Owning My Desperate Sister - Illustrated
Copyright© 2025 by CreepyUnclePete
Chapter 5
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Kristie is a beautiful single mom who needs money and some favors. Her brother Kevin has a sleazy solution... - - - Includes coercion, incest, prostitution, mild potty play, smoking, alcohol, and an embarrassed nude female. Future chapters will likely include anal, lesbians, and teen sex.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Coercion Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Incest Brother Sister Uncle Niece MaleDom Humiliation Oral Sex Petting Safe Sex Voyeurism Smoking ENF Prostitution Illustrated
Kris looked at Carrie, her eyes flickering with a flash of maternal protectiveness that was quickly extinguished by the thought of an eviction notice. She sighed, a sound that was half-sob and half-surrender. She reached for the pack of slim cigarettes on the coffee table and handed one to her daughter. Carrie’s fingers trembled slightly as she took it, her wide eyes darting from her mother’s cum-streaked face to my pulsing cock. With a slow, deliberate motion, Kris clicked the lighter and held the flame to the tip, the orange glow illuminating the raw, bruised look of her expression.
“Just one cigarette, no more” Kris muttered, though she didn’t look at me. “Don’t get dizzy and fall, or throw up.”
I shook my head and contradicted her. “My house, my rules. Here you go, sweetie.” I slid a full pack and a lighter across the coffee table.
Carrie inhaled deeply for the first time, then let out a loud cough. I chuckled. “It’s okay. You’ll get used to it.”
Kris stood up, her naked body a pale ghost in the dim light of the room, and padded toward the kitchen. I leaned back on the sofa, enjoying the view of her swaying hips and the way her heavy breasts bounced with every step. A few minutes later, she returned, balancing a bottle of chilled white wine and a bowl of buttery popcorn. She poured the wine with a shaky hand, the glass clinking against the rim as she set it down on the table.
“You’re such a sicko, Kevin,” she hissed, her voice a mixture of resentment and a strange, lingering breathlessness. “Most guys just buy a girl dinner, they don’t demand a performance in front of her child!”
I smirked, reaching out to pull her closer by the hip, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. “And yet, here you are. Naked, drenched in me, serving us snacks, with money in your purse. Seems like my perversion is good for everyone.”
Carrie took a hesitant drag of the cigarette, the smoke curling around her face like a secret. She looked at her mother, then at me, a spark of burgeoning curiosity igniting in her gaze. The room felt thick, not just with the scent of tobacco and popcorn, but with the heavy, electric tension of things that shouldn’t be happening, yet were.
“Settle in, girls,” I drawled, my voice sliding into a low, commanding purr. “The night is only getting started, and we haven’t done the doggy-style you promised. And it’s time for Carrie to try on one of her gifts, from a high-end lingerie shop.” I tossed her a long-sleeve fishnet top. “A hundred bucks, if she wears it all night?”
Carrie blushed and meekly asked, “Mom? Should...”
“Wear it.” She turned toward me. “But keep your hands off her, you pervert.”
I just leaned back into the cushions, my skin still humming from the friction of her throat. “Be honest, Kris. Over the last few months, how many times did you actually pop? I know you’d cry and tell me it was wrong, but your pussy never lied. Give me a number. How many orgasms did my ‘perversion’ buy you?”
She looked away, her face a mixture of flushed shame and reluctant memory, her lips twitching. “I don’t know ... maybe thirty? Forty?” she whispered, the admission sounding like a confession in a booth. I smirked; the numbers didn’t matter as much as the fact that her body had always been a traitor to her pride.
Beside us, Carrie took another long, tentative drag of the cigarette, her precociously large chest expanding as she inhaled the acrid smoke for the first time. She coughed, a sharp, hacking sound, but she didn’t stop. She followed it up by taking a slow sip of the chilled white wine, her eyes widening at the tart, alcoholic sting. She looked like a fledgling bird discovering fire, trembling with a cocktail of fear and newfound rebellion.
I watched them, leaning my head back, truly admiring the tableau. There they were—mother and daughter, both framed by the swirling grey ribbons of nicotine, their silhouettes softened by the dim lamp light. Kris, nude and glistening with the remnants of my climax, and Carrie, clutching the glass and the cigarette with a budding, dangerous confidence. There was something profoundly erotic about the symmetry of it, the way the smoke bridged the gap between the woman who had been broken and the girl who was being awakened.
“You’re a beautiful, tempting young lady, Carrie,” I drawled, my voice thick. “And Kris ... you look like a woman who knows exactly how to keep her house in order, and her man’s dick empty.”
Kris let out a jagged sigh, her breasts heaving as she stared at her daughter. “You’re ruining her, Kevin,” she murmured, though she didn’t move to take the cigarette away. Instead, she leaned over and whispered something into Carrie’s ear, her voice low and raw.
Suddenly, Carrie looked at me, a strange, precocious glint in her eyes. “Does it always feel like this?” she asked, gesturing to the wine and the smoke.
“Like what, sweetheart?” I asked, my hand sliding across the sofa toward my sister’s thigh.
“Like a secret,” she whispered.
I felt a surge of predatory satisfaction. The tension in the room was a living thing, vibrating with the forbidden. I wasn’t ready to dive back in just yet; the anticipation was a feast of its own. I wanted them to linger in this space—where the line between family and fetish was blurred by the haze of tobacco and the scent of expensive grapes.
“Secrets are the only things worth having, Carrie,” I replied, my fingers finally finding the crease of Kris’s backside and squeezing firmly. “And your mother is very good at keeping them.”
Kris moaned—not a sound of protest, but a soft, yielding noise that betrayed her. She leaned back against my leg, the smoke from her own cigarette curling around her head like a crown of grey lace, while Carrie took another sip of the wine, her gaze drifting toward my lap with a curiosity that felt like a promise.
“On your hands and knees, Kris. Now,” I commanded, my voice leaving no room for debate.
She obeyed, her pale skin luminous in the dim light as she arched her back, presenting her curvaceous bottom to me like a feast. The view was breathtaking; the swell of her hips and the deep, inviting valley of her backside were perfectly framed by the soft glow of the lamp. I didn’t bother with a condom this time—the thrill of the raw friction was too tempting to ignore. I gripped her waist, my fingers sinking into her soft flesh, and drove myself deep into her with one heavy, singular thrust.
“Mmmmph!” she gasped, her head snapping forward, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. I began to pump into her with a rhythmic, relentless intensity, the wet, slapping sound of our skin colliding filling the quiet gaps between the movie’s distant explosions. Every thrust was a claim, a reminder of the debt she owed and the pleasure she couldn’t deny.
As I hammered away at her pussy, I looked over her shoulder at Carrie. The girl was mesmerized, her pupils dilated as she watched the raw mechanics of the act. Suddenly, she shifted on the couch, her legs parting slightly. With a slow, tentative motion, she slid her hand down to the crotch of her pants. Her fingers didn’t enter, but she began to rub her vulva through the fabric, a rhythmic, pressing motion that mirrored my own movements. She was breathing in sync with her mother, her eyes locked on the point where my cock disappeared into Kris’s heat.
“Watch closely, Carrie,” I groaned, my voice strained as I accelerated the pace. “This is how a woman is truly taken.”
Kris’s breath came in short, jagged hitches, her fingers clawing at the carpet. She was fighting it, trying to maintain that facade of resentment, but her body was singing a different song. Her internal muscles clamped around me in waves of involuntary ecstasy, pulling me deeper, demanding more. I could see the tension in her calves, the way her toes curled into the rug as she neared the edge.
“Faster, Kevin ... oh God, just ... faster!” she cried out, her voice breaking.
I didn’t hold back. I unleashed every bit of stored aggression and lust, jackhammering into her with a velocity that made the entire sofa shudder. I felt her climax hit her like a tidal wave, her body shuddering beneath me, her cries turning into incoherent, blissful whimpers. Seconds later, I followed her over the edge, a guttural roar escaping my throat as I filled her with a hot, pulsing torrent of seed.
We collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and heavy breathing. The room was silent for a long moment, save for the soft clicking of the cigarette in the ashtray and the ragged sound of Kris’s recovery.
Suddenly, Carrie spoke, her voice small but steady, her hand still resting on her own heat. “Did it feel good, Mom?”
Kris didn’t look at her. She just closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. “Yes, baby,” she whispered. “It felt GREAT! But incest is so terribly wrong! So gross!”
I took the money from my wallet and handed it to Kris. “Three thousand dollars, cash, as promised.”
She cried while she meekly replied, “Thanks.”
I ordered, “Tell her about being my naked maid, the other things you do for money.”
“But Kevin, I...”
I offered, “Another five hundred, if you tell her and let me eat you?”