Incest/Taboo Prom Night

Mr. Canseco, seeing the wheels turning in my head, said, "You okay Josie?"

Without much conviction I said, "Think so, I'm just a little nervous, I guess."

"It's your first time, you're supposed to be nervous. Let me help. Turn around."

I did and he resumed the neck and shoulder rub he started downstairs. I watched our reflection in a mirror. His face was screwed in concentration as his masterful hands worked the muscles of my neck and shoulders.

"You're a beautiful woman, Josie. Tonight is going to be special. We'll take our time. It's a lot more fun that way. I just hope I don't disappoint. Focus on my hands."

That this sexy older man worried about disappointing me was absurd. I wanted to tell him, but couldn't find the words. His hands on my neck, tension flowing from my body; I couldn't concentrate.

He ran his thumb along the crease between my scalp and neck. Goose bumps erupted on my skin. I dropped my head forward, inviting him to do it again. He did. It felt even better.

"You like?"

Raising my head, shaking my hair back into place, I said, "Very much Mr. Canseco."

"Maybe it's time you called me Robert."

"I'll try, its hard."

His started working the front of my shoulders. While we both knew where he was heading, Mr. Canseco took his time, giving me an amazing massage on the way there. When he reached my tank top his warm hands slid underneath and covered my breasts; he squeezed, gently steadily. I leaned back, letting him support my weight.

"Feels so nice."

I knew my breasts were sensitive, but never imagined they could feel like this. There is no other word for it; Mr. Canseco made love to my breasts. Knowing hands kneaded, nimble fingers danced, rough thumbs swept over my skin. He told me how beautiful they were, how warm they were, how much he enjoyed touching them.

He seemed content to play with them all night long and while that would be fabulous, I lacked his patience. Pulling my tube top over my head, I twisted around, my inflamed breasts and nipples sliding on his smooth cotton shirt, and threw my arms around his neck. His eyes focused on mine and I knew that Mr. Canseco, Cherokee's dad, was going to kiss me. Did it feel weird? For about a second, but could this guy kiss. Our warm wet lips came together, molded into, slid on each other. I teased his lips with the tip of my tongue, retreated. His tongue -- bold and strong and sweet -- followed mine, explored, claimed possession of my mouth. We kissed again, then again, our tongues and lips danced.

Nervous was no longer an issue. Throw me onto the bed, rip off my shorts, fuck me til the sun comes up.

Mr. Canseco had other plans. Ending our kiss he cupped my butt, held me to him. I dropped my forehead to his chest. I was panting.

"Josie, can you give me a hand getting these clothes off. Then we can take a shower."

Shower, what shower?

Mr. Canseco went on. "After a day like today there's nothing better than a long hot shower with a beautiful woman to wash away the grime. I'm going to scrub every inch of your magnificent body. After all, this is as new for me as it is for you. We have all night, no need to rush."

Well, when he put it that way, how could I say no. I'd spot cleaned when we got home, but I still felt the evening's muck on my skin. And I wouldn't want Mr. Canseco to think I was frantic, or desperate, happy to settle for, "Wham bam, thank you ma'am," my first time. And there was something else, I liked it when Mr. Canseco was in control.

Saying, "Yes sir," I ran my hands, palms flat on his chest, and started on the buttons of his shirt. It wasn't always easy, the buttons were small and my hands shook with lust, but I got them all, pulled the shirt and undershirt off him, pressed my face to his chest. His sprinkling of chest hair, like the hair on his head, was black. They tickled my nose. He smelled like a man.

He sat on the edge of the bed. I knelt, untied his shoes, slipped them and his socks from his feet.

Only his pants were left. Did I need permission to proceed? Maybe not, but I wanted it anyway. Asking for permission was sexy; getting it sexier. Touching his crotch through his pants I said, "May I?"

"Yes Josie, that would be wonderful."

I pressed my palm to the front of his pants, moved it up the length of his erection, did it again. A low moan escaped his lips. Tracing the outline of his penis with a finger, I looked up, waiting to be told what to do.

Mr. Canseco understood. "Undo my pants Josie, then pull down the zipper."

I unhooked the latch on his pants, worked the zipper down, pulled his pants to his knees. They slid down his legs, puddling at his ankles. I stopped, looked up at him.

"Take it out Josie. I hope it doesn't disappoint."

I pulled his underpants forward, over his bulge, and down. There it was, bobbing back and forth. The crown was purple, the shaft brown and laced with bright pulsating veins, and his ball sac symmetrical.

"Go ahead Josie."

I wrapped my fingers around the shaft.

"It doesn't disappoint sir."
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* * * * *​

I was in the shower; Mr. Canseco, standing behind me, was massaging my scalp with his strong fingers. He'd been right. As he worked the shampoo into my hair, as the hot water poured over my body, I felt the day's muck flow down the drain.

He brought his mouth to my ear. "Tonight Josie you'll feel things you've never imagined I'm going to make your body sing. By the time we're done you'll be a woman, all woman."

He finished my hair, closed his teeth on my ear lobe, tugged, then started working generous dollops of a favorite body-wash into my skin. Starting with my forehead he worked down: face, neck, shoulders, armpits, back. I'd never showered with a man before; I liked it. There was something sensual, something indulgent, about letting a man clean you.

He kissed the side of my head, dragged a thumb across my lips. My tongue flicked out; he slid his thumb into my mouth. I sucked on it, licked it, kissed it when it left. His mouth moved to my neck, where he nibbled and nipped the sensitive flesh. Even in this hot shower I felt chills run down my body.

I leaned back into him, closed my eyes. His soapy hands roamed my torso in long unhurried sweeps. His touch, light and provocative, left me craving more. When his pinkies grazed my nipples, my knees buckled. His hands grew firmer, more aggressive.

"Uunnnnnnhhhhhh, Mr. Canseco."

He caught my nipples with index and middle fingers, rolled them back and forth, pinched them, did it again, harder this time.

"Oh fuck yes, uuunnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhh."

I was ready to end the shower and head for the bedroom, but Mr. Canseco knelt and worked the wash into my butt and down each leg.

"Turn around Josie."

I did. His face was level with my sex. Imagining his tongue wrapped around my clit, I grabbed his shoulders, and then I jumped and squealed. Mr. Canseco was sliding his pinky up my vulva. He brushed my clitoris.

"Mr. C, wow, wow, oooh, oh oh oh omigod, oh yes."

Hands soapy and slick, Mr. Canseco caressed the folds, curves, and crevices of my outer and inner vulvas, then stroked my vaginal lips.

"Oh yes yes yes."

He turned his attention to my clit. Never rushing, allowing me to savor each wicked moment, he circled it with his thumb, then, with me moaning for more, rolled his thumb back and forth on the nub's protective hood. I whimpered.

Capturing some of the cunt cream flowing from my vagina, Mr. Canseco next pulled aside the clitoral hood and rocked the thumb directly on the aching nub. My knees buckled and leaning forward, I held on to Mr. Canseco's shoulders. Taking advantage of my spread legs, Mr. Canseco scrubbed my perineum, my anus, slipped a finger tip inside. He wiggled the finger. My anal muscles clenched.

"Ooooohhhh."

He returned to my clit, circled it with his thumb, and in a voice clear, calm, and certain, said, "Josie I want you to masturbate, stroke your clit, show me how."

It was insane... and so dirty. I mean, of course I played with myself -- I'd done it a thousand times -- but never for an audience or on demand. The thought of doing it was crazy, and so sexy.

Pressing my middle and index fingers together, I strummed them over my clit.

"Like this Mr. Canseco?"

"Just like that. Does masturbating in front of me turn you on Josie?"

"Unnhh, yes sir."

Saying, "You're a naughty girl Josie," Mr. Canseco slipped a finger into my vagina: joint, knuckle, all the way. He wiggled it, shook it, moved it around.

"Uunnhhhh."

Another finger joined it; two moved as easily as one. It was not a surprise. I was a virgin, but I'd known a dildo or two and busted my hymen a long time ago.

As he twisted the fingers in my cunt, his thumb joined my fingers stroking my clit. I pushed my rump into his hand, squeezed my breasts and thumbed my nipples. My cunt spasmed, clamping the walls of my vagina on his fingers, trying to pull them deeper inside.

"Uuunnnnhhhh."

And then, I was coming. It never happened this quickly, but I was frigging coming; a short sharp hard orgasm that shook my body and curled my toes. Mr. Canseco stood and I leaned into him, sucking in air. As the orgasm subsided he reached past me and turned off the shower.

He kissed my neck, nipped an ear lobe. "Josie, I can't describe how much I want you right now."

Damn. I'd just come, but I was ready for more.

Mr. Canseco ran his hands through my hair, squeezing out the water, then used a towel to dry the rest of my body. No one had done that for me before.

Insisting that I return the courtesy, I meticulously inspected his wonderful body, dabbing up any recalcitrant drops of water. When done -- his hard tight butter required special attention -- I slipped my hand into his, kissed him.

As we entered the bedroom I said, "Y'know Mr. C, it was real nice sharing a shower with you. We need to do that again. It will help save water."

I did not give him the chance to respond. Instead, laughing in glee, I pushed him onto the bed and pounced. Holding his hands down I said, "Got you," and kissed him. Distracting me with a kiss, he escaped my grasp. We wrestled; hands explored, kiss followed kiss until, after a fierce struggle, he rolled me onto my back, pinning me to the bed. He nipped my neck, licked my breasts: his tongue was rough and soft and wet and fricking enormous. His dick, hot and hard, bumped against my chest.

He kissed down my body, across my toned torso and abdomen, stopped at my sex. I was glad I'd shaved.

"Fuck me Mr. Canseco."

"Y'know Josie, we're about to become lovers. You can call me Robert.

I know sir, but it's sexier when I call you Mr. Canseco."

"Then please do. The only thing better than a stunning blonde is an aroused stunning blonde."

With mock disdain I said, "Men," then added, more seriously than I'd intended, "Do you really think I'm pretty Mr. Canseco?"

"Yes Josie, I do. You were a beautiful baby, you were a beautiful child, and you've become a beautiful, stunning, sexy, desirable young woman. Yes, I think you're pretty."

Playing coy I said, "Have you been checking me out Mr. C?"

Had Daddy been checking out Cherokee? I could see why, Cherokee was gorgeous, but still, that would be naughty of Daddy. Also kinda sexy.

Ignoring my question, Mr. Canseco blew a stream of hot air onto my clit -- every cell in my body felt that -- and his mouth covered my sex. A finger entered me. I howled my delight.

Mr. Canseco didn't toy, he didn't tease. He attacked my clit, sucked the nub into his mouth, freed it of its protective hood, battered it with tongue and lips, licked it with broad savage strokes of his tongue, over and over. I was a sand dune on a beach, without control, at the mercy of tides and winds. Mr. Canseco drove my overheated body to the brink of an orgasm, then switched his attention to my labia, vaginal lips, inner thighs, holding me on the precipice, then returned to my clit and do it again.

My arms and hands, with minds of their own, grabbed his head, pinned it to my sex, squeezed my breasts and nipples, twisted the bed sheets, did it all again.

He pushed a second finger into me. They explored and stroked, stretching the wet walls my vagina, generating waves of delight. And then he found my g-spot, pressed curled fingers to it, rubbed it, quick and smart.

Ohmigod. My lower body shook in rapid intense shudders; the physical and mental merged. All I could think about was his mouth tongue fingers. I arched my hips and grabbed his head, holding his mouth, his relentless mouth, to my dripping sex.

"Unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh.

I couldn't take much more. I needed release. I needed release. I needed....

And then it was here. Lights dancing behind closed eyes, angels singing in my heads, my loins detonated. A tsunami of pleasure ripped through me, relieving the pressure that moments ago threatened to tear me apart. Screaming, "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," arms and legs flailing, bereft of control, I rode out the orgasm. And through it all Mr. Canseco and his amazing mouth never stopped. His tongue, active and wise, extended and intensified the orgasm, then gave birth to another, an intoxicating echo of its predecessor. Then a third. After that I could take no more.

Mr. Canseco lifted his head; his face was inundated with cunt cream. I giggled. Pleased by the wanton pleasure written on my face, he smiled and kissed me right above my vagina, then up my body, trapping a fold of skin between his teeth with each kiss. His warm moist breath felt good.

He settled next to me on the bed. I rolled into him, laid my head on his arm. He draped a leg over me. The perspiration on our bodies mixed. We smelled good.

Laying there in a post-orgasmic haze, enjoying my body, resting it against Mr. Canseco, everything was perfect. My mind drifted. I'd let a few guys and a few gals eat me, but only Cherokee and her Dad had been really good at it. What was it: genes, old family secret, coincidence? Perhaps a subject for the next time we were all together.

I started to come back to earth. Mr. Canseco was tracing patterns on my stomach with a finger. I asked what he was drawing. When he told me I laughed.

And that's when I heard Cherokee's rasping voice. She was saying something. I didn't know if was a word or a grunt, but it was born in her solar plexus and bursting from her mouth with increasing volume and intensity.

The fire smoldering between my legs re-ignited.

Had Daddy and Cherokee heard me? I could imagine Cherokee, loving every second. But Daddy? Did some part of him wonder if he was doing the right thing? Was Mr. Canseco asking himself the same question? He shouldn't -- it was all amazingly right -- but just in case I rolled onto my side, looked into his eyes, touched his cheek. "Mr. Canseco, I'm so glad you're my first."

"So am I. You're an extraordinary woman Josie Luker."

I kissed him; he kissed me. I rolled onto my back, spread my legs.

I heard Cherokee come.

Mr. Canseco moved onto his knees between my legs, I reached for his dick, held it in my hand, waggled it back and forth. Hot blood was surging into it; it hardened in my hand. I let it go, watched it flop back against Mr. Canseco's stomach. I ran my fingers up and down it. It was as hard as steel; its skin wonderfully soft.

"I'm ready Mr. Canseco."

He moved his body atop mine, held himself up on his elbows, and slid his hard hot dick on the face of my vagina. I was lay there, enjoy it, but then his cock-head bumped my clitoris. I needed more of that. Raising my hips I moved with him. His shaft nestled between the lips my vulva, grazing my clitoris with each thrust.

Mr. Canseco got back onto his knees and using his dick as a bulldozer spread cunt cream over the face of my pussy. He pushed a glob inside my vagina. My pussy had never been this wet soft swollen. The massage, the foreplay, the shower, the cunnilingus had all prepared me for this moment, when I surrendered my virginity.

I wrapped my fingers on his shaft, slid my thumb across its head -- it was thick with pre-cum -- then pressed his cock-head to my clit. The nub blazed in electrical delight. Mr. Canseco slapped it against my clit several more times, each a sizzling delight, then stopped, paused, and looked at my sex.

."Josie, you have a beautiful pussy."

God, I wanted this man.

Moving his body back atop mine, he fit his cock to the lips of my vagina, but the head slid off. I reached between us, guided it into place.

I thought about a girlfriend' description of her first: a boy making it up as he went along, who required constant reassurance, whose idea of romantic was the cramped back seat of a car, and who immediately violated his promise to keep "our secret" so he could brag to his friends about the girl he'd just nailed. My first time: a sexy man I cared for and who cared for me, with a nice hard body, who knew what he was doing and didn't mind taking charge. A girl's dreams can come true.

"Josie, if I push too hard, move to fast, let me know."

"I will."

Mr. Canseco rocked his cock-head on the opening to my vagina. There was a moment of apprehension; my arms and legs tensed. In a voice soft, wise, and understanding, Mr. Canseco said, "Relax, take a deep breath."

Placing my hands on his ass, I did. Mr. Canseco pushed. I felt the lips of my pussy stretch.

Wanting to catalog every sensation, to engrave this moment in my memory, I closed my eyes. Mr. Canseco pushed, once, twice, a third time and there was this moment of pain mixed with intense pleasure. The crown of his cock -- I could feel its warmth -- was lodged in my sex, my pussy lips spread around it. I rolled my hips against him. My pussy lips slid over the cock-head. He was inside me, barely, but he was inside me.

I opened my eyes. Mr. Canseco's gaze was locked on mine. "I'm ready."

Listening to my breathing, my gasps and moans, watching my body twist and turn, Mr. Canseco entered me. His dick moved deeper, the walls of my pussy stretched.

I felt a bond, an intense closeness with this man.

"Oh Mr. Canseco, you're so big, feels so good."

Taking his time, sometimes retreating, he kept moving deeper within me.

His chest, warm and nicely muscled, grazed my breasts.

I slipped my arms around his body.

And then his hips were pressed to mine; he was all the way in. How long had it taken, two minutes, twenty? I didn't know. What I knew was that Mr. Canseco was inside my body. I'd never felt this full. I nudged my pelvis into him, he nudged back. We did it again, a little bit harder. I loved the feeling of him pushing into me.

This man owned me; I'd do anything he asked.

At first I lay there, immersed in carnal bliss, glorying in my body. Mr. Canseco flexed his abdominal muscles, making his dick jump. It felt a little weird, and a whole bunch of good.

Mr. Canseco started rolling his hips on mine, swirling his dick in the depths of my pussy, giving birth to waves of an almost understated pleasure. I had never felt anything like it; not as intense as my g-spot or clit, but real nice.

I felt something new, a spark at the base of my clit. As he rolled his hips on mine Mr. Canseco was pressing his pubic bone, grazing my swollen clit.

Holding on to his shoulders for leverage, I arched my hips into him, increasing the pressure on my clit. The spark became a fire.

Mr. Canseco began sliding his penis in and out of me, each time a bit longer, a bit farther until only his crown was inside me. I felt empty; I wanted him back.

"Ready Josie?"

"Yes sir."

Mr. Canseco entered me, and kept going. There was little resistance: he slipped into me like a hand into a velvet glove. The walls of my vagina vibrated, my clitoris burned, there was an obscene tingle in my asshole. Nothing I'd known had prepared me for this man and his penis. When he reached bottom I sighed and said, "Mr. C, your dick was designed for my pussy."

We kept at it, moving with increasing speed and force. Mr. C adjusted his stroke, dropping his hips and pressing his cock to the roof of my vagina until, ohmigod, he found my g-spot. I hollered my joy.

My clit, vagina, g-spot, asshole were aflame. The fires intensified, spread, merged, threatened to consume half my body.

Mr. Canseco's grunts and wheezes grew harder, more intense. My confidence blooming, I grew increasingly assertive, meeting his thrusts with my own, rotating my hips on his. I squeezed my cunt muscles and was rewarded with an animal growl.

I squeezed again; his dick jumped inside me.

My libido was in control, any sense of patience or restraint forgotten. Meshed together like long practiced lovers, he drove into me hard and deep, over and over.

My breathing deepened, my skin flushed. My pussy, tight soft wet and hot, stroked and hugged his member.

"Oh yeah, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,oh, oh."

I'd waited for this for so long and it was beyond fucking wonderful. Mr. Canseco and I were lovers. I wanted it to go on forever; I wanted to come; I wanted his cum. Fucking was great.

Mr. Canseco raised his body on his hands, ducked his head, licked my breast and its sweet pink nipple. I arched my back, forcing more tit flesh into his mouth, then twisted my body, pulling the saliva covered breast from his mouth and offering him the other. He wrapped his lips on my areola, gave it a quick hard nip with his front teeth. I felt it between my legs.

We fucked and fucked some more. I loved the way it smelled, the way it sounded. Mr. Canseco varied his movements, thrusting at different speeds, different angles, driving me to ever higher plateaus of pleasure and arousal.

"Oh, Mr. Canseco oh, this is what I've dreamed of, but better, so much frigging better. So good, so good, so fricking good. Ohhhhhhh god yes fuck me fuck me fuck me."

The pressure was building between my legs. I squeezed my breasts, thumbed the swollen nipples, wrapped my legs on Mr. Canseco's waist, grabbed his butt, pulled him into me. Our bodies came together with an audible, "thwack."

Then Mr. Canseco's hot breath and voice were in my ear, saying things I never imagined coming from the mouth of my best friend's father.

"I love your pussy Josie. So tight, so wet, so hot. Feels so good on my cock."

"Mr. Canseco, uuunnnnhhhhhh."

"Sweet girl. I love fucking you. So fucking good. You're so fucking good."

"Oh god, oh god, uuuuunnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"You're fricking gorgeous. I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come in your sweet tight pussy. You're making me come, making me...."

His thrust into me in wild abandon, like me now a slave to his lust, hitting my clitoris, crushing my g-spot, over and over and over.

"You're sexy hot desirable. Every man who sees you wants to fuck you, but they can't have you. Your pussy belongs to me Ms. Josie Luker, you're mine."

His words reduced me to my primal core. I needed hard dick, hot cum. I needed an orgasm. And then it was coming with all the subtlety of a freight train. Yelping, "Oh oh oh oh Mr. Canseco, oh god, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm coming, oh fuck yes, uuuuuuunnnnnnnhhhhhhhhh," my body turned inside out as an orgasm, born in a sudden burst, blazed through me, washed over me, shattered me.

Mr. Canseco's breathing, deep and intense, was interrupted by a guttural moan. He jerked, pounded my pussy. Hot ejaculate raced up his dick and exploded within me, flooding the deepest, most intimate parts of me with his hot seed.

My jaw locked, my cunt contracted, and gibbering, "Oh god, oh god, oh god oh god, oh god," I came again, writhing under my lover's warm sweaty body. I could feel his penis inside me. I hoped it would never leave.
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* * * * *​

Light seeped through a corner window, birds were singing, but all I could think about was last night. I'd crawled into Mr. Canseco's arms, fell asleep.

I reached for my lover. He wasn't there.

I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling. I had never felt this peaceful, this good. My mind was calm and clear, and my body.... I had no words. I reached for my sex and found some of Mr. Canseco's dried semen. It must have leaked from my pussy. I sucked on the fingertip. That was a taste I could get used to

I was reaching for seconds when there was a light knock on the door and Mr. Canseco stepped in. His voice low, not sure if I was awake: "Morning Josie, you up?"

"Yes Mr. C, just taking my time. Why don't you take off those nice clothes," -- he was impeccably dressed and groomed, he must have gone home to shower and change -- "and join me."

Placing a hand on my shoulder, Mr. Canseco kissed the top of my head and said, "What have I created? It's tempting, but Chief Thompson's coming to interview you and Cherokee."

With that, as if on cue, Cherokee burst into the room. Her long dark hair was tousled, her eyes dreamy, and she smelled like my father. Did I smell like her's? She was wearing one of Daddy's white button down shirts, buttons undone, and nothing else. I could see the sides of her breasts: large and heavy and round, olive in color, tanned like the rest of her.

"Hey Daddy, Jos..... Ohmigod, last night was fricking amazing. Josie, your dad's not only hot, he's great in bed and -- you'll have to tell me everything -- from the way you were yakking I'm guessing my Dad knows what he's doing."

Without waiting for an answer she turned and hugged her father. Her breasts flattened on his chest. "How was it Daddy, did my best bud over there show you a good time?"

Mr. Canseco raised an eyebrow and Cherokee, her voice a monotone, as if reading from an old script, said, "I know Daddy, a gentleman never talks about his evening with a lady, he considers that private and personal."

"Okay ladies, the Chief said she'd be here at 11:00, and she's usually early. I'd like you two downstairs in forty-five minutes so we can prepare you for the interview. Cherokee, I brought some clothes from the house, jeans and some shirts. Dress down, remember, you've been through a harrowing experience, you're emotionally exhausted. Try to get in that frame of mind.
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