The Naughty Nolans
Copyright© 2025 by Kenn Ghannon
Chapter 11: Manning Up
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 11: Manning Up - 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
Devin lay flat on his back in the dim glow of the master bedroom, staring at the ceiling fan’s slow rotation. Naked—finally, gloriously naked again—he let the cool air wash over his sweat-damp skin. Brianna’s soft snore vibrated against his shoulder, her fingers twitching against his chest as she dreamed. Diane’s breath was steadier, her lips parted just enough for Devin to feel the warmth of each exhale against his collarbone. He should be asleep. Worn out from hours of exertion, muscles sore in ways that should have dragged him under.
But his mind wouldn’t shut off.
He traced idle patterns on Diane’s bare hip, remembering the way she’d gasped his name when he first slid inside her—not Sean, not honey, but Devin, raw and unfiltered. That should’ve been enough. It was enough. So why did his brain keep circling back to Hailey’s state finals? The way her face had crumpled when she scanned the stands and found only an empty seat where Dad should’ve been. Devin had sprinted from his own baseball practice still in cleats, sliding into that seat just as the starting buzzer blared. He hadn’t even known swimming rules, just clapped when others did, shouting Go Hales! until his throat burned.
Brianna shifted, her thigh sliding higher over his. “Thinkin’ too loud,” she mumbled into his skin.
Devin huffed a quiet laugh. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” Her teeth grazed his pectoral, not quite a bite. “Your heartbeat did.” She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair a messy curtain blocking the dim light. “Tell me.”
He didn’t have to ask what she meant. Brianna had always known his silences better than his words. “Just ... wondering when it started,” he admitted. “Not this.” His hand flexed on Diane’s waist. “The other part. The showing up.”
Brianna’s grin was all sharp edges. “When you realized Dad wouldn’t.” She flicked his nipple. “And that we needed someone to.” Her palm flattened over his sternum. “That’s why they love you, idiot. Not the dick—”
“Thank you—”
“—the care.” Her nails dug in just enough to sting. “Now shut up and sleep. You’ll need your strength.” Her knee nudged his thigh meaningfully. “Sammy’s turn tomorrow.”
Devin’s breath caught.
Diane’s hand slid up his stomach, her fingers interlacing with Brianna’s over his pounding heart. “We’ll be there,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “All of us.”
And wasn’t that the difference?
Devin exhaled through his nose, watching the ceiling fan blur as his thoughts spun faster. Sean Nolan would’ve plowed ahead without a second thought—no hesitation, no care for consequences. Just take what he wanted and damn the wreckage. The realization coiled tight in Devin’s gut: That’s why I won’t. Not just Sammy’s age—though fourteen felt perilously close to a line he’d never cross—but the fragility of what Hailey and Sam had built between them. Their tentative, trembling love deserved reverence, not some half-hard fuck while his brain was still swimming in Brianna’s musk and Diane’s aftershocks.
Brianna’s fingers tightened around his. “Dumbass,” she whispered, reading him like always. “They asked for you. Not whatever fantasy you’re—”
“I know.” He turned his head to press his lips against her knuckles. The truth was simpler, uglier: what if he ruined them? Not like Sean had, with neglect—but by being too much. Too rough, too hungry, too Devin. Hailey’s strong, yeah, but Sam’s all bird-bones and big eyes, her gymnast’s strength hidden under skin so soft it startled him every time she hugged him. And Christ, the way she looked at Hailey now—like the sun rose behind her sister’s ribcage. Could he survive dimming that light?
Diane’s sigh gusted warm across his chest. “You’re worrying about the wrong things,” she murmured, her thumb stroking his hipbone. “It’s not about being enough. It’s about being theirs.” Her lips curved against his skin. “And you always have been.”
Brianna’s knee nudged his again, insistent. “Tomorrow,” she repeated, and this time, Devin let himself nod.
Not as a conqueror. As theirs.
The thought circled Devin’s sleep-starved brain like a shark. He flexed his toes against the twisted sheets, hyperaware of Brianna’s breath warming his collarbone, Diane’s fingers absently tracing his hipbone. Mrs. Damark had taught him that—the power of stillness. Let them come to you, she’d whispered that last afternoon in her musty classroom, his head pillowed on her stockinged thighs while her husband worked the assembly line. Women know what we want long before we ask. Your job is to hold space for the asking.
Her husband’s factory shifts had been their alibi, but it was Devin who’d been forged in those stolen hours—tempered by her patience, shaped by her insistence that sex wasn’t a performance but a dialogue. He inhaled the mingled scents of Brianna’s shampoo and Diane’s sweat, smiling at the memory of Mrs. Damark scolding him for rushing foreplay. The clitoris isn’t a doorbell, Devin. Her laughter had been low, warm. You don’t jab it and run.
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