tagIncest/TabooRoofie Coladas Ch. 05

Roofie Coladas Ch. 05


Author's Note: Hey, it's been a while. Returning readers, hope you enjoy. New readers, yeah, don't start here it'll make no fucking sense.


"So, I guess that crosses Brad off the list." My wife whispered, and I had one of the biggest fights of my life keeping a straight face.

It's really unseemly to laugh at a funeral.

It wasn't technically a real funeral, if you asked me, which no one on the other side of the hole in the ground was doing, but I thought was a fair assessment.

Shouldn't you scatter ashes? isn't that the appropriate procedure? Is it just me who thinks it's weird burying a packet of soot?

While I think I managed to keep a straight face, Sarah shot daggers at me with her eyes, so I guess I wasn't 100% successful. Of course, it could be that she just knows me so well by this point and seeing her sister lean over and whisper something, could picture the pair of us sick bastards joking about shit.

My sister-in-law was across the hole, sitting next to her ex-mother-in-law, who was inconsolable, the poor thing. Sarah was quiet and somber and her hand was being crushed by the sweet, sad old lady next to her.

If they only knew.

It's all my fault, really, if you think about it, which I studiously tried NOT to do. If I had never drugged and raped Sarah in the ass all those years ago, she would've never broken things off with Brad, who would've never moved across the country (following another suggestion of mine) to start over, would've never gotten around to partying and drugging it up like a 20-year-old, wouldn't have had to go into rehab, then wouldn't have gone to work in Doctors Without Borders and gotten himself killed in a chemical attack between war lords in a third-world country.

It was a toss-up between me, and the scheduling manager for the doctors over whose fault it was. So if you believe in fate and all that bullshit, you might be leaning towards placing poor, dumb Brad's noble death at my doorstep, but I don't believe in fate, so go fuck yourself.

It was sad, sure. But what the fuck? Who goes to fucking warzones to help poor people? you're just asking to be shipped home in a ziplog bag, once the government clears your remains to enter into the country.

Anyway, funerals suck. They're boring as shit and you have to pretend you cared or even gave a shit about someone you hadn't seen in years and who you had forgotten because you expertly maneuvered him out of your sister-in-law's life so you could take up the mantle of "dick that penetrates her regularly".

The priest was blathering on over one thing or another, but I didn't want to upset Sarah anymore than she already was, so I managed to keep a somber outlook for the rest. I knew her well enough by now that in her head she was going over and over all the things that might've gone differently if she hadn't divorced Brad. How easy it is to look back, given time, and diminish the outrage and hate you might've felt for someone after they've died.

It had affected her deeply, I knew, because she'd been too upset to even suck my dick for weeks now, ever since we got the news. Poor me.

The mostly empty casket was lowered to the ground and people got up to throw some dirt or roses on it before drifting away. I think there was going to be wake but I hope we weren't supposed to attend. I'm sure Brad's family would find it super awkward. They'd already been pissed at Sarah for not bringing Kaylee, Brad's "supposed" daughter, even though she'd never actually met the man due to her mother's contentious relationship with him, but it was Sarah herself who caused the hard looks and mutters among them. Or rather, Sarah's condition.

As the old lady and Sarah got up, it was hard to make out who was helping whom, due to the old lady's use of a cane and Sarah's huge belly.

Oh, yeah. Sara was rocking a beautiful baby bump again, seven months into her second pregnancy by yours truly, and even though I knew she was bloated, uncomfortable, always exhausted and that's not even taking into account all the feelings her ex's death had brought up, I still thought she looked great.

I'm not sure if it's the sense of ownership or what, but I'd really gotten into pregnancy fucking this time around. I guess fourth time's the charm in my case, since I hadn't really appreciated my wife's two pregnancies and Sarah's first.

The illicit aspect of it was thrilling, I admit. As far as anyone knew, Sarah's belly was seeded by UNKNOWN MYSTERY MAN, something that miffed my wife because she thought her sister would've confided in her by now. Hence the game that'd been going on ever since she announced she was knocked up again, of "Guess who's the daddy?"

It's nice to play a game where you've already won.

Sarah eventually disentangled herself from her ex-mom-in-law and came over to us, her sister and her rapist/secret-lover/babydaddy-of-both-her-kids-although-she-thought-it-was-just-the-second-one.

She had unshed tears in her eyes that caused me a moment of grief, a small tightening in the chest which let me know I'm not a complete sociopath, but I hoped that this whole thing just gave her closure so I could fuck her again.

We headed off towards the mortuary, since we'd gotten here by towncar but those would all be in use by the family now and we were going home (thankfully). My eldest, "official" children, Will (he didn't want to be called Billy anymore) and Amanda, were walking with my wife's arms around them. They were old enough to have fond memories of their uncle and were really bummed. It looked like my daughter was particularly torn, so we ended up getting two cabs instead of clown-car-ing in one, my kids and wife in one and I and my wife's sister in the other.

Sarah was quiet as we started the drive back, and since we were alone (cab rivers don't count) I pulled her towards me, leaning her head onto my chest and placing my hand around her and on her swollen belly.

"Thanks for coming." she told me as she patted my chest.

I kissed the top of her head and caressed my son through her skin. "Of course. You know... anything you need."

She sighed, and I wondered where her train of thought was. She snuggled up against me and as I looked down at her I caught a glance of her impressive cleavage from my advantageous position. She certainly grew great tits when she was pregnant. I found that women with small tits who got knocked up got perfect upgrades, because if they pushed themselves to recover their original bodies, they were left with bigger tits, and even better, they were all-natural, organic, gluten-free, no preservatives or anti-biotics used.

After Sarah had Kaylee, our first secret child, she'd been left with a nicer rack (although I've always been a fan of tits in all shapes and sizes). Her petite frame had managed to adjust, I knew for a fact, from all the times I'd seen her naked as I speared her with my dick over and over once our "official" affair had begun. She'd excercised herself to delicious and jaw-dropping again, only for me to go ahead and hose her fertile womb with my seed again and again for months on end.

The result was inevitable. She and I'd both known it, even if we'd never spoken about it. I never really asked if she was on birth control, and when your sister in law is kneeling in front of you with your cock in her mouth, slurping up your meat stick while fingering her pussy, you tend to not ask too many questions when she turns around and begs for her master to fill up her cunt with his jizz.

Those had been her literal words, several times.

This second time, her tits weren't fucking around, they were big and round and plump. Almost Amber-sized (ah, tits!). Her belly was larger as well, which meant my son was going to be a bigger lad than his sister. Sarah'd managed to fit into a demure, black dress she'd bought oversized, since she couldn't find black pregnancy clothes in time, so the cleavage was larger than expected with her smallish frame, huge belly and the angles of the cut of the dress all in dissarray. What it meant was that from where I was looking down from, I could see the two shapely mountains and the cavernous crater between her plump flesh.

Of course, I got a hard-on.

"Are you serious?" She whispered as she saw my member stiffening under my pants. Say what you will about suits, they don't restrict the nethers as much as they probably should.

Reflexively, she reached down and clasped my dick, squeezing it as she shook her head.

"You're incorrigible." She sounded grudgingly amused, I thought.

"Sorry, the view's too nice from up here."

She looked down at herself and snorted, then glanced up at me with a small grin. I couldn't help myself as I met her eyes. I leaned down and kissed her delicious mouth. She surprised me by kissing me back, hungrily.

Things were different, between Sarah and me. Our relationship has become... quite complex, to say the least.

Almost a year earlier, I'd made a call and introduced a different dynamic to our affair, establishing a supremely dominant and overpowering role over her, reinforcing it constanly by taking her roughly whenever I wanted and basically using her as my own little fuck toy. She'd been steamrolled, at first, by my assertiveness. Deep down, I think she liked to be dominated and whether it had anything to do with the first time I raped her or it was something she'd had since she was a kid, I pretty much got away with doing a lot of stuff to her for a couple of months, placing her into pretty uncomfortable positions at times.

She was still very submissive to me when it came to sex, but frankly I had begun to miss the sex-craving hellion I'd found out she was when she'd sunk into the "cheating with her sister's husband" role. I already had my wife for the submissive pussy, who got off on being totally dominated by my sexual cravings. I didn't enjoy exerting my dominance over Sarah any less, but I gave her reign to sort of come back into our power dynamic, so she'd slowly gained some of the confidence I'd glossed over.

This caused another problem, because during the give and take, we caught feelings.

We'd always had a check-up moment during our affair, at first, when we made sure it was just a physical thing. By overpowering her and then "giving her power" back, it sort of opened a floodgate of messy emotions that threatened to up-end out happy little dystopian living situation.

I still love my wife, obviously. That'll never change. It's just overlapped now with a big chuck of love for Sarah. And I know she fucking fell for me too... because she told me. (haha, I didn't figure out shit.)

In any case, with the pregnancy, and the hormones and emotions, things were messy but under control. We loved each other, but we both loved my wife as well, and we'd spoken at length about the idyllic life we have and rocking the boat, and yadda, yadda, yadda, I don't want to bore you with gushy shit. Point is. Status quo. Still married. Still fucking my sister-in-law. Never gonna stop.

One last gushy secret. A few months ago, under the excuse of a family trip to Vegas, Sarah and I got married under false names. Symbolic gesture. Elvis did the officiating, and I fucked my new "bride" in the bathroom of the wedding chapel. We consummated the shit out of our nuptials.

It was very nice, her leaning over the sink, her ass sticking out, the rented wedding dress that had barely fit over her baby hump scrunched up around her waist as I pistoned in and out her. Her panties were around her ankles and it reminded me of the first time I fucked her, unconscious in the pool, her bikini bottom floating around her feet.

That first time, since I wasn't sure it would ever happen again, I'd slowly inched my cock into her ass, exploding after only a few thrusts from the illicit danger and excitement of it. Now, after marrying her (Mr and Mrs Smith, I kid you not) I felt compelled to declare my territory completely.

I'd already fucked her in the ass (with her knowing it) by this point, but this time, it felt special. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her face up against the mirror so that her breathing fogged it up as she panted.

"You're my wife, now." I whispered fiercely as I slipped out of her wet cunt and pushed the head of my cock up between her asscheeks. Her hole was still tight enough that her puckered embrace resisted as I drove myself up inside her anal cavity. Our height differences made it so she had to go on tip-toes to keep her balance, but I still lifted her off them as I impaled her on my rod.

She moaned and shook. I'd been driving hard inside her pussy and the sudden anal invasion took her by surprise.

"I'm going to coat your insides with my cum, wife."

She shuddered and melted as the grip around the base of my dick loosened when she relaxed. I held her up against the mirror, her pregnant belly hovering over the sink as I plunged in and out of her ass. I caught the reflection of her bouncing tits and it drove me to piston in and out of her harder and faster. She wasn't bothering to muffle her screams of pleasure.

The whore. My whore.

When I came, the long spurts of cum were pushed out of her ass as I kept drilling her, gushing down her legs and collecting in her scrunched up panties.

When we were done, she pulled her sodden panties up and rubbed herself through them. It was a glorious sight, seeing my sister-in-law, now also my wife (in spirit) getting herself off one more time, standing there looking at me, at my glistening cock as it stood at attention before her, using her own panties soaked with my cum as lubricant, her sweat-slick tits heaving over the bulging belly filled with my baby as her orgasm took her.

Good times.

Now, back to the cab at hand. Or perhaps I should say, "cock" in hand.

yeah, Sarah just cast a furtive glance at the driver before unzipping my pants and reaching in and taking my cock out.

Now, I don't know how you feel about after-funeral hanky-panky, but I guess you could say it's life-affirming? some bullshit like that? I don't know, I'm just about to get my dick sucked by my secret wife for the first time in weeks. It's good.

I don't really care what was going through Sarah's mind at that point, obviously, but she needed to work something out, apparently, because she went to work on my dick with gusto.

She normally would spend a minute or two licking up and down my shaft, moistening the tip expertly with her tongue, all the while stroking my balls and breathing, panting as she took me inside her mouth, extending her tongue underneath my prick as she moved up and down, bringing my cock to stiff attention and slowly coaxing my cum from my balls with alternating gentle and increasing pressure in how she sucked me off.

It was only a twenty minute cab ride, though, so she took the short route. She clasped my dick by the base, gave it one long lick and drove her mouth over it. I could feel the back of her throat and also some teeth, but it was an awkward angle, after all. Once it was completely engulfed in her mouth (as I've said before, I'm not very large, so it's good to hook up with petite women, so it looks bigger for her) and wet, she pulled back but kept the tip in her mouth and used her hand to stroke me fast and furiously.

I wanted to see what she was doing, but I got nervous, as I didn't know if the cabby was going to be cool or an asshole, but the guy clearly picked up on what was happening, reached over and turned up the music so the wet stroking sounds were a bit more muffled and basically minded his own business with a wry grin. Didn't even try to catch my eye through the mirror, which I appreciated. I was definitely gonna leave this bro a good tip.

It only took a couple of blocks for Sarah to make me cum, and I spurted my hot spunk into her mouth, holding back a moan of ecstasy from her oral attentions.

When I was done, she went about licking and cleaning up after herself. Sucking up her own drool and the excess cum that had slipped from her mouth and swallowing it. Then she tucked me into my pants and resumed the snuggled position without losing a beat, taking out some hand sanitizer from her bag and some tissues and compact to check herself out in the mirror.

When we pulled up to the house, she got out as I paid, and the cool cabbie fist-bumped me.

"I wish my wife were a freak like yours, dawg."

I slipped him an extra $20.

"You have no idea." I said, smiling, as I exited.


"Oh, master, please. hurry. give it to me. Please let me feel your hard knob inside me!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed out loud.

From the recording booth, Amber giggled as she threw down her headphones.

"Yeah, I can't say that again."

I stopped laughing but never broke eye contact. "You gotta do it! It was your idea to make her sound like a Brit, so you gotta do the slang! The people demand it!"

We were alone in the soundshed I'd had built behind the guesthouse. It was close to 2 am and everyone else was sleeping. I knew because I'd checked a minute earlier the cameras on my phone.

My older son was probably jacking it in his room, I didn't check his feed at all lately because dudes need privacy. My eldest daughter was almost out of her bed, having kicked the cover to the floor and spun around so that her head was hanging off it, luckily she was still young enough that she still wore pijamas, so it wasn't weird (she's starting to get very pretty though, I'm worried about her running with a bad crowd when she gets older, men are pigs.). My youngest daughter was snuggled up with my secret wife, having apparently had a nightmare earlier (they looked adorable together), and my dear wife was snuggled up under her pile of covers, one dainty foot all that was visible through the angle on the camera in our bedroom.

The only two other people living on this property were sitting in a small, sound-proofed space separated from the main house, talking about sex.

Months earlier we'd gotten around to doing the audiobooks for my novels. Amber, my assistant/second-unknowing-rape-victim, she of the great tits, was voicing Naa'ira, the space pirate main character. She was a perfect fit (not just because her real-life tits were good representation of the blue alien's) but her voice was quite fetching, and as it had turned out, she could do a pretty convincing british accent, which was all kinds of hot. Think more sleazy-posh-english, not gutter-rat-cockney.

I'd farmed out the other roles, but the recordings for the main character were always done like this, the two of us, usually drinking some good booze (it helped loosen Amber up, but not in the way you're thinking... so far) late at night. Alone.

Of course it was all a setup.

If you're up to Chapter V you know I almost never do things without a plan. This one has been brewing for a good while. During these sessions, Amber's relaxed, buzzed, openly flirty and very spunky. Not her usual mousy self, at all.

Her boyfriend has some issues, from what I've heard, keeping up with her growing wantonnes. She's certainly grown more comfortable around sex and talking about it with me since the last time we spoke, I'll tell you that. She definitely feels safe with me, her boss/surrogate-dad but like all kids from damaged homes, she's working through some daddy issues that have played right into my lap.

"Ok, ok. Have you thought about what we talked about?"

I saw her eyes widen before she turned away, face growing red.

"I don't know..." She was a bit breathless. I'd been pouring the alcohol a bit stronger than usual, tonight, aiming towards having this conversation and breaking through this barrier.

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