Cassie’s tale (Pt1)

I hit pause. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Maybe I’d led a sheltered life, but I never imagined that my first porno film would involve my own family.

I had just spent the afternoon watching my mother being fucked by my big brother Jack. And when I say “big”, I’m not referring to the seven-minute difference in our ages.

My mother — pillar of the church, the one who helped me pick out my purity ring, who hadn’t been on a date since her divorce, who insisted on parental controls for the household internet lest the wicked web corrupt her innocent children – yes, that mother, taking my twin brother’s prize prick like a pro.

Jack had obviously rigged up an array of cameras in his bedroom. I was able to see Mom from half a dozen angles, mouth agape, tits bouncing, knees spread, being incestuously fucked to an ear-splitting, bed-rocking orgasm by her own son.

I frigged myself as I lay back in my chair, one foot on either side of my laptop on the desk, panties dangling from one ankle. At least my purity-ring finger was getting some sex.

Mom looked amazing. This was the old brown hair dye days, and she hadn’t yet got her killer figure on. But with her vintage porn-star blonde bush and her huge boobs, the camera loved her.

As for my brother, what could I say. I’d seen cocks before – at the houses of girlfriends with less strict internet protocols; dick-pics that desperate dates had sent me; even glimpsed one in real life when I walked in on a friend of Jack’s taking a leak — and I knew enough to realize that Jack-sized equipment does not come as standard. My God, was he giving it good to Mom!

I rewound and turned the sound down, so I could concentrate on her reactions as she moaned silently on screen, wide-eyed like a gaffed fish impaled on a sweet pink 19-year-old spike.

Then I played it at half speed, watching her arch and writhe in slow motion, those big breasts wobbling with every solid thrust.

Then I focused right in on the action, filling the whole screen with a close-up of Jack’s massive penis plunging into Mom, her hairy lips tight around his girth.

They were on their second fuck now. I was transfixed by Jack’s cock, long and thick, shiny with Mom’s juices. I kept time with his fucking, one stroke of my clit as he withdrew almost full length, one stroke as he plunged back in, sending seed from his first cum splashing out onto her thighs and making her mammoth boobs bounce uncontrollably.

That dick. I couldn’t imagine something that big fitting into me. But it sure as hell fitted into Mom. And she was enjoying every second.

So that’s what sex is like, I thought. I need a slice of this. Mom had always told me to save myself and wear my purity ring with pride. But she was a living, breathing, cumming advertisement for the joys of penetrative sex.

I couldn’t wait to find myself in the same position, flat on my back, making the same movements and the same noises as her. And as she approached her orgasm, so did I, trying to imagine what it would feel like, having a big cock ramming into me.

I came, squealing, at the exact time she did and I flopped back in my chair as Jack pumped another load of spunk into our mother.

If that was sex, I had to get me some. And I know where. Mom and Jack had given me the biggest clue.

But I didn’t have all day. I needed to move fast. I looked at my watch. My God, I’d been sat here watching for three hours, trawling through photos and videos — hours and hours of them, a treasure trove of future viewing.

There was no time to enjoy my afterglow or go scrolling for more videos: the taxi for the airport was arriving in 90 minutes.

Jack and Mom had left on a European cruise yesterday – some bullshit story about him “seeing the world” before he settled down.

In return, I had wangled a trip to a WarHammer concert out of Mom. My schedule was mapped out: tickets to the show, plus two weeks with my best friend Kelli to enjoy the delights of New York.

But all that had changed with my special viewing. What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. And after seeing Jack and Mom fucking like gods, I want some of that sauce badly.

I downloaded the memory stick to my computer while I took a shower, returned the USB to Mom’s drawer and got dressed for the flight.

Kelli and I were spending a week at Dad’s, then Mom had booked us into a hotel for a week. With a quick phone call, that was rearranged. I had a new plan.

+++

I had so much to process on the plane. Kelli chattered away the whole flight, but I zoned out.

I didn’t spend a lot of time at home these days, so it had taken me a while to notice it. The secret looks, the little caresses. The innuendoes and the in-jokes. The times I would walk into a room and think: “Can I smell pussy?”

Not to mention the sheets. Oh, the sheets! Somehow (as Mom spent longer and longer in her bedroom at all hours of the day and the housework went to hell), I inherited laundry duties. Every bursa escort morning I found her bedsheets in the washing basket, wet and tangy and tasting of … well, my virgin tongue could only guess.

I’m not going to apologize for not putting the pieces together sooner. We were the all-American family. We were the American Dream. That sort of thing just didn’t happen in families like ours. Churchgoing, middle-class, suburban. Mom and apple pie. Mom and cream pie, more like.

Even so, I was getting mighty suspicious, and it all made sense the night I baled on a boring party, came home early and stood at the foot of the stairs, listening to the headboard banging and my mother trying to be quiet as she rocked the room.

So when Mom announced that she and Jack were going on a cruise, a) it didn’t take much brainpower to work out that they would be treating the ship like a floating bed; and b) I was snooping in her room almost before they had closed the front door.

It wasn’t like Jack to leave something like this unencrypted. Most likely he’d given the USB to Mom to watch. And Mom, trusting soul that she is, had left it lying around. Well, not exactly lying around, but in her bedside table, which is the first place I looked (trying not to stare at the photo on Jack’s side of the bed: an obvious outline of Mom’s moist labia on what sure looked like a church pew. I averted my eyes, but couldn’t help wondering: what’s it like, Mom, having your son’s teenage dick between those hairy lips?)

When I inserted the USB into my laptop, I knew I’d hit pay dirt as the titles rolled up on the screen.

Son-cest Boulevard

A 20th Century Fux production

Starring Jack Quentin in Susan Quentin

“For my darling mother, with every inch of my love”

I noted the time stamp: two days after Mom had accidentally burst in on my sex education lesson with Jack. And that’s honestly all it was – two virgin siblings trying to learn more about the opposite sex’s body. But she was furious, of course, as any mother would be. I had been expecting a hurricane of a telling-off and was puzzled when it never eventuated.

Now I knew why. The education she and Jack were giving each other! Oh well, I was the last person to judge, considering what I was about to do. But Jeez, Mom had moved fast. Two days! I’d given myself two whole weeks – plenty of time.

+++

We struggled through the crowd with our suitcases at LaGuardia. Someone was waving at us. “Over here. Hey, Cassie!”

“Is that your father?” Kelli pointed. “Christ, he’s hot as.”

I hardly recognized him. I’d last seen Dad a year ago, when he had short hair and was clean shaven. He now had a beard and hair that fell to his shoulders. My stomach did a flip. Kelli wasn’t exaggerating. His new look on any other 40-something man would have spelled Mid-Life Crisis. On my father – a big bear of a man, tall, broad, dazzling smile — it was outrageously right. He looked like the lead in some action-packed Viking movie.

“Hi, Sassy,” he said, using his pet name for me. “It’s been a long time. You’ve grown so much.” He cast an eye over me. Did I imagine that he lingered on the nipples straining against my T-shirt? He enveloped me in a hug. I drank in his scent and held on as long as I decently could, enjoying the feel of him against my breasts, which had grown two cup sizes since our previous meeting. My nipples tingled. I’m going to lose my virginity on my father’s cock tonight.

“And this must be Kelli.” They shook hands. “Give me that luggage,” and he lifted the heavy cases. “Dad, they have wheels…” but he wasn’t listening.

“You girls will be staying a week with me, then going to your, er, WhoreHammer concert” — Kelli and I tried not to giggle – “then your mother’s booked you a double room for a week at the Hilton.”

“Change of plan,” I said. “Turns out Kelli is booked in a single for two weeks at the hotel, and I’m sleeping at your place.”

“Oh. Right. Your mother didn’t tell me.”

“I mean, it is OK, isn’t it? It’ll be the longest you and I have spent together since the divorce. We can do all those father-daughter things I’ve been dreaming of.”

“Of course. No problems. It’ll be great.”

We dropped Kelli off and drove back to Dad’s apartment. When he moved to New York after the divorce, I hoped he would buy a romantic old brownstone or a loft in a hip neighborhood. This snazzy uptown apartment, full of steel and glass and gadgets, was devoid of charm, but as he pointed out, it had underground parking, plus its own gym, and that made up for its lack of character.

As I changed for dinner, I went over the information I had gleaned from Son-cest Boulevard. First, the way Mom was dressed, putting out a ton of cleavage and miles of thigh in her little white robe.

I opened my suitcase. On top of my clothes was Mom’s little white robe.

I didn’t fill it out as well as her, but I’ve got curves of my own. I was pleased with the sight in the mirror. No false modesty: I knew I Iooked bursa escort bayan stunning. Those DD breasts that had ballooned in the past 12 months, with their high pink nipples. Not as big as Mom’s, but maybe after the first few babies … My long legs, the tight little butt that causes havoc when I walk a certain way.

I’m not boasting. I just know the effect my body has on boys. In a few years, I’ll be saggier and baggier, of course. Right now, I was a young woman enjoying the rewards of youth – curvy and thin in all the “right” places. I tied my hair in a high ponytail and went into battle.

“Goodness,” Dad said as I arrived at the table. “That’s quite a skimpy outfit for dinner.”

“It’s cool and it’s comfy, but if you think it’s too revealing…”

He waved a hand. “No, it’s fine. On anyone else, it would be a little provocative, but you’re my bestest daughter. Help yourself to the food and tell me how are things at home.”

“Everyone’s fine. Jack’s doing coding, making decent money. You wouldn’t recognize Mom. She’s lost weight and let her hair go silver – it looks sensational. Do you think my boobs are big, Dad?” I asked quickly in my best Little Girl Voice.

This was part of my plan, to get him thinking of my body, looking at my body, eventually handling my body. His eyes flicked to my chest, but before he could answer, I rushed on: “Well hers are twice as big. What size do you think mine are, Daddy, hmmm?”

Again he was forced to look. “They’re DD. Mom’s an E, F, something like that. They’re as … as big as her head!” Shit, Cassie, get a grip. You’re just babbling now.

I caught the hint of a smirk.

“Yes, how is your mother?” he asked.

“She looks amazing and she seems happy.”

“That’s great. Is there a new man in her life?”

In her life. In her mouth. In her hair. And as deep as humanly possible in her pussy. But of course all I said, truthfully, was: “She hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”

“Well, I’m happy she’s happy. She’s a good woman. I’m glad we’re still friends.”

There was silence while we ate, until I said: “Dad, neither of you ever told me why you two split up. It’s about time. I’m an adult now, I can handle the truth.”

He put down his knife and fork. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you can.”

He reflected, then continued: “We probably got married too young. And although we were compatible in some ways, in other important ways we were quite different. After you and Jack were born, those differences came to matter more. Stop me if I’m getting too graphic, but she said it often enough to me: ‘You’re a bear who acts like a mouse in the bedroom’. And in one sense she was right. She didn’t find me attractive, and it became more and more obvious. It got to the stage where I was reluctant to initiate anything because I could sense her disgust. That side of our life sort of faded out.”

I said: “She hinted that something happened during the pregnancy…”

He rubbed his beard and sighed. “Y-e-a-h. Oh boy.”

Another long pause. “I’m not sure you should be hearing this, but … well, I did something she considered unforgiveable. Susan was very … um, very highly sexed while she was pregnant. It should have been my dream. But I couldn’t reconcile myself to the thought of making love to a pregnant woman. I told myself all sorts of physical and psychological reasons. Ridiculous, now that I look back, but at the time, I thought I was being responsible, sublimating my needs. But it upset her deeply. For the first time in our relationship, she craved sex and I withheld it. I had my reasons, but she never forgave me. And after the birth, her disgust seemed to grow. Sex dwindled away to virtually nothing.”

I was puzzled. The man across the table was amazingly attractive. My memories of him growing up were of a good-looking man, strong, easygoing, funny, clever, gentle. From previous visits to New York, I knew he’d had girlfriends, but nothing long-term. Handsome, successful, charming – he seemed the perfect catch. But the divorce had affected him deeply, and he seemed afraid to get hurt again.

“That just doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“Which part, babycat?”

“You’re gorgeous, always have been. What was it that disgusted her?”

“Cassandra, I’m just telling you what happened. You don’t need to know the whys and wherefores.”

“No, Dad, you can’t just say that and then stop. You have to tell me, let me make up my own mind.”

“It’s not important, it doesn’t really … oh, what the hell. Cassie, it was my body hair. There you go. I have a pretty damn hairy body. Every male these days is plucking and waxing and whatnot; I guess I’m just a throwback. At first, it didn’t bother your mother, but as our relationship deteriorated, it mattered more and more.”

My heart somersaulted. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did he somehow know? Know my secret fetish? My fiercest fantasy?

My pussy was twitching. I felt faint. My voice seemed to come from far away.

“W-will you show me, escort bursa Dad?”

“Oh, Cassie, look, this is getting awkward.”

“No, really, I think it would help me understand. Please?” I hoped he couldn’t hear the desperation and the desire in my voice. “You wouldn’t be showing me anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Don’t bet on it, young lady. Why do you think I never went to the beach with you when you were a kid?”

Every fibre of my being was screaming: Show me! “Go on, Dad, I’m mature enough to cope,” I croaked, trying to sound casual. My mouth was dry, my heart was racing. Daddy, please?

“Oh well, I guess it can’t … here goes.” He stood and began to unbutton his shirt. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Yes. Another button. Another. Yes. “All the way,” I squeaked, and he undid the last button.

His chest was a jungle of thick black hair.

I felt weak, my pussy was bubbling.

The sight of my father standing in front of me in all his glory brought my fetish fantasy hurtling to the surface.

I had been browsing through a second-hand bookshop a few months ago when I spotted a paperback with the most erotic image I have ever seen. Simple, effective, unabashedly sexual, designed to trigger responses that the viewer was not in control of.

It showed a naked woman, long hair flowing. And, looming behind her, a bear. Huge and brown. Dangerous? Threatening? Hell, yes. But it also seemed to be protecting the woman, warning off rivals. That made the image all the more potent. This female is mine. The ultimate alpha male, waiting for his mate to come into heat, so they could couple.

With a guilty shiver, I remembered my biology lessons: the human female is one of the few mammals that is in season all year round. Always receptive, always available to be inseminated, to reproduce.

And the look on the woman’s face: smug, satisfied. Satisfied.

This cheap picture radiated danger, but it was intensely erotic. Then and there, I knew: I wanted my own alpha male. When I lost my virginity, it wouldn’t be with some hairless, spotty boy, it would be with a real man. A beast of a man. A man who would loom over me, menacing, priapic. Protecting me, taking me — by force if necessary — making me his. I visualized the picture again. Beauty and the Beast. The sexy woman and the bear. I wanted so badly to be That Woman.

I never read the book, never found out the story behind the cover. I was too embarrassed to pick it up: I just kept staring at that image. Then I heard footsteps and swiftly moved away, picking up another book and pretending to read it. My cheeks were burning. My body was sending my confused brain signals it didn’t know how to process.

Well, it’s processing them now, I thought as I got out of my chair and walked over to Dad.

Looking him straight in the eye, I grabbed two fistfuls of his chest hair. “My God, Daddy, you’re magnificent. This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Such a turn-on.” I ran my fingers through his pelt, wondering at the soft thickness.

At the same time, my robe “accidentally” split open. The only things stopping it opening completely were my erect nipples. All I had to do was pout my chest out a fraction and my tits would pop forward and I would be totally exposed. I prepared to feel his eyes on my naked breasts. I got ready to feel his hair on my aching nipples, to scrape them across his fur. I prepared to be swept up in his arms and carried off to his room to be ravished…

I didn’t get the chance. He enveloped my hands in his and gently removed them from his chest. “Now, now, that’s enough, young lady,” he said good-humoredly as he buttoned his shirt.

I cursed under my breath and drew the robe closed, defeated and frustrated. My hard teen teats poked through the thin satin, but he wasn’t even looking at them.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I just wanted to touch it. It’s awesome. So manly. I hope I didn’t offend you — you look so good that I wanted to feel it.”

He smiled. “You, er, took me by surprise, that’s all. Yeah, sure, no harm done.”

If harm is to be done, I need to take things up a notch.

“And I’m sorry about this robe,” I said coquettishly in my Little Girl Voice. “Another second and you’d have got a real eyeful! I’ve grown so much since I was last here. They bounce when I walk, have you noticed? And they are s-o-o-o sensitive. I’m hoping they don’t get much bigger. Do you think they will, Daddy? Do you think my DD boobies will grow even bigger? What do you think about them, Daddy?”

He smiled. “I’m sure they’re just the size they should be.”

He didn’t even look at them.

+++

Back in my room, I took stock. Right about now, I should have been losing my maidenhood.

That scene in the dining room was hot, no doubt about it. I could still feel the faint echoes of the zing between my legs when I stood there, holding great clumps of his hair.

Nevertheless, in terms of leaving my cherry dangling from the end of Dad’s dick, dinner had been a failure. I had underestimated the difficulties. It wasn’t realistic to expect a doting father to fall into bed with his scheming virgin child at first attempt. And that Little Girl Voice – it had sounded so much sexier in my head when I was rehearsing.