it was safe to assume it was winter. When he dropped off supplies in cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts that only old men seemed to wear, it was summer or spring. My mother mentally kept up with the date but refused to hang a calendar. She thought seeing the lost days would depress us. Much later, after all of this blew over I saw handwritten calendars Susie made in secret.

Susie and I couldn't wait for our mother to shower or fall asleep. The moment she entered the bathroom, towel in hand, we pounced on each other like animals. You'd think we'd have explored each other in all ways possible, but we didn't. We were scared, inexperienced, and unsocialized young adults. Those conditions do things to your mind and how you grow. I'd essentially gone through my peaks of puberty crammed in a room with only my sister and mother. I don't feel bad for the things I did anymore, not at all. Sex is one of base needs all humans share. It's up there with food and shelter. And it's not just sex, it's the need to feel admired and seen. My biggest takeaway from our time in captivity was that we fulfilled each other. In a time when she was young and beautiful and needed men fawning over her, I was the man. When I was young and full of testosterone and needed the thrill of the hunt, she was there. She teased me and made me earn her mouth. I say 'mouth' because of the five years we spent there, we had sex all of three times.

I was coming of age; both of us were. We were experiencing all our firsts together. In a way, all our firsts being shared added an element of safety. Instead of all these individual firsts being with different women, they were all with my sister. Some nights when our mother fell asleep, we got drunk on wine together. Mr. Dunlap left a pack of cigarettes he meant for himself in our bag of supplies. When Mom slept, Susie and I smoked the whole pack in the bathroom together. Naked in the cramped bathroom, we took drags and kissed. We blew smoke in each other's faces and gave each other orgasms until we collapsed on the mattress. I fell asleep nearly every night in my sister's naked embrace. The notes we passed each other became sweet nothings and declarations of love. I have them all safely locked away to this day. I read them to remember the time I was most loved. My love for darling Susie was the purest love I've ever experienced. There were no preconceptions of how love should be or outside influence. It was just the two of us in a room loving each other in the way that felt the most natural.

In time, the quality of our supplies began to increase. Susie was suspicious because Mr. Dunlap visited more and more often. Biweekly became weekly and weekly became every few days. Quite a few times he walked in on my sister or my mother in a compromising position. It was as if he wanted to catch forbidden glimpses of my naked family. Mr. Dunlap stopped by with donuts, rotisserie chickens, fresh produce and meat, salty snacks, and luxury supplies. He bought clothes for us and even acquired a used toaster oven. Our mother put that toaster oven to good use. A toaster oven is essentially just a small oven. She baked cakes, roasted chicken and potatoes, and even made pizza quite a few times. Not always with canned tomatoes, when Mr. Dunlap stopped by with fresh tomatoes on the fine, we were in for a treat.

Mr. Dunlap would have secretive quiet conversations with our mother in the bathroom. Maybe it was our young innocent minds not wanting to see our mother in that way, or maybe we were too inexperienced in how the world worked. In time we learned that our mother was paying for the extra care in the only currency she had: her body.

"What do you think they do in the bathroom?" Susie wrote on the notepad.

"I'm not sure," I wrote back.

"He's being really nice."

"He's always nice. He lets us live here for free."

"It's different this time."

That night my sister swung her legs over top of me and mashed her mouth against mine. I squeezed her breasts and she crammed her tongue deep inside my mouth. The experimental young fun of the time had its charm. Her clunky tongue amateurishly attacking the inside of my mouth was endearing and new. I'd seen in film where someone was designated as a "bad kisser" but I had no one else to compare. My sister kissed some boys before me but I'm sure they were all just as lousy. The youthful ignorance of discovering what felt good with each other is a purity I miss. We did everything and checked if it felt good. I licked my sister's elbows, behind her knees, her lower back, and her belly button. No part of her was off limits or unkissable.

That night she crawled over my chest and placed her pussy on my face and above my lips. I inhaled and took in the scent of my sister's. The very human musk of the female vagina is intoxicating, to say the least. I would get drunk off my sister's wet pussy. I lapped from it, drank from it, and lived for it. I supported her ass with my hands so she wouldn't have to hover over me. With a firm grip on her plump ass, I tasted my sister's pussy like it was a brand-new flavor. I went at it with no technique or skill, just heart, and curiosity. I lapped at her wet lips and stuck fingers inside of her. I planted hard kisses on the pink set of vertical lips before me. When she gasped and leaned back, her asshole was ripe for the touching. I grazed it with the tip of my tongue. With both her hands planted on the mattress for support behind her, she raised an eyebrow at me. I gave her asshole another tentative lick, that time the wetness from her pussy had leaked down to her ass. Her blue eyes widened in the darkness and she gave me the sexiest little satisfied smirk. The kind of smirk she gave when she liked something but didn't want people to know the extent of her fondness. I licked her asshole more vigorously and like a leaky pipe the fluids from her pussy drizzled down onto my tongue. She flipped her hair back and gyrated her.

Is it pathetic that after all this time I can still close my eyes and vividly see my Susie: my dear sister? I see her face every day in the children she birthed from my seed. Susie's beautiful blonde hair and light freckles I saw stories and constellations in them. I'd spend nights shining a flashlight on her naked back and examine and kiss every inch of her from shoulder to feet. Every kiss was met with a quiet playful giggle. She accepted my hard cock into her mouth at every opportunity. Her wet tongue would lap at my manhood. She developed a technique where she'd hold the base with her hand and only put the very head in her mouth. She'd slip and suck on the head of my dick and repeatedly bounce her tongue off the tip of my frenulum as orgasm approached.

With care and love, often my sister would hold my hand as she orally pleased me. Her soft warm hand in mine while she delivered me straight to heaven with her tongue. In time, she perfected everything: the speed and rhythm, the deep throating, and the perfect amount of saliva involved. She would drown my cock in her saliva nightly.

Our mother was not dumb. I'd catch her ever-watchful eyes putting things together and coming to terms with it all. Much later she told me, "You guys were young and falling in love. Sure, it was incest but love is still love. The way Susanne looked at you. It was meant to be." Our mother saw the handholding and said nothing. She saw Susie baking special pies and cakes just for me and let it go. She's never admitted to it, but I believe she was jealous. My mother never had time for young love like ours. She had Susie when she was nineteen and devoted her life to being our mother. She lost her own identity along the way. Our father was fifteen years her senior and had our sweet mother under a spell. It took the birth of Susie for her to find the strength to leave. From what I have gleaned about my father, he has the personality of a cult leader, the slick words of a pimp, and the militarized danger of a trained marine. He had a harem of women around him in his prime. I'm not sure whether our mother was his favorite or if she was the only one to stand up to him. Whether he was obsessed with her out of love or desire to tame women, it matters not.

My mother doesn't often talk about her feelings. She plays things close to the chest and I don't blame her for it. But I believe that her witnessing a young love that spawned from her womb gave my mother a second wind. We all left that basement changed.

------------------------------

We'd been like Sea Word animals; locked in captivity for three years at this point. Mr. Dunlap would so often with gifts galore. Along with the treats and necessities, he would drop off backless black dresses for my mother. He gave my sister lowcut dresses and high heels to wear. My sister never wore them for him but my mother wore the sexy getups when Mr. Dunlap visited. The reasons for his visits became obvious to us in time. The way they'd hold hands and stole away to the bathroom together. The low moaning that sounded off made me sick to my stomach. I had nothing against Mr. Dunlap and clearly my mother was benefitting from this in a way beyond the material. My mother, at that point, didn't have me. Susie and I were attached at the hip. We danced and sang together as young lovers do while my mother looked upon us in envious admiration for what we found. I already had Susie but I was sick with jealousy,, I wanted Mom.

Mr. Dunlap's physical affections kept my mother alive. His infidelity and her being the 'other woman' was her forbidden taboo she embarked on. It was her taste of being relevant to the outside world. She was fucking someone's husband just to feel something, anything at all. He usually came in the night like a thief and claimed my mother's body. I hardly ever saw anything more than hand holding and gentle backrubs. I'd became familiar with the orgasmic moans of my mother. The messy hair and disrupted shirt she wore as she left the bathroom were signs. The condoms crammed into the bottom of our trash were more evidence.

"How does this make you feel?" Susie wrote on the notepad. Heavy breaths, whimpers, moans, and wet slapping noises rang out from the bathroom. My sister's eyes shot uneasy glances at the bathroom door.

"Honestly?" I wrote.

"We'll always be honest with each other, right?"

"Right."

"So...."

"Kind of jealous."

My sister looked at my sympathetically. She wore the same look on Christmas morning, 2001. I had opened all my gifts but Silent Hill 2: the one I really wanted, was not there. I thanked our mother with a smile but Susie could see in the space behind my eyes that I was let down. Back then she hugged me and said, "Merry Christmas." On the mattress while our mother was getting railed in the bathroom, she placed her hand over my cock through my shorts. I was worried that Mr. Dunlap and Mom could emerge at any moment. I thought surely he'd kick us incestuous freaks out. Susie, with her eyes glued on the door rubbed my soft cock into hardness like pressing Play-doh. My erection came alive in her hand like a blooming time-lapse of a flower from one of those nature DVDs we watch to simulate the outdoors.

Without breaking her gaze on the door, my sister leaned over to me and whispered, "Does this take your mind off of that?" I nodded with head with my eyes focused on the doorknob, checking for the slightest turn. Her fingers found their way under my shorts and she stroked my cock rather aggressively. We weren't blessed with the opportunity to savor the moment. Her fast hand was demanding orgasm from me. "Dan!" My mother moaned through the door. "You're gonna make me cum!" My sister's pace quickened and she bit her lip and focused on the door. Her face was flushed red.

The doorknob turned half a centimeter so we flattened out and retreated under the covers. My sister's hand didn't leave my cock even when our mother and Mr. Dunlap excited the bathroom. To the unaware and unsuspecting viewer, all we looked like were two siblings that fell asleep cuddling. Albeit, we may have been too old to cuddle in this way. I think they were too wrapped up in each other to notice. I could have had Susie bent over, naked, and screaming, and they would have paid us no mind. I don't blame Mr. Dunlap, our mother was a beauty in the classical sense. Every time I see an old statue of an elegant noblewoman I see my mother. I see my mother in the classic paintings of beautiful women. My mother had an almost fictional beauty about her that caught all off guard. "Not here, Dan," she said. "My kids could wake up." My sister's soft warm hands pumped my cock back and forth under the blankets to the sound of them kissing.

"Oh, Delores, sweet Delores," Mr. Dunlap said. "I've dreamt of this, even when you were young. I wanted to save you from that monster."

"That's what you're doing right now. You're saving us and I can't thank you enough."

"I hope Susie enjoys the CDs I've brought. I brought some bigger shirts to fit over Connor's shoulders. That boy is bigger every time I see him."

Knowing I was about to cum. I pulled my shorts over my dick and sister's hand, shot my load into the fabric, and contained my full body shakes. My sister kept relentlessly stroking me off at the same pace. On every upstroke my sister's hand made contact with my sticky cum attached to the inside of my shorts. I remember this detail because when all was said and done, my sister licked her hand clean of my cum. She'd swallowed my cum before but the sight of her naughty private moment of her tongue clearing my cum from her skin excited me to no end.

Days went on and our mother's spirit seemed lighter than air. Some days she woke up before Susie and put on breakfast. Those familiar hums from my childhood had returned. I grew up in a small house with only one floor. When I would awake my mother humming a Rolling Stones song and the smell of cooking oils, I would leap from bed and rush to the kitchen. She'd always send me back to shower and brush my teeth before breakfast. One morning I woke up and heard the hums and saw my mother's swaying hips. For a few blessed moments, I thought all of this had been a dream. I thought we hadn't lost three years of our lives in this damn dungeon. I thought that, just maybe, I was still in high school. The concrete bricks of reality landed on me hard when my eyes cleared and I saw that my mother was bottomless. My penis was happy to see my mother's naked ass sway side to side but that never happened at home. I looked over and saw Susie smiling at me. Mom was facing away from us so she snuck a taboo kiss from me. Kisses I treasure and miss dearly to this day; my darling dearest Susanne.

------------------------------

Our mother was washing our clothes in the shower while Susie sat next to me on the mattress. Her soft soft hands held the book: As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner.

She read a lot of books from southern Gothic authors in our time there. Susie was never much of reader before the dungeon. She had a thriving social life and seemed to be head of every club that existed in high school. Captivity changes all creatures and forces a new kind of evolution within us. Years ago, when I was in elementary school, our mother took us to the zoo. I don't know what motivated this choice. We were dressed and ready to take the bus to school but in the last minute she changed the plan. She called in sick to work while me and Susie giggled at her fake stuffy nose and dramatic coughs. I remember our mother holding both of our hands with every step as if we'd run away the moment she let go. Susie complained that herpetarium smelled awful. She adored seeing the birds even if it made her sad. "They can fly but the big dumb net keeps them in," she said. I loved all things that roared but to my surprise, none of the zoo beasts roared. Lions and bears sat docile; mere shells of themselves. I mention all of this because I looked into the eyes of a captive tiger. I saw the power in it's body and the pride it once carried. I understood how that tiger felt. What is a captive nineteen-year-old boy in the prime of his life if not a caged tiger?