New Story Title: Family Lust (Incest/Taboo:)
Enjoy….
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December Twenty-third
Neal Ford parked his car around the back of the house, between the porch and the old barn. He got out quietly, slowly, looking away west across the field to where the sun was just beginning to descend behind the thick veil of clouds, turning them pink and blue and an eerie green. The west side of the property was the most open; the woods receded here, allowing the chilly wind to whip down over the house, and whistle through the cracks and crevices of the barn. He liked to stand here — it was a good spot to think. He had plenty to think about.
It was, he decided, a total shambles. He might as well give up on it all. There was no way he was ever going to satisfy Sherry, and no way he would ever be satisfied with her alone. The past three months had spoiled him. Melanie had spoiled him. She was too young, yes. Too impetuous, too sensitive. Not realistic in her outlook at all. She said things that shocked him, they were so immature. He couldn’t remember ever being so naive about the world, and was sure that Sherry had never been that impulsive or reckless. Sherry was always eminently sensible. It was one of the reasons he loved her. It was also one of the reasons he was so very tired of her.
If Melanie was nothing else, she was new. A change, a departure. A different flavor of ice cream.
He was walking out into the field before he knew it, neglecting the ghostly sunset to focus on his steps. There was no way, he thought, that he could stay with her — especially not if she demanded he earn back every bit of her trust or respect. Yes, he’d gone off the rails and had an affair — some women would get a clue from that, and try harder to please their husbands.
There was no need for them to stay together. The kids, Sherry always said. What kids? Neal wanted to know. Josh was eighteen now — not the sharpest tack in the drawer, but with any luck he’d pass his exams and graduate. And Vanessa? Vanessa was a wife and mother. Well, okay — she and Brad Carlson weren’t officially married. And her being pregnant at nineteen was an accident, and the only reason for her unofficial marriage to Brad, or whatever they considered it. The point was, she was growing up — she was a woman, not a kid. He’d always do what he could for her, sure — but it wasn’t like what he said or did made a whole lot of difference to Vanessa. Neal shook his head, thinking about her. Nessa might as well have been from another planet, she was so hard for him to understand.
And then there was the house, and all the work it needed. The gigantic eyesore of the barn. Tons of work at the office, troubles with Sherry’s car . . . oh God, it was all so overwhelming.
At some point Neal had stopped walking; he was now standing in the middle of the field, the icy December wind whipping around him. Cold, he thought, for Florida weather. He stood for a minute or two with his hands in his pockets, then turned slowly to begin the trudge back to the house.
May as well go in. Why prolong the inevitable? It was going to be hell, the whole week. In this mess of a house, with his mess of a family, he now had to endure the most home-centered and familial of rituals: the Christmas holiday. At worst it would be a disaster: a week of arguments and swearing, raised voices, flushed faces. At best it would be totally artificial. They’d all pretend they were still some sort of unit. He wasn’t sure he could do that.
He had made the wrong choice, staying with her, trying to make it work. He knew that now. Maybe Melanie wasn’t the right choice, but Sherry was definitely the wrong one. Leaving her for good would be a terrible wrench — at the very least, he’d be losing a home, and alienating his family. But then, he didn’t really have enough of either to make staying worthwhile.
I won’t kiss her, he thought as he neared the back porch. I’ve been kissing her for twenty years when I come in the door — I won’t do it tonight. Maybe she’ll see the significance of that. Maybe she’ll understand it’s over.
***
“Ah! . . . Unngggh, yeah . . . ah, God, I’m gettin’ close! . . . I’m gettin’ close –”
“Mmmmm . . . ”
“Yeah, I’m close, baby . . . ah! . . . ah shit, you gonna keep it in your mouth this time?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Oh fuck! . . . fuck fuck fuck . . . almost there . . . ah shit, you ready for it?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“You ready?”
“Mmm-hmm –”
“Aw fuck I’m there! — Ah! — Ah shit! — Ah shit shit shit!”
“Mmmmm . . .”
“Unngh! — Unngh! Oh damn! — ooohhh damn . . . ”
“Mmmmm-hmmmm . . .”
“Oh . . . oh damn. Damn.”
“Mmm — he shoots, he scores!”
“Oh, hell yes!”
“Like that?”
“Hell yes.”
“Gotta smoke for me?”
“Ohhh . . . no.”
“No? What’s that then?”
“Back off, it’s my last one.”
“Josh! I just sucked your dick for you, jerk-off!”
“So?”
“So!”
“I thought you did that cause you wanted to.”
“Fucker!”
“Here, I’ll share it.”
“Shove it up your ass.”
Joshua Ford shrugged and took a long pull on the cigarette. The girl changed her mind, snatching it from him. Now the old Charger was full of smoke; he let the window down slightly to clear the air. She exhaled a stream of smoke and glared at him.
“You are some kind of bastard, you know that?” she snapped. “You’ll share it with me. How’d you like it if Ishared my pussy around?”
“How do I know you don’t?”
“Well, maybe I should start if you think that!”
He sighed and shook his head. This was getting old fast.
“Where’re we going?” he said, pushing his wet cock back into his pants.
“Take me home.”
“What the hell for?”
“Just go!”
He cranked the car and swerved out of the parking lot, tires screeching. On the drive back, all was silent between them. When he pulled into her neighborhood, she asked:
“Are you coming over Christmas?”
“No, I can’t,” he said. “Mom wants me home.”
“Christmas Eve?”
“I don’t know. Doubt it.”
“Have you even asked?”
“Yes, I have,” he lied.
“Well, can I come over there then?”
“I don’t think so — it’s Mom. She wants it to just be family or something — I don’t know . . . ”
Actually he had mentioned nothing about her to either of his parents. Christmas was going to be enough of an ordeal without having to worry about her, or playing meet-the-parents.
She sighed in frustration and stared out the window.
“So am I gonna see you at all over the holiday or what? I mean, what’s the fucking deal?”
“I don’t know, Jeanie! Look, I’ll find out something and call you. I promise.”
“You can come over here, you know.”
Josh shook his head. “Nah. Your mom hates me.”
Either this was true or she didn’t feel inclined to argue the point. She was silent, though not so brooding, until he pulled up in front of her house.
“You’ll call me?” she asked.
“I’ll call you.”
“You promise.”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Okay.”
She leaned toward him to give him a kiss. At the last moment he turned his head, and they kissed cheeks awkwardly, like Frenchmen in a movie. She drew back, her eyes flashing.
“So now you can’t even kiss me?” she spat.
“Your mouth was just full of cum!” he replied.
For several seconds she stared at him in disbelief. Then she snatched up her bag from the floor of the car and was out, slamming the door behind her.
“Hey, don’t slam the –”
“Fuck you!!”
Josh watched her storm away up the walkway, pulling her panties out of her crack as she went. When the front door slammed, he put the car in gear and pulled away.
Oh well, he thought. No more Jeanie.