The Shaw Family
Copyright© 2025 by work for nothin
Chapter 1
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A family in an incestuous relationship goes on a camping trip on a hill. While the father and son are out looking for firewood, the mother and daughter disappear without a trace.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/ft Consensual Fiction Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter BDSM Interracial Black Male White Male Anal Sex
The wind whipped through the desolate streets of the small Colorado town, carrying a chill that seemed to pierce the very soul. It was a place where the sun painted the sky in shades of gold and pink as it disappeared behind the Rockies, leaving a town that had long ago lost its sparkle. The dusty, unassuming buildings lined the main road, holding secrets that had been whispered for generations.
In the heart of this forgotten place, a young 18 year old girl named Evelyn stepped out of the general store, her eyes scanning the horizon. Her hair was a fiery red, a stark contrast to the muted tones of the town, and it danced in the wind like a wild flame. She had a look of quiet resilience about her, as if she’d seen more than her years should allow. Evelyn’s steps were measured, her boots echoing against the cracked sidewalk as she made her way home.
As she approached the house she’d known her whole life, she heard a strange sound. It was a rhythmic creaking, a beat that seemed to resonate with the very walls she’d been raised within. Curiosity piqued, she quickened her pace, her hand reaching for the doorknob. With a gentle twist, she pushed the door open, and a scene unfolded before her that was as ordinary as it was unsettling.
Jake, her older brother, was standing behind their mother, Claire, his powerful hands gripping her hips as she bent over the kitchen counter. Claire’s face was flushed with a mix of pleasure and concentration as she stirred the stew that bubbled in the pot before her. Her father, a man whose name was etched into the very fabric of the town, sat at the dinner table, the newspaper rustling in his grip as he sipped his coffee. He glanced up at Evelyn, his gaze unfaltering, and nodded in a greeting that seemed almost casual.
The scene was so commonplace that it could’ve been pulled from any day in their lives. Yet, there was something about the intensity of the moment that sent a shiver down Evelyn’s spine. Jake’s movements grew more vigorous, and the creaking of the old hardwood floorboards grew louder with each thrust. Claire’s breath hitched as she tried to keep her composure, a bead of sweat trickling down her neck. Her father, Alfred Shaw, took another sip of his coffee, seemingly oblivious to the intimate dance playing out just a few feet away.
“Daddy, I got the smokes,” Evelyn said, her voice cutting through the thick silence like a knife. Alfred looked up from his paper, his eyes meeting hers for a brief second before they shifted to the pack of cigarettes she held out to him. He took one, his fingers brushing against hers, and brought it to his lips. The flick of his lighter echoed through the room, the flame casting a brief shadow across his face. He took a long drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing a fiery orange in the dimming light.
“Thanks, Evie,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the page.
With a sigh that was almost imperceptible, Claire spoke up. “Evelyn, honey, could you take over the stew for me? I’m afraid I’ve got a bit of a ... distraction.” She managed a strained smile, her voice a mix of pleasure and apology.
Evelyn’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded and stepped forward, placing the cigarette pack on the counter. She took the wooden spoon from her mother’s hand, the warmth of the handle a stark contrast to the coldness she felt in her stomach. The stew bubbled and spit, a rich aroma filling the kitchen that seemed to clash with the raw scent of passion hanging in the air. She began to stir, her movements tentative at first, then growing more confident as she focused on the task at hand. The chunks of beef and carrots swirled in the dark, savory broth, and she added a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of pepper, trying to ignore the rhythmic slap of skin on skin that grew louder with each passing moment.
Jake looked over his shoulder, his eyes locking with Evelyn’s for a brief, intense moment. “On the floor, Mama,” he grunted, his voice strained with urgency. Claire’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she nodded her agreement. She turned, her skirt hiked up around her waist, and leaned over the kitchen table, her palms flat against the worn wooden surface. Her legs quivered as she tried to hold herself up, her breathing growing ragged as she waited for Jake’s next move.
Evelyn’s hand paused mid-stir as she watched her mother’s body tense in anticipation. The stew bubbled away, forgotten for a moment, as the air grew thick with the scent of desire. Jake’s hand reached around to fondle Claire’s breast, his thumb flicking the erect nipple beneath her thin blouse. Claire arched her back, pushing herself into his touch, her moans growing louder and more demanding.
“On the floor,” Jake repeated, his voice a low growl. “I need you on all fours.”
Claire’s eyes met Evelyn’s again, a silent plea for understanding in their depths. Then, with a grace that defied the urgency in Jake’s tone, she lowered herself to her knees and leaned forward, placing her palms firmly on the cool linoleum. Her skirt hiked up even further, revealing the creamy skin of her thighs and the damp fabric of her underwear.
Jake didn’t waste any time. With a feral grunt, he yanked Claire’s underwear aside, his erection springing free from the confines of his jeans. He positioned himself behind her, and with a swift, powerful thrust, he was inside her. The kitchen chair scraped against the floor as he found his rhythm, his hips slapping against her round buttocks with increasing speed. The table rocked with the force of his movements, the dishes rattling in the cabinets above them.
Evelyn’s gaze remained on her mother, watching the play of emotions on her face: the pleasure, the love, the need. It was a dance she’d seen before, but somehow it felt different this time. Her eyes drifted down to her father, and she noticed the bulge in his pants, straining against the fabric. An idea, bold and shocking, took root in her mind. With trembling hands, she placed the stew she’d been stirring onto a plate and carried it over to the dinner table, setting it down with a clatter that seemed to echo through the room.
Her father’s eyes flickered up from the newspaper, meeting hers with a hint of surprise. She licked her lips, her heart racing as she stepped closer to him. Without a word, she reached out and unzipped his pants, revealing the thick, rigid length of his cock. He looked at her, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t stop her as she wrapped her small hand around him. The heat of his skin was almost feverish, the veins pulsing with each beat of his heart.
Her grip was firm but gentle, stroking him from base to tip with a smoothness that spoke of years of practice. Alfred took a deep drag of his cigarette, the tip burning a brighter shade of orange as he exhaled. His eyes never left hers as she worked him, her thumb tracing the underside of his shaft in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.
“Thank you, Evie,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. It wasn’t a request or an order, but an acknowledgment of her silent understanding, a bond forged in the heat of the kitchen. She nodded, her cheeks flushed as she took her place beside him. The rhythm of her hand matched Jake’s thrusts, and she could feel the vibrations of their shared passion resonating through the very air.
To read this story you need a
Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In
or Register (Why register?)