Awry Thanksgiving:(Incest/Taboo) EP>3

Book:Wild Sex Tales(Erotica) Published:2024-11-9

Mrs. Wisniewski asked about my job and Becky complained about hers. Sierra talked about which classes she liked, and Joey showed us a picture on his phone of a painting he was working on back at school.
“That’s really good,” Becky said, looking at her brother’s phone.
“See, I told you,” Sierra said, “Everyone knows you’re super talented except you.”
Mr. Wisniewski grunted and took a large bite of turkey. Becky showed me the screen. The painting was well done, though a bit troubling. It was a nude portrait of a thin blonde woman who had more than a passing resemblance to my wife. I gave Becky a look, but she just shrugged.
“What?” she asked.
I decided it would be safer to change the subject. “Any plans for the big two-oh?” I asked Joey as I passed him back his phone.
“We were planning to go out with a bunch of my friends, but…” Joey said, and gestured out the window. Everything was buried in white. At least a foot had piled there and, judging by the skies, we were probably due for even more.
“We can all do something fun together,” Becky said, brightly, “Since we’re stuck here, too.”
Joey’s face lit up. “Yes, that’d be great.”
After we ate, Mr. Wisniewski escaped to the den to watch the rest of the afternoon game while the rest of us helped clear the table. Then Mrs. Wisniewski brought out a cake and we all sang happy birthday to Joey.
Becky went and found a bunch of old boardgames and the whole family (excepting Mr. Wisniewski who escaped to the evening game) sat around the table playing Scrabble. It turned out that Sierra was something of a word whiz and she whipped us all.
Finally, with the sun down and the snow showing no signs of slowing, Mrs. Wisniewski declared it was time for her to go to bed. She helped us set up the guest bedroom, retrieved her husband (who was already asleep in front of the TV), and wished us all a good night.
The four of us sat around the table, staring dumbly at the stack of board games. I think we were all a bit woozy from the massive meal. No one knew what to do next, though none of us was willing to go to bed at such an early hour.
“Well, I might as well put these away,” Becky said. She piled up the board games and carried them upstairs.
“Is everything OK with Becky?” Joey asked me as soon as she left, “She seems a little off.”
I nodded, grimly. “She’s had a tough go of it lately. Her birthday kind of knocked her for a loop.”
“What happened on her birthday?” Joey asked.
“Turning thirty is a lot different than twenty,” I said.
“Oh my God!” Becky shouted from upstairs.
“Are you OK?” I asked. I got up to go after her, but she met me halfway down the stairs, her face bright red.
“I found something,” Becky said, “I saw something. Oh my God.”
“What is it?” Joey asked, unable to contain a laugh at his sister’s suddenly frantic face.
“Did you see a mouse?” Sierra asked.
“Did you see Santa?” I asked, “No wait, it’s too early for Santa.”
“Did you see Mom and Dad…” Joey rolled his wrist suggestively.
Becky’s face, impossibly, went even redder. “No! But… Come on you have to see this.”
We trooped upstairs, Becky leading the way. We went into the guest room, where my wife and I were supposed to be sleeping that night. On the far wall there were a couple of bookshelves. On the bottom, under the rows of Mrs. Wisniewski’s carefully curated, creepy, collector plates, was a stack of battered board games.
Becky knelt down and — like opening a long-forgotten tomb — moved aside the expected Scrabble, Candyland, and Monopoly boxes. Under it all was another box, smooshed down and torn on one side. The picture on the top was of two very seventies-looking couples, sitting around a harlequin-colored board game. The people were all in their underwear and smiling in a static, unwholesome way.
The title said, “Two to Tango: A Board Game for Consenting Couples.”
“Holy shit,” Joey said, looking down at the box.
Sierra giggled so hard, she snorted.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” I said.
“I know, right?” Becky said, “I mean, like, Mom and Dad are very, you know, Mom and Dad.”
Admittedly, no child thinks their parents have sex. Ironic since that’s how all of us came to be. But, honestly, the Wisniewskis seemed like the kind of couple that didn’t have sex. Ever. Like, if I found out that Becky and Joey were adopted, I’d believe it. So, the Wisniewskis really didn’t seem like the types to play dirty board games. I’d have been less surprised if Becky found a bag of cocaine in that bedroom.
“Didn’t Mom say she got these games at a garage sale a few years ago?” Joey said, “Maybe this was just, you know, stacked in with everything else.”
“Or maybe they’re secretly swingers,” Sierra said, maybe a bit too excitedly.
I got a mental image of Mr. Wisniewski at a swap party, trying to glance around a half-naked woman so he could catch the football score. Now it was my turn to laugh.
Joey and Becky eyed each other, warily. After all, Sierra and I were only outside observers. The siblings, though, this was their family they were staring at right now. It had to raise all kinds of questions.
“Definitely bought by accident,” Becky said.
“No doubt,” Joey said.
“We should play it!” Sierra said. She clapped her hands excitedly.
“What? No,” Joey said. He purposefully looked away from Becky. “I’m not playing sex games with my sister.”
“Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not curious,” Sierra said, “I bet it’ll be fun.” She reached down and grabbed the game, then skipped happily out of the room. The three of us all eyed each other, shrugged, and followed the beautiful brunette downstairs.
Sierra dumped the box on the dining room table. There were cards, a board, a spinner, some dice, a sand timer… It was like whoever came up with the game couldn’t decide on components, so they included all of them. Not exactly the sign of a great design.
While Sierra started to dig through it all, Becky went back to the kitchen. I followed her into the other room.
“Well, this is weird,” I said, “You OK?”
“Like, in general?” Becky asked. My petite blonde wife leaned back against the counter. She gave me a wispy smile and tucked her hair behind her ear. It was almost long enough now that she could do it.
“Are you OK with this?” I said, “The game, your family, all of it.”
“I’m fine,” Becky said, her new favorite catchphrase, “I just need a drink.” She grabbed a footstool from some hidden place, then climbed up and opened a tiny cabinet above the fridge. A moment later, Becky came down cradling a bottle of scotch. She did it all so easily, without even a pause, I knew this wasn’t a lucky discovery.