The Naughty Nolans
Copyright© 2025 by Kenn Ghannon
Chapter 8: Exit Wounds
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 8: Exit Wounds - 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
Sean’s knuckles whitened around the armrest of Dr. Renworth’s leather couch, his laughter a jagged thing. “Christ, yes, they’re eager,” he lied, the words ash in his mouth. He could feel Diane’s disinterest radiating from the opposite end of the couch, her manicured fingers tapping her knee like she was counting down the seconds until this session expired. “Last Thursday? Blonde from the swimwear division. Took me in the supply closet, begged me to face-fuck her after I came in her ass.” He shot Diane a sideways glance—react, damn you—but she just examined her nail polish, unimpressed.
Dr. Renworth’s pen glided across her notepad, her expression serene. “And this fulfills you, Sean?” she murmured, the question a scalpel.
“Fuck yes it does.” His throat burned. The truth? He’d jerked off in his office bathroom to the memory of Diane’s laugh from their honeymoon. But that Diane was gone. This one—this ice sculpture—just sighed and flipped her hair over one shoulder.
Rachel shifted her focus, her gaze softening as she turned to Diane. “And you? Any... connections worth exploring?” The unspoken besides Devin hung between them, carefully omitted.
Diane’s smile was a razor. “Tinder’s been educational.” She didn’t mention the college senior from her calculus class who’d lingered after hours, or how his tentative brush of her wrist had sent heat pooling low in her belly. “Men who actually listen when I speak. Novel concept.”
Sean’s chair screeched as he lurched upright. “Bullshit! You hate dating apps—”
“Correction,” Diane interrupted, tilting her head. “I hated you. The apps are refreshingly honest.”
Rachel’s atomizer remained locked in its drawer, but the poison was already in the air—thick and sweet. Sean’s chest heaved, his fists clenching. This was the wound he’d wanted: proof she still cared enough to wound him back. But Diane just crossed her legs, her toe idly bouncing.
Checkmate.
Rachel hid her smile behind her notes. The divorce filings would arrive by week’s end. And Phase Twelve—mother and son, bare and breathless on her office chaise—could finally begin.
Dr. Renworth’s pen tapped her clipboard. “Progress report on the touch therapy exercises?”
Diane’s pulse jumped. Liar, she chided herself. The dating app story was pure fiction—she’d deleted Tinder after swiping left on every profile that wasn’t green-eyed and 6’6”. But Sean had swallowed it whole, his wounded pride almost gratifying. Almost. “It’s ... going well,” she murmured, tracing the seam of her skirt.
Sean’s scoff shattered the moment. “It’s bullshit.” His chair groaned under his weight. “Turning my kids into—into spineless—”
Diane rolled her eyes so hard her vision blurred. Predictable. His bluster was as empty as their marriage bed.
Rachel’s gaze flicked between them. Crisis point reached. Time to pry the lid off. “Sean, when Diane mentioned dating others, you gripped the armrest hard enough to tear the leather.” Her voice softened to a velvet blade. “Why does her happiness threaten you?”
Silence.
Rachel inhaled slowly. Cedar. Copper. Hunger.
The atomizer would wait.
For now.
Dr. Renworth’s pen hovered just above her notepad, her dark eyes flicking between Sean’s reddening face and Diane’s deliberately bored expression. The leather of the couch creaked as she leaned forward slightly, her voice a carefully measured purr. “Sean, if these encounters with other women truly fulfill you—if they make you happy—then why does the thought of Diane seeking the same fulfillment disturb you so deeply?” She tilted her head, the barest hint of a challenge in her gaze. “Would you grant her the same freedom you’ve taken for yourself? The same happiness?”
Oh, but she knew the answer. Rachel suppressed a shiver as the image bloomed behind her professional mask: Diane, flushed and sweating, riding Devin’s thick cock in this very office, her blonde hair sticking to her neck as she moaned—not for Sean, never for Sean—but for the son who’d replaced him in every way that mattered.
Sean’s fist came down on the armrest with a crack. “Permission?” he spat, veins standing out along his temples. “Like hell. I’m not some fucking cuckold signing off on my wife’s goddamn—” His jaw worked, the words strangling in his throat. The unspoken whore hung in the air like a struck match.
Diane didn’t flinch. Instead, she arched one eyebrow, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. “Funny. You seemed perfectly content taking your freedom. But the second I might—”
“Might?” Sean’s laugh was a bark of raw fury. He surged to his feet, looming over her. “Don’t play innocent. I’ve seen how you look at—”
Rachel’s atomizer remained locked away, but the silence she summoned was sharper than any chemical. “Sean.” His name, cool and clinical, sliced through his rage. “Sit. Down.”
He didn’t. Not yet. But his fingers unclenched, the fight leaching out of him as Diane stared up at him—not with fear, but with something worse: indifference.
Rachel exhaled through her nose. Phase Eleven was ahead of schedule.
The air in Dr. Renworth’s office hummed with something thicker than tension—anticipation. Rachel’s pen stilled mid-note as her gaze tracked the shift in seating arrangements: Brianna’s thigh pressed flush against Diane’s, the contact deliberate. The mother’s fingers twitched where they rested on her knee, but she didn’t pull away. Progress. Brianna’s smirk was a live wire, her teeth catching her lower lip as she glanced at Diane’s profile—hungry, possessive.
“Have you been practicing the shared breathing exercises?” Rachel kept her tone neutral, though her pulse jumped when Diane’s lashes fluttered.
A beat of hesitation. Then Diane’s nod, slow and measured. “Yes. It’s ... helpful.” Her voice wavered on the lie.
Brianna snorted, leaning into her mother’s space. “Helpful? Try addictive.” Her fingers brushed Diane’s wrist. “Like your pulse syncs up.”
Rachel arched a brow. “And lip-to-lip touch therapy?”
Diane’s laugh was sharp, defensive—too loud. “Christ, fine, yes—”
Brianna cut her off. “We did it twice.” Her grin turned feral. “First time was chaste. Second time?” She licked her lips. “Mom moaned.”
Rachel’s chair creaked as she leaned forward. “Show me.”
Diane’s protest died as Brianna cupped her jaw. Their first kiss was tentative—for show—but the second? A gasp. A whine. Brianna’s fingers tangled in Diane’s hair as their mouths slotted together, wet and desperate. Diane’s moan vibrated against Brianna’s tongue, her hands fisting the younger woman’s shirt.
Rachel’s voice dropped to a purr. “Now deepen it.”
Brianna didn’t hesitate. She devoured her mother, tongue thrusting deep as she shoved Diane onto her back, hiking up the older woman’s blouse. The lace bra beneath did nothing to hide Diane’s peaked nipples—already hard. Brianna palmed her mother’s breasts, kneading roughly as Diane arched off the couch with a broken cry. Then Brianna’s knee wedged between Diane’s thighs, grinding against denim-clad heat as their kiss turned filthy.
Rachel exhaled. Phase Twelve: unlocked.
Diane’s breath hitched as Brianna’s teeth scraped her nipple—too much, too sharp—but the pain bled into pleasure so fast her thighs clenched. “Oh Christ,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in Brianna’s auburn waves. The girl suckled like she was starving, her tongue flicking the stiff peak in rhythmic, maddening circles. Diane’s hips jerked. “Bree—please—”
Brianna hummed against her mother’s breast, the vibration wrenching a whimper from Diane’s throat. She remembered this—not consciously, but in the deep, primal way muscles recall how to breathe. The weight of Diane’s flesh against her tongue, the salt-sweet taste of her skin—different now, richer—flooded Brianna with a possessiveness that made her dizzy. She bit down gently, just to hear Diane yelp.
“Fuck—!” Diane arched, her heel digging into the couch cushions. Brianna’s mouth trailed lower, her tongue swirling through Diane’s navel as her fingers hooked into the waistband of her mother’s panties. Diane’s hands fluttered to her daughter’s shoulders—half-push, half-plea—but Brianna ignored her, nuzzling the trimmed blonde curls below. She inhaled deeply, the musk dizzying. “Oh my god,” Brianna groaned, her nose brushing Diane’s slick folds. “You smell like—”
Diane’s thighs trembled. “Don’t say it—”
Brianna’s tongue flicked out—once, teasing—and Diane sobbed.
Rachel’s pen abandoned all pretense of notes.
Then Brianna dove in.
Diane’s back bowed off the couch, her cry fracturing into a staccato gasp as Brianna’s tongue speared her. The girl moaned against her mother’s cunt, the vibrations wringing another desperate noise from Diane’s lips. Brianna’s fingers dug into Diane’s hips as she feasted, her tongue lapping broad, wet stripes through Diane’s folds before circling her clit with torturous precision. Diane’s hands fisted in Brianna’s hair—guidance, anchor, lifeline—as Brianna swallowed her mother’s taste greedily.
Rachel’s thighs pressed together.
Perfect.
But not finished.
Diane’s fingers twisted in Brianna’s hair as she arched off the couch, her thighs clamping around her daughter’s head like a vise. “That’s it,” she panted, her voice raw, “drink mommy down like the greedy little slut you are.” Brianna’s answering moan vibrated against Diane’s clit, sending another shockwave of pleasure through her. The girl’s tongue fucked into her, relentless, her lips sealed tight around Diane’s swollen folds as she sucked—hard—drawing another gush of slick heat onto her chin. Diane’s hips pistoned, grinding her dripping cunt against Brianna’s nose, her daughter’s breath hot and ragged against her thighs. “Fuck yes,” Diane hissed, her toes curling, “taste every drop—oh god—that’s your mother’s cum on your tongue, baby—swallow it all!”
Brianna’s fingers dug into Diane’s ass, hauling her closer, her tongue fluttering now—fast, insistent—as Diane’s orgasm crested again. The older woman screamed, her back bowing as she came, her thighs shaking violently around Brianna’s ears. “AGAIN!” Diane demanded, her voice breaking as she shoved Brianna’s face deeper, her daughter’s nose buried in her soaked curls. Brianna obeyed instantly, her tongue lapping up Diane’s essence with frantic, worshipful strokes, her own thighs rubbing together beneath her—fuck, she was so wet—imagining Devin’s thick cock splitting her open right now as she feasted.
Her fantasy burned behind her eyelids—Devin’s massive frame pinning Diane beneath him, his hips slamming into their mother’s cunt as Brianna rode Diane’s face, her own pussy smearing slick across her mother’s tongue. Diane’s muffled moans would vibrate against her, Brianna’s thighs flexing as she ground down, demanding more—just like Diane was doing to her now—while Devin bred their mother beneath them. The image sent Brianna’s tongue plunging deeper, her lips sealing around Diane’s clit as she sucked, hard, her mother’s thighs quivering around her. “Oh fuck—Bree—YES!” Diane wailed, her hips stuttering as another orgasm tore through her, her cunt pulsing against Brianna’s mouth. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—make mommy cum again!”
Brianna growled, the sound muffled against Diane’s flesh, her fingers hooking inside her mother now, curling—ruthless—as Diane shrieked, her body convulsing. The scent of her—musky, addictive—flooded Brianna’s senses as she drank her mother down, ravenous, lost in the rhythm of Diane’s rocking hips and her own filthy, perfect fantasy.
Then—suddenly—Diane’s hands fisted in Brianna’s hair, yanking her back. Brianna gasped, her lips swollen and slick, strands of Diane’s wetness glistening between them. Diane didn’t hesitate. She shoved Brianna down onto the couch, her own thighs trembling, her breath ragged as she straddled her daughter’s thigh. “Your turn, ” Diane panted, her voice thick—dark—her pupils blown wide. Her gaze flicked to Rachel, who sat frozen, her clipboard forgotten, lips slightly parted. Diane’s smirk was wicked. “Don’t just sit there, doctor, ” she purred, rolling her hips, watching Rachel’s throat bob. “Come help me satisfy my slut daughter.” Her fingers traced Brianna’s collarbone, nails scraping. “You should find out what her tongue can do.”
Brianna grinned, licking her mother’s taste from her lips—slow, deliberate—her tongue curling obscenely. “Rachel already has, ” she murmured, breathless, her hips arching off the couch.
Diane’s brows shot up. A beat of silence. Then her laugh—low, dangerous—filled the room. “Ohhh, doctor... ” She leaned down, her lips brushing Brianna’s ear as she whispered—filthy, loud enough for Rachel to hear—”Then you know how it should be done. So get your ass on my daughter’s face ... and drown her in your cum.” Her hand slapped Brianna’s thigh. “While I make her squeal like a pig with my tongue on her gorgeous cunt.”
Rachel’s chair screeched as she stood. No hesitation now. Her fingers trembled only slightly as she unbuttoned her blouse—slow, theatrical—her gaze locked with Diane’s. Brianna whined, squirming beneath them both, her fingers already tugging at her own shorts. “God, yes, ” she gasped, “Fuck me—both of you—fuck me—!”
Diane’s teeth grazed Brianna’s hipbone, her tongue already tracing lower. Rachel’s panties hit the floor.
Phase Thirteen began.
Brianna’s muffled giggles vibrated against Rachel’s pussy, her nose buried deep in the psychiatrist’s slick folds as Diane’s tongue plundered her daughter’s dripping cunt. The scent of all of them—musky, heady, incestuous—filled the room, thick enough to taste. Rachel’s thighs trembled around Brianna’s face, her hips rolling slowly at first, then faster, grinding her swollen clit against the girl’s eager tongue. “Ohhh—fuck—yes, ” Rachel gasped, her fingers tightening in Brianna’s hair. “Just like that—drink me down, baby—” Her voice cracked as Brianna’s tongue curled, lapping at her entrance before plunging inside, fucking her in wet, slippery strokes. Rachel’s back arched, her free hand groping blindly for Diane—needing to pull her deeper into this beautiful, twisted tableau.
Diane’s groan against Brianna’s pussy was filthy, her lips sealed around her daughter’s clit as she sucked, her fingers spreading Brianna’s slick folds wider. “Mmmph—mommy—!” Brianna’s cry was smothered by Rachel’s cunt, her hips bucking wildly under Diane’s mouth. Rachel felt it—the way Brianna’s thighs clamped around Diane’s head, the way her tongue stuttered against Rachel’s own throbbing flesh as her mother wrecked her. “God—yes—” Rachel hissed, her own climax coiling tight. “Come for us, Bree—let mommy feel you—”
Brianna’s body exploded. Her back bowed off the couch, a ragged scream tearing from her throat—muffled by Rachel’s pussy—as Diane devoured her orgasm, tongue flicking mercilessly against her fluttering hole. Rachel rode Brianna’s face through it, her own pleasure cresting as Brianna’s throat worked desperately, swallowing around Rachel’s clit. “F-FUCK—!” Rachel’s thighs shook, her cunt pulsing as she came, her juices flooding Brianna’s chin. “Swallow it—ahhh—every drop—!*”
Panting, Rachel yanked Brianna’s head back, her own slick smeared across the girl’s grinning lips. Diane rose from between Brianna’s thighs, licking her own glistening mouth with a filthy smirk. “Your turn, doctor, ” Diane purred, dragging Rachel down onto the couch beside Brianna. “Let’s see how you taste with my daughter’s tongue in your ass while I fuck you.” Her fingers teased Rachel’s entrance, already dripping. “Unless you’d rather call Devin in here to stretch us both open?”
Brianna’s laugh was pure sin. “Oh, mommy, ” she cooed, nuzzling Rachel’s thigh, “you always know just what to say.”
Rachel shuddered, her mind spinning—Devin’s cock splitting Diane open while Brianna rides her face, Hailey’s fingers tangled in Samantha’s hair as they watch—
Perfect.
But not finished.
Not even close.
That was Brianna’s first thought when she tentatively pressed her nose against Rachel’s asshole, inhaling. She’d expected stench—sweat, maybe even worse—but all she got was a faint, musky warmth radiating from the tight pucker between the doctor’s cheeks. Huh. Brianna hesitated, then shrugged mentally. Fuck it. Her tongue darted out, flattening against Rachel’s rim in a wet, exploratory lick. The texture surprised her—firm yet yielding, like the knuckle of a fist. Rachel jolted, a gasp escaping her as Diane’s tongue continued its relentless assault on her pussy.
Brianna smirked against Rachel’s ass, her confidence surging. She traced lazy circles around the rim, feeling it flutter under her tongue. So this is what Dev feels when I clench around him. The thought sent a bolt of heat straight to her cunt. Without warning, she speared her tongue inside, earning a sharp cry from Rachel. The taste wasn’t bad—just earthy, like licking skin after a workout—but the reaction was everything. Rachel’s thighs trembled, her hips grinding back onto Brianna’s face as Diane’s fingers curled inside her.
“Fuck—fuck—!” Rachel’s voice cracked, her back arching. Brianna doubled down, fucking her tongue in and out with brutal precision, her nose buried deep between Rachel’s cheeks. Diane moaned around Rachel’s clit, her own fingers working Brianna’s dripping pussy in tandem. The sounds alone—wet, sloppy, filthy—were enough to make Brianna’s stomach flip.
Rachel’s second orgasm hit like a freight train. She screamed, her ass clamping around Brianna’s tongue as Diane swallowed her cum. Brianna growled, lapping at Rachel’s twitching hole, drunk on the power. I’m eating a therapist’s ass while my mom eats her out. The absurdity should’ve shocked her—but all she felt was hunger.
Panting, Rachel collapsed onto the couch, her thighs slick and trembling. Diane leaned up, licking her lips, and locked eyes with Brianna over Rachel’s heaving stomach. No words. Just a look.
Phase Thirteen was going very well.
The overhead lights hummed softly as Brianna nestled against Diane’s shoulder, her fingers tracing idle circles beneath her mother’s blouse. The silk of Diane’s bra offered no resistance—Brianna’s thumbs flicked over taut nipples with practiced ease, drawing a subtle shiver from her mother even as Diane strained to try to see Rachel’s notes. Rachel’s pen scratched across the page, her brow furrowed in concentration, but Brianna’s gaze wasn’t on the paper. It was on the way Rachel’s lips pressed together just so, the faint tremor in her wrist as she wrote too fast.
Puzzle pieces clicked.
“You planned this,” Brianna said abruptly, her voice calm but edged with certainty. Rachel’s pen froze.
“Planned...?” Rachel blinked, tilting her head—the picture of professional confusion. But Brianna saw it: the way her pupils dilated a fraction too quickly.
“This,” Brianna clarified, gesturing between herself and Diane with her free hand, her other still working Diane’s breast beneath the fabric. “Me and Dev. Me and Mom. Eventually me and Hailey, and Sam—all of it. You orchestrated it.”
Diane stiffened. “Wait—fucking your brother?” Her voice wasn’t disgusted. It was ravenous.
Brianna turned to her mother, unfazed. “Love-making,” she corrected, pressing a kiss to Diane’s shoulder. “Deep. Meaningful. Filthy. He fills me like no one else ever could.” She sighed dreamily. “The way his cock stretches me—”
“Jesus Christ,” Diane breathed, her thighs shifting together. Diane’s embrace of the dark was total and complete. “Would you ... mind if I borrowed him?”
Brianna laughed, low and rich. “Borrowing implies ownership, Mom. And while Dev is mine—and I’m his—he’s not only mine.” She cast a pointed glance at Rachel, her smile sharpening. “All of us should share him. Even our good doctor.”
Rachel’s lips parted—just slightly—before she schooled her expression. “I only give clients what they need, Brianna. Nothing more.”
Brianna’s fingers tightened on Diane’s nipple. “Bullshit,” she purred. “You wanted this. All of it.”
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