Seducing Charlotte
Copyright© 2026 by H. Malcom Walker
Chapter 3: Sleepless First Night
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 3: Sleepless First Night - In this intense sequel to A Submissive Sibling, Nashville attorney Charlotte Thompson’s orderly world shattered when her children, Mark and Carrie, fled to an Oklahoma cattle ranch. She journeys there intending to bring them back to civilization, but it’s a trap. On the grassy prairie under the vast sky, she’ll confront forbidden desires she has long suppressed, discovering that the family she came to save is the one that will finally claim her.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Age Gap Reluctant Lesbian Heterosexual Western Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Daughter Aunt BDSM MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Spanking Harem Analingus Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Sex Toys Big Breasts ENF
Charlotte
I sat there on the edge of the bed and cried, spending some time wallowing in self-pity. Finally, I came to a decision and decided my current behavior was not helping my situation, at all. I pushed myself up from the bed, my bare feet silent on the cool wood floor as I took a few steps. The writing desk seemed to mock me, a relic of a life I no longer controlled. I ran my fingers along the polished surface, my eyes tracing the spines of the books arranged with unnerving precision on the shelf above.
At first, they seemed like a random collection: The Sound and the Fury, Ada or Ardor, an old paperback copy of Flowers in the Attic. A chill, sharp and unwelcome, began to snake up my spine. My hand, which had been moving idly, froze. These weren’t random. They were a curated list. My gaze darted from one title to the next: Faulkner, Nabokov, V.C. Andrews, and the pattern was so blatant, so obscene, it was almost laughable. I was a woman who controlled boardrooms and negotiated contracts, so I knew deliberate strategy when I saw it.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Carrie, and maybe even Mark, wanted me to be involved in their dark, taboo relationship. They either wanted my approval, or they wanted me to join in with them. It had to be the first, though, right? A brother and sister committing incest because of a mistake was one thing, but trying to drag their mother into it was an outright abomination. My children couldn’t be that twisted, could they?
I paced back and forth across the room a few times, then rushed over and tried to pull the window further open again. No matter how I strained, it wouldn’t budge. Examining it closer, I saw that there were wedges shoved between the frame outside, preventing it from opening further. I could maybe remove those if I broke a pane or two, but I hesitated, since I didn’t feel like I was in any imminent danger.
“Fuck!” I said in a loud whisper. Putting my hands across my stomach, I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I decided to change clothes, so I stepped over to the wardrobe and opened both doors, finding it empty. I pulled my dress over my head and hung it carefully on one of the hangars that had been left on the bar. That left me standing there wearing only my bra and my matching panties, which I was ignoring.
I stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror on the back of the door. There were still tears, and I wished I had a Kleenex. It would be polite to leave a box by the bed for guests. I didn’t wear a lot of mascara, but it was all currently smudged, streaking down my cheeks as well.
Rummaging through my suitcase, which I had placed on the end of the bed, I pulled out my cosmetics kit. Using the small bottle of micellar water and some cotton swabs, I removed all my smudged makeup, deciding to leave it off for now. My supply was limited, and I had no idea if I could easily replace some of it out here in this Godforsaken wilderness.
After that, I decided to do something useful, so I unpacked the suitcase, carefully hanging up my clothes on the hangars I found in the wardrobe. It was pleasing to find they were not wire hangars, but nice wooden ones. I also placed the few pair of panties I’d brought and my spare hose in one of the dresser drawers. That done, I thought about putting the dress back on, but it was warm in here and I didn’t want to wrinkle it further, so I left it hanging there.
Admiring myself in the mirror for a moment, I thought I had done a good job maintaining my figure, especially since I was now forty years old. I was still in the prime of my life, with a good body, two healthy children, and on top of the world in my career. I had made senior partner at a very young age. I was considered a “rainmaker”, and although they were reluctant, the rest of the senior partners had caved-in to making me senior as well, rather than risking me walking out the door with my portfolio of clients. The old saying “Money talks, bullshit walks,” was never truer than in Nashville, which was swimming in money both old and new.
Currently, I had everything I’d ever wanted: money, power, and prestige. So why was I standing here almost naked in this claptrap of a farmhouse somewhere deep in fucking Oklahoma?
As I continued to stand there, one thought came unbidden to my mind. Would Mark like me in this outfit? Oh, God ... what is wrong with me? I felt another tingle run up and down my slit, and looking down I could see that the gusset of my panties was definitely, noticeably, wet. I almost reached down to touch it, but I knew what that would probably lead to. Instead, I removed my bra and placed it in a drawer, leaving me only in my tiny black thong panties.
Fuck, it was so hot in here. I turned on the fan next to the window and pointed it right at the bed. I laid down on top of the covers, and stacked one pillow on top of the one nearest the nightstand, so I could be propped up. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on my breathing, but images of my son kept disturbing every attempt I made to calm myself.
The images kept shifting around. In one, Mark was wiping his bare torso down in the kitchen, and I could watch his chest and arm muscles rippling. Then it would shift, and I was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him as he massaged my leg with his strong hands. He had his father’s eyes, which were one of the few features I ever admired on Frank.
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