An Infinity of Family Love
Copyright© 2025 by MrCurrie
Chapter 6
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Dave is a fortunate man. Follow his journey with him through a lifetime of love, challenges, and enduring family bonds.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Son Daughter Pregnancy
I felt a little better after my drunk incident, but something inside me was still jammed, like my gears had rusted, unable to catch speed no matter how I tried. The following Friday, Jennifer handed me a small suitcase and said softly, but with quiet resolve, “Dad, I booked you a room at the Hilton for the weekend. I’ll drop you off and pick you up on Monday. You need time away from here. Walk the city, eat somewhere new. Do something that keeps your mind off of what’s happened.”
From the look on her face, I knew better than to argue. At the entrance, she handed me a keycard, room 1501. Near the top. I’d always liked high floors. With the small suitcase in hand, I stepped into the elevator, the soft hum rising with me floor by floor.
The room door lock turned green as I tapped it, the inner workings clicking. Swinging the door open, I smiled, seeing it was a suite, larger than I’d expected. One spacious front room gave way to a short hallway, which led to the large bedroom. I set my suitcase down and walked forward, letting my gaze land on the king-size bed. That brought a flicker of comfort. I’d always had a soft spot for big beds. Something about the space made it easier to breathe.
Suddenly, a familiar voice said, “What a beautiful view. The upgrade was well worth it.”
I turned, my pulse quickening. She stood by the window, wrapped in a hotel robe, her back to me, silhouetted against the skyline. The city stretched endlessly in every direction, shimmering in the sunlight, but I barely noticed it. My mind reeled, heart thudding, as recognition struck. “Julie?”
She turned, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. The years had been kind to her. She looked radiant, effortlessly elegant, unchanged in all the ways that mattered. “It was a long flight,” she said, her voice as smooth as ever. “I figured we’d rest a bit before heading out. Care to join me?”
My mouth was open, but no words were uttered. She untied her cottony belt and slid her robe off, revealing her magnificent, nude body. She was stunning, as always. Her breasts sagged a bit with age, but were still full, round, and begged to be played with. My gaze drifted lower, across her sunken stomach, landing on her brown trimmed bush. It was exactly the same as before, except for a few errant gray hairs mixed in.
It took a moment for the words to find me. When they finally did, they stumbled out, uneven and full of awe. “You’re just as beautiful as ever.”
That broadened her smile as she approached me and began unbuttoning my shirt. I kicked off my shoes and, with her help, I was soon unclothed. Her hand wrapped around my cock as her lips met mine. While we intimately kissed, I explored her body, my hands ending up filled with her breasts. She guided me to the bed, threw the covers to the side, and pulled me on top of her.
We resumed kissing as she spread her legs, lifted her hips, and guided my prick to her slit. She was soaked, and I easily slid to the bottom of her chasm. We hugged each other, staring into each other’s eyes while we slowly fucked, relishing the same intimacy we’d experienced when I’d impregnated her, twenty years earlier.
Her brown eyes, filled with lust, reminded me of Mom’s, but it wasn’t Mom; it was Julie. I’d loved Julie as a Mom, and it was as if she reminded me that life hadn’t ended when I lost Mom. I hadn’t unloaded since Amy sucked me dry more than a week earlier, so I knew I wouldn’t last long. It didn’t matter because Julie’s hips thrashed as her legs wrapped around me, pulling me into her deeper, her telltale sign she was close to release.
She was ready, and so was I. When I exploded, her pussy clamped on tightly as her body shook with her orgasm. There was no faking on her part. Her face displayed the euphoric pleasure of her climax. When my cock softened, she kept her legs locked around me, her hands stroking my back. I kissed her, then rested my forehead gently beside hers. The tears came suddenly and unrelentingly as the dam inside me gave way. Everything I’d held back spilled out in quiet sobs.
Her body shook with mine as she cried with me. After our tears stopped, she lowered her legs. I rolled us so we were on our sides, facing each other. I whispered, “Thank you. I loved her so much, and you being here reminded me of the times we spent together. They were good times. Very special to all three of us. You were a Mom to me and still are. I feel like she’s reaching out to me through you.”
She smiled, gently kissed me, and replied, “I feel the same. Your mother would never want you to mourn her for the rest of your life. Her whole purpose in life was to make you happy. Show her that she didn’t fail. Live life to its fullest and don’t dwell on the negative.”
Her hand stroked my prick while we talked, and when it was hard again, she positioned herself for a doggy fuck, one of her favorite positions. I knelt behind her and shoved my cock between her swollen labia, sinking into her clasping cunt. She grunted and groaned as I pummeled her pussy. My fingers sank into her ass as I yanked her back into my groin with each thrust. Ten minutes later, my prick succumbed to her pulsing, squeezing pussy, and our orgasms synced perfectly.
We rested, dressed, and dined in the restaurant. We had many years to catch up on, our conversation lasting through dessert and several glasses of wine. When we made it to our room, my prick was already half-hard, thinking of spending the night with my other beautiful mom. She went into the bathroom first while I stripped my clothes off.
Hearing the shower start, she called out, “Dave, come join me.”
I walked into the steamy room and stopped abruptly, seeing her standing in the stall, wearing the blue bra and panties. Her breasts were larger than before, spilling out of the sides of her bra. The water had drenched her undies, causing them to stick to her skin. It was a memory from the past that made my prick bob with excitement.
I stepped in, kissed her, and asked, “You kept them after all these years?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “I still remember that day I crashed on the bike. I didn’t want to ever forget that fateful event, so I haven’t worn them since the last time we showered together. Can you help me relive that moment?”
While we kissed, I removed her bra first and then slid her panties off, both getting soaked on the floor. She lifted one leg as before as I pushed her against the wall, stabbing my prick into her horny hole. It brought back more pleasant memories as I concentrated more on the woman squirming against me than on the loss of my mother.
After depositing my load into her, we rinsed off and retired to the bed. We made love several times that night as we reminisced about the times we’d spent with Mom. The next morning, we filled our plates at the buffet with pancakes, eggs, and fruit. Everything hearty enough to fuel the day ahead. Julie had already mapped out a full itinerary, and we spent the afternoon crisscrossing the city by Uber, revisiting gardens and landmarks we had explored in the past. Each stop stirred a memory, folded gently into laughter, and shared looks that said, ‘I remember too.’
That evening, we sat tucked into a booth at the hotel bar, the gentle clatter of glasses and quiet chatter settling around us. After dinner, I recounted Jennifer and Amy’s paths, their personalities, and the stories that had shaped them. She listened with real interest, asking thoughtful questions and lighting up at each detail. It felt good to share, and even better to see how much she cared. While her brows rose when I described our intimate relationship with them, she didn’t say anything negative about it, understanding we did it out of love.
After I finished, I asked her to tell me about our child. It turns out that Dad was a far better father to her daughter than he was to me. I guess he learned from his mistakes and rectified them.
“Do you think you’ll ever tell her that I’m her father?” I asked.
After a pregnant pause, she replied, “I wrote a letter to her explaining everything and placed it in my will to read after my death. She’s very level-headed and will hopefully understand. Frank has been a wonderful father to her, so I’m sure it won’t affect her. I love your father, but I also have strong feelings for you. I do have one regret, though.”
“What’s that?” I asked, hopeful it wasn’t about our relationship.
“I wish we could’ve remained here for another year so you could’ve given me another baby, but I knew it was too dangerous. Living close to your mother and you, I wouldn’t have been able to stop, and either the guilt or being caught would do irreparable harm. But I cherish the daughter you gifted me. I know I haven’t corresponded with you since we moved, but I needed to distance myself so I could concentrate on my marriage.”
“I understand, and I’m really glad everything worked out for you,” I said, sincerely. The next day, we spent our time walking through the downtown shops and dining out for lunch and dinner. That night, we made love several more times, each time mending more of my broken heart.
Monday morning, we ate early and returned to the room by eight. She had to leave for the airport at eleven, so I called Jennifer to pick me up a little before that. We decided to make love missionary style, enjoying intimacy to its fullest. After our first bout, we talked about where we’d traveled, and when I mentioned that Mom and I had visited Hawaii every ten years, I remembered the trip I’d scheduled in another month.
When I mentioned out loud that I’d have to cancel it, she stressed, “Please don’t. If you don’t go, you can always give it to one of your children as a gift.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “It could become a tradition to hand down to them. Thanks.”
We caressed and stroked each other’s bodies, finally ending up joined together again, slowly making love. Every tenth stroke or so, I’d pause and leave my cock buried in her clasping cunt, relishing the feel of her velvety walls. I feared it would be the last time we’d make love and wanted to savor the feeling. Her eyes verified my assumption, but she made sure we’d remember it forever.
When we neared our climax, I fucked her with wild abandon. She gave it her all, bouncing her hips up to meet my thrusts, her ankles locked into my back, pulling me in deep each time. We locked our mouths together as our bodies climaxed together. It was an act of love that I’d shared with Mom so many times, and it felt just as good with my other Mom.
When finished, we lay melded together, gasping for air. We kissed, our eyes conveying our love, and seeing we were running out of time, we dressed and made our way to the lobby. As soon as we stepped out of the elevator, Jennifer jumped into my arms, hugging me tighter than I’d felt in a long time. She could see the joy in my face and said, “Daddy, you look so much better. Did you have a good weekend?”
“Definitely,” I replied, a big smile plastered on my face. “Thanks to you and Julie, I feel like my old self.”
She hugged Julie as hard as she did me and said, “Thank you so much, Julie. I can’t believe how much you changed, Dad.”
Julie smiled, kissed my daughter on the cheek, and said, “Take care of your father, dear. He’s in good hands now. Keep in contact.”
Things improved dramatically after that. I dove into work, catching up on everything that had fallen behind. Progress came quickly with Jennifer’s help. One evening, while sitting with her in the garden, I asked, “How did you find out about Julie, and why did you contact her?”
“Amy, Mom, and I had a quiet talk one night while the rest of the family was asleep,” Jennifer began. “Mom gave us Julie’s contact information and made us promise that if you started slipping after she passed, we’d reach out to Julie. After Amy left, it felt like the walls were closing in, and I knew I had to follow through. I called Juie, told her about Mom’s passing, and the extent of your depressed state. She booked her flight right away and arranged the weekend at the Hilton.”
“I don’t know what she did with you,” Jennifer said, a soft smile playing at her lips, “But you’re not the same man you were before she arrived. Now spill it, Dad. I want to hear everything about her. No skipping the good parts.”
For the next hour, I did exactly that. She sat riveted to my tale, eyes wide, hooked on every twist and turn of my story about Julie. About us. She giggled at the part about the bike accident, nudging me for details like a kid hearing her favorite chapter again. And when I finally finished, she leaned in, wrapped her arms around me, and whispered, “Thanks, Dad. That explains a lot.”
She leaned back, a look of revelation crossing her face as she asked, “So, you had two mothers, impregnated both of them around the same time? What’s my sister’s name?”
I thought back to the weekend and replied, “I have no idea. She never told me, probably a little guarded under the circumstances.”
She let it go, but the furrow in her brow told me she hadn’t put it to rest. Not even close.
We fell back into a comfortable routine, and I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with my beautiful daughter. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. My heart sank when she informed me that she had to return home the next day. In a way, it was probably for the best.
Other than my time with Amy that last morning, I rarely got a hard-on, but since my time with Julie, my libido had been awakened with a vengeance. Jennifer’s thinly covered body next to mine each night made sleeping difficult. The worst part was knowing that Jennifer would’ve given herself freely, but knowing her relationship with Russ was tenuous at best, I didn’t want to shove her away from him.
Late in the morning, she gently took my arm, led me to her car, and pulled me close. “Take care, Dad,” she said, her voice thick with feeling. “If you need anything, I’m just a call away.”
She faced me, her beautiful brown eyes filling me with love. It was like looking at her mother, and when she swiped her tongue across her lips, I couldn’t help but kiss her. Her hands held the back of my head, ensuring I didn’t release her. After a long minute of connecting, her tongue darted through our lips. We French kissed as she hugged me tighter, her breasts smashed into my chest. Her hands lowered to my ass and pulled my groin into hers, my hard prick sinking into her stomach.
When she finally pulled back, her breathing short and rapid, she murmured, “I love you so much, Daddy.”
“I know, sweetie. I love you, too. Drive safe and call me when you get there,” I said, reluctantly releasing her. I stood outside until her car disappeared from view. It suddenly dawned on me that she hadn’t taken a suitcase. Curious, I checked her room and found it still tucked away in the closet, along with the clothes she’d worn during her stay. A slow smile spread across my face. Maybe it was her way of saying she planned to come back more often.
After catching up on work for a few hours, I headed to the garden, where I always turned to when seeking answers. I sank into the outdoor recliner nearest the roses and breathed in their soothing scent. As I sat in the quiet, my thoughts drifted to the road ahead, and it felt heavy with emptiness. Cancer had already stolen one love, and now the other had returned to her own life. Loneliness had settled in, silent and unshakable.
Falling asleep without the comfort of a woman beside me was its own kind of ache. I missed the heat of a woman’s body, her breath warm against my neck, and the casual intimacy of a leg or arm draped across me. I never understood how people could enjoy sleeping alone, but now, I’d have to learn. Even harder were the silent meals, stretching throughout the day. The absence of conversation, those small exchanges that lit up a morning or lingered over coffee, only worsened my mood. Now, the only voices were the distant chirping of birds, a quiet reminder of how much had changed.
To fill the silence, I called Amy every morning to catch up on my granddaughter’s latest antics. Our conversations were always lighthearted, filled with laughter over the everyday chaos of caring for a baby. One morning, she exclaimed, “How much can one little girl shit and piss? Jesus!” Her laughter grew even louder when I reminded her that she’d been just as prolific in her own baby days.
In the afternoons, Jennifer would ring, her voice a welcome rhythm to my day. Every few nights, she’d call again, often after dinner, and we’d talk for hours. It reminded me of being a teenager, constantly trying to spend as much time as I could with her. I often wondered what Russ made of all the time she spent with me. I never brought up her marriage, steering our conversations toward safer ground. She never mentioned it, and I didn’t ask.
Ten days later, Jennifer didn’t call either in the afternoon or evening. More than once, I reached for the phone, tempted to dial her number. But each time, I paused, wondering if she was focused on her own life, gently creating space between us. Maybe she was weaning me off, giving me the chance to stand on my own again.
And maybe that was necessary. I had grown too dependent on her presence, leaning on our conversations like crutches. It felt selfish, somehow. This hunger for connection, this need to fill the silence. So I let it be, convincing myself it was for the best. Even if it meant the days would feel hollow.
I stayed up past midnight, mindlessly watching a documentary with the phone by my side, hoping, no, wishing, it’d ring. Finally sliding into bed at one in the morning, sleep refused to come. I shifted, turned, and then curled onto my side. A tear traced down my cheek as the thought settled in. I might be losing my daughter.
I was too absorbed in self-pity to notice the sound of her steps. Her scent identified her immediately, then her arm slipped around my shoulders, pulling me into her quiet embrace. I inhaled shakily. Her fingertips grazed my neck, then moved gently across my cheeks, as if tracing away the tears she couldn’t bear to see.
“Dad?” she whispered, her voice brushing against me like a memory. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
I took a slow, trembling breath and guided her hand to my chest, holding it there as if I could tether us both with the gesture. “When you didn’t call today, I thought you’d gone on with your life,” I murmured. “Losing another person I love so much was a little bit much to bear.”
I felt clarity begin to surface, fragile but steady. “Why are you here, Jennifer?” I asked softly.
“Shh, Dad,” she whispered. “Sleep tonight and I’ll explain tomorrow.” She curled in close, the warmth of her presence anchoring me. Within minutes, sleep took me, gentle and complete.
The next morning, Friday, she’d already left our bed, but when I looked at the clock, I realized I’d slept until nine, way later than normal. I chalked it up to the sound sleep I received from being with Jennifer.
I threw on my sweats and headed to the kitchen to find Jennifer busily fixing breakfast. She wore a short skirt, showcasing her long, shapely legs, accented with a thin blouse that didn’t conceal her blue bra underneath. Had she bought one after I told her about Julie’s undies in the shower? I smiled, hopeful that that was the case.
She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and pointed to a chair to sit while she finished. After serving our plates, she joined me at the table, settling in with a smile. “How’d you sleep, Dad? I don’t know about you, but that was the best night I’ve had in a long time. As a matter of fact, since the last time I was here.”
“Same here. I’ve been restless lately. It’s not easy sleeping by someone for decades and then coping with an empty, cold bed. It’s missing the quiet presence of someone who loves you. That’s the part that doesn’t fade easily.”
I watched her as she ate, the curve of her cheek catching the light just so. Then it struck me. Her hair was styled exactly like Mom’s had been. Not just similar. Exactly. I wasn’t sure if this was new or if I’d simply refused to see it until now. Her mannerisms, the way she tilted her head when listening, and even her quiet grace. They mirrored Mom so vividly that it chilled me to the bone. A rush of love surged through me, fierce and uninvited, as if time had folded in on itself and brought her back, if only for a moment.
She caught my gaze and tilted her head, amused. “What’s wrong, Daddy? You’re looking at me funny.”
I blinked, caught off guard, and felt my face flush with warmth. The comparison had crept up on me, uninvited. She looked so much like Mom that it rattled me.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said, my voice quieter now. “You’re absolutely stunning. I can’t help but stare sometimes. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. Your mother would’ve been proud. So proud.”
Her smile, soft and radiant, wrapped around me like a warm breeze. In her eyes, something familiar glimmered, and it calmed the ache in my chest. I promised myself I’d make the most of this visit, if only she’d stay a little longer this time.
After we finished eating, she helped me catch up with the business before we took a break in the living room. I noticed several boxes stacked by the front door and asked, “Are those yours?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure where I’m moving yet. We’ll talk about it tonight. Right now, I want to plan our afternoon. First, you’ll take me to one of those gardens you and Julie went to, then a light lunch, and after that, I want to see the other sights you two visited and finish the day with dining at the restaurant you took her to.”
“That sounds like a plan,” I said, eager to spend time with her. The boxes concerned me. How long was she going to stay before moving? Also, why and where is she moving to? Why isn’t Russ here with her?
“I’ll change into some walking clothes and shoes and meet you back here. Are you ready to go?” I asked.
“Yep,” she gleefully shrieked, raising her legs and spreading them apart. Her skirt rose, exposing her thin, blue panties, her brown bush visible underneath. A few pussy hairs escaped from the sides, reminding me of how Mom used to trim hers. It drove me absolutely nuts, and this was no exception.
“See, I have on my running shoes,” she emphasized, wiggling her sneakers, before placing them back on the floor.
When my gaze drifted upward, I was met with a mischievous smirk. When did my daughter become such a cockteaser? I forced a smile, not wanting to appear too lecherous, and quickly escaped to my room and changed. After throwing on my pants, I bent and positioned my hard cock so it wouldn’t be obvious.
Her high spirits throughout the day made everything feel lighter. As we strolled through the gardens, she slipped her arm through mine, gently brushing against me, laughing easily, and leaning close. Her playful, flirtatious energy felt both familiar and new, as if something had shifted in her. It made me question the meaning behind the packed boxes waiting at the house. She hadn’t said a word about where she was going, but her warmth and joy suggested a change in course. It was a quiet signal that maybe, just maybe, her path was bending back toward home, toward me. I hoped that was the case.
We had an early dinner at the Hilton, chosen because of its small but charming dance floor. After a delicious meal, we took to the floor and swayed to the gentle rhythm of the music, just as we had so many times before. She held me close, her arms wrapped tightly around me, her head resting on my neck. The familiar scent of her hair stirred memories that felt both distant and vivid. At that moment, it was as if time hadn’t touched her. After the final song, she pulled back slightly and kissed me, slow, tender, and full of meaning, sealing a day that felt like a quiet rediscovery.
When we arrived home and I mentioned the packed boxes, she said, “I’ll make us a few drinks and meet you in the garden. I’ll explain everything there.”
Ten minutes later, she returned with a snifter of double bourbon for me and a glass of her favorite white wine for her. We lingered in the warmth of the day’s memories, rehashing the laughs and lightness, until her tone shifted.
“Dad, there’s no easy way to say this,” she began, “But Russ and I aren’t together anymore.”
I didn’t pretend to be surprised. I’d sensed the drift. “Divorce or separation?”
“Neither. Annulment,” she said plainly, her expression betraying none of the sadness I’d expected.
I blinked. “Annulment? How does that even work? What grounds?”
She sighed. “His parents initiated it. They claimed I married under false pretenses. Before we married, we agreed to start a family right away, but later on, I changed my mind. When his parents found out, they pushed for annulment.”
“Did you just need more time?” I asked gently, “Or was there something else behind your decision?”
“I didn’t need more time,” she said firmly. “A few months into the marriage, his mother paid me a visit. She laid out the rules on how their family operates. Not gently, either. According to her, my role was to accompany Russ to social functions, bear his children, and turn a blind eye to his affairs. In exchange, I’d get to enjoy their wealth and status. She told me every woman in their family knows her place, including herself, and that if I wanted in, I’d better not argue.”
I sat back, stunned. “That’s revolting. So much for decency. Did you talk to Russ about it? What did he say?”
“He said he probably wouldn’t have an affair,” she replied, “But might have to, if his parents thought it best to appease their wealthy friends.”
“I’m so sorry, Jennifer,” I said softly, pulling her close and wrapping her in a consoling hug. “That’s not how healthy relationships work.”
“When I told him I wanted no part of that arrangement, he became angry, said we were finished. He turned cruel, claimed he’d never loved me and that he knew I didn’t love him either,” she added, her expression curiously unbroken.
She pulled back then, took my hand in hers, and gave it a quiet squeeze.
“Honestly? It was a relief. He was right. I didn’t love him. I never did,” she admitted, sighing. “I married him, hoping it might grow into something like what you and Mom had. Amy warned me it was a mistake, and maybe she was right. It’s one of the few times I didn’t follow her advice. When you and Mom started worrying I’d spend my life alone in the house, I thought that maybe it was time. Time to give you both space to enjoy your lives together.”
“We wanted you to find love,” I said softly. “But never at the cost of settling. We would’ve never asked you to marry someone you didn’t truly care for.”
“I tried to fake it,” she admitted. “But I wasn’t convincing. Russ always said my heart belonged to someone else, that I was never truly with him, even in bed.” Her voice didn’t break, but the truth in it weighed heavily. “We were already split apart before I came home for Mom’s passing. I haven’t seen him since. He went off to Europe with his parents to give me space, time to finalize everything, and move out.”
She paused, then added with quiet scorn, “And he took all our savings. Just six thousand dollars. But still, can you imagine that? A family worth millions took every last cent. It didn’t matter, though. It was a small price to pay to be free of them.”
My thoughts drifted back to the day of their wedding vows, hearing Amy’s quiet warning echoing in my mind. She’d told me she was worried, said Jennifer was settling. I brushed it off at the time, too focused on the excitement and hopefulness of the moment. Still, guilt lingered. I hadn’t sat down with Jennifer and really talked it through. Maybe I should’ve asked more questions. Paid closer attention. Been a little more involved before things were set in motion.
“I let you down, sweetie,” I said gently, the words catching in my chest. “I should’ve listened more carefully when you first told us about your plans. I should’ve asked the hard questions, been more attentive, and more understanding. Maybe if I’d talked to his parents beforehand, I could’ve seen the signs and warned you.”
She squeezed my hand gently and shook her head. “No, Dad. Even if you’d warned me, I wouldn’t have listened. I had to go through it myself. And the truth is that he was right. My heart was never his and never could be. It already belonged somewhere else, and nothing he did was ever going to change that.”
Her voice stayed steady, but something inside it faltered, just slightly. “I was living a lie. Every time we were intimate, I just wanted it to be over. I stopped pretending. I didn’t even fake my orgasms any longer, just waited for him to finish so I could be alone again. It was a terrible mistake. But, it’s behind me now.”
“That’s a shame, sweetheart. So, you withdrew from college?” I asked gently. “Are the boxes of your clothes meant to mean you’re planning to move? Starting fresh somewhere new?”
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