The Liberation Of Father Mortimer
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Grandad lay on the bed with all kinds of tubes coming out of his arm and through his nose. He had trouble speaking clearly and Mom, Dad and I kept vigil over him. We had a normal conversation and watched as he awoke slowly from slumber.
The conversation quickly came around to the fright he had given us by being rushed to the hospital. It certainly was a fright for me but it hadn’t come as much of a surprise. "Push your tits into my face," he had told me. "Use both hands," he had told me. I did this as he wanked his cock for me. It turned him on so much to have my breasts dangling in his face. That was why he was in the hospital in the first place. He started to cough and splutter and then he passed out. I thought I had killed him, but then my first aid kicked in and I soon realised he was still breathing.
I dialled the emergency services and then wondered how the fuck I was going to pull his trousers up and make him as tidy as I could. Fortunately, I work out at the gym and I just about managed it in time.
I looked on at the conversation that they were all having and smiled at Grandad when he caught my eye now and then.
With Grandad looking a bit perkier, Mom and Dad decided to head off to the canteen for some food. I was hungry too but for something a little more special. When they had departed, he turned to me.
“Hold my hand, Sara,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”
I smiled at him; I had no intention of holding his bloody hand; I had unfinished business with him or with his cock to be more precise. I allowed my hand to snake under the stiffened white sheets and let it crawl over his thigh and onto his balls. I cupped them and squeezed gently.
I saw the smile creep onto his face once more. The few nurses that were walking around the area seemed oblivious to what I was doing. My hand slowly crept onto his cock. It was growing hard as I was stroking it and I wondered how long it would take him to spurt. I hoped I’d get him there before my parents returned.
My hand shook the bedclothes slightly as I tossed him off.
“Tell me when you're near,” I told him.
I concentrated more on the end of his knob than the stalk. He always seemed to like that more. I could see his breathing quicken, reinforced by the increased beeps on the heart rate monitor. I knew we needed to get him there sooner than later; otherwise, nurses would be pouring around us wondering what the hell had happened. We couldn't afford to red-light the heart rate monitor.
Grandad nodded to me that he was close. I slipped my other hand under the sheets to form a cup at the end of his knob. There was no way any of his jism was going to go to waste. Not now.
He was so different to Uncle Jim, my father’s brother. He liked his whole staff to be stroked, especially the base of it where it thickened significantly. He liked me to stand over him and masturbate him slowly at first; when he got closer to ejaculating, he would tell me to go faster. By the time he was spurting, my hand was a blur and I had to squeeze tightly around the base. That was when Uncle Jim lost control and his jism shot from the end of his rod. By that time, I’d have my lips around the end of his knob and I’d be sucking it all into my mouth and swallowing it. He seemed to like me bending at the waist while I sucked him off. I think it was the view of my rear end in the mirror that he had placed behind me that excited him. I didn’t mind at all and always wore short skirts when I visited him. On a few occasions, I never even wore panties.
Uncle Jim was difficult to seduce. Whenever my sexy suggestions at what I thought he would like to do sunk into his thick skull, he would pull away from me and repent his dirty thoughts. But I knew those dirty thoughts were there. I just had to encourage them.
I was eighteen at that time, a full year before I started to work on Grandad. By that time, though, I had lost count of the number of guys I had blown in school and at my workplace. They all seemed eager to form a line and let me suck them off. I swallowed every time. There was no point in wasting that gorgeous juice and while every one of them was different, I never once turned my face away in disgust.
I loved spunk. I loved the feel of it in my hands and my mouth; I loved rolling it around when it was warm before swallowing it. I relished the way it slipped down my throat, one portion quickly following the other in case they got separated.
Grandad was nearly at the point of no return. I kept up my motions and waited with bated breath for his release into my cupped receptacle.
My brother, on the other hand, was an easy convert to my kinks. With two years between us, and at sixteen at the time, he was gagging to get off. I can’t believe how easy he was. I think I had just come home from school. I was late because I had just been blowing Stephen Richards in the back seat of the bus with a few expectant guys looking on and encouraging him to give it to me. He never needed any encouragement. Stephen Richards used to shoot fast and quick into my waiting mouth. His spunk was so fluid that it was a joy to swallow. But on that day, he was the only guy on the bus that got my attention. It was where I learned to deep throat, rather unexpectedly at the time, because he pushed my head down on his long cock. I soon got used to it and for the whole journey home I practised and practised until I was nearly rubbing noses with his pubes.
I congratulated myself on my efforts as I got off the bus and walked into the house. My brother was on the sofa looking at me. He knew what I was like. I was the talk of the whole bloody school, everybody knew, even the teachers. If I had a penny for every lecherous grin that a teacher gave me during the day, I’d be a millionaire now. They all wanted to stick their cocks in me. I knew they did. Some would even put their hands on my bottom to help me to class. It didn't help them refrain from doing that because I was always the last to enter.
My brother looked in my direction as I walked into the house. “You’ve got some spunk on the edge of your lip,” he told me. He was always pulling me up for cock sucking and seemed to take pride in telling me off.
I scooped it up with my finger and he was right. I was so glad that he told me before I walked into the kitchen to chat with mom. He watched me suck it off and swallow it. Wiping it in a paper towel was not an option, even if it was cold.
I remember his first blowjob. I sidled up to him on the sofa. I placed my hand on his knee and stared at him. He eventually looked into my eyes. My hand crept closer to his cock; sliding up his thigh. I never said a word and he didn’t stop me. I stopped when my fingers reached his balls. We just stared at each other. His breathing was erratic and mine was no better. A rush of urgency flowed through my veins. After all, I’d only had Stephen Richards instead of the three or four guys I’d normally have had in that bus ride home. I was due a second helping.
I twitched my head to the stairs that led to our bedrooms. He nodded back to me. We both got off the sofa and headed upstairs. I quickly popped into the kitchen to say hello to mom before telling her that I was going upstairs to study. It was such a blatant lie unless you consider fluid dynamics as studying.
My brother and I stumbled into his bedroom. I practically ripped his jeans down his legs, pushed him onto the bed, forced his legs as far apart as they would go. His jeans hindered my access and while they clawed at his ankles, I sank my mouth right down over the end of his knob. Fuck, it was hot. I immediately put my newfound oral skills to work and swallowed his much smaller cock whole. I let my tongue lap at the edge of his balls while I swallowed him. Bobbing my head gently just for the friction on his sensitive tip. My eyes closed and I found the whole experience horny as fuck.
He didn’t last long. All I heard was, “fuck, sis,” and “shit, I’m cumming.”
He did cum too. Big time. He shot loads of spunk into my waiting mouth. It must have been, I don’t know, years’ worth of spunk that he had been saving up since his body started producing it. Well, I got it all and swallowed every last drop of it. From then on, until recently, my brother had been a daily source of vitamin D and other boys seemed to get side-tracked in favour of his spunk. It was because he was on tap, twenty-four-seven mostly. He and his cock was up for it any time of the day.
I never let him fuck me, though. That wasn’t my kink. I just wanted his spunk. I let other blokes fuck me, but to be honest, I never got the same rush from fucking as I did from making someone cum down my throat. Oral sex was my kink; it was me taking something from them and enjoying it, not them giving me an orgasm. Yes, I used to masturbate like hell most nights, but always after a mouth-full, never before.
I heard Grandad murmur something. I could see the pulse chart above his head increase rapidly. I cupped my left hand and waited for him to ejaculate.
I will never tire of that warm feeling, whether it’s in my hand or mouth. I felt his spunk shoot into my hand andTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
Sherry
- 31.08.2022
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- Category:
- Incest
