My Taboo Life
Copyright© 2026 by H. Malcom Walker
Chapter 4: The Escalation
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Escalation - She lost her once. She won't lose her again. Piper spent eighteen years searching for the newborn daughter taken from her. Now she's found Amelia, eighteen, in an Arkansas trailer park, unaware the stranger watching is her flesh and blood. With a new name to go along with her large bank account, the only thing Piper lacks is conscience. Some bonds survive separation. Some loves break every rule. A dark, transgressive novel about obsession, dominance, and the terrible gravity of blood.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Coercion Consensual Lesbian Incest Mother Daughter BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Spanking Analingus Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Sex Toys Water Sports
I knew Amelia had to work the next day, but I hoped and prayed she’d come over as soon as she got off. My dark prayers and desires were answered when I heard someone knock on the metal door just after four in the afternoon. I was in the kitchen, barefoot and wearing a different sundress, but I also had an apron on that said, “Kiss the Cook.”
When I opened the door, there she was. This time she had on her cutoff shorts, and a tank top that was so short I’m pretty sure it would show off her entire underboob if you were low enough to look up at them. She must have changed right after work, since I’m pretty sure only a strip club would let you dress like that on the clock.
Back when I was running everything through my head, considering all the possible scenarios, I assumed she would probably be shy when she came back, considering how we had left it yesterday afternoon. Instead, she gave me a brilliant smile, and held out the book to me.
“Hey, I wanted to bring your book back. I stayed up late reading it. You’re right, it was so funny and honest about things.”
“Hey yourself,” I said, returning her smile. “Don’t stand out there letting all the heat in. Come on in. I was just cooking a very early dinner.”
With no hesitation, she came in and the door banged shut behind her, which I once again locked. I gave her a hug, and noticed that she smelled very clean and fresh. She also had the scent of some type of bodywash ... cinnamon, I think. It definitely suited her. That made me think she went through some effort to clean up and dress a certain way before she came over. Excellent.
Since I hadn’t taken the book from her, she moved over and replaced it on the shelf. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as I started a fresh pot of coffee, then checked on the spaghetti sauce that was simmering in a pot on the stove.
She made a show of looking at the top shelf, but I saw her gaze continuously moving down to the next one, where my careful collection of incest related books rested. Her fingers stroked along the tops of the books, until she finally pulled out Flowers in the Attic. My heart skipped a beat, since that was the one I had hoped she would choose next.
When she looked over to see me watching her, she smiled shyly then moved over to the couch, taking a seat right on the end next to the lamp. She kicked off her flip-flops, then crisscrossed her legs and started reading. I smiled to myself as I stirred the sauce, glad that she felt comfortable enough to sit there like that.
When the coffee finished, I made her a mug, pouring more of the bourbon into it. I made it a slightly heavier pour than yesterday, since I wanted to make sure she was fully relaxed. I walked over to hand it to her and she took it with another of her great smiles, taking a large sip.
“Damn, Paige, are you trying to get me drunk? Is there even coffee in there?”
“Well,” I said with a giggle. “Maybe? Unless you’ve got something else to do today. It would be fun to get a little drunk tonight, don’t you think?”
“You know I’m only eighteen, right?” she asked with a wicked smile.
Of course, I knew, but I feigned being completely shocked, putting my hand up to my mouth to act like I was horrified.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Amelia. I thought for sure you were closer to my age.” I reached for the mug, acting anxious to get it out of her hands.
She pulled it back, guarding it from my outstretched hand. “I’m not mad, Paige. Seriously, calm down. Did you really think I was older? How old are you?”
Still acting like I was in a panic, I sat down next to her on the couch, close enough that my knee was touching her foot that was tucked under her knee. “I’m twenty-five, and I thought you were maybe a few years younger than me. You seem so mature. Oh Amelia, please don’t tell anyone. If I get arrested, my ex-husband will be able to see my mugshot online.” To my credit, I even managed to get a tear to roll down my right cheek. Even I didn’t know I could act that well.
Amelia turned to set the book and the coffee mug on the side table, then back to me. I could tell she was getting upset. She grabbed both my hands in hers, and turned to face me with her lower legs still crossed over each other.
“No, Paige. I would never tell anyone. Please, please believe me.” I thought she might be about to start crying herself. I was probably laying it all on a little thick. I wiped a tear from my eye, then gripped her hands a little tighter and smiled.
“I believe you,” I said, pretending I was stifling a sob. “I’m still sorry I tried to get you drunk. I promise I wouldn’t have if I had known.”
“I’m almost nineteen,” she said, smiling back at me and giving a halting laugh. Like that would make it any better. “Please don’t stop being my friend, Paige. I just found you, and if I couldn’t be around you anymore it would just kill me. I’m so lonely here.”
As she finished, she pulled my hands even tighter, then leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. It was a gentle, chaste act, and she pulled back to look at me with wide eyes, like she was shocked she had done it.
My mind was racing. I knew that was the best first kiss I’d ever have in my entire life. My wanton pussy was throbbing under my dress, demanding that I strip Amelia down then tie her spread eagle to my bed posts. Fuck her! Fuck her now! it screamed at me.
Instead, I worked one hand free and used it behind her head to pull her in for another kiss. This one went on for some time, and I gently pushed my tongue past her lips, which tasted like cherry chap stick. Oh my God, was I ever going to enjoy fucking her ... fucking my daughter and making her mine.
It was easy to tell that Amelia was very new to all of this. I wondered if I was her first real kiss. I’d have to ask her at some point ... later though, much later. She put her right hand around my upper arm, then her left on my hip, using them to pull herself more into the kiss, which was getting hotter and more erotic as it went along.
In my mind, I was having an argument with myself on whether I should reach out and stroke one of those beautiful B-cups that were practically hanging right in front of my face. Barely covered by her top, they were like the gold at the end of a rainbow, and it was all I could do not to cup them, squeeze them, then pull them towards my mouth so I could go to town on those fabulous nipples she was teasing me with.
What I kept telling myself, though, was that my patience would be rewarded. I wanted to bind Amelia to me, make sure that she loved me so much, was dependent on me so much, that even when I told her who I really was, she wouldn’t abandon me. Maybe that was a pipe dream, but I only had one chance at this so I made myself ignore those beautiful nipples as much as possible.
When the kiss finally ended, we were both breathless. I had explored her teeth with my tongue, and she had even reciprocated a bit, although not as aggressively. I stared into her eyes, wondering what her reaction would be. Did she enjoy it as much as I did?
“That was my first kiss,” she said. “I can’t believe I did that.”
My face must have shown my disappointment as I asked, “You didn’t enjoy it, then?”
“Oh no,” she said with a look of alarm. “It was fantastic. So much better than anything I could have imagined. I just can’t believe I was the one who started it. I’ve never been that bold before.”
“Well, it wasn’t my first kiss, but I think it was the best one I’ve ever had,” I said, taking her hands in mine again. “I feel like I have a special connection with you, Amelia. If you promise me that you’ll be careful and only drink when you’re with me, I’ll keep putting whiskey in your coffee.”
She beamed at me again, and we leaned in for another kiss, which wasn’t as passionate as the first one, but she was a little bolder with her tongue this time, stroking the tip along the back of my teeth. I may have created a kissing monster.
When we finished, I jumped up off the couch. “You keep reading and slowly sipping that coffee, while I make sure dinner is ready.” I had a huge secret smile on my face as I stepped back into the kitchen. My plans were working even better than I hoped they would. Slow ... just keep it slow, Piper, I kept thinking to myself.
The sauce simmered on the stove, filling the trailer with the heavy scent of garlic and tomatoes and basil, rich and earthy and somehow obscene in its domesticity. Amelia sat at my small table, still wearing the thin tank top she had arrived in, her nipples visible through the damp fabric, her skin flushed from the alcohol and the cool air.
I grabbed a clean t-shirt from my bedroom and tossed it to her, catching her off guard. “Put this on,” I said, my tone light and teasing. “That top is practically obscene. How am I supposed to concentrate on eating spaghetti with you sitting across the table like that?”
She laughed, catching the shirt, her eyes dancing with something that looked like relief, like permission. “It’s just a tank top,” she protested, but she was already peeling the fabric over her head, her breasts lifting and falling with the motion, her young body bare for a moment before she pulled my shirt down to cover herself. The cotton hung loose on her, thin enough that I could still see the dark suggestion of her nipples, but at least a pretense of modesty had been established.
I watched her eat, watched her wrap the spaghetti around her fork and her lips close around the tines, her throat working as she swallowed. Every time she leaned forward to take another bite, I could see the shape of her breasts, the dark circles of her nipples through the thin cotton of the shirt I’d loaned her, and I had to grip my own fork tighter to keep from reaching across the table to touch her.
I kept her mug full of spiked coffee, watching her drink, watching her pupils dilate further with each refill, watching her inhibitions dissolve in real time. She laughed more freely, her hand brushing mine as she reached for the garlic bread, her fingers lingering, her eyes meeting mine with a heat that she probably thought was the alcohol but I knew was something older, something we were both pretending not to name. By the third mug, she was loose and pliant, with her body language open and inviting. I had to force myself to remember the timeline, the plan, and the patience I had cultivated for eighteen years.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.