tagNonConsent/ReluctanceSecret Sex with my Step-Sister

Secret Sex with my Step-Sister


Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

All characters are over 18.


"Oh. Oh! OH!" the thirty-eight-year-old woman moaned, then she froze as a glorious orgasm wracked her body.

"Oh. Good God!" cried her partner. The fifty-two-year-old felt his partner's pussy clamp down on his penis. He drove it into her one more time. It exploded. He collapsed on top of the bleach blond, gasped for air, and enjoyed a tremendous climax.

The room was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing. The man rolled off the woman and lay beside her. Each basked in the pleasurable sensations that surged throughout their bodies.

Then Bernard, the gray-haired man, turned to his lover and looked her over as she lay there peacefully with her eyes closed. His gaze started at her little feet and moved up.

Marylou Clark wore a size 5 ½ shoe and always painted her fingernails and toenails bright red. She had nice legs and a woman's round hips. The carpet didn't match the drapes. She had a trimmed, dark brown bush and obviously fake platinum blond hair on her head. She had a large scar on her belly from the cesarean birth of her only child, a son.

She had great breasts. They were large and natural with brown areolas and long, erect nipples. She had a narrow face, cupid lips, and large, brown eyes. An aquiline nose dominated her face.

He smiled thinking about how self-conscious she was of her hooked nose. If she had a normal nose she'd be considered to be quite beautiful.

Bernard said, "Marylou, will you marry me?"

Her eyes popped open. She looked at him and said, "Are you sure you want to marry me? I'm an uneducated hick with big boobs and a big nose. You're from high society."

"I do," he said. His face adopted a serious expression and he said, "I like that we're different. It makes things interesting. I like your boobs. They're very soft and lots of fun to play with. I like your nose. It gives you character. But most of all, I like how I feel when I'm around you. You're kind and guileless. A gentle soul."

"I say yes!" she shouted.

They kissed and hugged. Marylou thought about his daughter and asked, "Is this going to be a problem for our kids?"

Bernard laughed. "Look at you. The great diplomat. You're not concerned about your son, Cole. Whatever makes you happy, makes him happy. My daughter is a different story. She tends to focus on superficial things, like money and class. She will surely be put off by the difference in our ages and education."

"I won't beat around the bush this time," Marylou said. "Will your stuck up, bitch of a daughter accept me?"

"She is a snooty bitch. Unfortunately, in that way, Genevieve takes after her deceased mother," Bernard agreed. "I will make it clear to her that I love you and this marriage will make me very happy. She only has one more year of college and then she'll be off on her own. How bad could it be?"


That night over dinner, Bernard and Marylou announced their nuptials to their children. Eighteen-year-old Cole was excited and happy for them both. Genevieve was not.

Afterward, when she was alone with her dad, the twenty-one-year-old said, "Really, father? You want to marry the trollop?"

He shot out of his chair. His face was red with rage. He said, "I love this woman. She makes me happy. Young lady, you keep your opinion to yourself and never disrespect Marylou. If you do, you put at risk our relationship and your inheritance!"

He gave her a hard look. She was stunned into silence by his fury. She sat on the sofa with her mouth open. Satisfied that he'd made his point, Bernard walked out of the room.

After he'd left the room, Genevieve said to no one, "I may have held my tongue, but I'm not happy with the situation."


The next day, Marylou and her son, Cole, moved into the mansion. Plans for a quick wedding began. The bride and groom were anxious to unite the two families. They insisted that their children be part of the celebration. Cole was drafted to be the best man. Genevieve was appointed the maid-of-honor.

The next day, while Bernard was at work, Marylou brought some of her clothes over. Cole carried the boxes. They were in the master bedroom walk-in closet. Marylou said, "You can put that box down here. I think all that's left is my shoes."

"I should have guessed the biggest box was for your shoe collection," Cole teased his mother good-naturedly.

"Yes. Go get it and your work is done. I'll fetch you a big glass of ice water. Thanks so much for your help."

Cole went out of the front door. His mother went to the kitchen. On her way, she passed the solarium. Genevieve was there. She was sitting on a lounger looking out the windows at the expansive backyard and crystal blue pool.

Genevieve was on the phone. She said, "I can't believe my dad is marrying this country bumpkin. A real Dolly Parton look-alike down to the bleached blond hair and giant boobs. She was a waitress for God's sake. She's doesn't love my father. She loves his bank account. She's nothing but a gold digger."

Marylou marched into the solarium. Genevieve heard footsteps and turned toward the sound. She saw the determined look on Marylou's face and realized she'd overheard her derogatory words. She went on the offensive.

She chastised the older woman and said, "It is not polite to eavesdrop."

"I'd hoped that we'd be friends," Marylou said. "Now I'm hoping that we can be civil for your father's sake. He and I are going to be married. You can't stop that from happening. Go to war with me if you like, but you'll lose. You're right I'm an uneducated woman from the sticks. I talk funny and bleach my hair.

"But I have a couple of trump cards that will cause your father to pick me if you are foolish enough to make him choose between us. I suck your father's dick and these tits are real."

As she said that, Marylou cupped and lifted her breasts. Genevieve's eyes grew big and her face turned red.

Marylou said, "Don't make trouble for me and I won't make trouble for you. Deal?"

She stared into the young woman's eyes. Not hearing any argument, she turned on her heels and left the room.

^^^A month later^^^

"And I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," the minister said.

Bernard kissed Marylou and the two of them walked hand-in-hand down the aisle.

Photos were taken, then the wedding party went to the reception. The maid-of-honor made a beeline to the bar and Genevieve said, "Scotch. Make it a double."

It was served quickly. She grabbed it, downed half of it, and then, went over to her friends. In the cattiest manner possible, she said, "I can't believe it. The old fool did it. My dad married that woman!"

"She's kind of pretty," Julia said. "She has a nice figure and the biggest boobs I've ever seen."

"So? I didn't say he shouldn't fuck her. He can have all the sex he wants with her. She probably takes it up the bum. Screw her? Fine. But you don't marry trailer trash," Genevieve explained.

She downed the rest of the drink and headed toward the bar to get a refill. She was intercepted by her new step-brother.

"Gen," the young man said. "It's time for the dances. The bride and groom go first, then, we join them, and then, anyone can dance."

"My Name Is Genevieve!" she corrected the eighteen-year-old. "Not Genny or Gen. It's Genevieve."

The young man blushed. He already felt out of place. He was wearing a rented tuxedo. The starch in the shirt chafed his neck. The shiny black shoes hurt his toes. The place and the party were swankier and more opulent than anything he'd seen. He was nervous and star-struck.

His face turned bright red as he looked at his step-sister. She looked like a movie star with her slim build, designer gown, and her natural blond hair done up in a fanciful updo.

He found her intimidating. She was three years older, very beautiful, born into money, and had a level of sophistication he'd never achieve. She was wearing four-inch heels which made her two inches taller than him. She lorded over him, figuratively and literally. Her words and attitude shouted, "You are not my equal!"

Cole apologized, "Sorry, Genevieve. Your father asked that I come get you."

"Fine!" she said. She stood beside him. The music stopped. The band leader said, "Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you the bride and groom. Mr. and Mrs. Vasser."

The crowd clapped as Bernard and Marylou stepped out on the dance floor. The band played and the newlyweds, beaming and looking very much in love, danced.

Cole could tell that his step-sister wasn't happy. He wasn't sure if she was angry about the wedding, the fact that the college girl had to dance with a kid just out of high school, or if she really hated him. He tried to lighten the mood. He leaned in and whispered, "I hope I remember the steps to the waltz. Mom and I have been practicing."

She stared daggers at him and said in the most condescending manner, "It's the simplest dance. You do a box step to the count of three. You can count to three can't you?"

He blanched. Her remarks hit him like a slap on the face. He answered, "Actually, I'm very good with numbers. I can recite pi to 1000 digits."

His step-sister gave him a look that made him feel like the biggest dork on the planet. Cole was caught off-guard when the bandleader invited them to join their parents on the dance floor and just stood there.

Genevieve grabbed his hand, pulled him out onto the dance floor, and said in an annoyed tone, "Let's get this over with. Then I can get drunk."

They danced. The nervous boy counted to three in his head. He looked down at his feet checking that they moved correctly.

"Don't screw up. Don't screw up," was the mantra he chanted to himself.

Genevieve saw his downcast eyes and accused him, "You pervert! Are you looking down my dress?"


The truth was he had. He couldn't help it. Her breasts were right there in front of him. She was braless in a strapless gown. He hadn't set out to sneak a peek, but when he looked down at his feet, he saw her tanned, plump boobs.

When she caught him eyeing her titties and called him out, it unnerved him. He lost track of the count and where he should be stepping. He stepped on her foot.

"Ouch! Watch it, you idiot," she hissed at him. "These are designer shoes. They were custom made for me. They're very expensive."

"Sorry," Cole said. His face turned a deeper shade of red.


Bernard and Marylou went on a wonderful honeymoon. While they were gone, Cole lived at the mansion. His room was near Genevieve's bedroom. Whenever they crossed paths, she sneered at him and made a cutting comment about his heritage, his mother, his clothes, his haircut, or his height.

"What's up, country bumpkin."

"Your mother's a golddigger."

"Were all your clothes bought at Wal-Mart?"

"Do you cut your own hair?"

"I hope you aren't finished growing. No woman wants a man who is less than six feet tall. She won't be able to wear heels. Ever."

Cole put up with her abuse for his mother's sake. He didn't respond verbally. In his mind, he thought, "You stuck up bitch. You'll get your comeuppance someday."


"What the hell?" Cole said.

He'd walked into the laundry room to wash some clothes and discovered that the room was full of bras, panties, and hosiery. Genevieve had washed a slew of undergarments and left them hanging on racks to dry.

His dick stirred as he looked at the sexy unmentionables. He put his laundry basket down and went over to get a better look at them. His first stop was beside a bunch of fishnet stockings. They were black, thigh-high, and had intricate patterns woven into the sheer lace.

Next, a fancy red lace bra caught his eye. He picked it up and said, "This is so light. Mom's bras are heavy and sturdy. For a good reason, she needs a lot of support," he chuckled. He turned it over and read the tag. "34B. Not bad, Sis."

He put the bra back and picked up a small pair of black panties. "This is so smooth, soft, and shimmery. I wonder if they are made of silk?"

"Are you sniffing my panties, you pervert?" Genevieve hollered. She'd entered the room to collect her undergarments and caught Cole fondling her panties.

His face instantly turned red. He turned to her and said, "No. These were so pretty and shiny. I picked them up to feel the material. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched them."

She walked up to him and snatched them out of his hands. She leaned into him so they were face-to-face and said, "Does it excite you to know these silk panties were wrapped around my ass and pressed up against my pussy?"

He didn't answer. He was too embarrassed to speak, but his dick responded. He got a full erection thinking about what she'd said.

She stared at him for a while and then said dismissively, "Your behavior is sick, but why should I be surprised. All hillbillies are degenerates."

She gathered up her underwear, cleared some clothes from the dryer, and left.

"She hates me," Cole said. He picked up his laundry basket and went over to the washing machine. He opened the top and saw something inside. He reached in and picked it up. It was Genevieve's driver's license. He looked at it and said,

"Naturally, she has a great photo. My driver's license picture is a disaster. I look like a troll. 5' 8'. Yes, you're tall just two inches shorter than me. 115 pounds. Ha! That's a lie. You're not an anorexic fashion model. You're a normal woman. I'd guess you weigh around 130 pounds and you're not overweight by an ounce. Ah. A Taurus born on May 2nd."

He scanned the rest of the card, checked out her smiling photo again, and then put in his laundry. He didn't want to have another conversation with Genevieve so instead of giving her the license, he placed it in the hall on the floor outside of her bedroom where she was sure to find it.


That night, Genevieve and Cole went out. Separately. Cole and his friends drank beer and listened to a cool rock band. Genevieve and her friends dressed to the nines and went to a fancy club where they drank champagne and danced, danced, danced.

Cole got a nice buzz. Genevieve got plastered. Cole left his friends and decided to grab a cheesesteak before going home. His path took him by the exclusive club. He saw Genevieve, obviously drunk, being carried out of the club by two men.

One of them was talking to the bouncer who eyed them suspiciously. He said, "My date had a little too much to drink. We're taking her home."

Cole didn't like the look of the guys. The one not talking to the bouncer was groping Genevieve's ass. Earlier that night, he'd overheard his step-sister making plans to go out with her girlfriends. To him, it sounded like they didn't have dates, but rather were looking forward to having a fun, girl's night out.

He hurried over and said, "Buddy, if she's your girlfriend, what's her name and what's her address?"

"Butt out. This is none of your business," one of the men said.

"This is my business. She's my step-sister."

Cole went up to the bouncer and said, "Her name is Genevieve Vasser. She lives at 2531 Quaker Lane in Bryn Mawr. Pull her license out of her clutch and check. You'll see I'm telling the truth."

The bouncer did. He looked at her ID.

Cole said, "Her birthday is May 2nd. Her driver's license number is PA 2984729."

The men holding Genevieve let go of her and ran away. She collapsed. The bouncer and Cole caught her. That gave the men the time they needed to get away.

The bouncer said, "It's lucky for your sister that you came along."


"Can you get her home?"

"Yes. I'll call us an Uber."


Genevieve slept in the backseat on the ride home. She lay her head on Cole's shoulder. Cole's nose picked up the flowery bouquet of her perfume. He drew in a deep breath of the nice scent.

The Uber dropped them off. Genevieve couldn't walk up to the house. The driver said, "Do you need some help?"

"No, she's not heavy. I can manage."

Cole scooped her up. The car drove off. He carried her to the front door. When he got there he said, "Now, how am I going to unlock the door?" He felt a warm sensation on his abdomen.

"Oh, you fucking bitch. I rescue you and this is how you repay me! You pee on me!"

He sat her down, got out his keys, and unlocked the door. He picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom.

"I should toss you on the bed and leave you lying in your filth."

Instead, he put her down on the bedroom carpet. He looked down at the beautiful blond. She had on a gold sequin mini dress with spaghetti straps and a square neckline. He said, "Mother would expect more from me. I need to clean you up first."

He knelt and took off her shoes, then he rolled her over and unzipped her dress. She had on a strapless bandeau style bra. He undid the clasp and rolled her over again. He sat her up, pulled the dress down, and tossed the bra aside.

"Nice tits, sis," he said as he looked at her bare boobs. She had pretty, pink nipples. Her areolas were small.

He lay her on her back, crawled down to her feet, and tugged on the bottom of her short dress. With some difficulty, he managed to get the dress off. She was wearing a gold thong. The band was sheer lace covered with lots of little golden bows. The crotch was cotton. It was wet and dark in color from the urine.

He hooked his fingers in her panties and pulled. He rolled them down her legs and tossed them on top of the soiled dress. The smell of urine filled the air. He sat back and took a moment to study her.

"Genny, you've got good legs, a sexy, hairless pussy, nice tits, and a full-body tan. Maybe we can sunbathe nude together."

He chuckled and his dick grew stiff.

He stood, went to the shower, and turned the water on. She had a large shower with a big overhead sprayer and a marble bench. He adjusted the water until he got it to a comfortable, warm temperature.

"It looks like we're both going in."

He put the lid down on the toilet, sat, untied his shoes and removed them and his socks. Then, he took off his clothes. His dick was hard and pointed straight out.

"Pardon, my hard-on, Sis, but naked women have that effect on me."

He bent over, put his hands under her armpits, and stood her up. Her naked body pressed against his naked body. His dick poked her ass. He put one arm around her waist and the other under her boobs, and he dragged her into the shower. The spray struck her body.

"Ah," she moaned. She flailed her arms. Her movements were slow and clumsy. Her attempts at speaking were unintelligible.

Cole tensed and said to himself, "Oh, God. Is she waking up? I don't want to have to explain being naked with her in the shower."

He remained silent and waited to see how this was going to play out. The water rained down on them. She grew calm, quit talking gibberish, stopped waving her arms, and appeared to lose consciousness again.

"I dodged a bullet there," Cole said. "Now, how are we going to do this?"

He grabbed a bar of soap and walked backward dragging her with him. He sat on the bench, spread his legs, and had her sit on the bench between his legs. He supported her by placing one hand on her stomach and pulling her towards his body.

"Sis, what a nice, firm tummy you have."

He took his other hand, the one that held the soap, and rubbed it across her wet breasts. He soaped them up and said,

"You have soft titties."

He placed the soap on the bench. Both hands were now free to slip and slide across her boobs. He groped, fondled, and squeezed her soft flesh. He coaxed her nipples to tight peaks by pulling and pinching them.

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