A Taste of Incest – Peaches , Cream

20 Temmuz 2022 0 Yazar: sexhikayeleri


Author’s note: The following incidents are probably mostly fictional. All sexual participants are living humans aged 18+. These standalone A TASTE OF INCEST tales (adapted and expanded from RON’S JOURNAL episodes) include incestuous and bisexual groups. Views expressed here are not necessarily the author’s. Your constructive comments are welcome. If you like this, join the 1%ers and VOTE!


Let us set the scene.

The time and place: long ago and far away (yes, some decades back), before internets, cell-phones, home video, ecology, and the Carter Presidency…

Tall, lanky, disrupted Ron wandered for a few years after high school. He had a splendid time at the 1974 Rainbow People’s Festival in a wilderness near Lander, Wyoming. How splendid? Try a week’s nonstop fucking and toking. [That story is told in another episode.]

The frame of Ron’s overloaded canvas rucksack dug into the middle of his back. He walked with a small group of other dusty vagabonds along the busy forest trail from the festival site, on to the parking area and the road back to civilization. He scratched his denim-clad leg and switched his guitar case to his other hand.

“That was pretty intense, hey, big guy? Great festival!”

“Call me Ron.” He glanced down at the shorter man, long wispy blond beard and ponytail brushing his stained buckskins. “Yeah, great vibes.”

“I’m Robin. Where you going from here?”

“My next stop? Twin Falls, Idaho. Eval Kneival’s gonna try to jump the Snake River canyon on a steamjet-powered motorcycle. I’ve GOTTA see that!”

Three girls wearing various mixtures of madras and denim walked nearby. They looked up at Ron’s voice.

“You’re going to Twin Falls? Hey, so are we,” said a tall, nicely-filled-out brunette. “Maybe we can get a ride together.” Her shapely shorter companions nodded agreement.

A chunky man in worn, tie-dyed fatigues with a dark duffel over his shoulder walked just beyond them. He turned around.

“Twin Falls? I’m headed there. Got my VW van here. Y’all are welcome to ride with me. Got any smoke?”

Ron grinned. He pulled a hash pipe from his pocket. “It just so happens…”

The driver stuck out his hand. “You’re Ron? And Robin? I’m Dana. Welcome aboard. You too, girls, if you want to come.”

“Oh yeah, we’d love that, right?” The brunette waved at her friends. “I’m Siobhán. These are Freja and Maja.” Vanilla-haired girls, almost twins, nodded. “They’re visiting from Copenhagen. Wild time here in the states, huh?” She smirked.

The Danes wore huge smiles. “Oh yes,” Freja’s lilting Scandanavian accent drifted through the overhanging evergreens. “Much wilder here than in Denmark! And the girls all have bigger tits! The men are okay too, I think.” Maja giggled with her. They were vastly enjoying their stateside stay.

“What’s with Twin Falls?” Robin asked. “Why’s this happening there?”

“Old Eval got this idea to shoot his ‘cycle” (pronounced sickle) “across the Grand Canyon ’cause, like, it’s the biggest fucking stunt EVER,” Dana growled. “National Park Service said NO. They didn’t want him commiting suicide on their turf. The Idaho site is all state land, and the state don’t care – shit, they think it’s a great way to attract visitors. Oh yeah, they’ll get visitors, all right. Every fucking outlaw biker in the West will be there. He better not screw the pooch.”

One long great ride from Lander to Twin Falls, on twisting roads through the Rocky Mountains, past Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons, down to the Snake River Plain.

A jug of Red Mountain wine passed around. Many puffs on the hash pipe. Ron and the girls in the back of the VW microbus on unrolled sleeping bags, all stoned and naked, the girls slurping hungrily on him, and he on them, and all on each other, fuck yeah. Robin in front giving the driver risky blowjobs.

They passed the pipe and bottle again, and continued, and somehow survived.

These vagabonds had spent the week naked in front of campfires, in sweat lodges, in intimate positions, occasionally rinsed off with river plunges. They all smelt pretty smoky and spicy. Very enhanced flavors, ah yes. What, you don’t like enhanced flavors? Drink enough; smoke enough; you won’t care.

Ron’s favorite portion of the ride? The four-way daisychains. Nobody quite sure who was slurping whom, and it didn’t really matter, because they switched-off often. The girls’ favorite? The same.

Passing truck drivers saw an exciting show through the VW’s windows.


Twin Falls, Idaho was a grubby little high-plains town set near the edge of a deep gorge cutting the Columbia Plateau. The tortilla-flat landscape baked under a viciously bright late-summer sun. Dust clouds blew on the horizon.

The travelers hit a gas-stop market for supplies. Ron loaded up on rolls, cheese, and Kool-Aid. The VW rolled toward the action.

Evel Knieval’s take-off site for his cross-canyon jump was next to the remnants of a land-baron’s ikonbet giriş estate, a green, treed, watered city park dropping down the canyon sides to the Snake River. The park was filled with tens of thousands of campers, tenters, bikers. Ron kissed the girls goodbye, strolled into the parkland, tied his nylon web hammock between two trees over a tiny creek, and went wandering through the crowds with his guitar strapped to his back.

Ron was invited to stop many times to sing and eat and drink and toke and get blown. And to snort.

Ah, the snorting. When a gang of big hairy bikers shout HEY DUDE! COME OVER HERE AND TRY THIS! it seems wise to not refuse their offering. He had no idea what kind of shit entered his body multiple times over those couple days. He was seriously wrecked.

And while thus seriously wrecked, Ron lay in his hammock over that creek. His thick Goldwater glasses fell from his face into the creek, and then washed down into the Snake River, then the Columbia River, then to the Pacific Ocean, where they were eventually swallowed by a killer whale and shat out with seal bones. Don’t you hate when that happens?

Thus, Ron was effectively blind when Evel made his aborted jump, parachuting into the river, as thousands of enraged bikers swarmed down to kick his pansy ass. Fuck, he came all the way here for this, and he MISSED it!

[September 8, 1974 was a strange day. Presidential games: Ford pardoned Nixon. Terrorist games: a PLO suicide bomber blew-up TWA Flight 841 in mid-air near Greece. Entertainment games: Evel tried to jump, but screwed the pooch.]

And thus, Ron was effectively blind as he thumbed back to California. He skipped his friends and lovers in San Francisco because he got a ride straight from Portland to Los Angeles. (Basic rule of hitching: Always take the long rides.) His vision was only barely adequate for him to find his way to to his sister Lyn’s shared casita in San Bernardino, familiarly known as San Boogaloo.


Ron walked into a little faux-hacienda courtyard. These ‘casitas’ were old motor-lodge units plastered to look like adobe. Lyn and Gwen’s was a ‘suite’ with two small bedrooms, studio-living space, kitchenette, adequate shower-bath, and attached double carport.

Ron knocked on the door. Lyn opened it and squealed.

“Ronny!” she yelled, jumping on him, wrapping herself around him. She really liked her big bother. “Where’ve you been? Where’re you going? How long you staying?”

He kissed her forehead and untangled himself.

“Hyia, sis. Just down from Wyoming. And I have this little problem…”

He recounted his most recent experiences. Especially about losing his glasses. He did not mention the sex.

Lyn laughed. “Hey, I have an extra pair. Sure, they’re wire-rim granny glasses, so you’ll look kinda funny. Think you’ll actually be able to see with these?”

She handed her brother a glasses case. He gingerly hooked the bronze frames over his ears and nose. Hmmm. The prescription was not right, but fuck, they were better than nothing. Sort of.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. These should work. For a while, anyway.”

“You can keep those as long as you like, but you really should get a new pair.”

“Oh, I know I’ll have new glasses in a few weeks. I’ll tell you about that later.”

“Well, make yourself comfortable. Set your stuff down. You can sleep on the couch, okay? Hey, play me something on your guitar. You still singing dirty blues?”

“Your wish, my command. Got any lemonade?”

Lyn was medium height with an oval face, long dirty blonde hair, nice bubbly tits and ass, strong legs, skillful hands. Her usual expressions included tight-jawed determination and nervous laughter. She worked at home, as a commercial sculptor of small craft objects.

Lyn’s librarian roommate Gwen was taller, fleshier, darker, stern-looking but truly funny, and horny as a hound.

Gwen’s return from work was marked with hugs and kisses. She rather liked Ron too. She quickly developed plans for him. After a dinner of take-out tacos and peach ice cream, Gwen pitched her request.

“Hey Lyn, you thinking of going anywhere tonight?”

“Uh, no. Why?”

“So you’re not using your car? Would you loan it to me and Ron? I want to take a ride up into the mountains, get some fresh air, talk with him some.”

“Sure, I guess. Where you going?”

“I dunno. You have any preferences, Ron?”

“Probably up to Crestline or Lake Arrowhead. Should be cool up there, and those are close, won’t take much gas.”

“Great! What are we waiting for?”

Gwen squeezed beside Ron into Lyn’s little red Fiat X1/9 convertable.

“Onward, Jeeves.”

“As you wish, madame. One lump or two?”

She tapped the top of his head twice.

“Two lumps is all you get. Now drive!”

They spun up Rim of the World Drive, high over the greater Los Angeles-Inland Empire basin. Recent winds had shoved the smog out to sea. The night-lit ikonbet yeni giriş metropolitan expanse provided a spectacular view – when they bothered looking.

“How long have you been living with Lyn?”

“Been roommates for almost a year now. Our dads work together. My dad’s your dad’s boss, or maybe you dad’s my dad’s indispensible right-hand man. My dad says when yours retires, he’ll have to quit the next week.”

Hmmm, hope there’s no problem here, Ron thought. The boss’s daughter?

“What do you think about living with her?”

“She’s pretty good, fairly loose, real funny, a lot less uptight than your skinny sister Sue. How come Sue’s such a tight-assed Republican bitch? Is her being flat-chested and cat-hammed and bird-legged part of it?”

“Umm, well, that’s a long story. Sue just sees the world different.”

Ron was not about to spill family secrets. Not to the boss’s daughter.

They drove, and chatted, and maybe touched too much. Day faded away.

Myopic Ron, driving in the deepening dusk, wearing Lyn’s glasses – this was NOT a great idea. They were okay, doing fine… until they crashed head-on into a lurking cedar tree, crunching the stylish Fiat’s front end.

Gwen’s full, energetic mouth on his cock was a contributing factor. Gwen took responsibility, and paid for the repairs. Whew. Ron slept on the couch anyway.

“Uhh sis, maybe I should buy some new glasses. Who’s your optometrist?”

Lyn chuckled. “There’s a good optical clinic nearby. C’mon, let’s get you fixed up.”


Gwen departed for a week-long work-related conference, leaving Lyn and Ron alone at the casita. Their wild cousin Janie, the daughter of their mother’s sister, drove her disreputable piss-yellow Studebaker Lark up from San Diego to visit.

Janie was 360 days younger than Ron, equally thin and not much shorter than him, with long dark hair and hazel eyes. She looked more like a sister than his own sisters did. Nice comfortable tits and ass, of course. Our genepool products look mighty good, if I do say so myself, Ron thought, inspecting her admirable body.

Janie was a wild girl. The first Rolling Stones concert in the USA was staged at the local fairgrounds. Janie was there on the outside. She slurped some amphetamines and Ripple wine, climbed the fence, stripped down and danced topless, riding some guy’s shoulders. You may have seen the widely-reprinted photo.

Janie was arrested, of course. This set the pattern of her life over the next few decades: drugs, sex, rock’n’roll, cops – and being bailed-out by her naive father. Oh, that poor guy. Janie used him mercilessly, forever. No “Daddy issues” there.

“Hey guys, we’re going partying. Everybody into my Lark! No excuses!”

Janie took Lyn and Ron to a local club that night. This was a decade before DIRTY DANCING, but the music and dancing got pretty hot and exciting anyway.

Ron was fully occupied with two extremely hot women who hapened to share large portions of his DNA. They hopped-n-bopped sweatily, alternating swigs of vodka and iced coffee and Gatorade, working themselves into hot wet exhaustion. They occasionally slipped outside for cooler air and fresh tokes from a joint.

They were not the only hot young dancers. They bumped and ground with other hard sweaty bodies. But they stuck together. They each turned down several offers. Tempting offers. Maybe tomorrow night?

Janie got them back to the casita. They stumbled inside laughing, hand in hand.

“Don’t touch anything, we’re all filthy, we need to shower,” Lyn cried.

“Group shower?” Ron asked innocently.

“Fuck yeah!” Janie yelled, pulling off her thin halter top and peeling out of her shorts. Damn, she was horny! She could smell Lyn’s arousal, too.

Lyn and Ron stripped off their tees and shorts, he quickly, she a little slower, and nervous. Janie stood impatiently, then grabbed their hands and dragged them into the small open shower. Ron drizzled liquid soap from overhead. They all squirmed in the flowing water, playfully cleaning each other. They had not showered together for fifteen years.

They grabbed towels and headed for Lyn’s room. Janie it a candle and switched off the lamp.

They sat on the bed looking at each other. Janie put her hands on Lyn’s and Ron’s thighs. He put his hands on the girls’ thighs. Lyn felt excited but uneasy.

“Ron, you’re my brother. We shouldn’t do this.”

“Lyn, y’know Ron here is the sexiest guy you’ve ever seen! We HAVE to do this!”

“You girls are super-hot. It’s up to you. I love you both,” he said.

Janie leaned over and kissed Lyn’s breasts, then her lips, and then Ron’s mouth. He sucked Janie’s tongue, and kissed her breasts, and then looked at Lyn.

Lyn leaned forward slightly. Ron kissed his sister’s breasts, then her lips. She slowly opened her mouth and took his tongue. Janie leaned in and joined her tongue with theirs. Lyn moaned.

Janie pushed ikonbet güvenilirmi Ron back on the bed so he lay between the girls. Janie went straight for his cock, licking the head, and then swallowing him, taking his hard shaft deep. She pulled back and looked up.

“Lyn, help me out here.”

“Oh shit, I can’t believe I’m going to blow my own brother!”

But she did.

“Brothers are no big thing. I’ve been screwing Terry for years. And Jill, too. Jill and I share Terry a lot,” Janie confessed as Lyn slowly licked her bother’s impressive cock. “Why do you think I spend so much time at their place in Palm Springs? Not for golf, fuck no!”

Lyn looked up. “Sue and I are afraid to go see Terry and Jill by ourselves. We’ve always been afraid they’re going to fuck us to death. Have you seen their toys?” She shuddered. “And I know Mom hangs out with them.”

“Yeah, they do her too. You mom’s a petty wild woman.” This, from Janie!

Thankfully (from Ron’s viewpoint) the girls stopped blabbing and went back to blowing and slurping, licking up and down, sharing cock and kisses, alternating on his swelling balls. Janie took the lead; Lyn followed, her reluctance diminishing.

Janie swung around into a 69 atop Ron. She pushed her amazing pussy onto his mouth and squealed as his thick tongue danced and worked every corner and crevice of her crazy crack. His tongue twirled and swirled and prodded and flicked. He worked her clit mercilessly. She loved it! Almost as good as her brother!

Janie’s hips rolled and swayed as Ron’s mouth worked its magic.

Enough! Janie squirmed violently and came, hard, wailing around his cock. She gasped and writhed atop him for what felt to her like eternity – and then he came into her enthusiastic mouth, grunting like a fresh-caught margate, shot after shot of heavy love cream. Only a little leaked out.

She eagerly swallowed, savoring her cousin’s flavor and texture. Yum!

“Lyn, you have GOT to get some of this!” Janie gasped.

Ron wheezed, “Hey, give me a chance to reload! I ain’t a kid anymore.” He was twenty-four years old then.

“I’ll help her get started,” Janie said, crawling between Lyn’s spread legs.

Ron sat back and watched their dark-haired cousin eat out his dirty-blonde sister. Janie’s lips and tongue played Lyn’s peachy pussy like a piano. Lyn moaned and pulled Janie’s head closer. Janie’s tight ass and Lyn’s round breasts rolled in synchronicity, in perfect time with his slow jerking. Janie had obviously practiced her oral skills on her sister-in-law Jill a bit, and maybe on other girls, too.

Ron soon tired of merely watching. He knelt by Lyn and kissed her mouth, her throat, her breasts. He nibbled his sister’s nipples. As she shook ominously, he smothered her mouth in his and swallowed her shouts when she came. They do not want to alarm the neighbors, hey?

Brother and sister tongues dueled restlessly. Their flavors merged. Their thoughts swirled. Each wondered, are we really doing this? But lust cleared their minds.

The real fun began. Janie pushed Ron back down. Lyn lowered her vulva onto his face while Janie rode his cock cowgirl-style, and rocked and rolled and rumbaed. His hands alternated between their four bouncing breasts. He thirstily lapped-up his sister’s sensual nectar.

Janie rocked her hips faster, furious. “Oh fuck oh fuck,” she moaned, her head thrown back in rapture. She swayed back and forth faster, harder, building her climax – and came yelling into Lyn’s lips. Ron’s tongue and fingers drove Lyn over the edge; she thrashed, and yelled back into her cousin’s wet mouth.

The girls fell off Ron.

Janie moaned again, “Oh fuck oh fuck.” She pulled her cousins to her, and kissed their mouths, and felt their flesh. “Oh fuck, that was great! Let’s do some more!”

They shifted. Lyn lay on her back. Janie straddled her cousin’s head, settling on her knees, carefully avoiding her spreading peach nimbus of dirty-blonde hair. She lowered her sex to Lyn’s mouth. Lyn’s tongue probed her cousin’s vagina, looped her labia, and danced on her tumid clitoris. Janie sighed, almost wheezing.

Ron sank between his sister’s legs and aimed at her core. His mouth joined with Janie’s. His cock greedily plunged into Lyn’s demanding pussy with full strokes. His impatient body pinioned her hips, holding her down. He thrust faster and deeper. He vaguely heard her crying into Janie’s vulva.

Janie pinched Ron’s nipples. That was the trigger – he groaned loudly, his body convulsing, one, three, five times while his sister screamed with muffled ecstasy. Lyn felt the inner walls of her love tunnel squeezing, milking hiim of every drop of cum. Ron shot what felt like incandescent quarts of his boiling sperm into her waiting womb as he yelled into his fiery cousin’s mouth.

And then it was time to shower again, and rest, and sleep huddled together like a pile of pooped puppies. The candle burnt out on its own.

They variously half-awoke during the night, just enough to crawl to the toilet to drain more of the evening’s liquids, then crawl back into bed and try to find a comfy position without disturbing the others too terribly. Oh sure, they were temporarily disturbed. But too exhausted to stay awake.