Tides of Forbidden Return
Copyright© 2026 by VelvetQuillX
Chapter 11: Treebound Teases and Tidal Tastes
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 11: Treebound Teases and Tidal Tastes - After a devastating breakup, a young man returns home to his mother's comforting arms. Lingering hugs ignite long-buried desire. A teasing mirror moment, moonlit fair path, and beach bonfire lead to forbidden passion—deep claims, creampie surges, eternal bonds sealed in sand. Explicit mother/son incest, beach sex, creampie, taboo love. 18+ only.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Son Cream Pie Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Big Breasts Hairy Public Sex Slow
The smoke of the bonfire rippled through the thinning trees like a long golden wave against the shore.
Long shadows rustled in the night breeze, shielding our descent into deeper cravings.
Elena’s back kissed the rough bark of a thick oak trunk, as wide and sturdy as a post beneath our clandestine activities.
The edge of the fair had become a distant, muffled hum, crowds devoured by the night; only the crackle of embers popped like an embryonic heartbeat to our hidden urges.
The salt shiver on our skin mingled with the musk of smoke, rough as an inhale and as Elena’s lavender scent mixed with the brine of lust now, pulling me closer to the tide of desire.
She hauled up her sundress high with a fanged dare, the blue fabric whispering up her thighs in tormented slow motion, the smooth area exposed marked by faint stretch marks, the sensual story crafted in sea-carved cliffs.
The hem snagged beneath her hips, the crawling dark curls crowning her mound, dewy and lust-inducing in firelight’s gleam, the texturing gold that turned the real hunger up higher than the rote book.
My breath ached, cock throbbed against my jeans, thickening against the zipper as loathing fought greed.
Mia’s cold betrayal rang in my mind.
Her tame caresses fading against this fiery flavor.
A possessive lust blurring the black line between the flesh and bones and the boundless being.
“Touch me, my love,” she mumbled, voice throbbing with double entendre, eyes locked in the dim, her ebony eyes with desire, loneliness reborn on bold premise.
Her breasts rolled with patient optimism of ocean waves, gaping loosely between thighs, her folds flashed as active as epidermis shocked in grim reverb with one look.
I knelt before her in the dusk, kneeling in the sifted earth, the foliage pressed to her back as if to secure a third clasp, bark digging into her flesh and chasing her arch higher.
My hands sought first, trailing up her thighs, knuckles combing across the yoga scar, a breath unfurling into ocean whispers from the subaquatic tide.
Fingers accelerating forward, cutting the lace cords of her panties—wet already, translucent in the warm light of the ember—showing the slick folds within.
With one delicate digit, I plunged into her, into the soft velvet vice of her pussy, tugging with tidal warmth and gladly effusive effusion slicking my knuckle in salty slickness.
Her ragged breaths gasping with that of the bonfire, and the bare chest heaving a little under the sundress, thunderous chest inhaling, breasts building nipples wet like budding wants against material.
As she said, ‘my strong man deeper deeper,’ her voice deep domain, her twin-tone voice drawing my fingers to her hair coaxing the curl that occupied my core.
Guilt gripped:
“This plunge is profane; her heat is a horror hearth,” after a surge,
“But her walls, wrenching wantonly like salvation’s worship”.
I put my second finger in her pussy, and the walls twisted hot pulses around me, slickness spread sensuously as sea waves go over rocks with my hand.
Her hairy haze brushed my wrist with curls dark and dewy, an erotic balm blooming into my senses creasing my highs with its truth-revealing charms and rich beach with a hint of gravid multi-hued.
Sticks smell of gun gall mid-glow while smells of brine are cut briskly from smog.
Her hips bucked like no one wants to stop, wide and curvy like high tide’s shove through the invasion while my arousal of embers was a bright amber blizzard of echoes around me.
Internal tempests: my cock climbed higher, jailing the jolt in jeans, boxers bogged by pre-cum, mind on my gondola, fingers fingered aloft, now rooted in this grove, her giddy glint in the arch and husky gasps, hands in my hair hauled hot and hard, acts nodding for my needs.
Memories remained:
“Mia’s memory mocks, her taste tame and tired”, twisted to maternal might,
“Mine mends with this mouth prelude, forever flavoring”.
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