Incest/Taboo High School Yearbook

It's been eight plus months since I posted a story. There are several reasons, the most important being my health. I've been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. I've been sleeping more and devoting time each morning to exercise. Unfortunately, these are the hours in which I used to write, and there only being so many hours in a day... You know how it works.

However, my imagination remains intact and while I am not writing I go get ideas for new stories and continuations of existing ones. I have squeezed in the time to put one of those, a second chapter of High School Yearbook, on paper. I hope I can add more in the future.

I want to thank those who have written over the past months commenting on and asking about my existing and future stories. I appreciate it.

In Chapter 1 we met Bryan, newly named editor of his high school yearbook. Bryan wanted to do the best possible job. While not unfriendly, Bianca, the newby teacher appointed by the administration as the yearbook's faculty advisor, saw the assignment as more chore then pleasure. Then, suffering from insomnia, a malady previously unexperienced, she borrowed a white noise machine from Bryan. Soon this gorgeous young teacher was not only sleeping through the night, but found herself hopelessly devoted to the project and its sexy young editor.

For Bryan the home front also had problems. Some months before his father Edward, after a six day courtship, married Bree Danielson. The marriage had benefits. Stunning red heads, his stepmother and stepsister Andrea were eye candy. Unfortunately, seeing Bryan as a nerd without social value, they sought to relegate him to second class status in his own home. When Edward, desperate to keep the peace, started giving in to their demands Bree, like Bianca, found herself suffering from insomnia, which is when Bryan lent her a white noise machine.

Readers will note that Chapter 2 jiggers with Chapter 1's time line. I moved the moment when Andrea was introduced to a white noise machine closer to the present. Please forgive the inconsistency. It makes the story work better.

Happy holidays to all.
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* * * * *​

Unwrapping his ham and cheese sandwich, Joe Hodgson looked out the window. The weather was perfect - temperature moderate, humidity low, breeze gentle and steady, sky a rich Carolina blue - and the student body, taking advantage, had gathered outside on the school lawn.

He took a bite. Dry and tasteless, as usual. He should learn to cook. He tried washing it down with a gulp of water, spilling some on his shirt.

Crap.

Putting down his sandwich he looked at the chart spread atop his desk, but his gaze was blank, unfocused. He'd been teaching high school for thirty-two years; he was bored, tired and growing ever more resentful of the kids. Spoiled brats with a stillborn work ethic, they expected to excel regardless of their effort or the quality of their work. And if they didn't they complained and if you didn't give in their parents complained and the administration and school board would fold and he'd get a call and ...

Crap.

Knowing no one standing in the bright light outside could see inside his classroom, he turned to the window, his eyes dwelling on female students, on their half-dressed ever-so firm young bodies. Yeah, this was one reason to stay.

Telling himself to concentrate he looked back to the chart. Eleven years ago the school, at his suggestion, had established an Introduction to Business course. Limited to second semester seniors, instead of a written final examination the students formed groups to present marketing plans to the class. The course had been a hit. Seniors were happy for the excuse to skip a final and Hodgson happy not to read and grade (could he flunk them all?) the drivel his students passed off as final examinations.

It was during the class' third year that Hodgson, to his students' collective moan, made the change that gave birth to the chart on his desk. Until then he'd allowed students to choose their partners. Inevitably, a couple cool kids would partner with a nerd or two and let the nerd(s) do all the work. Mr. Hodgson didn't like that; he'd been a nerd, and so announced that from now on he would designate team members. Reverting to a vengeful sixteen year, he took a special glee in placing cool kids in situations designed to make them miserable. Racist white boy from a gated community meet your partner, a black kid looking for any excuse to complain to the school board about you or, even better, kick your ass.

This was not his better side, but it was fun.

Mr. Hodgson traced a finger across the chart, stopping at the pairing of Andrea and Serena. These young women, beautiful, popular, and self-centered, one white and one black, one model thin and the other a powerful buxom athlete, one with red-hair hanging loosely down her back and the other a brunette with hair styled short or in corn-rows, were locked in an ongoing competition to be queen bitch of the school. He'd enjoy watching them (try to) work together.
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* * * * *​

"Mom, that asshole Hodgson matched me with Serena Pendergraft, I can't work with that stupid bitch."

"What's wrong with, what was her name dear?"

"Serena. She's stuck up, thinks her shit doesn't stink. Guys think she's hot, but that's because she dresses like a slut, and I hear she's just a tease anyway, loves leaving guys with blue balls."

Wearing the white frilly blouse and knee length skirt she'd worn to the office that day, Bree took the last glass from the dishwasher, stood on her toes, placed it on the top shelf of the cabinet, then leaned against the counter and, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice, said, "It's only one assignment dear, can't you just work through it?"

"Are you listening to me, does anyone ever listen to me? The girl is a total fricking loser douchebag and it ain't one assignment, it's a project and it's basically my entire grade."

Bree's phone pinged. Happy for the break from her daughter's whining she picked it off the counter, smiled. It was a text from Bianca. She was giving Bryan a lift home from school, wanted to know if the coast was clear so the three of them could play. Arousal surging through her, Bree glanced at her daughter, frowned, and appending a sad emoji to the message texted back, "No, Andrea's here." A video arrived seconds later. Opening with Bryan behind the wheel of Bianca's Jaguar, smile on his face, it scanned down his body to his lap, where his erection, bobbing free, disappeared into Bianca's mouth.

Surreptitiously caressing an aching nipple, Bree moved an arm across her chest, stopping when her daughter, annoyed by the lack of attention, grumbled, "Mom."

With no idea what to say, Bree looked blankly at Andrea. Then, recalling the image of Bianca swallowing Bryan's dick, she did. Her dreamboat stepson would have a solution.

"That was Bryan, he's on his way home. I'm going to freshen up, change my clothes. When your brother gets here we'll ask him. He'll know what to do."

Andrea's first impulse was her default position: point out that Bryan was not her fricking brother but her stepbrother, and regardless of her mother's recent obsession with him, was a major nerd who'd have no clue what to do. What did he know about being cool? However, although the white noise machine that sang Bryan's praise each night had been installed in Andrea's bedroom only days before, it was already having an effect. Andrea swallowed her first impulse. Her mother knew Bryan was her stepbrother, there was no point in reminding her, and while a dork, he was a smart dork. As long as her friends didn't know about it, what harm was there in asking his opinion?
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* * * * *​

"I told Hodgson I did not want to work with Serena. Serena told him the same thing - like that stuck up bitch wouldn't jump at the chance to hang with me. Still, he's adamant. Asshole."

If Andrea had not been so self-absorbed she would have wondered about her mother's change of clothes. Wearing tight jeans, boots, and a white tee-shirt sans bra, she sat behind Bryan on the couch, working the muscles of his neck. Imagining Bryan between her legs driving his wonderful tool into her horny body she barely heard her daughter.

Bryan, on the other hand, was paying careful attention. In the teacher's lounge that morning Bianca had heard Joe Hodgson tell two other teachers that he'd assigned Andrea and Serena to make a joint presentation in his Introduction to Business class. Hodgson's pleasure in the pairing had been evident. So later, during lunch, after Bryan fucked her against her office door, after he filled her with delicious hot cum, she'd told him what Hodgson had said.

Instantly seeing the opportunity Hodgson had dumped in his lap, Bryan spent the afternoon contemplating how to best take advantage. Now, rolling his head to the side, enjoying his stepmother's fingers on his neck, Bryan said, "I heard pretty much the same thing from a couple of seniors last year. Hodgson enjoys putting people together who don't like each other, trying to make them squirm. Must be a power trip for him. You need this class to graduate, right? You can't drop it?"

"Yeah."

"I bet he knows that. Well, I have a counter-intuitive suggestion."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Eschewing the opportunity for a sarcastic retort, Bryan said, "Counter-intuitive? It is s something that initially seems contrary to common sense or logic. So give it a chance, don't say no immediately. You've got to do the project; refusing to do it or dropping the class aren't options, so why not take the high road? Extend the olive branch and invite Serena to the house to work on the project."

Andrea, jaw locking in place, said, "What, have that skank in my house."

"Andrea, you two need to work together and if you ask her over it will show her, show everyone, who's the bigger, better person. And there's something else, it will put Hodgson in his place. He's paired you two because he doesn't think you can do it; he did it to watch you fail. If, when, you guys pull this off it makes him look the fool."

Instinctively Andrea started to object, then paused, took a moment, rolled the idea around inside her head. Bryan noted her reaction. A week ago she'd already have said, "No." The white noise machine was doing its work.

A few moments later, saying, "You guys wait a second," Andrea picked up her phone, texted some friends, read the instantaneous replies - did these girls spend their lives staring at their phones - then, after several additional exchanges of messages said, "Bryan, you may be on to something," and punched some numbers into her phone.

"Hey Serena, it's Andrea. I was thinking about that asshole Hodgson..."

"Yeah, what a dickhead. Look, since it seems he ain't gonna back down, why don't you and I..."

"Yeah, that would be great..."

Bree, working the muscles of her stepson's neck and shoulders, noting the positive change in her daughter's tone of voice, leaned forward, pressing braless breasts to Bryan's back, and whispered, "Looks like you saved the day stud. I know Bianca sucked you off on the way home, but did you guys fuck today?"

"Yeah, at lunch."

"That long ago? You must be ready for another round, which is good. I need to get laid."

Thinking of the hours needed to program a white noise machine to exploit Andrea and Serena's recent situation, Bryan said, "Yeah, but a quickie. I've got a lot to do tonight."

"Stud, you can have me anyway, anytime you want. My office? I'll get my stuff."
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* * * * *​

Several minutes later, disconnecting the phone, Andrea shouted, "Hey guys."

Her mother, carrying her purse, stepped into the kitchen. "What is it, and there is no need to shout. We're not deaf."

Andrea said, "Where's the dork?" then, noting the disapproving look on her mother's face, added, "I know, don't call him a dork. Who knows, you might be on to something, he had a good idea. I called Serena, she agreed we should try working together. We both need the grade, then she had to make a point about her athletic scholarship, like we don't already know she's a big time tennis player. She'd texted some kids who took the class last year. Bryan was right, that asshole Hodgson does this, puts people in teams hoping they'll fight, hoping they'll fail. I figure I can hold my nose around Serena long enough to show Hodgson what a dick head he is."

Bryan, keys dangling from his hand, entered the room and Andrea, noticing for the first time that her mother was holding her purse, said, "Where are you going?"

Slipping her hand into Bryan's, Bree said, "I need to check on something at the office. Bryan's keeping me company."
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* * * * *​

Bryan and Bree did not make it to her office. In fact, they never left her SUV. Before exiting their neighborhood Bree had pulled off her boots; before exiting the highway she'd shimmied out of her jeans; before they reached her building she'd undone Bryan's belt and was fisting his cock. As he pulled into her space Bree lowered her seat and Bryan catapulted over the console separating them. Bree came quickly, hard, and often, fast sharp orgasms that burst like a string of firecrackers in her sex. Bryan, not far behind her, cum welling up in his balls, jammed his hips into his stepmother with a grunt born in his core, shaking the truck and filling her with his hot sticky seed.

They'd have to break in her office's new leather couch another day.

Afterwards they lay there, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies. Eventually Bree reached over and lowered the window, letting the circulating air de-fog interior windows damp with the moisture of their heavy breath.
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* * * * *​

Edward was getting his briefcase from his car when his wife's SUV pulled into the driveway. Andrea had told him that Bree had run back to her office, that Bryan had gone along, and now, as Bryan parked the car, Edward wondered, what had they been doing, moving furniture? Sweaty and disheveled in jeans, boots, and a tank top she certainly looked like it. The he took a second look, he could make out the outline of her nipples through the shirt. Bree, who saw her husband, waved, leaned over to peck her stepson on the lips, then, looking flushed and spent, stepped out the car door. As she did he caught her scent and the smell of vehicle: sweaty, musky, meaty. Maybe they had been moving furniture.

He was going to ask about it, but his wife cut him off, kissing him on the cheek and saying, "Honey, I need a quick shower before dinner. Put the chili in the microwave and warm it for dinner," scurried off.

Later that night, in bed, half-asleep, Edward's mind drifted back to Bree's return home. Something about it stuck in the back of his head all evening and he suddenly knew what it was. Bree did not smell like a person moving furniture; she smelled of sex. He knew that smell, until the recent demise of his sex-drive he smelled it all the time.

But Bree couldn't have had sex, she'd been with Bryan. In fact, as he thought about it, over the past weeks Bree couldn't get enough Bryan. They were constantly leaving the house to run errands or visit Bianca, Bree's new best friend forever. When Bryan was around Bree was at his side, asking about his day, her hand on his arm, her foot touching his. When Bryan was gone she couldn't stop talking about him, pestering Edward with questions about Bryan's life and preferences. After the initial rough months of the marriage he'd been happy to see Bree and Bryan bonding, but now he suddenly wondered: was there a less platonic explanation? No, the idea was nuts.

But he thought about Bree's clothes. Was she dressing up for Bryan? She'd been paying close attention to Bryan's appearance, straightening his clothes and hair, suggesting a different shirt for the pants he was wearing. Bree had also been taking Bryan's side in what seemed his daily disputes with his stepsister. He thought about the way Bree's eyes lit up when Bryan walked into the room.

No, the thought was insane. Heck, Bryan was nerdier than Edward had been at that age and had no experience with woman. On the other hand there was something different about his son, a growing confidence, a sense of command, a personal magnetism.

He drifted off to sleep.
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* * * * *​

Lips pressed to the warm taut skin, Bree slid her mouth from Bryan's cock with a pop. Wrapping her fingers on the shaft, she pressed it to his chest and took a cum-stuffed testicle into her mouth, sucking and licking, then moved to the other. Frigging the shaft she pushed the testicle past her lips with her tongue, tilted his dick towards her face, took him in her mouth, moving forward until Bryan's cockhead reached the opening of her throat. Readying herself to swallow him, she relaxed her throat, took a long breath through her nose...

Bree woke up. It had been a dream, a delicious dream, but a dream. Wanting to return to it she closed her eyes, tried to go back to sleep, heard her husband's snore. She checked the time - 1:00 in the morning. She'd been asleep three-plus hours; she'd be up awhile.

She was also the only person awake in the house. She could take advantage, which brought her back to her most recent obsession.

While anal sex was a regular part of Bryan and Bianca's sex play, it made Bree anxious. There'd been some bad experiences in college, alcohol had been involved. When she told Bryan he, with a confidence in his voice that left no doubt he knew she'd soon be ready, he told her to take the time she needed to become comfortable with the idea. Ever positive Bianca volunteered her help.

The first anal vibrator they'd purchased was three inches long, flexible, pencil thin. Set at its lowest level it didn't interfere with most daily activities. Bree soon found herself addicted to it, wearing it at every opportunity. She came to believe that while it buzzed away in her anus she projected a sexual aurora. Men and women were not only constantly checking her out, they were tripping over each other to help her: opening doors for her, carrying her bags, leading her to the restaurant's best table.

At that point Bree had thought herself ready, but Bianca suggested caution. Comparing the vibrator to their mutual lover's cock, she pointed out, was like comparing a PT boat to a battleship. Returning to the sex shop they chose a thicker longer jointed purple vibrator, again turning down the salesman's offer of assistance. After they left, eager to give it a whirl, Bree put on a show for a passing truck driver, slipping it into her anus while they headed down the highway for the mall. There the women spent the afternoon shopping and modeling lingerie, sending Bryan pictures, bringing home his favorites.

Now, her libido fully charged, the vibrator was calling her name. Slipping out of the bedroom, she headed for the kitchen and found it buried in the bottom of her purse, hidden among the usual detritus.

Removing the vibrator from its case, she coated it with olive oil, flipped it on, and standing over the sink worked it against her anus, flexing her sphincter until the first joint popped inside. She squeezed her butt muscles with a delighted purr, leaned over the sink, raised her ass in the air, squeezed again. Shit, even better than she remembered.

Pushing her light gown over her shoulders, she let it slide to the floor, then picking up the bottle of olive oil and a kitchen towel headed for the living room. She slipped on the three inch heels she'd kicked off her feet when she got home from work, held out a leg, admired them, then squatted. Fingers coated with olive oil, she pressed the next joint of the vibrator to her anus, increasing the pressure until it squirted inside. As shock waves of pleasure rolled up her spine; she placed her hands, palm down, on the floor to keep from toppling over.

Steadying herself, she slipped each successive joint past her convulsing sphincter. When she reached the final joint, taking hold of the vibrator's base, she shoved the toy into her rump, driving herself onto her toes while an audible, "Ooommmppfff," launched from her solar plexus. She listened, heard no indication anyone heard her.

A hand on the edge of the couch for support she stood and eyes shut, breathing deep and slow, she focused on the ever-evolving sensations born in her anus that flowed through her, waning and waxing, cascading and shimmering, looping back on each other. The light touch contrasting nicely with the buzz in her butt, starting below an eye Bree ran a fingernail across her cheek, around her lips, upward to trace the outer curve of her ear then dragged her hands down her chest avoiding, for the moment, her hard aching nipples.

When done she held her hands before her face. She'd been growing her fingernails out. Now a quarter of an inch long and covered with a red polish, they felt wonderful on her skin. Leaning back, she pressed her backside to the hard edge of the couch and, using a light feathery touch, diddled her clit with a finger, diddled her nipples with another.

Spreading her legs, swaying in time with her heartbeat, Bree caressed the inside of her thighs. Bryan had taught her to masturbate like this, taking the time to explore her body, layering sensation upon sensation, luxuriating in them, letting them mingle, mangle, play off each other. She'd always enjoyed sex, but before Bryan it had been something to do before moving on to the next thing. Now sex was the center of her world.

She envied Bianca; she'd worked out a simple, universally beneficial, deal. Bryan got Bianca, her body and soul. Roy, her husband, got the form of a marriage - Bianca used his name, accompanied him to social and business events, shared with him a house (if not a bedroom), and rid himself of the intimidating impossible burden of satisfying his stunning wife's sexual needs. Bianca got the best of all, a certainty of purpose - serve Bryan - and pleasure on a scale she never imagined she was capable of feeling. And, as a bonus, she got a devoted best friend in Bree.

It would be nice, Bree thought, when her Edward was equally evolved. Then she wouldn't be masturbating in the living room. No, Edward would in Bryan's former bedroom and Bryan beside her in the master bedroom. On nights like this, when she woke up in the wee hours of the morning, she'd roll over, take him in her mouth, straddle him, fuck him until she was filled with cock-cream.

Rocking her ass on the couch's hard corner Bree brought a finger to her mouth, sucked it, slipped in inside herself. Her pussy was wet and swollen and she moved the finger deeper inside. When she reached her g-spot she pressed the pad of her finger to it, thrummed it. The finger became a conduit, channeling the vibrations in her ass to her g-spot.

"Ooonnnhhhhh..."

She looked at the mirror above the mantle. Not only was she was in the best shape of her life, there was something else, something she'd thought chimerical until Bianca said she felt the same way. Bree oozed sexual energy, it showed in the way she smelled, walked, smiled, the sparkle in her green eyes. And why not? After all, she lived for sex.

Bree turned her back to the mirror, looked over her shoulder. Her ass, high and tight in heels, the base of the vibrator in plain view, was magnificent.

Scanning the living room through lidded eyes she chose the Lazy Boy, lay the towel on its eat, curled her body into it, and legs pressed together worked the muscles of her sex and anus on the purple intruder. She dragged her fingers down her body, across her small breasts, to her flat trim stomach.

As she did she returned to a favorite fantasy, the moment when Bryan, with Bianca's help, first fucked Bree in the ass. It would be in the middle of the afternoon in Bianca's big bedroom; the room would be bathed in sunlight. Bree would be on her back, Bianca's prone body stretched over hers. Bianca would kiss Bree's mouth, then up her neck, stop and catch an earlobe with her teeth, tug. Delighted, Bree would giggle at the sweet sensation.

Bryan would be there. Dressed nicely, wearing blue slacks, pressed white shirt, and Johnston & Murphy shoes, sitting in an overstuffed stuff, watching Bianca look into Bree's eyes, mouth the words, "I love you," run a finger from Bree's shoulder across her breast, then letting a glob of spittle dribble from her mouth onto Bree's nipple. Sliding the finger onto the nipple, Bianca pressed it into Bree's breast.

Pushing her luxuriant hair from the side of her face, Bianca teased Bree's nipple with the tip of her tongue, then dragged the flat of her tongue over it, a hard slow lick.

Back in the real world, back in the living room, Bree was plowing her fingertips, slick with olive oil, over her aching nipples, driving the hard nubs into soft tits. Rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger Bree tilted her head forward, swiped her tongue on the hard tips.

Sparks of pleasure dancing through her body, Bree's mind returned to the fantasy where Bianca was making sweet unhurried love to Bree's breasts in the way only another woman, with breasts of her own, can. Bianca kissed and licked and squeezed, blew cold air over wet flesh, and starting at the base, licked across the bottom of Bree's breast, up the side, angled across the top, avoiding the nipple, did it again, then a third time. When she returned to the base of Bree's breast Bree, her nipples twitching with need, slipped her fingers into Bianca's thick brown curls and guided her to the nipples. Bianca assaulted them, licked, sucked, slapped, captured one between her front teeth, rolled it back and forth, increasing the pressure until Bree was moaning in a delirious combination of pleasure and, if not quite pain, a strange sensual discomfort.

Back in the living room, Bree was massaging the fleshy area atop her pubic bone. She felt the inner lips of her vagina swell, exposing themselves to the world. Moving her fingers down the face of her sex she ran them on the outer and inner lips of her vulva then, forming a "V" with ring and middle fingers, slid them on the sides of her clitoral shaft.

Increasingly aroused, Bree pulled the clitoral hood aside. Even in the dim light her clit, packed with blood and covered in moisture, throbbed swelled sparkled. She ran the pad of a finger on it - top, bottom, left side, right side - varying pressure and angle. It looked tiny, the size of a perfect pearl, but it had become gigantic, coterminous with her body and generating a kaleidoscope of pleasure: comforting contented, blissful luxurious, inundating overwhelming.

Bree's thoughts returned to her fantasy. Bianca kissed down Bree's abdomen and across her flat tummy, licked Bree's cunt, flipped her onto her stomach to probe Bree's tight brown asshole with the tip of her tongue.

In the living room, in the real world, Bree traced a finger on the edge of the vibrator embedded in her ass, stimulating the sensitive flesh stretched around the toy. Her groans growing guttural and intense, she took hold of the vibrator's base, turned and twisted it, whirled it inside her ass, moved it in and out, imagining her stepson's cock was churning inside her.

Letting go of the vibrator, she turned to her clit, stroked pinched tugged, then reached for backside to work the vibrator.

As she alternated between cunt and asshole, her g-spot, tucked between them, vibrated and pulsed in time with her other holes. She wished Bianca was there to pull on her nipples.
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