Incessant Pt. 03

Thank you for reading along, so far! I appreciate every rating, comment and piece of feedback and hope that you'll continue to enjoy the series. There's a little bit of everything in this series and I hope you find all of it erotic and entertaining. Be sure to follow me if you like my style because I'll keep posting quite regularly in almost all categories! (including some more traditional incest/taboo stories).

All characters are 18 or older. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental. Stay safe and responsible out there :-)

Chapter Four

Blake's hands rested on my chest as I fumbled my zip; her brown eyes smiling. Her happiness was infectious as she traced her fingers over my body. Then, running them along my arms until our hands locked together.

The only light in the room came from the street below and the cool glow seemed to shape itself around our bodies. My sister's full lips parted slightly as she felt my penis press against the damp spot between her legs. She seemed to cast her eyes down before returning her gaze to me — nodding slowly to give permission.

My hand was shaking as I reached under her dress and parted her panties to one side. My fingers brushed against her soft labia and I realised how wet she was — how much she was anticipating me. A little burst of oxygen ran through my body, feeling like I'd swallowed the air out of a balloon.

It was our first time, except that it wasn't.

My beloved older sister wanted it this way: a proper date, dinner, roses, and a hotel room with a rickety bed. We were face-to-face and could see pure love in each other's eyes. There was no pressure, no rush, nothing to do except savour every second as her legs parted for me.

The feeling of her lithe legs wrapped around me — the joy I felt at seeing her eyes look at me with so much love — was divine. I was relishing the simple feeling of contact between us. Enjoying the feeling of her fingers interlaced with mine and the feeling of being inside her. My movements were slow as I was too spellbound to rush or be anything other than adoring.

I was the too-serious younger brother that she could never quite get out of her head. She was the first girl I ever 'saw' and the first I ever loved. Finally, that love was finding expression; that love was free and complete.

It had taken us too long, but we were finally together.

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"Hey, Sleepy Head."

I felt a hand manipulate my shoe and shake me awake. It was my younger sister, Emily, and behind her stood her girlfriend, Riley.

"What were you dreaming about?" Emily raised an eyebrow. If Riley weren't there, I might have told her, but I thought I'd spare the blonde from the details of my sexy dreams.

"Oh, you know," I raised my shoulders, "electric sheep."

Emily giggled, "Sure. We came looking for you because you weren't answering your phone."

My eyelids were still a little sticky and I had to compose myself before I could answer Em's question. It took me a while, but I got my bearings.

I was in the apartment we'd bought to renovate. The town we lived in was once up-and-coming, but then never really took off. Lots of properties, with a holiday-rental vibe, had become available for reasonable prices. We hoped that there'd be a renewed wave of interest in the region because it definitely had potential.

That morning, I'd gone over the apartment to install some kitchen cabinetry. We had to save wherever we could, so I left a lot of the installation to myself. Despite being very new to carpentry, I was quite chuffed with the job I'd done. Looking over the rest of the room, I noticed that a bookshelf we'd bought a week before had been assembled.

"We found you sleeping and decided to help out, but now it's getting late," my little sister folded her arms.

I don't know what was wrong with me, but since I spied Emily making love to her girlfriend, I had the strangest routine. One moment I couldn't stay still, and the next I would pass out without warning. Of course, there were a few things that I worried about, but worry had never caused me such restlessness.

The relationship with my female family members never felt 'wrong.' Conventional wisdom might have been that sleeping with your sisters and mom is bad. We had love on our side though, and I never doubted the decisions we took.

In any case, what's a sister if not a girlfriend you can't sleep with, right? And a mother: a wife who loves you unconditionally. At least, that was my crazy little way of looking at it. I told myself that we weren't too different from other people. We just acted on something that other people denied. Then again, there was nothing normal about how much I loved each of those three women.

Emily having a second relationship that ran parallel to ours didn't seem like much of a stretch. It came as naturally as everything else, but she'd be turning 21 that Sunday, and I knew some things would change. She deserved to go out into the world like me and her sister did before we got hitched. Hell, I kind-of wanted to force her to go study, travel, work, make mistakes... I wanted her to live a full life, but I'd always want her to come back so that she could be with us.

My recent behaviour had been strange, even to me, and I recognised that my little sister was a bit freaked out. That's motivated her to come check on me. "I'm so sorry about not answering your calls," I offered. "Guess I've been feeling a little off since yesterday."

My sister looked at me with empathy, but it was her blonde companion who spoke. "I understand," Riley said sweetly.

That girl was fantastic. I would never — never — be able to find a single fault in the way she treated people. She loved my sister to such an incredible extent that it made me feel loved. Something in the way she looked at you, made you feel like she just got it. She understood people; she cared for and loved everyone.

The girls were dressed for a lazy day, and I was dressed for labour.

Emily had fallen into the habit of sleeping late and living sloppy, so I wanted to break that habit a little. I declared that we'd be going out later and that we should go get ready. There was only one restaurant in town and it was at the hotel. The dress code was smart and the food was decent. It would make for a nice outing.

We locked up and headed home in our separate cars. It was off-season so there was no need to make a reservation (not that there ever was). The town was completely dead for about ten out of twelve months, which is one of the reasons we decided to move there. It offered unparalleled privacy.

I pulled up to the beach house and sighed as I saw the vehicles littering our driveway. Riley had come in a bright-red Mini Cooper and Em drove one of those small Audis. Blake took a shuttle to the city so her Tesla was there under a dust cover. Meanwhile, I'd park my pick-up in the garage next to Mom's old E-Type. There was a lot I wanted to do to spruce up the house, and extending the structure was definitely high on the list.

My sisters (being nymphomaniacs) wanted a 'playroom'. Our mother wanted a space out front to run a business from, and a refurbished kitchen. This required more money than we had, or might possibly ever have.

Blake had left private practice with a lot in her kitty — she was very successful. Emily had some savings, from odd jobs and from our dad, and I was pretty well-off. The money our mom got from the divorce was sizeable, but we'd splurged a lot on our new home. To sum it up: I needed to work my ass off and finish that apartment soon.

I parked the car and checked my phone. Nothing from Blake or Mom.

When I got into the house, I found the girls digging through my wardrobe. "What the hell?"

Emily looked at me with her little-sister charm, "I decided to pick your outfit."

"Oh, and will I get to do the same?" I teased.

"Nope," she stuck her tongue out at me and laid some clothes on the bed. "You'd make me wear heels and I look like a giraffe when I wear heels."

"That's not tr—"

Emily interrupted me with a big kiss before they left the room to dig through their own stuff.

It was only 4 PM, so I wasn't in any rush. Mom's part of the world was six hours ahead and I imagined she'd be lazing around in her hotel room.

We'd all been giving her some space to 'complete her journey'. Discovering the relationship between her kids was difficult. Then her twin tried to blackmail us for money and sex. She decided she'd be happy with us — part of our affair — and that was the right thing to do. Still, she had to go through with the divorce and once she did, it all ended so quickly. That was all confusing and hard, so I thought the trip abroad should be 'her time.' Yet, I wasn't above a cheeky phone call to my sexy mom...

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Darling! I thought you'd forgotten about your dear old mom." I smiled on the other end of the line. She was in good spirits and that made me happy.

"How could I ever forget about you?" I looked longingly at the bed, "How are things in Rome?"

"Oh, Joshua, it's such a beautiful city. I do miss the other places though, and home, you... More than I can put into words."

"I miss you too," I exhaled. "It would've been nice being with you in romantic Europe where no one knows who we are or what we are."

My mother's love was obvious even in the little silence between us. "We could always make plans to travel. It's not like there'll be anything stopping us," she remarked.

I enjoyed the fantasy: travelling the world with my sisters and our mother. It sounded glamorous and sexy, giving me all sorts of wild ideas. "What are you wearing?" I smirked.

Mom sighed theatrically, "Boys, boys, boys. You always make your mommies work so hard to please you."

"Well — Mommy — will you tell me?"

I heard a chuckle before she started, "I'm in the hotel bar, dressed in a little black dress I bought yesterday."

"How little?"

"Very. I can't wait for you to see me wear it, just so that you can help me take it off," Mom purred.

"You're a bad mother for getting your son all turned on," I teased.

"These lace panties are sticky with your mommy's juices because I love the sound of your voice—

"I'm so wet, Baby. Do you want Mommy to go up to her room and make you a little video? Do you want me to touch myself for you? I'll do it; I'll do anything my baby wants."

I groaned and a wicked idea entered my mind. My mother was in a very exclusive hotel, and I'd seen a lot of movies about places like that. "Is there anyone else in the bar with you, Mom? Maybe someone who looks like she's there working?"

My mother seemed to moan softly as she caught on, "You mean—"

"Yes," I said slyly.

There was a long pause and I wondered if I'd gone too far. To my mind, I had pure intentions. She deserved some new experiences and to have a lot of fun.

After a minute of silence, Mom spoke, "Well, there's a woman at the bar. She's wearing a tight dark-blue dress with a deep neckline. I stood next to her for a minute and she smelt sweet of cheap perfume. Her hair is thick and dark; she has this beautifully smooth and exotic skin..."

"Would you like to go say hello?"

My mother was uncertain, "I couldn't."

"Do you want to?" I asked.

"It's crazy," she waited to think, "but I'll do it if that's your instruction... And if your sisters will be okay with it."

"My instruction," I smiled. "Yes, it is. As your son, I'm asking you to go to that woman and have some fun. Emily and Blake won't mind, as long as—"

"As long as I tell you every detail?"

"Would you?"

"I'm your Mommy... I will always do whatever my baby wants," my mother purred.

I was sure that my sisters and I would agree on one thing, "You deserve to have a little fun while you're abroad. Think of it as making up for getting married too early."

"Fuck. I'm going to do it."

Mom's Journey: Rome

In her two years on the job, Myra had never had a female client. In fact, she doubted that such a thing even existed. Yet, there she was; in a familiar hotel, not with a John, but with a Jane.

The 20-year-old from Milan quite liked the look of the woman who'd approached her in the bar. Her body had a firmness and a fullness — a softness that seemed welcoming and warm. Her brown eyes were the opposite of bland; vibrant like an autumn scene rendered by a love-sick artist.

The woman had luscious lips that seemed like they would be nice to kiss. Even so, Myra had never kissed a woman before, she had not even kissed many men. No, kissing was not a usual part of the service she rendered, but she thought she might want to kiss this woman.

Katherine (a fake name, Myra guessed) had been an irritation mere moments ago. She came and sat beside the escort and started an awkward conversation. The raven-haired beauty was on the lookout for clients, not conversation. Yet, she soon realised that she'd found a client after all. The poor thing was dancing around her true intentions, but soon admitted them.

The proposition fascinated Myra: a woman, for the very first time, a woman. Also, not a bad-looking lady — mature with an air of motherliness, but youthful in the way she bounced as she spoke.

Perhaps, as a matter of professional pride, Myra should not have taken on this challenge. Maybe she should have been honest and said, 'I'm sorry, dear, but I wouldn't know what to do with you.' But she didn't, and now they were in the woman's room.

You could see the familiar sights of the Eternal City through the hotel window. It was a city that the young escort had learned to know well. But things seemed different that night. She was in a new city and its limits were the four walls around her.

Usually, the beginning of such an appointment involved setting rules and expectations. Those things did not seem appropriate — didn't even seem necessary. So, Myra simply took her fee and went to change. Again, her normal routine was broken.

In the past, she would use those few minutes to steel herself for whatever waited back in the bedroom. She would always be ready; never be anxious and definitely never be too excited. Her usual clients wanted sexy and they wanted control. They wanted her to be pliable and responsive to their needs, and to set her own needs aside. But now she felt a genuine tingle run along her spine and butterflies in her stomach. She was actually a little wet, a bit intrigued, and very much on edge.

Myra wanted to hide her arousal. She wanted to hide the fact that this woman she'd never met excited her in ways she could never have imagined.

Myra slipped on her armour. Her lacy black lingerie; her dark thigh high stockings attached to a garter belt. She checked her lipstick, her mascara, her lashes and her teeth. The gorgeous woman had made her feel a little insecure; she wanted to match her beauty and charm. Her five-inch heels completed the look, and she moved to the door.

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Katherine paced the room as she wondered how to prepare. Must she undress now already? Should she sit on the chair or on the bed? Would it be okay if she touched herself because she really wanted to touch herself...

The brunette settled for the bed; laying with her back straight, legs crossed. This immediately felt a bit prudish; she parted her legs and raised her knees. Then she shimmied her little black dress until it was halfway up her butt — her panties now exposed.

This was going to be her first time having sex with someone she hadn't married or wasn't related to.

In the back of her head, the mom of three wondered about the ethics of the situation. Wondered whether she'd be okay with one of her daughters taking money to have sex with strangers. Of course, she wouldn't approve of that, but the girl in the bathroom wasn't one of her daughters.

If anything, Katherine was a little too nonchalant about the situation. There were surely many things to think about, but she didn't think. No, she hiked her dress up, so she could spread her legs and slip her hand underneath her panties.

There was some music playing from a speaker in the corner. A tool of Myra's trade, playing a rhythm to which Katherine could sync her movements. Her luxuriant masturbation.

"Fuck you've become such a horny bitch," the mother of three whispered as her fingers traced her labia in a V-shape. She felt a little lightheaded as the pleasure-centre in her brain erupted.

The bathroom door opened and her young companion emerged.

The girl looked divine, delicious, devilish and positively doable. Her creamy skin contrasted beautifully with her dark lingerie. She wore a lacy brassiere with a perfect amount of transparency. Matched by g-string that barely concealed a clean-shaven young pussy. The escort had a sultry look on her face and her lip curled up as soon as she saw Katherine.

For a moment, it seemed like neither of them knew what to do. Kat wondered if this was her cue to give an instruction or a command. "Why don't you strip for me?" the mom asked in the most dominant tone she could muster.

The call-girl responded; hips swaying as she ran her hands through her hair. The teeth sinking into her lip weren't as intentional as the rhythm of every other movement. She ran her hands down her body; along her thin waist, down her legs, before spinning around and touching her toes. Her g-string filled her ass crack and as she bent over, Kat could see her little hole and her tight slit. It's a sight that made her hand move faster and her breathing more rushed. She wanted to hide her arousal. Hide the fact that this girl she'd never met excited her in ways she could never have imagined.

Katherine felt an odd confidence; a sense of control. "Come lay down with me."

Myra twisted her torso and with a devilish grin, she began to approach her goddess of a client. She tried to pace herself, to move slow and sexily, and to not betray her true emotions. But her focus was broken as her MILF client raised a hand to stop her.

"Can I make a request?" Katherine asked.

The escort smiled lazily, "Of course."

"Can I call you Blake?"

The call-girl nodded in the affirmative and continued her sultry approach. She did so with a new persona: that of Blake, who seemed to be someone very special to her client. That made Myra feel special — confident — even though she'd never been with this woman before. Soon, she was on top of her Jane; their heavy breasts smashed together as they inhaled each other's breath. The room smelt all kinds of wonderful, feminine and gentle.

Usually, an escort like Myra wouldn't kiss — would never kiss — but not this time. Their lips touched and the world shattered, and everything they'd known before was forgotten. Every place they'd been a vague memory, every touch they'd experienced a phantom not a fact. It was theatre like none other; fake but feeling profoundly real. Their lips were soft and shaped one another as they sought new ways to lock together. Their tongues holding back as they obsessed over the feeling of lipstick against lipstick — sticky and sweet. But then their lips parted and the sensation exploded as they felt the warm-wet touch of their fat tongues.

They rolled onto their sides with Myra's hands snaking behind her companion and cradling her lover's head. Katherine overpowered the young girl with her mature confidence. A confidence that seemed to increase with each passing second. Yet, she didn't aim to dominate — she aimed to submit completely. To submit to 'Blake', whom she held in her arms and who smelled like her daughter. The same Blake who had to pick up the slack where Katherine failed. She wanted to please her daughter and show her that she was so sorry; that she wanted to be punished.