Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Sure enough, it had been Brianna whohad prevailed. The ceremony began with a parade. We marched a mile through the bucolic countryside into the royal palace. A very brief ceremony in the throne room followed. Predictably enough, the ceremony quickly devolved into a giant orgy. Every guy in the hall had a turn with Brianna before she donned the crown. That included not just the five men to which she was related, but the cousins from my father’s side, and many others besides. Some of these other men were from noble houses in our court. Lesser houses. Houses that hadn’t held the throne in generations, if they ever had at all. But others were dignitaries and ambassadors from other courts. Much was made of the fact that the throne had passed once again from the Farriers, which was apparently my father’s House, to the Orwins, the House of my mother. I tried to share in the enthusiasm being expressed all around me, but it meant little to me. Apparently many of the nobles had felt they’d suffered great injustices at the hand of the previous queen, my paternal grandmother, who was of House Farrier. But how many nobles were sitting in the homes rather than here in the palace, dreading the treatment they’d receive as payment for their loyalty to my grandmother now that an Orwin sat the throne again? I realized too that my mother, despite being an Orwin herself, had sought to help me win the throne as much out of a desire to limit tension between the two houses and their supporters as much as anything else. And the same was likely true of Aunt Liz, though she had no connection to House Farrier, be it through marriage or otherwise. It seemed the sensible thing to hope for, and my aunt was not the type to lose sight of that. But these were thoughts for another day. The celebratory orgy lasted for what felt like a lifetime. No one ever tired or became unable to perform. We just fucked and fucked and fucked, then fucked some more. Brianna was already glowing when it all began. By the end, you could feel the warmth radiating off of her, and she was difficult to look at straight on. # In the days that followed, I’d thought I might learn more about the politics of the realm my cousin now ruled. Might get a better sense of what kind of queen Grandma Kaitlin had been, and what exactly it was that she’d done to make some of the lesser nobles hate her so, and whether I’d been right to guess that there had to be another group of nobles who lamented her decision to step down. I even hoped to learn why she’d chosen to abdicate the throne so suddenly. No one seemed to know what her reason was. Nor to care. Obviously, it wasn’t because she was old and infirm. If there was any meaningful sense in which our kind aged, it was sufficiently dissimilar from the process mortals experienced that it couldn’t have accounted for her decision. Though I had never seen my grandmother’s true appearance, the fact that Mom, Aunt Liz and Aunt Cindy all had the bodies of women in their twenties suggested that when and if I did see what Grandma Kaitlin really looked like, I might not even recognize her. And if it was such a big deal that power had changed not only hands, but houses, it seemed to me that Grandma had to have had a pretty good reason. She hadn’t even named her son or daughter as chosen successor, though that had been within her rights. Apparently it wasn’t exactly uncommon for a regent to step down without naming a successor, but neither was it the norm to require a succession ritual such as the one we’d just completed. I’d hoped to learn such things, and more. But it turned out that I was not allowed to spend much time in the court. Brianna allowed Dom to come and go as he pleased, but the rest of us were largely kept at a distance. I say largely because she did visit most of us in private from time to time. istanbul travesti When she did, she would fuck us into zombies, sucking every bit of energy that she could out of us, and call it paying tribute. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was pretty sure she was going out of her way to keep us from spending too much time together. It was hard to tell for sure, because she’d hardly issued any official proclamations to that effect, but she frequently asked us to entertain what I was sure were very minor foreign dignitaries, and it was hard to believe the primary purpose of this was to engender good will with other courts. I quickly came to view the Homelands as more of a prison than a paradise. Thankfully, after less than a week, Brianna announced that she was going to have us all return to the mortal world. I wasn’t sure if that included her and Dom as well, but it sounded like it might. Perhaps she intended to move back and forth between the worlds frequently. As with so many other things, though, I simply couldn’t have said. At any rate, though I rather doubted she was sending the rest of us back out of kindness, I couldn’t help being excited to be returning to the mortal world. There, I could fuck pretty much whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted. There was no one to tell me I couldn’t fuck my mother if I wanted to, or that it was in the interests of the realm that I fuck some woman I’d never met before. In the Homelands, I was a member of not one but two powerful Houses, with the blood of countless kings and queens coursing through my veins. But it was in the mortal world, where I was no one, that I was free to do as I pleased. I did, however, resent that Brianna was not only going to place a veil of ignorance over us first, but also told us to expect it to be restored from time to time. Ostensibly, that was so that there’d be no limit to the number of first times we could share with one another. Right. Certainly had nothing to do with the fact that while Brianna needed us to be acquiring more energy, so that she could take it from us, she also wanted to make sure none of us would have any hope of overthrowing her. If it happened to work out that it would be almost impossible for any of us to do that from another world, and with our minds cloudy half the time, well, that was just a coincidence. But I didn’t try to resist the veil. I’d either have failed or she’d have noticed anyway. I did, however, pour a lot of energy into poking holes in it, in the hope that it would at least disintegrate that much faster. What exactly that would buy me, I wasn’t sure. But, if nothing else, it allowed me to smile sincerely when thanking her grace for the gift of innocence that she was giving us. # The fact that I was half certain that just last week, I’d been surveying the landscape around our manor house, admiring the fall foliage, struck me as just a bit odd. It wasn’t fall, and we didn’t have a manor house. It was mid July, and we were in the midst of a heat wave. Moreover, we lived on a postage stamp plot in the suburbs, with so few trees around that there’d have been little enough foliage to admire even if it were October. But then, I knew I wasn’t normal. I’d come to accept that, sometimes, truly impossible things were, for me at least, perfectly straightforward. I had the power to change things. About myself. About others. And about the world around me. The way things looked, and smelled, and the way they felt. It took some effort, and it tired me out, but it wasn’t particularly difficult. Maybe recently I’d made the leaves change color, if only temporarily, just to amuse myself. And then forgotten about it. Stranger things had happened. I’d spent half the summer using that power to seduce most of the women I’d ever fantasized about. I’d been doing istanbul travestileri so for years, in fact. But especially now that it was summer vacation and I didn’t have anything to worry about but life-guarding, working out, and getting laid, I’d been putting those talents to especially good use. Maybe that was why when I turned on the TV in the Den one early morning and found that whoever had used the TV last had been watching a DVD, my mind went straight to the gutter. It basically never left. There were plenty of perfectly ordinary explanations for why someone might have watched a DVD late last night, after everyone went to bed. But I immediately assumed one of my brothers had snuck downstairs to watch some porn. If we had wireless internet like most every other household these days, there’d have been no need for that. But with just the one family desktop hooked up to the internet, us boys only had so many options. My heart raced. Dad was at work, and everyone else was still asleep. I turned the DVD player on. My finger hovered over that triangular button that would play the disc. Did I even want to know what kind of smut my brothers were into? Maybe. Maybe not. But I certainly didn’t have the willpower to resist my curiosity. My thumb descended, slowly and firmly pushing the button in. Play resumed from where it had been when the machine was turned off. The remote almost fell from my hand. A much younger, and much hotter, version of my mother was sucking a big old monster of a cock. And she was not timid about it either. She was deep-throating, working her tongue like magic, licking the man’s balls while pumping his slab of meat with her fist. A sense of deja vu hit me. Then confusion. What made me think I’d seen my mother giving head before? And if I had, wouldn’t I remember it? Wouldn’t a memory like that be seared into my memory, instead of bubbling up to the surface out of nowhere, and feeling distant and vague even after it came to me? The camera panned out and I realized who the lucky man was. It was her now deceased father, looking a good deal younger himself. Grandpa Dick had apparently been quite handsome and very fit, even in his forties. Or however old he was here. Which was hard to guess. His face was that of a distinguished gentleman, with generous silver streaks in his short reddish beard. But his body would have made even Todd jealous. A dizzying array of emotions overcame me. Disgust. Anger. Sadness. Jealousy. And excitement. Not a moment later, I had my own cock in my hand. I couldn’t believe what I was watching. My mother. Looking good. Committing incest. Sure, I wished I could see more of her body, but I saw enough. Part of me felt wretched about jerking off to it. That was just about the most odious, despicable reaction I could have had. But I couldn’t help myself. It was fucking hot as hell. Only after I shot my load into a wad of tissues did the question of what to do with the DVD come to me. I could take it, keep it for future viewing pleasure. I could have a very awkward conversation with Mom about it. The one probably implied the latter, since she’d no doubt notice it was missing. If only my parents’ old PC had a DVD burner. Alternatively, I could rewind to the point where I’d found it, turn it back off, and quite simply pretend nothing had ever happened. Of course, I chose the latter. I was panicked, and I wasn’t sure in that moment I was willing to commit myself to a course of action that would, one way or another, result in having to talk to Mom about what I’d seen. That path was fraught with delicious possibilities. And terrifying ones. It was, of course, all I could think about while at work. Good thing it was cold and cloudy. If it had been a nice day, my distraction could have endangered lives. Thankfully travesti though, the place was so empty, I even managed to jerk off at work. Twice. Both times, picturing my mother committing incest. But not with her father. From then on, I saw her in a new light. Well, truth be told, I’m not sure it was just my perception that changed. At first, I caught only very fleeting glimpses of an extremely shapely caricature of my mother. That made me think that my subconscious had created a fantasy version of her to go with the fantasies I was having about her. But over the next few days, it seemed like I saw an overweight, unkempt housewife less and less when I looked at Mom and a surreal sex goddess with proportions that were literally humanly impossible more and more often. I was able to ignore that for a time. My interactions with Mom were awkward, sure, and she certainly noticed that. But I doubt she had any idea why. She certainly sounded confused enough when she asked me, again and again, what was wrong. But before long, I was so crippled by my intense desire for her, and my inability to determine whether what I was seeing was even real, that I basically squeaked and ran out of the room whenever I saw her. I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. All I did with my free time was masterbate to depraved thoughts about the woman who’d given birth to me. For all I knew, I was going insane. I had to tell someone. It might have made more sense to tell a friend. But I decided to broach the subject with Dom and Todd. I figured they were the only ones who could tell me if I was seeing things. If Mom had been replaced by a sexpot with a hip-to-waist ratio that never occurred in nature, with obvious signs of maturity but nonetheless the firm, clear skin and perfect hair of a woman half her age, I couldn’t be the only one who’d noticed. Or so I figured. As it turns out, though, I was. When I told them about the DVD, and about what I’d been seeing ever since, they both laughed. Heartily. Dismissively. Then accused me of trying to put something over on them. But when they saw I wasn’t kidding, the laughter turned to concern. At first, it was faint concern. But especially when my story hadn’t changed a day later, Dom in particular seemed truly worried about me. On a certain level that seemed like further evidence of my insanity. But as much as I didn’t like admitting it, that was actually perfectly in keeping with his character. Dom could be a huge dick at times. Capable of stunning cruelty, and infinite amusement at the cleverness with which he devised ways to torture his brothers. Todd, on the other hand, had never shown any such tendency. But as incapable of genuine cruelty as my younger brother was, he was also equally incapable of picking up on other people’s feelings. Todd never went out of his way to hurt anyone, yet neither did he go out of his way to comfort them when others had hurt them. Dom might not always care about people’s feelings, but he wasn’t blind to them. I often thought that it was only the flashes of this nobler side of her son that my mother chose to see. That might well have been true. But sometimes I had a hard time admitting to myself that I sometimes only saw the side of Dom that fit into my chosen narrative. It was easier to focus on the special treatment he’d always received from Mom, the way his maturity level sometimes didn’t seem to have progressed in a decade, and forget that in those rare cases where I found myself needing help, he was often the first to offer it. It would have been weird if they continued to think I really was just trying to sell a story about a sex tape. We did sometimes play some elaborate jokes on one another. But even Dom, who always went a step further, would have had a hard time faking fears of mounting insanity for this long just for the laugh he’d get in the end. So even though neither of them had caught so much as a glimpse of this mythical, super-sexualized version of Mom, they both seemed a bit more willing to believe at least the first part of my story. But the fact that they believed that part didn’t offer much…
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32