Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mind Control, Incest, Mother, Son, .

Desc: Incest Sex Story: Ever take note of the fools people will make of themselves to get their pictures taken? What if we could exploit that?

Copyright © 2002

Ever take note of the fools people will make of themselves to get their pictures taken? What if we could exploit that?

See No Evil: Contains sexually explicit and politically incorrect material. If you shouldn't be reading this, or if it might offend you, simply stop now.

Legalese: All actors and actresses are over the age of consent. Proof of age is on file. Any similarity of any character, event or place to any actual person, event or place, is purely coincidental. This is all fantasy, and the actors are all professionals -- do not try any of this at home.

Archiving: You are welcome to discreetly repost or archive this, just do not change it, steal from it or claim credit for it.

Author's Ramblings: I am working on wrapping up a couple of my unfinished stories, but this tale bubbled up out of the murky magma that is my brain in one sitting, sort of as a stress relief (been traveling every weekend with my job the last few months).

Warning: morbid self-reflection ahead.

I was a really big fan of Dierdre's. Her stories consisted of a set of quickly sketched scenes where reality simply melted into the sexually-laden substrate underneath and it was almost like watching one of those animation flip-books, the plots moved so quickly.

Hopefully, I've kept her sense of just how sexual things are underneath the surface and how that can just erupt into our artificially staid everyday lives. I haven't kept her quick, light style, I'm afraid. My characters are an unruly bunch that each demand (and usually get) their ten minutes on stage. So far, this has worked well enough, though I reserve the right to change in the future.

This story is different from my other ones in that I did NOT follow all the story leads nearly as far as I usually do: just three major interactions -- bap, bap, bap -- with lots of potential paths still unfollowed. Not a Dierdre story, but a step in that direction. Let me know if you prefer this less exhaustive style of plotting. I can change how many story leads I follow up on (though I won't change Dierdre's approach of that delicious promise of what is on everyone's mind, just underneath the surface, if only they knew and admitted... ).

P.S. I know I break the framework: the story starts as an email, but you wind up getting more information than Robert got from the email. I cite precedence with Ellery Queen, where the occasional scene showed more than our detective observed.

Live well, Jafar

They Got Us

Hi, Robert.

Yeah, it's me. Your self. If you're reading this, it means that they got to you. To us. To me.

Wow, this is weird, talking to myself. Or writing to myself, as the case may be -- to a now-ignorant version of me...

I knew they would be after us when they found out -- after all of us. Something like this is just too big to not squash when it begins to leak.

When I realized this, I took several of our journal entries and included them with this explanation and sent it out on the net. This e-mail has probably been around the world 20 or 30 times, time-paused at each hop along the way to hopefully throw them off our trail. If you're reading this, I guess it worked. You may get this message several times -- I sent it out via multiple routes.

I deleted the original entries from our journal, though I don't expect that to help much. I suspect they'll just do a mass brain-wipe of the town to clean up this mess.

I'll warn you now that you're not going to believe this. I couldn't believe it even as it happened. But there it was... happening.

Do me -- us -- a favor and read this entire message all the way through, no matter how insane it sounds before you judge me -- us? yourself? -- as crazy.

I guess the best way to start this off is to just jump right into our first journal entry of the events:

Monday, November 5th. I can't believe what happened today! It was like something out of a porn movie, for goodness sake!

I was sneaking to the supply closet in the front office for a cup of coffee when...

Photographers Do It With a Flash

"You're not supposed to notice me," Robert whispered when Mrs Stotter glanced up from her desk in the front office.

"You know that coffee will stunt your growth, Robert," the pretty blonde secretary whispered back.

"I'm eighteen. I'm already as growthed as I'm going to get." He continued walking toward the supply closet that held the precious brown brewed liquid. "And thanks for understanding senioritis," he grinned.

Barbara Stotter understood senioritis -- had watched her daughter Tina go through it last year. But, "It has nothing to do with understanding bored high school seniors, Robert. Your mother said that it was okay for you to have a little coffee now and then, but to let you keep thinking you were sneaking it -- that it would taste better for you that way."

Robert harrumphed. His mother taught senior English and the administrative staff at the school always knew all about his life-events -- like his first kiss two years ago, which Mrs Stotter had thought was just darling. "Just darling"! No man likes to be "just darling."

It wasn't easy being a teacher's son.

"Well, get your coffee," she flicked her hand at the closet, "before we both get caught."

"Thanks!" he whispered and ducked inside. He filled his mug with the last in the pot, then ran some water in the empty pot to start brewing the next one.

Meanwhile, Principal Chadburn stepped out of his office, carrying a camera. "Hi, Barbara. Anyone else out here?"

Her eyes flicked toward the supply closet. "No, sir. Just me," she smiled.

"In that case, I'd like to get a couple pictures for the yearbook if I could."

"Sure," she sighed. Usually they waited another month or two before they started in with this yearbook stuff.

He brought the camera up and she put a smile on her face.

Robert had heard Principal Shitbum and was peeking out where the closet door was opened a crack.


"That's good, Barbara. How about a couple more?"

"O... kay," she said, looking a little distracted.

"But you're a pretty girl. Stand up, take off that jacket. Let's see your pretty figure."

"Thank you, sir," she smiled, standing and removing the jacket.



"Oh, beautiful! You should have been a fashion model. Pull your hair back and up and let it fall to your shoulders."

Pleased with the compliments, she smiled and did so.

"Yeah, that's nice, Barbie! Now let's see a pout. C'mon, more than that. Show me that bottom lip. Your hubby won't get you that cute little kitten at the pet shop that you asked him so nicely for. Yeah, that's it."


"Now even more pout. You're man has abandoned you for the night all alone at home all HOT and BOTHERED. Isn't that just horribly, horribly MEAN of him? Oh, yeah, THAT'S the pout."


"Yeah, you're just EXUDING sexiness, baby. Now lean forward and cup your breasts through your blouse."

Robert's eyes widened as he watched the pretty blonde administrator do as she was told.


"Oh, Barbie, the camera loves you. Come around and sit on the front of the desk."

Robert watched Mrs Stotter flounce around and sit on the top of her desk.


"Okay, let's hike that skirt up and show a little knee, Barbie."

Mrs Stotter grinned naughtily as she pulled her hem up to about three inches above her knee.


"Barbie! You're a NATURAL! Now hike it up a little further and let's see that look of SHOCK as you get caught FLASHING your PUSSY."

Robert's jaw dropped as Mrs Stotter -- the coworker of his mother and the mother of one of his long-time friends -- pulled her skirt up to show white panties!

"No, no! What in the world were you thinking, honeybunch?!"

Barbie raised her eyebrows and looked hurt.

"You're a star, sweetheart, a model. You don't ever want to be caught wearing something as mundane as panties."


"No," Shitbum shook his head solemnly.

"I'm... sorry..."

"Well, now... reach up and pull them off."

"I... don't think that..."


"You're HOT, baby. You're TEASING the camera. Now let's lose the sopping wet underwear."

Giggling, Mrs Stotter hopped off the desk, her skirt dropping back down. Reaching up underneath, she wriggled her ass as she slid her panties to her knees, then off. Smiling, she turned around and held them up, dangling from her thumb and forefinger.


"Now tell me how wet they are, Barbie."

"Oh, honey," she smiled, "I am just a JUICER! And I am SO turned ON right now!"

"WHAT... is going on here?!" Ms Carmichael stood with her fists on her hips, having just walked in on a scene wholly unexpected and utterly inappropriate in a public high school!


"Yes, YES, the camera likes you TOO, Rachel."

"I, ehr..."


"Oh, yeah, what a SEXY little thing you are. Doesn't this look like FUN? To pose like Barbie?"

"I, uhm..."


"Yeah, now hold your left hand up behind your head, Rach, and cock your hip out to the left like you're a model on Vogue."

"I-- I, uh-- like this?" She flashed a smile up on her face.


"Beautiful! Hot! Sexy! Now lean forward and shake your chest to jiggle your boobies!"

.... There is more of this story ...

The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account

Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Fa/Fa / Mind Control / Incest / Mother / Son /