Sibling Seduction Session: Daddy

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


The Sibling Seduction Session: Afterwards with my Daddy

I was 19 and I was a mess. It was my older brother’s fault, or at least I blamed him. We had committed incest. I wasn’t just angry, I was amazed. How could my big brother be the one who taught me the difference between whatever I thought I was doing with my first boyfriends and really and truly doing it? I wasn’t in love or anything with him. That really would be disgusting (yuck!), but something big had happened. I was confused and had no one to help me get my head around it, except for Daddy.

If you want to catch up, I described what happened in something I wrote earlier this year, The Sibling Seduction Session. Briefly, I was a trainee physiotherapist living at home with my mother, father and 34 year-old brother. We were very close, so close that we never referred to the fact that It was my parents’ second marriage. Dad and Dick were step, but it never occurred to me as I grew up. Dick was just my brother.

In April, when I was 19, at the end of my first year in physiotherapy training, my mother got promoted at work, so my parents had to move to Brussels. My brother, who was 34, was about to leave for work as well. I felt completely abandoned, staying on alone in the family home. I am the quiet type and did not let my family see how upset I was, but I freaked and ended up having a surprising adventure with my brother.

About that adventure; I got persuaded by almost my first ever physiotherapy patient to be a market research interview subject on young people and fashion. The patient, Simon Pugh, was in fact a pornographer. He tricked me and my brother, Dick, into doing progressively more erotic things for his cameras until, inevitably, we fucked each other, me in the ruined remains of my school uniform! Worse, he convinced both Dick and that what we did had been our fault.

Simon Pugh was a real trickster. We actually apologised for spoiling his interview recordings, grateful that he let us (me) keep the payments. I remember leaving Pugh’s studio without even showering, my cum-encrusted uniform scrunched in my bag with my brother by my side alternately apologising, implying that I should never have agreed to the interview or involved him in the first place (true enough), and reminding me that I had earned more than £1000. We were so naive.

Like I said, I was a mess afterwards. It’s not every day you fuck your brother in front of a witness, who videos it. For about a week I stayed in bed, faking flu and a heavy period. Luckily the college year had just ended, so I did not have to go to the physiotherapy centre for the next month. My parents were attentive, but they were at work most days and accepted my claim that all I needed was rest in bed.

Dick and I avoided each other entirely until he vanished to take up his new contract, which was in Holland. As far as I was concerned, it could be on Mars. If you read my earlier story, you will know how unfair I was being to him, but I was 19 and no one had ever made me do and feel the things I had done and felt with my brother. The night before he left, he kept coming into my room to say his good-byes, but I faked sleep for so long that I actually did fall asleep. When I woke up, he was gone, having left a letter of apology and a box of things. I ignored both.

Alone, I lay in bed cursing Dick and feeling guilty (WTF!!) about messing up Pugh’s market research and victimised because it looked like that source of income would now dry up. Not just that, my body ached all over and I really did start my period, enough discomfort to maintain a fairly monumental sulk.

But my periods have never been painful on the pill and, unless I concentrated, there was a kind of delicious frosting overlaying the aches. In short, I didn’t feel as injured and betrayed as I tried to tell myself I was. For the first time in my life I also felt completely fucked. Whatever my conscience thought, my vagina was singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

It was terribly confusing. For example, I told myself I was too abused and too ill to get in the shower, but alone I secretly luxuriated in the feeling of dried cum on my skin and my matted pubic hair for as long as I could; until I had either to get clean or composted.

I have always tried to be honest with myself, so, in a few days things were pretty bad as I wrestled with my mixed emotions and poor hygiene. I needed to clean up or throw away my school uniform, but told myself I couldn’t face doing it. I ended up hanging the stained garments in a dry-cleaning bag like Monica Lewinsky and kept taking it out to look at. If that doesn’t say, ‘conflicted,’ nothing does.

When I couldn’t put it off any longer, I took a long hot bath and ended up shaving my pussy until it was baby-bottom smooth. I told myself, I was cleaning away the past, making a new start, a re-birt, but I was really making my special place feel even more special. Afterwards I looked at myself in the mirror. I was still the same girl: five foot and two inches, eight stone ankara escort (112 lbs), firm b-cup breasts, wavy dark brown hair and, now, a smooth little crack. It barely ached at all from what had happened last week.

Unable to deny that I actually felt pretty good, I went back to my room and opened my brother’s letter. I cried as I read, because it seemed so beautiful to my over-wrought imagination. Judging by its contents he was as messed up as I was. He kept apologising and, then, returning to how beautiful I had looked and how he had not been able to control himself. We shouldn’t have smoked the marijuana. Pugh should have been more careful and stopped us. And so on for three or four pages. It was in the last sentences that he finally stumbled on an argument that helped. “Anne-Marie, even though we don’t have the same blood, I never thought of you except as my sister. Maybe (?), what we did shows that we were always meant to be close. If Mum and Dad hadn’t met, maybe would have got married or something. I still love you, baby sister. I wish I could ask Dad what he thinks.” My thinking, exactly.

It was very sweet and had me in floods of tears. The box contained a beautiful bracelet and forty or so neatly rolled marijuana cigarettes (“You might as well have these. I can get plenty where I’m going! ?”). Not having ever rolled one, I had no idea how generous that last gift was. In any case, I was not sure I wanted to try it again in a hurry.

I cried in part, because he had found a way for me to forgive him. Even if we felt like ‘true’ brother and sister, we were step and not blood siblings. My mourning had gone on long enough. I got his point and it offered an excuse. We were not committing incest so much as responding as we would if we had not grown up together, but had met as adults. Even though we were first and foremost, siblings, our lack of blood ties meant that we got hot for each other in that special circumstance.

It really seemed like my lucky day. I powered up my personal computer to send Dick an email forgiving him, and, just as I hit the send button, another message arrived from Pugh with two video files attached. The first was of my first interview in which I answered Pugh’s questions about fashion, did some mild modelling and got as far as flashing my bra and knickers. The second was a full record of the following visit in which I changed into a school uniform, drank, smoked dope, and progressed from modest posing to full on fucking with my brother. Pugh’s email explained all this in such diplomatic and dull language, that it somehow made his graphically professional record of our incest appear to be a lesson for all of us on the need to plan and roughly walk through scripts in advance to minimise similar surprises in future. My 19 year-old self never imagined we had made a porno, so I found his tone particularly reassuring.

Pugh explained that he would be comfortable sharing the first file with anyone (see The Sibling Seduction Session 1), he was less sure about the second. “Let me assure you, Anne-Marie that I hold myself at least as responsible as you and your brother for what happened. That is why I am glad that you were well paid, even though we cannot show the product to just anybody.

“It is because of my concerns about the second file that I would like to suggest a further interview, this time with another interviewee, who will be a stranger, to avoid any complications. If we do this soon, I could share it with clients who will be expecting a second recording. Can I suggest that, in order to follow our new, more professional approach we book a time to do a walk-through of the script?” He went on to suggest a date a week later, explaining that we would need to move quickly.

“You will be pleased to know that, because I respected your mature approach and level of knowledge up until things got out of hand, and because I want to clearly show my confidence in your future professionalism, I will pay you fees in advance based on the contingencies which emerge during the walk-through. I have allowed for total fees up to £2000, which will be rough-videoed to protect all of our contractual interests. Please note that you will need to cover the school uniform market research as before.

“I hope this meets with your approval. I would welcome any of your opinions on the attached videos.” He signed off as if it was merely a technical glitch, me being brutally fucked against my will (sort of) by my own brother. He was so clever, that Pugh. It seemed exactly what I wanted to put it all behind me, but it actually promised nothing and invited me to do more filming for him.

I swallowed it whole. It seemed such a stroke of luck, first Dick’s letter gave me a way to forgive him, and then Pugh’s email offered a way for me to suppress the evidence of me being fucked by my brother, while paying me lots of money. It was a no-brainer. That left only Daddy. If I forgave Dick for fucking me on the grounds that he was my step-brother, and not my real one, how did that change escort ankara my relationship with Daddy?

I am blushing as I write this down. If there was a decision to be made, you can bet that my 19 year-old self would make the depraved one. My conscious mind may have been confused that summer, but my subconscious seemed to know exactly what it wanted.

That afternoon I decided how to resolve my unhappiness over committing incest with my brother and letting it be recorded on video. As a result, within two months, I had made three more pornographic schoolgirl videos and committed incest with my father. Like I said…

Anyway, this is how it happened with Daddy.

That night my parents were glad to see I was up and feeling better. We ate together for the first time since my ‘illness’ started. Mum was full of her new job and the move. It made me upset and angry with her, but I hid it. As far as she was concerned, what 19 year-old would be upset about being left in charge of a big three bedroom house without parents watching her every move. I think Daddy sensed I was unhappy about the move though. He knew that I wasn’t the extrovert centre of attention that Mum was.

Still, it was hard to maintain my bad mood after Pugh’s email. I ended up telling them a drastically edited story about how I was getting paid for market research interviews. They wanted to know how it was going. As I already had more cash in my room than I could have got if I slaved all summer at ASDA, I admitted it was going pretty good. It’s strange how your mind works sometimes. The prospect of getting another £2000 from Pugh to cover up my ‘mistake’ made me feel even better.

I went up to bed early to give them some time alone, but before I did, I got Dad to promise to take me to breakfast on Monday. Getting ready for the move, he was reducing his hours and only worked afternoons. Mummy, on the other hand, was already putting in long days in her new role.

Upstairs in my room after our meal, I reread Pugh’s email. It still looked almost too good to be true, but there it was in black and white. I decided Pugh was right about being more careful and holding a walk-through. I would lay down conditions and Pugh would have to abide by them. The only problem seemed to be that he still wanted to do the school uniform fashion check. I opened the garment bag. My uniform was covered with the evidence of what happened.

There were two long pale snakes of dried cum on the front of the blazer, one stretched right up to the school badge. The plaid skirt was equally stained with splashes and snaky streaks. The entire lower half of my tie (still knotted) was stained darker than the top. It was entirely down to me. Before the interview I had only ever slept with my boyfriend a few times and had never had a hint of an orgasm with another person. I didn’t even know women could squirt, let alone that I could. With Dick I had come and squirted almost continuously.

It was exciting to gaze at the mess. None of my friends would have believed it, quiet little Anne-Marie had completely ruined her school uniform having raunchy sex. I shivered at the memory and imagined standing on stage in assembly dressed in the ruined clothes. A pulse of pleasure whispered from my belly into my vagina, another sign that my body was remembering my pleasure better than my mind was remembering the sinful way it was gained. Physically, I had enjoyed every minute of it. I had loved showing off in front of my brother and for the camera. It had been the ‘dirtiest’ day of my life.

My parents were still downstairs, so I quietly got all the crumpled bills that I had been paid and spread them out on top of the clothing. The money made the stains looked dirtier still, like the sluttiest sixth former in the world had left evidence of her bad behaviour just lying around. The aroused feeling spiked inside me, sending electric bolts from my cunt to the tips of my fingers and toes. Just mouthing the word, cunt, under my breath, made the good feeling even stronger. I squeezed my thighs together as I looked at the bills and the sordid ruination of my school uniform; not just a schoolgirl slut, but a schoolgirl slut whore. And to add to my happiness, Pugh was going to pay me to help him to suppress the evidence of my fall from grace. No one would find out.

I was so naive about Pugh that I still had no idea that I was already a paid porn actor who had agreed to make her next movie (for a fee of no more than £2000!). The talk I wanted to have with my Dad was far crazier. I had no idea at all, but, in my innocence, I was happy again. Daddy would understand and explain what had happened, and, then, my mind would feel just as cheerful as my body. Everything felt fine after an absolutely horrible week.

I celebrated by sitting naked on the ruined uniform, with the bills piled beside me watching the first video. I was not brave enough to watch the second, but never mind. Just knowing what would happen during the second interview made me ankara escort bayan start playing with myself as my image did its timid strip-tease. In perfect confidence of Daddy’s forgiveness, It was ok, what we had done. I wouldn’t be able to wear my old school uniform to the next interview, though. I hoped my summer uniform frock would do. In truth I always thought it looked better than the full uniform.

I ended up touching myself as I watched, and squirted a little too; a little flood of creamy sauce that I rubbed across the shiny polyester lining of my blazer, saving my sheets and adding to my pleasure at the sordidness of it all.

With the confidence of a true innocent I casually accepted how I was turned on by all the kinks that surrounded the making of the videos. The only thing that I could not get my head around was the element of incest. Why had it happened with my brother? It was not like I loved him that way (eeuuggghh!!). Nonetheless I fell asleep amidst the evidence of my crimes, confident that Daddy would help me sort things out. Too true, as it happened.

We went for breakfast to our favourite cafe on the canal. Daddy had his usual full English. He works out and is a keen cyclist, so has always been able to eat what he wants. I was sticking with an omelette. We talked about general stuff at first, because I was afraid. It was not an easy topic to bring up, but eventually I was able to guide the conversation where I needed it to go.

We were sitting opposite each other in a booth, finishing our tea and talking about what I would do over the summer. “You know, Dad, I could make two or three thousand doing those market research interviews.”

“What? Really? Is it focus groups? I had no idea they paid as much as that.”

“Not really. They’re more in-depth. Ummmm… They video them.”

“Well, I’m not surprised, if they’re paying that much.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. I guess my nerves were showing. “Are you ok with that?”

My head went down. This was it. “I guess so, but, well… I’ve got the first two and … it’s just that the second one … They’re not very happy with it … well, no one is really, and it involves Dick, and…”

Daddy interrupted me, “wait a minute. How does it involve Dick?”

“They asked him to be interviewed as well, more in-depth … It doesn’t matter. It’s just that… Dad, is a step-brother that different from a brother? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You are my only Dad, even if you are not my real father…” That seemed almost disloyal, so I started to blub. He had to reach across the remains of our breakfast and give me an awkward hug, after which I subsided into sniffles.

“Darling, did he say something about the interviews, or about you during the interviews? You know he worships you. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” The wrong end of the stick, Daddy was not much more street-wise than me.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

Daddy interrupted again, “Anne-Marie, a step-brother is different from a full brother by blood, because he doesn’t have to love you or honour any of the other obligations unless he wants to. Dick loves you the way you are, and as his sister, because you are who you are. He chooses to love you the way he does. Does that help?”

“Actually, it does.” I was a little surprised. “You mean, it’s because we are brother and sister because we made a choice, like we could have made a different choice? If we changed our minds, we could just stop being family?”

At that he got really worried. “What? No! He will always be your brother. It’s just that your brother and, for that matter, me, … We choose to love you. In some ways a step relationship is more special, because we love and act the way we do together because we want to. We don’t have to be family. We just choose to be.”

“You mean, like a friend or just someone I know? He isn’t always just a brother?”

He looked cautious, “maybe. Darling, I’m not sure what you mean. I’d like to think that sometimes you can relate to Dick, not just as your brother. Sometimes he can be like a friend to you. I hate families where everyone just puts up with each other. He’s not just your brother. For that matter, I hope I’m not just as your Dad.”

He sounded so sweet and sincere. I wanted to tell him everything and get him, but how could I spell it out? He seemed to be saying it was ok to not act like family sometimes with step family, but I don’t think he had any idea just how NOT like family Dick and I had been. I began to sniff again.

“Can’t you tell me what is upsetting you?” I just shook my head, face averted. “Look,” he suggested, why don’t we watch the videos together and maybe I will see what has upset you. Dick loves you darling.”

Daddy was being so nice. “Well, maybe the first one.” I looked up at him shyly and smiled tentatively. He looked relieved. In the car I practically threw a fit when Daddy offered to wait until Mum got home so we could watch together. That finally convinced him I was seriously unhappy. He ignored my objections and phoned work to say he had a family crisis and would not be in that night. “There. Now I don’t need to go to sleep straight away. We can get this sorted out right now.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir