I licked a pregnant cunt
The following story is an uncensored sexual fantasy
involving practices that are illegal, immoral, socially
unacceptable, and messy. Only mature adults with a
firm grasp on reality should venture further. This
story promotes nothing, and nothing in this story
should be taken seriously. Readers are cautioned not
to attempt any of these acts without professional
guidance and a net. If you are underage, stand,
move away from the console, and unplug the computer.
Reading stories like this can make you go blind.
If you are a servant of the Lord, looking for sinners
to convert, study this story and memorize it. This
will help you recognize sinners when you see them.
Good luck, and avoid mirrors!
The bed rocked gently but steadily as I lay curled on my side
next to my husband of fourteen years. He lay likewise, but in
the opposite direction. We were back to back, not touching. The
situation had become familiar, painfully so.
We were not alone in our bed. Curled up spoon fashion with Dan
was our twelve year old daughter, Sarah. Dan sleeps in the nude,
as does Sarah. The rocking gradually built in tempo and
intensity until it could not be ignored. In weeks past they
would not permit themselves to lose control and waited mercifully
until they thought I was fast asleep. Each time, they began
earlier and became more obvious until I found myself being gently
rocked shortly after retiring and rudely jostled after only ten
or fifteen minutes.
I lay with tightly clenched jaws having to feel the rhythm of
sexual passion slowly building; having to hear the obscene wet
noises and the bed's cry of, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I had to
smell the heavy sensual musk wafting up from under the covers.
It was the heady smell of incest that prevented sleep. The
product of our love which gestated in my womb now stealing that
love ounce by ounce, and doing so within arm's reach, doing so
with a voracious appetite that left nothing for me, not a seminal
scrap did she leave.
As I lay thinking, I remembered the days of bounty, when that
special fluid ran like ambrosia from an endless spring. I could
feast at my whim and often choose to abstain. I had semen to
waste. I had headaches on demand, and the bed rocked to the
rhythm of his hand. He cleaned the waste or slept in the stain.
There was semen aplenty for me when I pleased. Those were the
good old days of months ago, before Sarah returned to her
childhood practice of sharing our bed. And now I kept track on a
private calendar, marking the days between.
It was sweet revenge, plain greed, or just selfish need, but the
endless sperm fountain was drying up for me. In our early years,
I never went more than three days without sex. At first, the
days between came in batches of three and four, then five and
six, then full weeks. The latest was the first full month, an
anniversary of sorts. They'd grown careless or just plain
insensitive over time. I wanted to roll over, reach between
Dan's legs, squeeze his balls, dig my nails in deep, and say,
"Happy anniversary, dear!"
I rolled onto my back to let them know I was not asleep. My bare
hip touched Dan's naked ass. This slowed him only momentarily.
Soon, I could feel his ass muscles tighten and move, I could feel
his thrusts, feel them fucking, committing incest in my marital
bed. He knew I was awake; and still, he continued unabated.
I rolled all the way over and pressed my front to his back. He
ignored my presence, the bastard. I rested my hand on his hip
and dug my nails where I gripped. He removed my hand with a
stronger grip, never breaking his rhythm. He thrust it away,
overt rejection.
This hurt me deeply. I returned my hand, gently, submissively,
and rested it lightly where it had been. My hand followed his
motion as I snuggled closely bringing my lips to his ear. In a
gentle, soft whisper, I pleaded, "Dan, don't do this to me."
He continued. I said, "This is wrong. She's just a child.
She's our daughter." As if in reply, his thrusts became
stronger, going deeper, a moan escaped her lips, a moan that
should have been mine.
My hand moved ever so carefully over his hip and dipped low,
searching. I steadily converged on the point where the crime was
being committed. His lunges pushed my hand against Sarah's tight
ass, my wedding ring lightly scratched her flawless skin. The
warm wetness told me I was close, wet curls, then a shaft of
pulsing meat. I curled my fingers around the base and he shoved
them against my daughter's stretched vulva. Again and again he
insulted my grasp, fucking major fingers to a minor cunt.
I squeezed gently, massaging the shaft, feeling the loose skin
slide along the stiff rod beneath. Sarah, the slut, hiked her
leg to let me know that she was aware of my complicity. How
could she not with her father's hands full of budding tits. I
unfurled my traitorous fingers and traced delicate patterns over
her labia lips, clit, and tiny puckered anus. My index finger
ran circles around the place where father entered daughter. Dan
rolled them toward me until she was lying on his belly on her
back. I had to make room.
Sarah yawned wide her sweet thighs, and I replaced my hand coming
in from above. Dan used his to slide her by the tits, making her
body rock onto his turgid manhood. My fingers felt it all, and
teased the unholy union. Dan pulled the covers over my head.
The aroma of sex made me woozy. I pushed up on my right arm,
making a tent of our bedding over the site of infidelity. On and
on, they rocked, pouring out their wetness on my hand, assaulting
my nostrils with lusty scent. A manly hand clenched a handful of
hair at the back of my head and squeezed. Pressure bent my head
down.
My lips touched Sarah's moist and tawny skin above her navel,
tasting her salty sweetness. My lips planted tender kisses
wherever the pressure directed. The pressure pushed me lower and
my kisses covered tiny hairs, curly hairs, hairs divided by a
valley, then silky smooth hot membrane flesh, then a shaft of man
meat on the move. Still, I kissed the place where father and
daughter merged. I kissed the place where a husband violates his
vow. I kissed the place where I should have been by every law of
nature and society. I kissed away my rights.
Those kisses became licks. Those licks became sucks. The
licking and sucking continued after the hand went away. They
continued long after Dan's seed shot down the tube. They
continued after he pulled out. They continued until I drank
ambrosia from a new well.
The licking and sucking continued as the second monthly
anniversary rolled around. They continued through the third,
fourth, and fifth. Everything changed after that eventful night.
The lights came on, the covers were tossed off. Love making
between them began with my tongue teasing both. I became their
instrument of foreplay. My tongue followed them throughout the
act and cleaned them afterwards. I drank the seminal and vaginal
ambrosia until I thought I would burst. No headache could
relieve me of my duties.
When the calendar showed six weeks, I became moody, bitchy, and
depressed. I confronted my husband with my needs, my rights, my
rightful place in our family. I threatened to cheat. I
threatened divorce.
He threatened divorce as well, on the grounds that I abused my
daughter, offering her to men for money to support my drug habit.
I was appalled, especially when Sarah confirmed her testimony. I
recoiled and shrank back. That afternoon, Sarah wanted my things
out of the master bedroom. I spent the afternoon making the
move, putting her shit where my stuff was, and putting my stuff
where her shit was. Her small bedroom became my bedroom. The
master bedroom was where the masters slept.
Sarah enjoyed her new status as queen of the house. She never
lifted a finger. I was her personal servant. She did not even
bathe or attend her own toilet. I even wiped her ass. Dan
enjoyed watching Sarah putting me through my paces. He delighted
in watching her apply his belt to my ass, thighs, or breasts for
the slightest infraction, or simply to amuse herself. No pride
remained to celebrate the second month.
On the third, I licked a pregnant cunt. On the first anniversary
of their unholy union, my daughter presented me with a baby to
look after. She nursed me and the baby at her breasts.
Sometimes, I nursed at her clit while the baby had her breasts.
My life continued in this strange way until she moved away. She
left us with three kids to raise. She ran off to see the world
with a sailor. Dan let me move back into the master bedroom, but
made it clear there was only one master there. Sarah's oldest
just turned eleven and she climbed into our bed last night. I
started a new calendar.
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