A Stormi Night - illustrated
Copyright© 2025 by CreepyUnclePete
Chapter 12 - Toy Training
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 12 - Toy Training - Stormi runs to Uncle Pete for comfort, then seduces him. This is quite realistic, instead of the thousands of stories which are "Sex twice a page wankfests." I've written many of those and they have their place, but not this time.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Drunk/Drugged Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Workplace Sharing Incest Uncle Niece Anal Sex Analingus Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Pegging Petting Sex Toys Smoking Illustrated
The bathroom door creaked open, steam curling into the hallway like ghostly fingers. Helen emerged, her skin flushed pink from the scalding water, beads of moisture clinging to the swell of her hips. Every step was a deliberate sway. Her ass jiggled with the weight of her confidence, the dimples above her cheeks deepening as she shifted her weight. Her tits were obscenely full, swaying with each movement, nipples puckered and dark against her pale skin. She paused at the bedroom doorway, running a hand through her damp hair, her smirk sharp enough to draw blood.
My bed groaned slightly as she climbed onto it, the sheets cool against her belly. She arched, lifting her hips, presenting herself like a trophy. “Don’t just stare,” she purred, spreading her thighs wider. “Prove you can handle more than just my daughter’s tight little twat.”
The camera’s red light blinked to life as I knelt straddling her knees. My first lick was tentative, slow, from the crease of her thigh up to the furl of her asshole. She shuddered, toes curling into the sheets. “More. Deeper.” she demanded, grinding back against my face. I obeyed, lapping at her rim with broad, wet strokes, the taste of soap and something darker, something hers, flooding my taste buds. Helen moaned, low and filthy, one hand reaching back to spread herself wider. “Yeah, just like that. Let Frank see how devoted to my dumper you are.”
Her laughter dissolved into gasps as my tongue delved deeper, probing, circling, relentless. The cameras caught it all, the way her back bowed, the slick shine of spit and sweat between her cheeks, the moment her fingers fisted in the sheets as she came, shuddering, from nothing but my slick tongue in her ass.
Helen rolled onto her side, panting, her grin triumphant. “Now that’s a scene Frank won’t forget!” She stretched, catlike, then tapped the mattress. “He might even puke. Hahaha! Before I leave, you’re doing that again.”
I wiped my mouth, the foul, bitter, lusty taste lingering, the guilt a dull throb pounding against my conscience. But Helen wasn’t done.
“Finger it,” she demanded, voice thick with satisfaction. I slid my pinky in with slow deliberation, the tight ring of muscle resisting before yielding. Her groan was obscenely loud. My other hand found her dripping slit, circling her cleft in spirals, orbiting repeatedly, until a finger on her clit made her hips jerk like she’d been electrocuted. “Fuck! Yes! Just like ... URRRH!” Her words disintegrated into a ragged scream, her orgasm slamming through her, with my middle finger deep in her back door.
Then, the unmistakable creak of the bedroom door, followed by Stormi’s voice, “OHMIGAWD!”
Helen froze mid-scream, her back arched like a bowstring, her whole body locked in the throes of orgasm. My finger was still buried in her asshole. The camera’s red light blinked obliviously as I withdrew, capturing the slight gape of her anus, every twitch of Helen’s thighs, every tremor of her stomach, the horrified widening of Stormi’s eyes.
Silence. Then, Helen’s laugh - sharp, almost hysterical - cut through the air like a blade. “HAHAHA! Well, shit.” She didn’t move, didn’t bother covering herself, just let the aftershocks ripple through her while Stormi stood there, her knuckles white around the doorframe.
Stormi’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her face cycled through shock, disgust, betrayal - then settled on something darker, something molten. “You ... you WHORE!” The words dripped venom.
Helen finally rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “Oh, honey. You knew we were filming.” She gestured lazily to the camera. “I told you before you ran off.”
Stormi’s fists clenched. She took a step forward - then stopped, nostrils flaring, like she could smell us on each other.
I yanked my hands away like I’d been burned. “Stormi...”
“No.” She backed up, shaking her head. “You said you loved me!” The hurt in her eyes was worse than any slap.
Helen stretched, shameless, her legs falling open again. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just sex.”
“That’s different! I love him! You just screwed him to piss me off!”
“No, to piss you off, I’m going to make it look like you accidentally sent this to your father. Spoofing phone numbers is easy these days.” She held up her phone, playing video of Stormi masturbating in the bathtub. Soapy water splashed everywhere as she called out, “Yeah! Right there! FUCK ME...” She clicked it off and Stormi’s face instantly went bright red.
“You spied on me? Delete it! Right now!” Her breath hitched, then she lunged for the phone. Helen moved faster, yanking it away and holding it out of reach. “No no. Daddy’s gonna love this one! I’ll arrange for him to see it while I’m in the room. It’ll be great.”
The air turned to ice. Stormi’s voice dropped to a whisper, slowly enunciating, then exploded loud as a helicopter. “Give. It. To. Me. You. FILTHY WHORE!”
Helen smirked. “Babygirl, Pete gave you booze, cigarettes, and a bunch of expensive clothes so you’d fuck him. You’re the whore.”
And then - chaos. Stormi launched herself across the bed, fingers clawing at Helen’s wrists. Helen rolled, kicking out, her knee connecting with Stormi’s ribs. A grunt, a curse, a tangle of limbs. A fingernail scratched Helen’s cheek and it bled a little. I grabbed Stormi around the waist, hauling her back as she thrashed, her scream raw. “LET GO! I’LL KILL HER! I SWEAR TO GOD! I’LL KILL HER!”
Helen sat up, panting, the camera clutched to her chest. “Tsk. Such a temper.” She licked her lips. “Guess you really are your father’s daughter.”
Stormi went still and her entire body sagged against me. Her voice was small, broken. Waterfalls streamed from her eyes. “Why? You want to embarrass me in front of Daddy, and you FUCKED the first man I really loved! WHY?”
Helen stood, smoothing her hair. “Because I can, and because you need lessons and a distraction for your father. And because you need a reason to quit smoking and drinking. If you don’t quit, your father gets the video as a Christmas present. You have six months, then you need to pass three weekly alcohol and nicotine tests in a row.”
“MOM! JEEZ!”
I stepped forward, fingers twitching, wanting to comfort Stormi, to undo all of it. “Helen,” I said carefully, “this was ... wrong. Blackmailing her. Both of us with sex ... Stormi, I...”
She recoiled. “You promised!” Her voice cracked. “You swore you loved me!”
Helen exhaled sharply, tossing the camera onto the bed. “Oh, for cripes sake! You think everybody’s faithful?” She grabbed her robe and shrugged it on, cinching the belt tight. “Sit down before you fall down.”
Stormi didn’t move. Helen rolled her eyes. “Fine. Be dramatic.” She turned to me. “Fix it. Apologize.”
I swallowed hard. “Sweetness...”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
Helen sighed. “Look. We all need each other. You both need me to keep Frank off your backs. I need Pete to make your father jealous, so he’ll treat me like he used to. And Stormi...” Helen smirked. “Stormi needs us to stop pretending she’s some innocent little baby.”
Stormi flinched.
Helen softened - just a fraction. “Kid, you want to be a grown woman? Then act like one. This isn’t high school. It’s real life. And in real life...” She gestured between us. “ ... sometimes the people you love fuck other people. Get over it.”
Silence. Then Stormi’s whisper. Her voice cracked in the middle of, “I hate you!”
Helen shrugged. “Yeah. Join the club.” She turned to me. “Apologize. Properly.”
I cleared my throat. “Stormi, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...”
Helen snorted. “Weak. Try again.”
My jaw tightened. “Stormi. I fucked up! I broke my word. No excuses. I am sorry, so sorry! If you never forgive me, I’ll understand.”
Stormi stared at me, eyes shimmering. Then she nodded. Once. Sharp.
Helen clapped her hands. “Good. Who’s hungry?”
The kitchen smelled of basil, oregano, garlic, and tomatoes. Stormi picked at her food, twisting spaghetti around her fork without eating. Helen, meanwhile, devoured hers with the gusto of a woman who’d just been thoroughly fucked, twice.
I watched both with my stomach in knots. Finally, Stormi pushed her plate away. “I’m going downstairs.”
Helen arched a brow. “To smoke?”
Stormi glared. “Yeah. Got a problem with that?”
Helen wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Nope. But I’m coming with you.”
Stormi blinked. “Why?”
Her mother stood, stretching. “Because I want to.” She smirked. “And because I haven’t had a cigarette since I got pregnant with you.”
The basement was dim, lit only by a few candles and the flickering fireplace. Stormi lit up, inhaling deep, then exhaled a long stream of smoke toward the ceiling.
Her mother watched, then held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
Stormi hesitated. “Seriously?”
Helen snapped her fingers. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Stormi shrugged and handed her the cigarette. Helen put it to her lips, then coughed violently after the first drag, dropping it to the concrete floor, her face turning blue.
Her daughter grabbed it and burst out laughing. “Hahaha! Damn! So funny! You’re awful! Hahahaha!”
Helen wheezed, wiping her eyes. “Shut up.” She grabbed it back and took another drag, coughing even harder, doubling over.
Stormi grinned. “Wow! And here I thought you were some kind of badass.”
Helen scowled. “I smoked a lot...” She coughed again. “ ... until you made me quit. Once I got pregnant, every cigarette made me queasy. I used to smoke a carton a week.”
Stormi smirked. “Yeah? Well, you suck now.” She took the cigarette back, inhaling smoothly. “Little coughy baby smoker. Hehehe!”
Helen swatted her arm. “Brat.” But there was no heat in it.