The Naughty Nolans
Copyright© 2025 by Kenn Ghannon
Chapter 10: The Point of No Return
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 10: The Point of No Return - The Nolan family was a complete wreck. In a last ditch effort to save it, the matriarch takes the family to a psychiatrist for family counseling. The psychiatrist, though, has an agenda of her own. [NOTE: Partially A.I. generated by an original idea (if there are original ideas in prose anymore) I had]
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa ft/ft Teenagers Mind Control Reluctant Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction Cheating Cuckold Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Analingus Cream Pie First Facial Oral Sex Pregnancy Sex Toys Squirting Hairy Size Small Breasts Teacher/Student Slow AI Generated
The office smelled of bergamot and leather. Dr. Renworth’s pen scratched across her notepad as the Nolans settled in—Brianna curled into Devin’s side, Diane’s fingers tracing idle circles on his thigh, their bodies angled toward each other like magnets. Phase Twelve unlocked, Rachel thought, suppressing a smirk. Hailey and Samantha occupied the adjacent couch, legs tangled, Samantha’s gaze flicking toward the trio every few seconds before she bit her lip and looked away. Rachel noted the flush creeping up the girl’s neck. Guilt? Longing? Both. She tapped her pen twice. Progress.
The door swung open.
Sean staggered in, reeking of bourbon, gripping the wrist of a stunning woman—caramel skin, blue eyes wide with discomfort. “Meet Candace,” he slurred, dragging her onto his lap. His hands roamed her thighs, thumbs digging into the hem of her dress. Rachel’s stomach turned as he pinched her nipples through the fabric, the girl stiffening but not resisting.
“Mr. Nolan,” Rachel snapped, “this is unacceptable.”
Sean laughed, wet and ragged. “Fuck you.” He squeezed Candace’s breast hard enough to make her whimper. “Safe space, right? No judgment?” His grin was venom. “Truth is, Doc, I don’t give a shit. But if I did—” He palmed Candace’s crotch, making her jerk. “—it’d be with my dick in her.”
Candace’s eyes shimmered. “I—I have to stay,” she whispered. “He said he’d fire me.”
Rachel stood, icy calm. “Out. Now.”
Sean’s grip tightened. “Make me.”
Across the room, Devin rose. Silent. Lethal. His shadow swallowed Sean whole.
Rachel exhaled. Finally.
Devin flexed deliberately as he strode forward, muscle fibers shifting like steel cables beneath skin taut with restrained violence. His shadow eclipsed Sean’s sprawled form. “Dad,” he said—polite, measured—the kind of tone one used before a storm hit. “You need to leave.”
Sean’s laugh was whiskey-sour, his fingers digging into Candace’s thigh until she whimpered. “Fuck you,” he slurred, tilting his head back to meet Devin’s gaze. His pupils were pinpricks swimming in bloodshot disdain. “Still just a kid playing man.” He squeezed Candace harder, her breath hitching. “And I don’t take orders from children.”
Devin’s jaw flexed. He leaned down, palms braced on the arms of Sean’s chair, caging him in. The veins in his forearms stood in stark relief. “Not suggesting,” he growled, voice low enough that only Sean—and the trembling model—could hear. “Strongly recommending.”
Sean sneered, whiskey-breath puffing against Devin’s face. “Trying to scare Daddy? Or are you scared of Daddy now, big man?” His free hand patted Devin’s cheek—once, twice—condescending. “Should be.”
Devin didn’t flinch. “Not trying to scare you,” he murmured, so calm it crackled. He straightened, rolling his shoulders until his delts strained against his shirt. “Just telling you—” His gaze flicked to Candace, then back. “You’re not welcome here.”
Silence.
Then—movement.
Brianna was on her feet, nails bitten short but fists clenched. Diane’s lips parted, her thighs pressing together under her skirt. Even Hailey shifted forward, protective—possessive—as Samantha’s breath caught.
Rachel watched, rapt, as Sean’s smirk faltered. His grip on Candace loosened—just enough for her to scramble free. She stood, trembling.
Sean lurched up, swaying. “You ungrateful little—” He went to backhand the model, but Devin caught his arm mid swing, his massive hand holding his father’s arm steady while the older man tried to shake him off.
Devin stepped closer. Inches between them now. “Go home, Dad,” he said softly. “Sleep it off.” A pause. “Or don’t.” His fingers twitched—come at me—but he kept them open, relaxed. “But you walk out that door. Now.”
Sean’s nostrils flared. For a heartbeat, Rachel thought he’d swing on his son—
Then his shoulders slumped. Defeated.
Phase Twelve: Complete.
Rachel’s pen scratched the final note as the door slammed behind him.
“I’m so sorry,” Candace apologized in tears, following Sean out the door.
Devin turned back to his family—his now, wholly—and exhaled. Diane reached for him first, her fingers threading through his. Brianna pressed against his side, her warmth seeping into his skin. Hailey met his gaze over Samantha’s head, lips quirking.
And Samantha—
Samantha stared at the door, then at Devin. Her throat worked.
“Good,” she whispered.
Devin nodded.
Rachel smiled.
Now the real work begins.
Rachel exhaled, her client file snapping shut with deliberate softness. “I’m so sorry you all had to endure that,” she murmured, gaze flicking between them—not contrite, but calculated. “Sean’s outbursts create such tension—”
“What tension?” Samantha interrupted, fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt. Her cheeks pinked, but her voice didn’t waver. “My big brother took care of it.” The unspoken like always hung between them.
Rachel’s laugh was warm honey. “You’re right,” she conceded, tilting her head. “But let’s hug it out anyway. Any technique you like—just release that residual stress.”
Brianna moved first—predictable, glorious. She lunged at Devin, arms banding around his waist so tight his breath oofed out. Then her hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him down into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, her moan vibrating against his mouth.
Sam surprised everyone.
She practically vaulted into Devin’s arms the second Brianna released him, copying her sister’s move—arms around his neck, body arching—but her kiss was slower, exploratory. Devin’s hands settled on her hips, his thumb brushing bare skin where her shirt rode up.
Across the room, Diane buried her face in Hailey’s neck, lips lingering just below her ear. “Love you,” she breathed—too soft for anyone but Hailey to hear—before sucking lightly on the pulse point there.
Brianna wedged herself between them, arms enveloping both, her grin wicked.
Devin turned to Rachel, eyebrow raised. “What about you, Doc?”
Rachel waved a hand. “Oh no, this is a family exer—”
“Bullshit!” Diane’s voice cut through, sharp and laughing. “You’re family now. Get your ass over here and hug us.”
Rachel’s pause was pure theater—just long enough to make them lean in—before she stepped into the tangle of limbs. The embrace lasted minutes, breaths syncing, heartbeats thudding in chaotic harmony.
When they finally settled back into their seats, Rachel’s pen hovered over her notepad.
Assimilation: Total.
She hid her smile behind a sip of water.
Rachel’s pen traced a slow circle on her notepad—not writing, just the threat of it. The air conditioner hummed, underscoring the wet sound of Brianna sucking Devin’s thumb into her mouth. “Let’s refocus,” she said, crisp as starched linen. “How is everything progressing outside these sessions?”
Samantha squirmed first—predictable. Her fingers plucked at the loose thread on her shorts’ hem. “It’s ... different.” The admission slipped out before she could catch it.
“Different how?” Rachel’s gaze didn’t lift from her notes, but her shoulders relaxed a fraction when Devin’s knuckles brushed Diane’s collarbone. The mother’s breath hitched—audible.
Brianna answered by twisting in Devin’s lap, grinding down hard enough to make him groan. “Dad’s gone,” she said, the word sharp with triumph. “Like, actually gone—left a suitcase by the door last night.”
Diane’s flinch was microscopic. Rachel catalogued it anyway.
Hailey’s fingers interlaced with Sam’s, squeezing. “Better this way,” she murmured against the younger girl’s temple.
Rachel’s pen finally touched paper. “Pressure points?” she prompted, watching Diane’s throat work. The older woman’s fingers flexed around Devin’s wrist—not pushing away, just feeling.
“Mom’s got this... thing,” Sam blurted, cheeks flushing when all eyes snapped to her. “When Dev kisses her neck, she—”
Diane’s hand clapped over Sam’s mouth. The room froze.
Rachel’s exhale was barely audible. “There it is,” she murmured. The tension strung between them vibrated like a plucked cello string.
Devin’s chuckle broke the spell. He peeled Diane’s fingers away one by one. “She shakes,” he finished, nipping Diane’s earlobe. “Like a fucking earthquake.”
Brianna’s laugh was dark velvet. “Wait till he’s inside her.”
The clock ticked three times before Rachel cleared her throat. “Productive,” she allowed, underlining something twice. “Now—who’s next for solo sessions?”
Silence. Then five hands rose—Devin’s guiding Sam’s wrist up with his own.
Rachel’s smile cut like a scalpel. “Excellent.”
She steepled her fingers, letting the silence stretch until Brianna fidgeted. Then, softer: “I’d like to try something bold.” Her gaze flicked to Diane. “A shared session—Devin, Brianna, and you.” Diane’s pulse fluttered visibly beneath her collarbone. Rachel leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “We’ll explore family dynamics in real time.” Brianna’s fingers dug into Devin’s thigh.
“And then—” Rachel’s pen tapped Samantha’s knee— “a separate triad. Devin, Hailey ... and our Sammy.” Sam’s breath caught, her thighs pressing together. Rachel’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Comparative analysis of how different bonds manifest.” The euphemism landed like a grenade.
Diane exhaled shakily. “You mean—” Her fingers twisted in her skirt.
“Exactly what you think,” Rachel interrupted smoothly. She uncrossed her legs slowly, letting her pencil skirt ride up just enough to reveal a hint of stocking. “Structured intimacy. Guided touch.” Her eyes locked onto Devin’s. “Documented responses.” The subtext thrummed between them—no atomizer needed.
Brianna’s knee bounced with restless energy. “When?”
Rachel’s smile widened. “Tomorrow morning.” She rolled her pen between her fingers, watching Samantha bite her lip. “And the second session...” She let the pause dangle until Hailey’s nostrils flared. “Tomorrow evening.”
A bead of sweat traced Diane’s temple. “And if—” She swallowed hard.
“When,” Rachel corrected gently, reaching across to squeeze her wrist. “Not if.” Her thumb stroked Diane’s racing pulse. “Trust the process.”
The air hung thick with anticipation. Devin’s fingers flexed around Brianna’s hip—yes.
Rachel leaned back, satisfied. “Perfect.”
The word settled over them like a vow.
Rachel watched as the Nolans disentangled themselves—Diane’s fingers lingering on Devin’s wrist, Brianna’s thigh pressed flush against Sam’s, Hailey’s arm slung possessively around their mother’s waist. The office door clicked shut behind them, leaving behind the scent of sweat and arousal clinging to the leather couches.
Alone, Rachel exhaled through her nose, flipping open her notebook to a fresh page. She sketched a crude family tree, circling Devin’s name twice. Phase Twelve: Complete. The father had been excised cleanly—no theatrics, no messy police reports. Just Sean’s own self-destruction handed to him like a gift.
Her pen hovered over Diane’s name. The mother was pliant now, yes, but still clung to shreds of hesitation—those micro-flinches when Devin’s hands slid too high, the way her breath hitched when Brianna whispered “Mommy” against her neck. Rachel tapped the page. Two more shared sessions should break that.
Sam’s eager submission was a surprise bonus—ripe for pairing with Hailey after Devin claimed her. Rachel smirked, scribbling a timeline. The twins were her masterpiece though: Brianna’s jealousy had melted into voracious participation, while Devin ... Her thighs pressed together at the memory of him looming over Sean, all coiled violence and effortless control.
Rachel’s pen stilled. The real work began now—consolidation. No more coaxing, just conditioning. She underlined Tomorrow three times. By month’s end, she’d have them all knotted together so tight, even the thought of separation would feel like amputation.
Outside, a car door slammed. Rachel leaned back, stretching like a satisfied cat. The Nolans didn’t know it yet, but they’d already crossed the point of no return.
Her fingers tapped the desk—click, click, click—as she considered her next move. The impregnation angle needed finesse. Diane was already halfway there—her ovulation cycle sync’d with Devin’s sessions, fingers twitching whenever he murmured “Mom” against her neck. But bluntness could backfire. No, better to frame it as inevitable.
Rachel uncapped her pen, sketching a crude uterus on her notepad. “Accidents happen,” she whispered, testing the phrase. Too clinical. She scratched it out.
“Families grow.” Better—warm, inviting. She imagined Diane’s face when she’d say it, those blue eyes widening as realization dawned. “Sometimes ... in unexpected ways.” A pause. “Have you considered that?”
Her lips curved. Perfect.
Flip it—make them voice the desire first. Plant the seed, let them water it.
“Do you ever worry ... about protection?” she’d ask, all faux-concern. Watch Diane’s throat bob as she lied through her teeth. Then—the coup de grâce: “What if it’s already too late?”
Rachel’s breath hitched.
Yes. Let Diane’s imagination run wild—Devin’s cum dripping from her, Brianna’s fingers tracing the phantom swell of her belly. The twins would be easier. Brianna craved permanence, and Devin? He’d growl “Mine” and bite her neck raw.
Sam and Hailey would take more work.
She circled Sam’s name. The girl was ripe for imprinting—“Wouldn’t you love to carry your brother’s baby?” whispered during a post-orgasm haze. Hailey’s dominance could be redirected—“Imagine how powerful you’d feel, growing his child inside you.”
Rachel’s pen stilled.
Phase Thirteen: Impregnation Protocol Initiated.
She licked her lips. Time to schedule those ultrasounds.
The Nolan’s front door clicked shut behind them, sealing them into the heavy silence of the house. No shouts, no slurred curses—just the hum of the refrigerator and the distant drip of the kitchen faucet. Diane exhaled, fingers tightening around Devin’s wrist like she might float away otherwise. “Check upstairs,” she murmured, voice frayed at the edges.
Brianna moved first, heading off to the left with Hailey flanking her—their footsteps synchronized, predatory. Devin lingered around the doorway, peeling away from Diane just long enough to rifle through the hall closet. Empty hangers clattered. Sam hovered in the foyer, gnawing her lip raw, until Devin jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Go look.”
To the left, Brianna kicked open the master bedroom door—no hesitation. The room smelled like stale cologne and spilled whiskey. Hailey’s fingers trailed over the dresser: no watch, no wedding ring, just a dust outline where Sean’s things used to be. The bathroom was worse—razor gone, toothbrush missing from the holder, medicine cabinet picked clean of his prescriptions.
“Bastard packed light,” Brianna muttered, toeing the half-open suitcase at the foot of the bed. A pair of wrinkled slacks, two dress shirts—nothing sentimental.
Devin’s shadow filled the doorway, Sam pressed to his side. “Garage?”
“Golf clubs are still there,” Hailey said, shrugging.
Diane’s laugh was a brittle thing. “He’ll be back for those.”
Brianna flopped onto the bed, the mattress springs groaning. “Or not.” Her fingers dug into the comforter—his side.
Sam drifted to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. A single key fob gleamed under the lamplight. She held it up, the metal catching the light. “Spare car key.”
Devin’s hand closed over hers, warm and sure. “Keep it.”
From the front of the house, the garage door rumbled open—then shut. Five pairs of eyes snapped to the window. Empty driveway. Just the wind.
Diane’s shoulders sagged. “Well,” she breathed, turning to face them—her children, hers now. “Guess we’re having pizza for dinner.”
Brianna grinned, sharp and victorious. “Extra pepperoni.”
The pizza boxes lay gutted on the kitchen counter, grease-stained and crumpled. Samantha licked pepperoni grease from her fingertips with a contented hum, her bare feet swinging beneath the barstool. Hailey nudged her with an elbow, nodding toward the staircase where Devin was already ascending—his broad shoulders cutting a silhouette against the hallway light.
Diane moved like a shadow breaking from the walls, intercepting him halfway up. Her arms snaked around his waist from behind, fingers splaying possessively across his abdomen. “Where do you think you’re going?” she murmured, lips brushing the ridge of his spine through his thin t-shirt.
Devin half-turned, eyebrow cocked. “My room?”
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