A Taste of Incest – Honey 05

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Author’s note: This vacuous stroker is fantasy fiction, so chill. Real people do not act like this. All sexual participants are aged 18+. Tags: group sex, bisexual, sisters, brother-sister, mother-daughter, mother-son, clusterfuck, glee club, earthquake, pool party. If you object to such, stop now. Nobody here is named Honey. Views expressed may not be the author’s. Prior chapters will get you off, too. Enjoy!

A Taste of Incest: A Taste of Honey
(Families in pool fun after the quake)

That weekend multi-family fuckathon, err I mean music club retreat, at Dr Elliot’s mountain ‘cabin’, had been great! And exhausting.

And staying over with the Elliots in town the next night – sure, Ron Carson was assigned one of the guest bedrooms in their lavish home in the nicely-shaded upscale Vishnu Hills enclave. He chatted over dinner, played mandolin in the evening, and retired when the family did. Do not alarm Dr Elliot.

But Ron was in Judy’s big bed all night.

Nuzzling her long clean walnut tresses. Kissing her oval face and hungry ruby mouth.

Nursing the lilting nipples erupting from fifty-cent areolas on her firm sweaty breasts, one hand cupped under his current treat, his other fingers tracing circles around the other nipple..

Nestling between her taut steamy thighs. Tasting her sweet-salty juices as he lapped her slit from taint to clit.

Kissing and teasing her labia, those sweet pussy lips. Moving up to kiss her other lips, and back. Exploring her sacred depths.

Taking another taste – damn, so good! Tongue-writing mystic formulae on her swollen love-button.

Stifling her orgasmic yells and screams by filling her mouth with his lust-bloated cock or thrusting tongue or even a thumb, as appropriate.

Massaging her feet for that extra bonus “ooohhh…”

That was the whole point, to make her moan and groan and rumble and spasm and scream (in various pitches) and sigh and tense-up and ease-down and go out of her fucking mind. Ron loved his power.

Ron had tagged Judy in his mind:

Her pussy flavor: like mild salt-water taffy.

Sliding his cock smoothly into her: like fervent worship.

Feeling her tight embrace: like a love prison.

Her mouth: like no escape.

Oh, Ron loved fucking Judy! They felt so fine together! Sure, he loved 69’ing with her Saxon-blonde girlfriend Ann Heinecke even more, and Ann’s sisters and mother were really tasty too, like herbal honey. And Maria was always a special treat. His own delectable, smoky big sister Pam was a new-found delight. Too bad she would be gone before long.

He loved 69’ing. He could happily orally pleasure any of their vivid pussies while they swallowed his manhood and squirmed. And he loved when they rode him like a cowgirl. Ah, but Judy, cute as a bunny and twice as bouncy, was always an overload of fun.

Judy was happy to have some control in her life. Daddy and Ronny – both were easy to twist around her little finger. No whip needed.

Alas, Ron must return to Dad’s little downtown apartment too soon, to deal with laundry, schoolwork, maintenance. He hated the dump but it’s what was left after the divorce. Dad had to clear his MILFy babe Josephine out of the place now that Ron was back. They maintained SOME propriety, if few secrets.


A ruddy waxing moon shone bleakly over the smogberry trees in this old Los Angeles suburb. Two-mile-high mountains just north loomed like smudged ghosts, day or night. This was before the Clean Air Act, tobacco warnings, auto seat belts, portable phones, and tasers. Smoky night almost hid the frantic sprawl that passed for civilization.

Lean, lanky, dark-haired, hazel-eyed Ron slept because weary. He snored because smoggy. He twitched and leaked because horny.

And he woke early in darkness because the bed, and furniture, and shelf contents, and the whole apartment, and greater Los Angeles, went shake-rattle-and-roll for five seconds, ten, twenty, twenty-five – it seemed endless.

Ron was surely awake now! He reached for a lamp switch – nothing. He pulled back a heavy curtain – no street lights outside.

The phone in the kitchen rang. Ron heard Dad stumble out to answer, heard Dad’s low voice, heard the receiver slam into its cradle, heard Dad curse, not too quietly.

Ron threw a thin, ratty robe over his too-short pajamas and dared the kitchen. Light oozed from the battery lantern they kept handy. Dad wore only faded pajama bottoms. He poured coffee grounds and water into the percolator, lit gas burners, pulled white slices from the bread safe, and toasted them over the flames. He turned and saw Ron.

“Goddam big quake,” he growled, as if Ron had not noticed. “Lines down everywhere, all over our district. Damn good thing they’re buried here. They’re pulling us office jockeys out to ‘help’ the crews. Said we’d be in the field, out to who knows where, till power is functional again. Damn, that could be days!” He scratched his bare shoulder.

Dad ikonbet giriş flipped the bread slices, pulled a clean plate from its shelf, and tossed down the roughly-toasted bread. He aimed the battery light in another cupboard to find peanut butter and a tin of nasty Vienna sausages. The coffee stopped perking; he grabbed a clean cup and poured.

A metaphorical battery-powered bulb flashed in Ron’s head. He fetched the Zenith portable radio, Good thing he had replaced all the D-cell batteries last week! He switched it on and spun the tuning dial, top to bottom.

Weak local stations had the upper AM frequencies. Nothing there. The powerful L.A. network stations were lower on the dial and hopefully had generators for emergencies. KABC and KNX, the CBS station, were scratchy. NBC’s flagship KFI was clear. Ron boosted the volume.

“…still trying to reach the CalTech seismic lab for an intensity report. But we know it was strong, very strong. The longer it lasts, the worse it is. We are getting scattered reports of building and bridge collapses, above-ground power and phone lines down throughout the region, but we have no official word of anything yet. Police, fire, and civil defense radios tell confused stories. The governor has not…”

KFI went scratchy. Dad had eaten, drunk half the coffee, taken the camp-light, and was in his room dressing. A weak smog-filtered dawn barely splashed the windows. Ron peered at the windup clock by the kitchen window. 5:45 AM. The stove’s electric clock had stopped at 5:25. Geez, this is happening fast!

Dad emerged wearing his Edison coveralls and ballcap, service boots, and a scowl. He slurped the last of the coffee.

“Keep that radio on – lower, don’t waste the batteries – and listen for local news. It’s for sure there’s no school today. Damn, what am I going to do with you? I can’t send you to your goddam mother, no power there. And not at your Uncle Dan’s either. Well, maybe Dan…”

“Umm, Dr Elliot has a generator at his house, Dad. I’m on real good terms with the Elliots. They might put me up till you get back. I bet they’re all awake now. I’ll try calling… nope, no dial tone. Maybe the phone cables are soaked by broken pipes now. But they’ve always had a guest room for me, and a place at their table.”

“Okay. You’re sweet on that Judy girl, right? And her folks like you? Give it a try. If that doesn’t work, go to Dan. You can play Boy Scout campout behind his store or something. But stop by our office here and leave a message, let me know where you are. They’ll radio me.”

Dad compared the kitchen Westclox with his wrist Timex.

“Damn, I’ve got to run! Keep the refrigerator door shut. There’s a can of gas in the shed for your moped. Here’s fifty bucks; don’t blow it on a guitar. And don’t neglect your schoolwork – it’s still a couple months till graduation. Watch out for lines down…”

“Dad. Stop. I can handle it, Dad. I can. You be safe, too.”

WASP fathers did not usually hug near-adult sons at that time and place. Bill Carson broke the mold. He hugged Ron, already taller than him at six foot four (190 cm). Ron held tight, and a little longer.

“We’ll get through this. It’s only a quake. Seen one, seen-em all.”

Dad strode to the apartment’s front door.

“And don’t make me bail you out of jail for anything. Maybe I won’t. And you’re too old for juvenile hall.”

He did not slam the door behind him.


Dawn’s early light had not much lighted Piedmont yet. Too early for Ron to go anywhere and he weren’t in a hurry. He perked his own coffee and boiled water for oatmeal with raisins thrown in.

Ron fiddled with the radio. Eventually local KPIE came through.

“…further word of overpass collapses and gas pipe breaks. Don’t smoke outdoors, folks. We haven’t reached Piedmont School District but you can assume all schools and their bus services are closed until further notice. What? Oh, I’m just handed a bulletin. We had contact with CalTech and they’re warning of aftershocks, maybe not as bad as the first one, but-“

Dead air. And everything shook again. Ron counted the seconds, as he had learned in that geology project as a junior. Three seconds, five, seven. Then quiet. This was before car alarms.

Ron heard no screaming. Good. But the windows were closed and still only half-lit. Wait, was someone yelling downstairs?

Ron figured that 6:05 am was a good time to be elsewhere. He showered and donned jeans, a Pink Floyd tee, a light denim overshirt, and his bigfoot Keds sneakers.

He stuffed his rucksack with harmonicas, underwear, socks, shirts, a sweater and jacket – this soon after Easter, nights might be cool – padding wrapped around his mandolin – only a cheap Kay but it deserved protection – extra sneakers, a picture he had sketched of cute Judy in class, and his schoolwork and books.

The day lightened just enough. Ron fueled the 49cc Honda moped, arranged the rucksack, and rode through quiet chaos.

Traffic ikonbet yeni giriş was light on residential streets. Some people stood stunned in front yards; others clustered in parking lots, or near churches. Sirens and flashing lights all seemed far away. The vibe: suppressed panic.

Ron rode what side routes he could from downtown Piedmont north. Overhead lines were down, poles leaning or broken, some on parked cars. Asphalt buckled and cracked in places. Ron was extra careful. He smelled smoke beyond the usual smog but did not see much burning.

The world was obviously WRONG.

The only overpasses this way were on the freeway just below Vishnu Hills. The nearest looked unsafe. A sturdy pedestrian culvert took him under the silent, traffic-less highway. Looping around the lush hills brought him safely to the Elliot home.


Ron saw window curtains drawn open. Hey, they were awake! Ron felt relieved. He kickstanded the moped, shrugged off the rucksack, and rapped the ornate front door’s knocker.

Muriel Elliot opened the door, a sleek robe draped on her swim-toned MILF body.

“Ron! Boy! What…?”

She hugged him, her breasts happy against his chest through the thin fabric. She pushed back and looked into his face.

“What brings you here so early on this fine shaky morning?”

“Um, Mrs Elliot, my dad got called out to fix power lines. He might be out for days. Umm, could I maybe, possibly, stay with-“

She cut him off.

“Ron! You’re welcome here anytime! You can stay as long as you need. We might have some other folks coming over so we’ll have to put you in with Judy. You won’t mind that, right?”

Her smirky smile knew his answer. He had already fucked both Judy and her effective mom, more than a few times. They had few secrets.

“Umm, no, Mrs Elliot, that’s fine.”

“Well, put your bike in the garage, grab your stuff, and come on in. And stop calling me Mrs Elliot. I’m Muriel and I’ve sucked your dick.”

“Okay, Mrs… err I mean, Muriel, Muriel.” He practiced her name quietly.

Muriel was happy to have Ron around. This year, yes. Next year, maybe. She knew he would not be with Judy forever. But the big guy would be fun while he lasted.


Ron dropped his gear just inside the door because cute pajama-clad Judy rushed him and grabbed him and kissed him. Young breasts poked him through thin cotton. He did not complain.

“Ron! What are…?”

“I can’t stay at home while Dad’s out on emergency service and your mom said-“

“Oh yeah! Fuck yeah! Hey, haul your stuff up to my room! Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Sure, I’m nourished for now, except maybe for some orange juice.”

“Come on down to the kitchen. We’ve got Daddy’s Grundig radio on batteries and we’re trying to find news. We get some stations but they keep cutting out.”

Muriel cooked bacon, eggs, home-fry potatoes, and warmed cornbread with strawberry honey, while Judy spun the radio dial for fragments of news. Ron did not refuse the offered breakfast. He would not get far on only oatmeal. Muriel swung filled plates to the kitchen table when Dr Elliot appeared, dressed in medical whites.

“I have critical work today, a few can’t-wait cases. Good thing our building has a generator. I hate doing oral surgery in the dark.”

He slurped coffee, ingested food, and saw Ron.

“Oh, hi kid. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ron’s dad will be gone for a few days so he’s staying with us, Daddy.”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t pee in the pool. Woops, gotta go. We’ll need extra time to set things up this morning.”

“Wait a minute, honey,” Muriel said. She knelt prettily in front of her husband, loosened his belt, dropped his trousers and knickers, and sucked his lethargic cock into her generous mouth.

“Uh, uh, uh…”

Dr Elliot stiffened quickly. His butt muscles clenched. He grunted.

“I guess you got up too soon, huh Daddy? Didn’t get yours yet? You can be a little late, don’t worry.”

Judy passed her kneeling, slurping mother, emerged from the pantry with a jar of Vaseline jelly, and smeared her right-hand middle finger.

“Uh, uh, uh…”

Muriel sucked and slurped and fisted energetically. She lined up his erection and swallowed him deep, oh so deep, and reached under his shirt to tweak his nipples just as Judy grabbed his fatherly balls and slid her well-lubed finger up his fatherly ass.


Muriel sucked relentlessly as he spasmed and flowed. Semen and saliva dripped from her nose. His excited butt twitched as Judy slowly withdrew her stiff digit.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

Judy wiped her finger clean on a corner and handed the towel to her mother. Muriel wiped her face with the other end, let Judy give her father’s shrinking cock a wet kiss, and restored her husband’s pants and belt. She cinched him well.

“There now, dear; you won’t be all tense today.”

The dentist stumbled ikonbet güvenilirmi to his BMW. Ron was left with Judy and Muriel.


Ron had seen their family sex-play before but he was still stunned.

“Umm, right. Hey, it’s great that-“

“You’re no bother, Ron. We’re glad to have you here.” Muriel kissed him. With tongue. Not a motherly kiss. Her thin robe slipped open.

“Hey Mom, leave some for me!” Judy kissed and groped him. “Today could be fun.” She put his hand on her pajama-covered breast, and pressed. She was almost always ready for more of Ron.

“Well dear, we really should check that none of the Glee Club are hurt, see if anyone needs anything. But it’s still early. We could have a morning wake-up. I didn’t really get mine.”

Muriel took the youngsters’ hands and led them across the house to the parental bedroom.

“You’re dressed way too much, Ron.”

Muriel slid his tee off him and her robe off herself. Judy dropped his drawers and shucked her pajamas. Ron stared at the two lithe, curvy, walnut-haired women, Muriel the luscious MILFy model of what Judy would be in a couple decades. He licked his lips.

“Take off your sneakers yourself.” He did, and socks too, sitting on a corner of the bed, kicking the footwear aside.

Judy crouched to critically sniff his armpits and crotch. “You’re clean. Yummy!” She shoved him backwards on her parents’ bed, crawled between his cross-country runner’s legs, and nuzzled his wiry pubes.

Judy growled, “Yeah, yummy!” She lasciviously licked his growing young cock. Ron groaned.

Muriel climbed beside Ron and knelt over his head. “You’re a tit man, aren’t you, boy?” She fed a cheerful nipple to his lusting lips, then the other, and back, and again. He suckled happily. Her falling walnut tresses tickled his own nipples.

“But you’re really a pussy man, aren’t you?”

Muriel swung her shapely leg over Ron’s head and settled onto his mouth. She relaxed expectantly. His tongue stretched for her juicy labia and excited clitoris. His hands reached her half-cantaloupe breasts. His agile fingers, not TOO callused from playing mandolin and guitar, teased her bumpy areolas. She shivered. He thought she tasted like soft salty caramel. His tongue drew circles. Her spirit soared.

Muriel hummed as she watched her nubile daughter expertly blow and handle their willing captive’s mighty meat-stick.

“Ohhhhh…” Muriel was happy.

“Uhhhhh…” Ron was happy.

Judy only hummed on Ron’s engorged cock.

Muriel came quietly, and then not so quietly, and wetly. Damn, what that boy could do! Ron soared quietly but did not come. Judy teasingly licked his straining shaft, veins pulsing, head glowing. Muriel breathily surveyed her daughter’s efforts.

“Nicely done, girl! But let me take a close look.”

Muriel leaned forward on Ron, her face beside Judy’s, tongue-teasing his circumcised cap. Side by side, mother and daughter’s tongues lashed poor Ron, tangled together, and swapped touches and tastes. Muriel slid into full 69 position and focused on Ron’s ruddy dickhead while Judy licked his gleaming shaft and full scrotum, sucking his distended testicles into her mouth and humming. Ron quivered.

Muriel pushed up.

“He’s good and stiff. I want that now! Time to switch places.”

Judy crouched on Ron’s face after he watched Muriel descend on his loins, his hot love-rod oh so slowly disappearing inside her, their pubes merging, then his view blocked by Judy’s nethers. Her thighs did not block his ears. He heard every breath and sigh and gasp.

They commenced rocking. Ron fondled Muriel’s motherly breasts until Judy bent forward and nursed. Judy’s more-than-girlish boobs felt fine to Ron’s hot hands until Muriel leaned to suckle her daughter. They rocked, and rolled, and twitched. Ron and Muriel bounced their groins together, thighs straining. Judy rode the turbulent tongue she had trained so well.

Mother and daughter hugged and kissed and groaned as they came and came in orgasmic waves. Ron had mentally squeezed-shut his vasa deferentia; he remained hard and unfinished.

The sweating women fell off Ron, exhausted, fucked-out. Ron’s still-stiff dick angled high, a bare tower in the sky.

“Poor baby! What can we do for you?” Muriel mused.

Ron shot for broke. “Wow, you sure look great loving each other!”

“Gotcha,” Judy snarked. “You want a hot session like at the cabin last weekend, right? And I want your long dick way down deep inside me, fuck yeah! Hey mom, you wanna…??”

Muriel rolled onto her back. “C’mere, baby!”

Judy slid purposely atop her mother like organic components fitting into their proper places. Mouth to mouth, for spirit. Then mouths to breasts, for passion. Then mouths to trimmed but soggy muffs, for love. They had loved many times.

Judy stopped licking to tell Ron, “Get busy! My pussy ain’t gonna fuck itself!” She resumed nuzzling and slurping. Muriel’s legs flexed; her toes curled.

Judy raised her tight sexy butt to a good level. Ron eased a thick pillow under Muriel’s head and neck so she could continue licking her daring daughter. Then, on his knees, between Judy’s spread thighs, over Muriel’s busy face, he steadily entered Judy, sighing.


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