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Firstly, this story contains graphic scenes of incest (even if only incest by marriage), and hints of more. If this offends, don’t read it. Enough said on that.
90% of this story is true. I’m not going to confirm which parts are fabricated, but most of it is exactly how things played out in my life. Writing this brought all the shame back to the surface, but I couldn’t help myself and I still can’t.
Please vote and feel free to email me and let me know what you think.
I had always considered myself a normal guy. Surely we all fantasise about various taboos and people we shouldn’t think about in that way. Don’t we? Well, I do. I have thought it for as long as I could remember.
For me, it was always my female cousins. Growing up with them, playing kissing games, it was exciting and dangerous. Once my cousin Kate let me kiss her down there.. I’ve never forgotten and I’ve been addicted to oral sex ever since.
As we all do though, I grew up, and now I’m a happily married man with a young stepdaughter, a much younger daughter of my own, and a wife who lights up my world. My wife, Alex, is everything to me. She’s the first person I ever truly opened up to and her brightness, beauty and kind-hearted nature still make me feel like warm and gushy on the inside after nearly 10 years of marriage.
Sarah, my stepdaughter, is a wonderful girl who never caused any of the usual problems that teenagers cause. She didn’t smoke or drink, and she was a top student who dedicated herself to achieving anything she set her mind to. I met Alex when Sarah was only young and I tried to help raise her and to treat her as my own once Alex and I became engaged. Sarah never got into the habit of calling me Dad though. I suppose I came into her life too late so she called me James, but I know she cared as much about me as I did for her. My thoughts regarding her were totally pure. I never even considered anything sordid or taboo.
Around Sarah’s eighteenth birthday though, something changed inside me. It was the middle of summer in Brisbane, near sunset and I was lighting up the barbeque for an early dinner in the balmy heat when my phone rang.
“Hello, James speaking.” I answered.
“Hi James, it’s Gary. I was wondering if you could help me work something out with this computer because it’s giving me hell and I can’t…”
Blah, blah, blah. I zoned him out, listening half-heartedly and wandering over to the barbeque to grab a cigarette. I strolled around the garden, smoking and doing my best to answer Gary’s questions while I admired the beautiful lawn which we had worked hard to get looking perfect. Darkness was fast approaching and it was starting to get a little difficult to see so I headed back toward the house, approaching the side path. It was then that I saw Sarah standing in her brightly lit bedroom and all pretense at listening to Gary disappeared.
Sarah was standing in her room, topless, and was just tossing her bra into the hamper as I stopped outside her window gaping in surprise. Her large breasts, at least a D cup, were smooth and light brown like the rest of her, with perfect nipples that were standing out proudly on her chest. Her flat belly and smooth toned legs seemed perfection itself. As I watched, she bent over and pulled her shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion.
Although Sarah was certainly not putting on a striptease for my benefit, time seemed to flow ever so slowly as I gazed at a perfect beauty who was seperated from me by a mere pane of glass. She was, in fact, moving at normal speed and was obviously unaware of my presence as she tossed the worn clothes into the hamper atop her bra.
My cock hardened faster than I would have thought possible as I stared at the dark triangle of hair between her legs, a tiny glimpse of puckered lips showing through the curls.
I had completely forgotten the phone pressed to my ear and gave a jump as a voice spoke loudly from the earpiece, “James? Are you listening?”
At the same moment, Sarah looked up at the winder, saw me, and squealed in surprise. She quickly covered as much of her body as possible with her hands and I could hear her voice muffled from behind the pane of glass, “James!”.
“Oh sorry!” I yelled, so she could hear me, and scurried back around the house, apologising to Gary at the same time. My face burned and my heart was thumping. Did she think I was peeping? And would she say something to Alex if she thought I was?
When the phone call ended, I turned my attention back to preparing dinner dropping steaks onto the hotplate and opening a bottle of beer. I was still a little worried, but it had been an accident after all.
Ten minutes later, Sarah eased through the sliding door and asked in a relatively normal voice, “So what’s for dinner?” I looked up, feeling my face redden anew.
“Uh, steaks. Sarah, I’m sorry about before. I was just wandering around while I was on the phone çankaya escort and.. well.. I wasn’t looking.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She reddened as well, but we left it at that, slipping back into normal conversation as Alex joined us outside with her own drink in hand.
As the evening progressed normally, I tried my best to not look at Sarah as if anything was different. But it was. Trying to ensure I wasn’t obvious, I studied her eyes as she chatted amiably with her mother, saw the perfect skin, gorgeous eyebrows and soft, pink lips. I was hooked.
As time passed, I realised I could never get that vision out of my mind. I started waiting outside to watch as she changed her clothes, usually without closing the blinds since her window faced a tall fence beyond the path. We moved to a new house when our lease was up, one with large, clear windows on the bathroom and I watched her shower. I conveniently forgot to buy a shower curtain and accidentally tore the one that Alex bought, paving the way for an unobstructed view through the window. I noticed when she had first experimented with shaving her pubic hair, and I saw her explore her body in the shower.
It had become an obsession and a dangerous one at that. My sex life with Alex started to deteriorate slightly but we passed it off as stress at work, something that would pass. I lived in fear that one day Alex would catch me spying on her daughter or, almost as bad, Sarah herself would see me.
One evening, nearly 12 months later, I was home alone with Sarah while Alex was away interstate, visiting her parents. Sarah was now 19 and as gorgeous as ever, but I had trained myself to be “normal” around her (I hoped). This day though, I was in agony. Sarah had been reading outside while I mowed the lawn, weeded the garden beds, and generally made myself tired and filthy. She was wearing a t-shirt and a short demin skirt that allowed me tantalising peeks of her underwear throughout the afternoon. It was torture.
I walked inside to take a shower, furiously trying to clear my mind of countless fantasies, all of which were focussed on my stepdaughter. I stepped under the hot spray and started to stroke my hard cock, thinking to relieve the pressure. I came almost immediately, my cum splashing against the glass wall of the shower as my knees shook. I don’t think I’d ever orgasmed so fast in my life. In surprise, I kept stroking myself as my cock grew even more, the head a bright purple. My lust was obviously not satisfied so I kept going, but a second orgasm wasn’t to be. Relenting, I eventually left the shower and dried myself, waiting for my persistent erection to subside.
I left the ensuite bathroom and realised the bedroom door had been left open. I had barely taken notice of the fact when suddenly I was acting without thought. I dropped my towel, laid back on the bed and took hold of my aching cock. I stroked myself slowly, precum leaking from the head and making the swollen head glisten wetly. Wet noises squished around my fist and I threw my head back, silent but aroused beyond belief. After almost 5 minutes, I heard Sarah’s footsteps as she walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom, and partially opened my eyes to see her appear in the doorway.
“Jason, can I…” she cut off mid-sentence as I sat up in shock. It was real shock too. What was I doing?? Cum boiled up my shaft and sprayed across my chest in spurts. I fell back on the bed, holding myself tight as stream after dwindling stream patterned my chest and belly, my eyes snapping shut and stroking myself as the last of the earth-shattering orgasm washed over me.
“Oh my god! I’m.. so sorry!” Sarah sputtered, whirling around and disappearing back down the hallway.
I apologised later that night, mumbling my embarrassment and unable to meet her eyes. Sarah refused to accept my own apology, offering her own instead for walking in without knocking, her face red enough to burst.
Over the course of the next six months, it happened a few more times. I either walked out of the room naked, pretending to be unaware of her presence before scurrying back to my room, or masturbating openly with the door open, only to be caught in the act yet again.
We never really talked about it, only mumbled our apologies through the embarrassment, and continued on as normal. I felt that I was losing control of myself more and more as time passed and I was being ‘caught’ more often. I also started spying outside her window more regularly, often catching her changing and sometimes I was sure I saw her masturbating under the covers with her bedside lamp on. One time I was sure as she stroked her glistening folds openly with the covers thrown back. I watched her orgasm with her head thrown back as a gush of juices erupted from her sweet pussy and I shot my load against the bricks of the house outside her window at the same time.
I yearned to touch her, to taste her. I knew it could escort çankaya never be though. She was clearly unaware of my presence outside her window and always treated me with care and respect, as one would treat a parent or step-parent. She never gave me the slightest hint that she wanted anything sexual from me.
Fast forward another 6 months and Sarah had moved out to a place of her own. She had just turned 21 and my obsession hadn’t lessened, although it was now much easier to cope with since she wasn’t at home very often. I still spied on her when she visited to stay the night, and still I yearned for something more.
Again, Alex went away to visit her parents, taking our youngest daughter with her. I was home alone and, as regular as clockwork, Sarah came to visit and watch her favourite shows on the big LCD screen. This time however, I decided to follow her as she left to drive home. Why did I do this? Well, I had a hire car for a few days while our car was being repaired, so I figured she’d never notice me. And she didn’t. I followed her home, waiting outside in the car and stroking myself while various fantasies played out in my head. Eventually I went home to bed, exhausted and disgusted with myself. But the next night I was waiting outside again.
The second night outside her house, I saw Sarah walk out the front door and head toward her car. She was dressed up for a night on the town, wearing a babydoll dress, high heels and her face absolute perfection with just a hint of makeup. I followed as she drove toward the city, enjoying the voyeuristic anticipation of seeing how she spent her evenings with her friends.
Just before reaching the city though, Sarah’s car turned into a driveway that led to an underground carpark below a modern glass building. I pulled over to the curb, turned the headlights off, and waited. Sure enough, she emerged from the car park looking as stunning as ever, and pressed one of the buttons near the glass doors. There were a whole row of buttons and I saw clearly in the bright lights as she pressed the one at the very top. Interesting.
I waited a few minutes after she’d been buzzed through and disappeared through the glass doors and into a waiting elevator. Then I donned an old baseball cap and strolled casually across to the building and up the stairs. I glanced up and down the row of buttons, trying to appear confused, and then turned and went back to my car.
Back at home, I typed in “The Blue Room” into Google. This is what had been written beside the button that Sarah had pressed. Written in elegant, cursive script that just oozed class. A web site was displayed and I clicked it with interest. It opened, showing a photo of a beautiful young woman standing beside a small table on which stood a bottle of oil, a candle, and tiny bottles of essential oils. She was wearing a fitted white cotton shirt and white pants, and smiling at the camera. There was the street address at the bottom, the same as I had followed Sarah to, and a menu along the side of the page. I clicked on “Services” and started to read.
The Blue Room was a relaxation or massage centre. The web site was designed in such a way that it seemed to offer a service that was strictly massage but hinted at a little bit more. I sat back in open wonder. Could I be wrong? I opened another window and searched for all references to The Blue Room. Sure enough, a web site titled “Fun in Australia” offered reviews on The Blue Room for their RNT services. I soon found that RNT stood for ‘rub n tug’. It seemed the place offered a relaxation massage service which included a ‘happy ending’ for the customer. By now I was rock hard and uncomfortable in my jeans, but I switched back to the company’s own web site and started following the links.
The first link was Therapists, so I clicked it and there she was halfway down the page. Her flawless face, framed by near-black, shoulder length hair, smiled alluringly at the camera, the swell of her breasts and a tiny amount of cleavage showing above the white cotton shirt. Her name was shown below the photo as Natalie and the white text also outlined her tenure with the company. It seemed that Sarah had only started the job two months ago. Most of the other girls had been there less than 12 months but Sarah was the newest in this list.
I closed the site and spent a few minutes clearing the history and temporary files, but not before recording The Blue Room’s phone number in my phone. I made a mental note to memorise the number and remove it from my phone as soon as possible, before Alex returned from interstate.
I knew what I was going to do, but I struggled with it for hours. Sarah would recognise me immediately and they would probably have security on site too. If she reacted badly, I could end up rather bruised which would be hard to explain to my wife. But what if Alex knew?! What if Sarah told her mother I’d come to her work for a massage and a little bit more?
I çankaya escort bayan risked it. What the hell, I mean I was going crazy with lust every time she was around, and a little fantasy had started in my mind that she would welcome my attentions and admit to wanting me as much as I wanted her.
The next day, I shaved my beard off. I had worn a short, trimmed beard since my early twenties and I’d hinted before that I would get rid of it one day. I then went for a haircut, losing a good two inches all over and completely changing the style. Finally, I purchased a pair of spectacle frames from the optometrist with clear, plain lenses in them. They finished off the disguise quite nicely I thought.
Excitement coursed through my body all day in anticipation of what I was going to do. In the late afternoon, I decided to give myself another haircut. I grabbed the clippers and trimmed my pubes very short, leaving a very thin layer of hair around my groin. My cock stood proudly at attention now, appearing at least an inch longer after the haircut. I couldn’t help myself so I jacked off quickly in the bathroom, cumming in less than a minute, and then I took a final shower.
At 5.00pm, I rang The Blue Room.
“Good evening, The Blue Room, this is Amalia speaking.” A professional-sounding voice answered.
“Hi, uh, I was wondering if I could book in for a massage this evening?” I said, my voice hoarse.
“Of course sir, what time would you like to come in?” she cooed.
“About 8 o’clock is fine.”
“No problem sir, and your name?”
I froze, thinking quickly, “It’s George” I answered.
“Well George, we’ll see you at 8.00pm.” Amalia said.
“Wait! Oh sorry, can I request a particular therapist?”
“Of course sir. Who would you like to see?”
“Uh..” I stopped and swallowed before I accidentally said Sarah’s name, “Natalie please.”
“No problem sir, but I’ll need to change your appointment time to 8.30pm if that’s ok. Natalie doesn’t start until then.”
I gave my assent and hung up the phone, my heart pounding inside my chest. I couldn’t believe I was going to go through with this mad scheme.
The next few hours were a torture of self-recrimination and fear. Fear that I would be found out by Alex, that Sarah would tell her, that I would be seen by someone else who knew me. The scenarios played out in my head continuously, even as I started the car and drove toward the city.
I arrived at the building in question and pressed the top button. A speaker crackled to life.
“The Blue Room, can I help you?” I recognised the voice from the telephone.
“I have an appointment for 8.30 tonight.” I told her through the gleaming stainless steel speaker afixed to the wall.
“Please come through to the lift and head up to level twelve thanks George.”
My heartbeat stepped up a notch.
The lift opened onto a dimly lit reception area glowing with deep blue mood lights and oozing pure opulence. At least it wasn’t a seedy looking place, I thought to myself as I sat on the sofa indicated by the receptionist, who had introduced herself as Amalia. I was handed a clipboard with a professional looking questionaire on it enquiring about injuries, serious illnesses, and so forth, so I completed the form with a fake name at the top. Luckily it didn’t ask for contact details.
Before I’d had enough time to compose myself properly, Sarah walked out of a side door and approached me with a smile on her gorgeous face.
“Good evening George, I’m Natalie, please come through.”
She took my hand and shook it, then gestured me through the door ahead of her. My skin seemed to burn as I touched her and I kept my eyes downcast mumbling a shy hello as I walked through the door.
We entered another very dimly lit room, for which I was extremely grateful. There was a massage table in the centre of the room with pure white towels covering it and another arranged artfully in the middle, a spreading fan that you might expect to see in a five star day spa. Natalie chatted amiably as she bustled around the room turning on a small CD player and lighting another candle.
“So, is this your first time here George?”
“Yes it is.” I murmured, terrified that she would recognise my voice. She laughed softly and glanced over her shoulder at me.
“Not to worry, I’ll take good care of you tonight and hopefully you’ll come back again!” She smiled again, and waved her hand toward the sofa in the corner. “If you would like to take off your clothes and leave them over there, I’ll be right back. Just hop up on the table and pop the towel over yourself.”
Sarah left the room and I quickly disrobed and climbed onto the table. I desperately wanted to bury my face into the towel-covered hole in the table so she couldn’t see me. A few minutes passed, during which I nearly got up and fled in terror. My heart continued to pound as I tried to process what was happening in my mind. When had Sarah gotten so confident? I remember her as a 12 year old, shy and unable to meet people’s eyes when she was introduced to them. She hadn’t changed, at least not that I’d ever seen. She was still a quiet and polite young woman, but without much confidence in a social setting.
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