Chapter 1

Caution: This Coming of Age Incest Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Reluctant, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Incest, Mother, Son, Brother, Sister, Spanking, White Male, White Female, Oriental Female, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Lactation, Pregnancy, .

Desc: Coming of Age Incest Story: Chapter 1 - This is a story of a time and place that is gone. The early 1950s in California were golden years. A young man graduates from high school and learns to love his stepmother and stepsisters in a special way.

It was a time when people were looking to the future. The war was over and now peace would reign forever. Progress and prosperity for all. Or so we imagined. California was The Golden State. San Diego was the birthplace of California. It was 1953, and the world was opening up in wonderful ways. It was for me as well.

My father was an engineer at a company called Convair. It built aircraft. We lived in the San Diego area. Chula Vista, to be exact. I had turned eighteen years old in January. My senior year was over in a month. I was ready to meet the challenges. I would be going to college at San Diego State College. I could live at home.

The weather was grand, and the city was lovely. My stepmother was a housewife. Even though she had been a great mother to me, I still called her Cindy. She never minded, I don't think. Not a lot of women worked then. Salaries seemed adequate to support a family with a stay-at-home mother. I had two stepsisters, as well.

My father had adopted the girls. I suppose they were legally my sisters. And Cindy had adopted me, too. But still, I always thought of them as stepmother and stepsisters. And I loved them dearly.

Both girls had left home already. Sheila was married to her high school sweetheart. She was twenty-two years old now. Maggie was away at college. She was at SDSC too, but she had moved into her own apartment, near the campus. She was a year older than me. I missed them. Both of them were brunettes, and had long, wavy hair. They were beautiful. I thought so anyway.

We had become one family about ten years ago. My birth mother died from cancer. My father married a woman who had lost her husband to the same disease. They met at the hospital during visits there. I remembered my mother, and I still missed her once in awhile. But Cindy, my stepmother, had been good to me. She was a lovely woman, too. I loved this family, and I loved the way our relationships were changing, now that I was an adult.

I didn't know it at the time, but my father married Cindy to help her more than anything. He felt sorry for her, because she was a widow with two young daughters. Anyway, that's what he told me the night I turned eighteen. He'd had a little too much to drink celebrating my birthday. We were sitting in the back yard sipping beer, and he had opened up.

Actually, that was when he let me know that I was an accident. I think he was implying that he would have never married my mother if she hadn't become pregnant. Then she worked to get him through college. They had been a good team, but I felt that they had not really loved each other. Not in a physical way, anyway. That was just my impression. But it made me think.

It seemed to me that his marriage to Cindy was similar. They worked well together but there never seemed to be any passion. I don't remember them ever kissing in front of the girls and me. I couldn't help thinking that Cindy might have been happier with another man. This was before women's lib, and women didn't seem to really search for physical happiness. At least, looking back, that seems true.

But this all had opened my eyes to something. You understand, I loved my stepmother. But I also had some physical desires, too. And I really enjoyed seeing her around the house. She usually wore house dresses, but sometimes, when it was hot out, she would decide to leave her bra off. Our house was a stucco bungalow, and it didn't really have great air conditioning. Just a window unit, which wasn't that good at keeping us cool.

At school we didn't learn about sex at all. What we learned was from our friends, who didn't always get the information straight. I found out how much I didn't know on the weekend I became eighteen. I had a girlfriend, and she decided to let me do things with her, as a birthday present. I think now that she wanted a little fun herself. But she would never have said that. Not back then.

Belinda and I had spent lots of time kissing, and touching a little. I got to squeeze her tits a few times, and we french kissed for hours sometimes. But she had never let me touch her pussy inside her panties, and she hadn't played with my dick, ever. But this night she let me get a finger in her pussy, and she jacked me off. I came really quickly, and got it on her dress. She was a little pissed. But it passed.

We broke up soon after that. I guess she had discovered her own desires, because she started dating a baseball player on the varsity team. They were still a couple as graduation approached. And I was feeling urges that made me jerk off almost every night after I went to bed. Sometimes I thought about Belinda. But most of the time it was Cindy I would think about as I shot my cum.

That was my real world knowledge of sex. What it had done was arouse a need for more. More knowledge, and more actual sex, if I could get it. I had started looking at Cindy in a new way. Her long, brown hair made me want to touch it. Her bouncing tits, when she walked around the house, caused my prick to tingle. Her smile, with the red lipstick she wore, made me want to kiss her. I will just say it. I wanted to fuck her. The way people screwed in the dirty cartoon booklets we passed around at school.

We had a two bedroom house. It was modest, but we had been comfortable. I don't think I had ever heard Dad or Cindy making love. The girls and I had shared a bedroom. There were two sets of bunk beds. The girls both slept on the bottom beds, and I switched to either upper bunk, depending on what game I was playing. Until I got older and stuck to just one. When Sheila left I took a lower bed. Then I had the room to myself when Maggie moved out.

It may seem strange now, but we had been perfectly happy like that. Although, I do remember the girls complaining to Cindy that I was rather messy. And they sometimes yelled at me to stop squirming around, and making noise, while they were trying to sleep. I admit that I would often jerk off in a sock when I thought they were asleep. Now, with the room to myself, I could rub one out whenever I pleased.

One afternoon I arrived home early because the teachers were having some kind of meeting. We would be graduating soon and they had plans to make. I walked home from high school because I didn't have a car. Besides, it was only seven blocks. I took my time, enjoying the smell of the oleander blooming in front of most bungalow houses. The roses were bursting out too, as they did almost year round here. And palm trees lined the streets, while the insects buzzed in the spring air.

Anyway, I came in the house and started back to my room. I thought I heard the insects buzzing again as I went down the hall to my room. Cindy and Dad's bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the noise was coming from in there. I peeked into the room, around the door jamb. It was the turning point in my life. I believed it then, and I know it now.

Cindy was lying on the bed. She had her dress on, but it was pulled all the way up to her waist. Her panties were around her ankles. She was propped up on pillows and I could see she had one hand on a breast. Her hair was hanging down behind, as her head was flung back. Her mouth was open and I could hear her as she moaned.

Her other hand was rubbing something against her pussy. It seemed to be making the sounds I heard. It was touching her and then going in and out of her slit. She was fucking herself with what I later learned was a vibrator. I could see her body shaking. I unzipped my jeans. My cock was getting hard very quickly. I fished it out and started to jack off.

My strokes were strong but slow at first. God, you have no idea how good it made me feel. She was right there, almost naked, and I could see her hairy pussy. I was hard as hell, and life was great. I started jerking faster. I wanted to cum before she stopped. I don't know how long she had been doing things to herself. I just wanted to make my prick cum before she finished. I was getting closer. It was going to shoot. Fuck! It tried to spurt out, and I covered the head with my hand. As I turned to quickly move away I tripped on the carpet runner.

Shuffling down the hall, and into my room, I grabbed a tee shirt off of my chair. I caught the cum and wiped my cock clean. I could hear Cindy approaching hesitantly down the hall. I quickly stuffed my prick into my pants and tossed the tee shirt in the corner. I sat down at my desk and opened a book. My door slow opened.

"Peter, I didn't hear you come in. Why're you home already? Were you sick?"

"Oh, it's just the teachers having a meeting today. We knew about it, but I forgot to tell you. I'm just studying a little now so I won't have to this weekend."

"Okay. So everything is good then? You're alright?"

"Of course Cindy. What's for supper?"

"Well, there's a pot roast cooking now. We'll eat as soon as your father gets home."

She reached out and caressed my curls. I had blond, curly hair. I hated it, but some girls liked it. I guess maybe Cindy did too. She teased me about it sometimes. So did my stepsisters. I didn't mind. I sort of liked the attention. If I hadn't just shot my wad I would have been getting hard again. She smiled, and her red lips were moist looking. She turned and walked out, down the hall to the kitchen.

All through supper I was thinking about what I saw that day. It convinced me that I needed more. I wanted a lot more. My stepmother was beautiful, and sexy. I wanted a woman like her to want me. I smiled at her, over the centerpiece of flowers, and she smiled back. She dabbed her napkin on her lips, then her tongue softly licked them. I felt a surge in my prick.

"Honey, I've decided to go up to the lake and do some fishing tomorrow. Peter, I didn't know if you'd want to go. You haven't fished with me in awhile."

"Dad, I think I'll pass this time. I still need to work on a paper for my English class. Where were you going?"

"Probably Lower Otay. I'll be out of here by six. I'll try for some crappie and bluegill. You don't mind do you honey?"

"Not at all Robert. You need to get out. Tomorrow should be lovely. Will you be home in time for supper?"

"Yes. If I bring home some fish I'll clean them and we can have them. Is that okay, hon?"

"Of course. As long as you clean them I'll cook them." She laughed and her voice stirred me.

We finished our supper and went in to listen to the radio. I don't remember what we listened to. It may have been Fibber McGee and Molly, or the Cisco Kid. We didn't have a television yet. Lots of people didn't then. Anyway, after a couple of hours I went to my room. I heard Dad and Cindy go to bed shortly after that. It was warm enough that I slept with the window open. I heard a coyote howling as I drifted off, thinking of Cindy.

I awoke with a start. I heard someone in the kitchen. It was Dad getting ready to leave. He had made his own breakfast. I got up, went in to the bathroom, and peed in the toilet. I was awake now. In my pajamas I wandered in to see Dad off. He was just leaving.

"Good luck Dad. I'd like some crappie for supper tonight."

"I'm sure I'll get some, Peter. The fishing reports have been good this week."

He left, being quiet so as to not wake Cindy. I heard his 1949 Ford as he shifted into gear and drove away. I went back to the bathroom and had a morning shower. I dressed and then went out for a walk. I loved the smell of the eucalyptus in the morning. Saturdays in our neighborhood were just like a small town back then. Some kids were playing ball in the street already. We all played baseball back then. It was always the most important sport to us. The boys anyway.

I was getting some coffee as Cindy was moving to use the bathroom. I smiled at her as I went into the living room. She smiled back at me as she clutched her robe tight against her tempting breasts. She closed the door, and soon I heard the shower start running. We were alone in the house for the day. I didn't know what was to come, but I had disjointed and conflicting dreams and hopes.

It had never really occurred to me how much I enjoyed living in a home with three pretty women in it. I was sitting on the sofa and thinking about Cindy in the shower. I realized that she was in her forties now, but she was so pretty. Some of my buddies in school had razzed me about how nice and young she always looked. I hadn't paid much attention. I had other things on my mind.

Now, it was changing. I thought I had grown up. I actually had, all of a sudden. I was eighteen, and soon away to college. And I remembered how nice it had been when the two girls were at home. Both hadn't minded walking around in their bras and panties. At least, they did in our room. They never worried about me. I was just Peter, the little annoying brother. But I had sometimes thought of them as I played with myself up in my bunk bed.

And here was Cindy, still here, and still beautiful, and attractive, and desirable. It was nice, very nice, to think about her. I slowly unzipped my trousers, took out my growing cock, and began to stoke it. I took a handkerchief out of my pocket, closed my eyes, and laid back on the sofa cushion. I was drifting away as the spring odors drifted through the open windows. I took my time, enjoying the feeling of my prick as I dreamed about Cindy's jiggling titties, and that hairy pussy I had seen the day before.

"Peter! What're you doing?"

Holy shit! I pressed my hands over my crotch, trying to hide my erection from Cindy's eyes. I looked up at her, as she stood in the archway into the living room. I was terrified. I had no idea what this meant. We were so afraid of sex back then. It was taboo, nasty, and no one really talked about it. Even though we all wanted it so badly. I felt in my sinking heart that I was lost.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Cindy. Please, don't tell Dad. I'm sorry."

Her wide, dark brown eyes were staring at me. Her lips were trembling slightly. Her hand was clutching her chenille robe to her breasts. I could see her shapely legs beneath the short garment, and her feet were bare. My cock had deflated quickly. I was completely at sea as to what I should do.

She slowly approached, and then stood in front of me, looking down. I thought I might start crying, I was so scared, but her delicate hand gently reached out and stroked my curly, blond hair. It soothed me, and made me feel that everything would be alright. Yes, it was all going to be okay.

Cindy stroked my cheek, and then she turned away, went to an easy chair, and sat down. She was facing me, and she was smiling. I saw her slowly open her robe, and her body appeared there before me. I began to grow again. One hand went to a breast, and she pinched her nipple. The other was touching something at the top of her pussy. Then a finger went to her slit.

I started squeezing my prick as hard as I could, and my strokes were slow and measured. I was looking straight into her eyes, and I saw a tear drop down her cheek. But her smile told me she was not unhappy. My cock was almost ready to burst, and her eyes closed as her lips parted. I heard her begin to whimper, as I jacked my prick faster. It was so fucking fine. So fucking fine. God, it was heaven!

I could not hold it any longer. My spunk spurted out, and continued jetting out for eight or nine times. I was groaning and I called out her name. Her eyes opened, and she grinned as she watched me cum onto the handkerchief. Then her eyes shut, and her face looked as if she was in pain. Her mouth opened wide, and her cries left her lips. She called my name.

"Peter, Peter, oh fuck, baby, fuck."

Her body shook, and then she relaxed. Her fingers went to her mouth. She licked them. Sitting there I knew that it had all changed. Life had changed. It was going to be so much better. I rose up and went to her. I sat on the arm of the chair. She looked up at me. She smiled. It was going to be so much better.

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