Chapter 3: Revealing the Truth

After the time when I watched Randy and his sister doing it on their parents’ bed while I lurked in the closet, we never really talked a lot about it. It was just one of those things we seemed to reach a mutual consensus on without really saying anything out loud - no discussion about him and his sister. He actually seemed to be a little embarrassed by it all. I really couldn’t blame him as all of the reasons I mentioned before as to why I don’t discuss incest with boyfriends probably applied to him as well to one degree or another. As for me, I sensed his insecurities and it also made me wary of talking about it as I end up inadvertently sharing something about me in the process just to make him feel better.

As time passed, I couldn’t help but wonder more about Randy and his sister. It was a fluke getting the opportunity I’d had the first time so I was under no delusions that I’d ever see them having sex again. In fact, I hadn’t even seen her since then as she lived on her own and never seemed to be at her parent’s home when I was there with Randy. Since Randy wasn’t bringing up the issue, it didn’t seem right for me to either. Still ... when I meet him and we are doing it, I can’t help but wonder what they did last night? Was the same dick that was buried in me now deep inside his sister’s pussy last night? Was that faint odor I smelled when I sucked his dick the lingering scent of his sister’s pussy? To be honest, it was driving me a little crazy at times.

Not to go off on a tangent, but what is “worse”, at least in the public’s eye - a father fucking his daughter or a brother screwing his sister? It’s really not a fair question as it’s sort of like asking a man if he has stopped beating his wife. Personally, I DO see a difference, not so much as to whether one is any more “right” or “wrong” than the other, but rather in terms of emotions and submission. bf As an only child. I’ve never had the opportunity to have sex with a brother since I was an only child. Still, I know that at least in my fantasies the sex would have been more for fun than anything else. Having a horny brother on hand for sex whenever I needed it would be convenient, not to mention downright handy when I was hornier than usual, but I couldn’t see it being anything all that emotional like it was when my dad fucked me. Maybe I’m looking at it wrong, but I would think the sex would be all about getting ourselves off more than anything involving “love” or emotions.

In contrast, sex with my dad is ALL about emotions. He’s forty-five now and face it, from a purely physical perspective it’s not quite the same getting drilled by a twenty-three year-old stud like Randy. At the same time, sex with my dad is much more fulfilling in that during sex and afterwards I feel a sense of love and respect which lingers on long after he has cum in me. While sex with Randy is physically incredible (the boy has one talented dick), it always leaves me wanting more, like I’m some sort of drug addict craving her next fix. I guess you could also say that I have sex with my dad because HE wants it whereas I have sex with Randy because I want it. My duty as a daughter is to please my father but with Randy, while of course I try to make him happy the most important thing is that I get what I want.

So back to my original question, “What is “Worse?- a father fucking his daughter or a brother doing his sister? The reason I ask that now is because it was central to my thoughts and considerations when it came to what I would tell Randy - and even more so, what I would NOT tell him. The important question was if he knew I was having sex with my dad, would the consequences of having his own incestual relationship with his sister be enough incentive to keep his mouth shut about me and my dad?

Knowing Randy’s parents, I had to believe the answer to my question would be yes, there WOULD be sufficient consequences, at least enough for him not to want to have his own secrets revealed. His mother in particular was almost insane when it came to premarital sex, so I could only imagine how she would react to her own kids having INCESTUAL sex. God, that would probably send her off with a stroke!

There was also the question that even if Randy COULD be trusted, what did I have to gain from revealing the truth to him? It’s not like our sex would be any different - my god we already fuck like rabbits as it is! At this point I couldn’t picture my father fucking me in front of him any more than him doing me in the public square at noon on Saturday. So what would be the point in telling Randy anything?

Perhaps I was all wrapped up in this train of thought because in some ways I just wanted to tell someone my secrets ... ANYONE! Holding it in all these years was really tough at times and just once I wanted to see the look in a guy’s eyes when he found out the truth about me. Considering Randy’s own incestual experiences, I was pretty sure it would be a look of lust, not disgust, one of excitement and desire. Mmmmmmm, I could only imagine the sex we’d have afterwards! Would he want to role-play with me as his daughter and him as my daddy?

Whenever major decisions such as this arise, I have one sure-fire way of handling them - procrastination. Fast decisions are rarely good decisions, at least when I make them. Most of my major screw-ups in life can be traced back to a quick decision made in the heat of the moment. I’m sure there are those people to whom such decisions come easily, but not for me. Thus after seeing Randy and his sister together, I tabled any thoughts of sharing what I’d done with my dad with Randy and bided my time, figuring God would reveal the proper time and place to me. Well, despite my persistent prayers God certainly took his sweet time about it...

New Years Eve came and I almost told Randy then. Rather than going out and doing something wild like I usually do to celebrate the new year, I decided to stay home with just Randy and my cousin. Being the numbers were such that he was the only guy, I couldn’t be selfish and so I shared Randy with Kristen throughout the evening. However, when it came to the clock striking midnight, he was MY boyfriend so I made sure that I was the one he was fucking as the ball dropped at Times Square. Our timing was just a little off - I wanted him to explode in me just as the ball hit bottom but he was a couple of seconds late. Still, not too shabby considering his orgasms aren’t exactly something he can control with much precision. Indeed I have enough stained outfits to prove it.

Afterwards as we lay in my bed still coupled together, I thought it might be the perfect time to tell him my “secret?” Then, just as I was about to say something, my horny cousin plopped down on top of the two of us and that was that. The sex was great, of course, but the mood had definitely changed and it just didn’t feel right telling him when he was falling asleep next to me, especially with my cousin sandwiching him in from the other side.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later for the right moment to finally present itself. This time I was at his house for a quick fuck after we’d gone out to a movie. His parents were out and we were both horny as hell so we figured why waste another half hour or more driving back to my place, especially since Kristen would likely to be home and the odds were pretty slim that she would leave us alone for long. Not saying it would be so bad if she didn’t, but I had other things in mind for which I needed his undivided attention.