Brother’s Incestous Bet Chapter 1: Brother and Sister’s Incestuous Desires

Brother’s Incestuous Bet

(An Incestuous Harem Story)

Chapter One: Brother and Sister’s Incestuous Desires

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2018

Note: Thanks to wrc264 for beta reading this!

Sean Reenburg

I stepped out into my backyard, strings of lights running from the various sculpted plants and statues to illuminate everything. Knots of people were gathered throughout while servers in crisp, white shirts (whether they were men or women) and black slacks moved through the crowd holding trays with various horderves or drinks that ranged from flutes of champagne to mineral water to tea. I paused on the back patio to drink it in.

They were all dressed in elegant clothing, not much different from the tuxedo I wore. I felt suave as my eyes flit around, like I was James bond and not a twenty-year-old kid. I grinned, loving the flow of men equally dressed in tuxedos like mine, black jackets and bow ties. They looked dashing as they escorted beautiful women.

So many beautiful women. California did not have any shortages in that regard. And they flocked to the rich and powerful. My father was a state senator. He crafted laws for California. The state had the largest economy of any part of the U.S., with the largest population, and the most influence. When California passed a law or regulations, other states took notice.

Other states copied.

That was power. And it came with its perks. We lived in a large house on a sprawling piece of property on the outskirts of our town. When my father threw a party, powerful businessmen, influential thinkers, generous philanthropists, the stars of Hollywood, and other politicians flocked. They were drawn like moths.

I wanted to have this power. I wanted people to come to my parties when I threw them. I hungered for it. I already had my path before me. Law school was the first step. Then land a job at a powerful firm. My mother may have chosen to establish her own practice, and she was successful at it, but I wanted the prestige of a powerful law firm. From there, I would make contacts. I would build my social contacts. I would find the same power my father was gathering.

A group of women in elegant dresses that clung to their tanned curves swept by, giggling as they chatted. My eyes lingered on them, on the sway of their rumps, the jiggle of their breasts. They were all breathtaking. My cock twitched and throbbed in my slacks.

They weren’t the only gorgeous women here. My gazed darted from the redhead in the plunging neckline pretending to laugh at Mr. Spencer, a silicon valley millionaire, telling a joke while rubbing at his bad comb over. Then I was staring at the bottle-blonde clinging to the overweight man. A famous producer who could make any promising starlet’s career. She would do so many naughty things for him in hopes of landing that chance.

Then my eyes landed on the one woman here I truly wanted.

She stood tall and blonde, a natural shade of gold. Her large breasts rose and fell, swelling the light-blue cocktail dress she wore, the neckline scooped to show a generous amount of cleavage. Expensive jewelry adorned her body, diamonds dangling from her ears, sapphires about her neck, rings glinting on her fingers. She was mature, confident, a woman in her early forties and just ripened to perfection. Her legs were toned and firm, calves shaped by her heels. She shifted her hips, turning, giving me a view of her tight rump hugged by her skirt.

I salivated for her. Hungered for her.

I wanted to fuck my mother.

And why not? This was a whole new world I lived in. My last year of school, my junior year of college had opened my eyes to incest. One guy, who just graduated last week, had changed everything. Clint Elliston III.

A man who had the confidence to fuck his little sister in the middle of the cafeteria, or so the rumors said, while everyone ate around him. And there was no doubt that the lolita Alicia was pregnant, her girlish figure swelling with her pregnancy as the school year drew to a close.

And she wasn’t the only pregnant woman close to Clint. His “cousin,” Lee, was also pregnant, bred by him, and so was his mother. I groaned when I realized that Clint’s mother, Cheryl Elliston, was standing by my mother, her guest since Mrs. Elliston worked for my mother, whose beauty had eclipsed Mrs. Elliston’s.

Not to say Mrs. Elliston wasn’t beautiful. Her dyed-blonde hair tumbled about her mature and lovely face, her large breasts tenting the bronze dress she wore. It wasn’t cut as tight as other dresses, but draped down her huge tits and swollen, pregnant belly. She clutched to a young man, escorting him.

Clint Elliston himself. He stood tall beside his mother, a dark-haired and handsome man. Half the girls in the student body wanted to fuck him. I suspected my sister, Maria, was one of them. He had that chiseled chin and masculine confidence that melted panties.

I wanted to be him so bad. I was glad my father insisted I go to a public school. “When you enter politics and you can say you went to public college and not an ivy elite,” my dad would say, “that you’re no different from the people you want electing you, they’ll love you. It’s not just who you know, but how well you can convince the men that you’re the sort of guy they can have a beer with.” He’d then grinned. “And for the women, that you’re the sort of man who will make them explode. Bill Clinton carried the female vote for a reason.”

Clint had that sort of magnetism. And so did I. I had to do that to my own mom. I had to fuck her.

I had to claim my mother. There had to be a way to do it. If I could seduce my mother, then I could go so far in politics. My dick throbbed in my slacks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maria Reenburg

I sidled up to my father, a coquettish smile on my nineteen-year-old face. My skirt swirled about my thighs, my various layers of petticoats rustling with every step. I loved petticoats. They gave such delicious shape to a skirt. Modern women eschewed them for gowns that hugged their asses like a second skin, but when you were as hot as me, you didn’t have to have such blatant advertisement.

“Hi, Daddy,” I said, fluttering my blue eyes at him, my back arched to thrust my round breasts at him. The lace neckline of my gown cupped my tits, hugging them and lifting them into youthful perfection. A perfect décolletage. My blonde hair, a shade darker than my mother’s, fell in heavy ringlets about my elfin face. My pink gown swished as my hips swayed with a schoolgirl’s coquettish delight.

“Maria, my dear,” he said, a smile crossing his face. My brother and my father looked early the same, only Sean’s hair was a lighter brown, a trace of mom in him. Dad stood tall, his hazel eyes peering at me past his bold nose. He had a tanned, chiseled chin, his shoulders broad. He looked so dashing in his suit.

Like James Bond.

My pussy melted. If I was wearing panties, they would be soaking up my juices. But I was a wicked thing. My cunny tingled and itched, a bead of my cream working down my thighs, teasing me. My skirts and petticoats rustled as my thighs rubbed together, easing the pressure on my clit.

I hugged him, holding tight to him. My nipples ached in my dress, rubbing against the silk of my gown. The tingles raced down to my pussy. They added heat to him as his left arm went around me, his right holding a flute of champagne.

I planted a kiss on his cheek, feeling the faint trace of his stubble. I wanted to lick to his ear, to nibble on his lobe, and whisper that I wasn’t wearing any panties. Just for him. I wanted to make him so hard that he’d make an excuse to vanish into the house.

Then we’d have a little rendezvous and he would take care of my burning cunny. He would fuck me so hard. I would gasp and moan, crying out my passion. I would cum so hard on his big dick—I just knew he would have a big dick—and milk all his jizz out of him.

I would show my daddy how much I loved him.

“Bill, Christina, you all remember my daughter, Maria,” Daddy said to the two men with him. “And, Vanessa, you know her, too.”

“Of course,” Vanessa purred. I glared at the harlot as she stood on Daddy’s other side in a black dress so tight she must have been poured in it. Daddy’s “secretary” was a leggy, Black girl with a massive amount of dark hair, gathered in a zigzag weave, falling about her lush face. Her skin was a rich brown, an exotic hue, her delicate cheekbones and plump lips gave her the type of beauty prized by the vultures of Hollywood.

I detested her.

I hooked my arm tight around my daddy’s and said, “Vanessa,” in as cool a voice as possible. “That’s a bold dress to wear for a woman with your figure.”

Her smile only grew with amusement. I wanted to hiss at her like a wild cat. I knew my daddy had to be fucking her. How could he not? Not only was Mom busy being a lawyer, but Vanessa was so perfectly made, those breasts stretching out that tight gown, her hips curved. She was built to be fucked.

I wanted Daddy to fuck me!

“It’s good to see you, Maria,” Bill said, the plump man’s eyes falling hungry on me. He didn’t care that my father was standing beside me; he just wanted to enjoy my body. I gripped Daddy’s arm tighter. He could look, but there was only one man that I wanted fucking me.

I endured the small talk, the men ignoring Vanessa and me as they talked about plans to make money, of course. Various government projects my father could sponsor that would enrich this or that business concern. A stream of these sort of men flowed to my father, understanding the power he wielded in the California legislature. And he was going far. Next year, he’d make his bid for the U.S. senate. The incumbent, Senator Nancy Lipton, was retiring and the Democratic National Committee wanted Daddy to run in her place.

Then Daddy would gain even more power.