Why Do I Write Incestuous Erotica?

"Uncle Henry! Hey! Stop! What the Hell are you doing? Don't!"

Then, as soon as he inappropriately touched me, I knew what he was doing. As if I was standing there for his personal, sexual delight, he felt my breasts while fingering my big nipples through my bra. I'll never forget the feel of his big hands cupping my breasts, feeling my breasts, fingering my nipples through my bra before feeling the top exposed portion of my breasts. Then reaching his hand behind my back and down, he felt and squeezed my ass before reaching down and around to cup and finger my pussy through my panty. My uncle was touching me. My uncle was feeling me. Standing there in my bra and panty, I felt so violated.

I was sick to my stomach. Panicked, being that I had flashed him and teased him so very many times before as my sexy game that I played with every man, I blamed myself for his sexual assault. Yet, being the exhibitionist that I am, it was one thing for him to see me in my bra and panty, but quite another thing for him to touch me and feel me through my bra and panty, which he did continually, non-stop. We were family. He was my beloved uncle and I was his favorite niece.

"Uncle Henry! What the fuck? What are you doing? Stop!" My screams were muffled by the material of my dress over my mouth.

Then, I remembered those Japanese videos where the molester cuts a hole in the woman's uplifted dress by her mouth and forces her to blow him. Is that what my uncle wants, a blowjob? Is that what my uncle expects me to do, to blow him? Is he wanting and expecting me to suck his cock? After being forced to blow my cousin, and coerced to suck my college professor, enough is enough, I'd bite my uncle's cock off before I sucked it.

It was then that I realized how totally defenseless and helpless I was. In just a push down of my panty and a pull up of my bra, he'd have me naked. Squirming and struggling, I only hoped he wouldn't try to remove my underwear but, as soon as I thought that, horrifyingly enough, he did. While he held my dress over my head with one, big hand, I felt his thick fingers reach beneath the underside of my bra and lift. Even though I squirmed, even though I struggled, and even though I jumped around as if a fish out of water being taken aboard a fishing boat, in one fluid motion, as if he was pulling his Boston Red Sox baseball cap off of his head, he pulled my bra up and over my breasts.

As if releasing my melons to take their place in a fruit bin, I felt my breasts flop down and rest on my lower chest. I was so mortified. As soon as my breasts were out of my bra and so exposed, I felt his big, horny hands feel me, fondle me, and caress my tits while his fingers pulled, turned, and twisted my big nipples. Too scared to be sexually excited and too embarrassed to admit that I was but, being that my nipples are one of my erogenous zones, with him knowing all the right buttons to push and with him touching and feeling my nipples in the way that he was touching and feeling my nipples, he had me sexually aroused nonetheless.

Then, when he pulled down my panties to my knees and tried to finger my pussy, I feared he'd rape me. Maybe he just wanted to see me naked as if that wasn't bad enough. Maybe he just wanted to feel my naked body, even worse. No matter how much struggling and screaming I did, unable to break free and with nothing that I could do to preserve my modesty and save my dignity, figuring it would be over soon, I relaxed and allowed him to trace my pussy slit with his finger. I don't know if I was more embarrassed with Uncle Henry seeing me naked, with him feeling and touching me, or with me being sexually aroused because my nipples were erect and my pussy was wet. Always so horny anyway, my uncle Henry was making me sexually want him in a way that I never thought I'd incestuously want him.

Alternating between feeling my breasts, fingering my nipples, squeezing my naked ass, and cupping and fingering my pussy, no matter how much I struggled and screamed, not caring if I ripped my dress to shreds in trying to get away from him, I couldn't break his hold of me. Then, as if there was a speaker put to my ear, I heard the sound of his zipper. He leaned me forward as if to fuck me like a dog and, when I felt his erect cock against my skin, I thought for sure that he'd rape me. In the way that it had with my cousin, my life flashed across my mind with my uncle.

Thinking of my prom date putting my hand on his cock through his pants, while feeling my breasts through my dress, I remembered him unzipping himself and pulling out his cock as if it was yesterday instead of a dozen years ago. I remembered him forcing my hand on his exposed prick to wrap my fingers around him. With his hand positioned on top of mine, I remembered him forcing me to touch him, hold him, and stroke him. I remembered him forcing my head down for me to take him in my mouth and to suck him.

As if my Uncle Henry was my crystal ball inspiring me to look back in my past to recall all of my unpleasant sexual experiences, I remembered my cousin putting something in my drink. Even though I was conscious of what he was doing and aware of everything around me, I didn't even have the strength to struggle. Kissing and kissing me, I remembered him touching me everywhere through my clothes. I remembered him undressing me and feeling my naked body. I remembered him sucking my nipples and licking my pussy before forcing me to blow him. After I blew him and after he ejaculated in my mouth, delirious with incestuous desire for me, I remembered my cousin fucking and fucking me. He was such a sick bastard.

As if my life was suspended in time, I remembered my college professor talking and complimenting me while lightly touching my hair, my shoulder, and my thigh before exposing his cock to me. Eye level with his cock, I remembered him looking down at me while he stroked my hair and moved his hips closer to my mouth. As if in a daze, as if this private lesson was part of my class assignment, I remembered voluntarily putting my hand around his cock to stroke him before closing my eyes to take him in my mouth to suck him. Now back to the present, here I was with my beloved Uncle Henry in the same dire, sexual situation.

As if I was able to watch him feel me and touch me, apparently, I was so upset that I was having an out of body experience. As if the woman he was fondling and fingering was someone else, I watched him have his wicked way with her naked body. Awakening me from my resigned submission that my uncle was about to rape me and there was nothing that I could do about it, as if there as a speaker hooked up to my ears, it wasn't until I heard that exaggerated, loud sound of his pant zipper being lowered that I reacted into action. Then, as if I was a burn victim in a hospital and the mere touch of his cock to my naked ass caused me terrible pain, I suddenly had superhuman strength.

Humiliated and feeling so foolish that I trusted my uncle enough to put myself in danger again by being alone with yet another sexual predator of a man, never was I so embarrassed and felt so deceived. My mother's brother and my Godfather, he was my favorite uncle. Finally, when I felt his naked cock poking me in the ass, not wanting to be taken anally, not wanting to be taken by my uncle at all, in a rush of adrenaline, it took all the strength that I had to struggle myself away from him. With my dress still bunched around my chest and my underwear askew, I ran from his house and jumped in my car. If he had emerged from the house to chase me, I would have run him down with my car. Fortunately for him, he stayed in his house, no doubt, to masturbate over all that he saw and felt of me. I couldn't wait to go home to the safety of my apartment, lock my door, and take a long, hot shower.

* * * * *

Only, once in the shower and showering is when I discovered my fourth predator. Something fell from the ceiling and hit me in the head. I jumped figuring that it was a big bug, a spider. I hate spider or worse a roach. Rubbing my hair, when I looked down at the drain, it was a small bit of masking tape. Masking tape? How in the Hell did that get way up there? Then when I looked up at the high ceiling in my bathroom, I noticed something I had never noticed before. There was a dim glow of a red light. Obviously the tape had been concealing the light.

"What the fuck? What the Hell is that?" Only, I knew what it was. "Are you kidding me?"

I turned off the water and dried myself before donning my robe and putting a stepstool in the shower to have a closer look. It was a tiny camera. I couldn't believe it. No doubt, my landlord, a fat, short, hairy men from some God forsaken country, had been watching me for how long, I had no idea, maybe ever since I rented this apartment last year after I divorced my husband. I grabbed the camera with both hands and jumped from the ladder while pulling the camera down from the ceiling. With my hair still wet and wearing nothing but a robe and slippers, I banged on his door.

"Open up! Let me in," I yelled.

When he didn't open his door, I decided to use a different tactic to gain entry. Knowing that he was standing there looking, I stood back from his door to allow him to see me through his peephole. I opened my bathrobe wide and mouthed the words, "I'm so horny. I want you. I have to have you. Fuck me!"

Being that he was naked from the waist down when he opened his door and with his little erection still in hand, he must have been masturbating over my naked body while watching me showering. When he opened his door with a big, sexually excited smile on his face, I bum rushed past him and ran inside his apartment. With his recorded video set to pause, there I was on his 50" HD TV totally naked. I removed the video from his player, pulled the DVD from the wall and through it against his television screen. The TV fell from the stand with a horrible crash. With him yelling at me in some foreign language, I took the entire stack of videos he had beside his TV and put them in the box he had on the floor with the other videos marked with numbers, apartment numbers, no doubt.

"Hey! What are you doing? You can't take those!. They're private property. They don't belong to you. They belong to me. Get out! Get out! Get out of here. I'll sue you! I'll evict you! I'll kill you."

"These are my free rent cards," I said shaking the box of videos at him. When he made a lung and a grab for the box, I kicked him in the balls. "If I so much as see you sniffing around me again, I'll take these to the police," I said slamming his door as I left with his videos.

One by one, over the course of a week, I forced myself to watch them. He had every apartment in the complex under his perverted surveillance, the dirty, little bastard. I lived there another two years rent free, before moving to Pennsylvania from Boston to live with and care for my elderly mother. Then, on moving day, when I was leaving with my car loaded with my stuff, standing there naked with his cock plainly in sight, he gave me the finger from his big bay window. Free rent for everyone, I smiled and waved because I had already given him the finger when I mailed his videos to each and every resident of the apartment complex. I could only imagine the women's husbands, boyfriends, and sons banging on his door.

* * * * *

My fifth sexual predator and assuredly not my last sexual predator was my father-in-law. When first married, we lived with my husband's father to save money to buy a house. His father was long since divorced and he seemed like a nice enough man. Yet, whenever my husband was working, he worked nights back then, my father-in-law gradually made his sexual attraction to me known. Granted and admittedly, no doubt, I stoked his sexual fire by accidentally on purpose flashing him my panty up my short skirt and my pussy up my open legged nightgown. My game to always play, something that I was able to control and control men, I wasn't so innocent flashing him my bra and abundant cleavage when wearing low cut blouses and my big tits when wearing low cut nightgowns. Certainly, I accept my share of blame for encouraging my father-in-law's bad behavior but he was out of control.

Yet it takes two and he was as much at fault trying to see me naked as I was at fault for accidentally on purpose flashing him bits and pieces of my body. Now his game to play, pretending he didn't know I was changing, even though my bedroom door was closed or pretending that he had to pee and couldn't hold it, being that we only had the one bathroom, he was always walking in on me when I was changing and/or showering. A man on a sexual mission, being that he was always so fascinated with my big tits, he was always trying to catch me in my underwear, topless, and/or naked. Being that I've always been an exhibitionist and have always enjoyed the sexual attention of a man wanting to see my body, and at a time when I was participating in the swinging lifestyle with my ex-husband, admittedly it was fun playing my cock teasing game of flashing my father-in-law up skirts and down blouses. As my way for me to keep my reputation intact, so long as it appeared accidental, with a flash of my panty here or a flash of my pussy there and a flash of my bra and breast here, there, and everywhere, I never minded showing my body to my father-in-law or to any man.

Then, escalating the game of voyeurism and exhibitionism, an unwelcomed, shocking surprise, an understatement, my father-in-law started returning the favor of exhibitionism and voyeurism by exposing himself to me. It's one thing for a woman to sexily flash a man her panty and bra, even her pussy and breasts, but quite another thing for a man to disturbingly and purposely flash a woman his erect cock. Whenever his son wasn't home, acting as if he didn't know he had a big boner, he walked around me in his underwear with a difficult not to notice erection. Like son like father, my father-in-law had a big cock too and I had a difficult time not looking, staring, and leering in the way that he's always looked, stared, and leered at me.

When he wasn't walking around me in his underwear, he was wearing a loose bathrobe with nothing underneath and damn if his bathrobe tie didn't always, suddenly come undone and completely open at the most opportune time for him to flash me his naked, erect cock. Actually, all that it took for me to see everything he had was for him to bend or stoop on the pretense of picking something up from the floor. Now that I think of it, with me thinking that he was just a clumsy, old fool, while I was sitting there watching television, he was always dropping things and picking them up in front of me, no doubt to flash me his cock and balls.

He'd wear his pajama bottoms without underwear with his erect cock suddenly flopping out and/or swaying back and forth practically in front of my face. Obviously wondering if I'd take the hint and grab at the bait, he was keen to see my reaction to seeing his prick. Most times, I pretended not to notice and that made him mad enough to parade back and forth in front of me until I did notice enough to tell him that he was exposed. By then, already a professed swinger, I had seen a lot of pricks and he didn't have anything that I hadn't already seen before.

No doubt hoping that I'd do the same and expose myself to him, which I did eventually, being that I'm not embarrassed to admit that I'm an exhibitionist, it wasn't until I called his bluff and exposed my naked body to him that he finally left me alone. When he walked in on me for the fiftieth time when I was showering on the pretense that he had to pee, I turned off the water and opened the shower curtain. Staring him down, I just stood there watching him leer at me. Forget about my morals, without preserving my modesty by reaching for a towel to cover my nakedness, I brazenly and unabashedly showed him what he had been lusting to see, my naked big breasts, areolas, and nipples and naked, blonde trimmed pussy. Knowing he had been dying to see my tits, he stared at my big tits as if he was a man dying of hunger.

As if I won and as if he silently agreed that our little game was over, he meekly left the bathroom and never barged in on me again. I guess he didn't want to take our daughter-in-law/father-in-law an incestuous, sexual step further. I wonder what I would have done had he called my bluff and tried to have sex with me. Nonetheless, even though I was the victim, thinking that these sexual assaults were all my fault in the way that I dressed, provocatively talked, flagrantly flashed, and/or sexually teased, not only did I feel too guilty to report my abusers, I was too embarrassed and too ashamed to share this with anyone until now. Not wanting anyone to ruin my sexy game by broadcasting my erotic intentions, I didn't want anyone to put the blame of being sexually assaulted, used, and abused on me for flashing them. Being that much of it happened so long ago, in the same way that I use my real name to write erotica, now I just don't care who knows what I write and why I write erotica, especially incestuous stories.

* * * * *

So why do I write erotica? That's easy silly. I was bitten by a vampire, of course. My vampires were my sexual predators. My take on the subject of vampires is those who have been sexually abused by a sexual predator is the same as being bitten by a vampire. There's no difference between the two to me. Now we all know that there are no such thing as vampires but we all know that there are sexual predators abound. I write erotica because I was bitten by a vampire. My sexual predators were my vampires. Instead of drawing blood, they drew something from deep within me that changed me and transformed me into what I am and who I am today. Fortunately for me, I had years of therapy yet, even after all of that therapy, private and group counseling sessions, here I am writing erotica on a porn board. Go figure.

Many of those who have been sexually abused, whether incestuously abused by a relative or sexually abused by a stranger, become sexual abusers themselves. Many who have been sexually abused turn to alcohol and/or drugs to help them soothe their pain. Some commit suicide. Meant to be that I'd be sitting here writing erotic, incestuous stories, if that's all that I'm driven to do, then I'm one of the lucky survivors of incest. Yet, still, I guess, I've always wondered how different my life would have been had I not been forced to blow my prom date, had not been alone with my cousin, coerced to suck my professor's cock, violently and sexually assaulted by my perverted uncle, and used by my father-in-law. Who knows, maybe I would have been a nun.

Begging yet another question by my unsolicited confession, just curious, I wonder how many of you readers have had similar experiences. Leave a comment and/or send me an e-mail. Maybe you too were sexually abused. Maybe the reason why you enjoy reading my stories is because you were bitten by a vampire too.

THE END