Quarantined with Kell, Part V - Sex Stories

Quarantined with Kell, Part V

... leverage as I worked her slit over with my cock.

I looked over at Kell again. Her head was tossed back, her hard nipples pointing at the rafters above. The grool dribbling down the front of the chair showed that she was locked in her own little world.

“Harder,” Bridget murmured. I complied, turning it up another couple of notches. Bridget moaned as another orgasm washed over her. She arched her back, I reached out, gently squeezing her breasts, pinching the nipples, eliciting another groan.

I could feel my own orgasm building. I pumped even harder, frantically slamming my cock in and out. I looked up at Bridget’s face again, and again she was replaced with my mother. I held on to that image as I pushed towards climax. I wasn’t fucking my sister, I was fucking my mother. My mother who had fucked her own father and yet chastised me for being in love with my aunt. In my heart, I was fucking her.

My balls contracted. I pulled out, ready to blow.

“Not on the dress!”

Kell’s voice. Suddenly I was jerked to the side and my cock disappeared into a fury of curly red hair as Kell swallowed me deep and I came. I unloaded ropes of jizz into Kell’s throat as I stared at Bridget, who had passed out. Instead of my sister, I saw my mother laying there, her slit gaped and dripping juice, her tits pointing skyward.

When I had finally run ...

... dry, Kell pulled back. I looked back at my sister.

What the fuck. I wasn’t bothered that I had fucked Bridget – I pretty much knew that was going to happen the moment Kell and I decided to come out. What troubled me were my desires for my own mother.

What was happening to me? I was on a slippery slope. This wasn’t who I was.

Yes it was. This was where I came from. This was who my mother was, and I guess who I was, who Bridget was.

But where was this leading?

Did I care anymore?

Kell and I slipped the black dress off the unconscious Bridget and returned the locked chest to the state we had found it in, then we carried Bridget down to bed, then fucked one more time before we passed out.

The next morning we were all hung over. Bridget in particular suffered from the previous night and barely moved from the couch until mid-afternoon. Our appetites finally came back in time for dinner. I was preparing a chicken dish for the three of us when my phone rang, my mother’s picture on the display. For a moment, the previous night’s adventures came back to me, then I pushed them away and answered the phone.

“Hi mom!” I said as cheerfully as I could.

“Jacob, I have some bad news,” my mother replied, cutting to the chase.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Your father . . .”

“Dad? What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

[TO BE CONTINUED]