extrem incest

Until she reached the age of twelve, my young sister and I used to sleep in the same room. Linda, that’s my sister, is two years younger than I am and until that time we had been living in a two bedrooms apartment and there was no other choice on the matter. When she turned twelve, mother and us two kid, we moved into a larger apartment since mother got a promotion at the statistics agency where she was working and we now could afford it.

After moving into our new apartment with its three bedrooms, mother felt much better since my sister and I, we no longer had to sleep in the same room. More often than once, I had heard mother say that it was not proper for a boy of fourteen to be sleeping in the same room as his sister. Of course at the time I couldn’t exactly see why she was making such a fuss about a small detail like that, it certainly wasn’t bothering me that much.
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Note: This is purely FICTIONAL and it’s my first time writing an incest story to this forum so umn…I tried to be pleasing to daddy x daughter fans…oh and FYI: here in Oz, the legal age for having sex is 16; but I made Bri 17…

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SUMMER FUN
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“Thirty five degrees?! Arg, it’s going to be another day by the pool.” Untangling herself from the large armchair in front of the television, Brianna grabbed her empty breakfast bowl from the small table in front of her as she made a bee-line for the kitchen. “Daddy, do you want anything
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Most people would think it was odd for a boy to be ramming his big hard prick into his little sister’s sopping pussy until he fountained his sperm into her unprotected womb.

But I didn’t.

You see, I was that sister. Let me tell you the story, and then maybe you’ll understand.

In 1954 our parents lived on a small farm in Wyoming, and our closest neighbors were 40 miles away. Daddy raised horses and sheep. Momma kept some chickens and a huge garden that produced most of the food we ate all year long. We also had a milk cow and there were wild cattle around. Daddy said they were left over from the wild west days. Every once in a while he’d shoot one and drag it in with a team of horses and we’d butcher it. Our days were full of making that farm work.
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It’s funny how things turn out. Seemingly unconnected events conspire to cause little things to happen and sometimes those things can be life changing. So for my story I’ll show you the “unconnected” things. The life changing part will become clear.

First of all let me tell you a little about our family. Dad is this big beefy guy with wide shoulders and muscles a pro wrestler would be proud of. Mom died when we were younger, but I remember she was this little slip of a woman who was beautiful and smiled all the time. Now that I’m grown, if I saw a couple like that I’d stare at them, thinking he’d just CRUSH her while they were… well, you know.
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You’re going to think this is a sad story, because it starts out sad. But don’t be sad for long, brothers and sisters, because it ends up pretty OK, at least to me it does. I’m Bobby, by the way, Bobby Henderson. That really doesn’t matter to the story, except that it’s about me and my mother, Claire Henderson. There are a few other people in it too, but they only matter a little. I’ll mention them later.
My mom’s story starts out like a lot of people hope their adult lives will start, with a good marriage to a good man who gave her a good baby - that’s me - and they were pretty happy, all things considered. But my father was killed in an accident at the plant and things sort of went to shit starting then.
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The first day that I had sex with my little girl was not a shock to me. Although she was only 12 years old, I had started to fantasize about her when she was only 8. Indeed, I think my wife Joan sensed my feelings and began making Sheryl cover herself when not alone in her room. Further, for the last couple of years I was stealing feels of my daughter, whenever Joan was away from the house and the two of us were alone. Not enough to cause her to tell my wife, but enough so that by the time she reached 12, I know my daughter knew what I was doing, and although she didn’t say anything to encourage me, she didn’t avoid me either.
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When Dad died my mother went into a depression that nothing seemed able to break her out of, gone was the happy go lucky woman that I had loved for the past eighteen years to be replaced by a woman I did not know. Doctors, psychiatrists, clerics, they all tried and failed to ease her depression, six months worth of treatments of one form or another and all for nothing.

Not that she neglected me or anything, it was just that the sparkle, the life had gone out of her and I was desperate for some way to cheer her up. I’d racked my brain for months trying to figure out something that I could do, taking her out was not an option, a priest had suggested it and she had tried it with no success, but I knew there had to be something. Then something my father had said before he had fallen ill came back to me, he’d laughingly told me that no matter how low mum was feeling a good seeing to always cheered her up. I grinned as I had the thought, sex had not been a taboo subject, hell I’d already lost my virginity to the mother of a friend of mine, but how the hell was I supposed to find a man for my mother? About the only thing she had shown any interest in since dad’s death had been me and that had been in a sad, distracted way, but I couldn’t do the deed.
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Mom was a beautiful woman for her 37 years. She kept herself in shape with her excerize rituals every day. Dad, for many years was an executive with a lot of power.

We got along well enough, that is, for a growing teen with needs and designs on his car. He generally relented though, and let me use it with warnings of caution.

Things were pretty good between the three of us for many years, until that fateful day that dad’s company got involved in some kind of Securities scandal.
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Mom and I had made good time on our drive from Silicon Valley to the Sierra, and had arrived at the secluded campground just on the California side of Lake Tahoe with plenty of daylight left. Our tent was up and our sleeping bags were rolled out, our cooking gear and our food supplies were squared away, and we’d built a small fire just as the last blush of sunset was fading into the jagged black outline of trees against sky. We were the only people in the campground, and the silence and solitude were as vast and as comforting as the forest itself.
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Mom was a war bride. She was only 16 years old and pregnant with me when Dad married her. Right after they were married, my father left for Germany; it was at the beginning of world war two.

Dad was killed; one of the war’s earliest casualties. Mom was living with her mother when I was born.

My first experience to anything sexual, at least as far back as I can remember, was when I was approximately five years old, in kindergarten.

Mom and I were home alone. She was in the shower, and had left the bathroom door open, probably so she could keep an ear open for me. I went in to use the toilet. While I was on the bowl, I could see her through the shower curtain. I was looking at my mom’s naked body when I got my first boner in my young life. When my mother got out of the shower, I pointed it out to her.
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