Incestory: Muses

When he was done, he had a good piece and he was a little proud of it.

It was of his sister.

She sat on the very pinnacle of a mountain, clouds formed the landscape. She was a fallen Angel with a broken leather wing, abandoned by Hell, rejected by God, her eyes turned up in longing to the sun, her short black hair blowing in the chill wind.

"Spread your legs," Claire said quietly behind him.

He spun and grabbed at the table for support. Claire and his mother were sprawled on the pillows and they were kissing.

He'd been so engrossed in creating the sketch that he'd missed them coming into the loft and settling into the lounge area they'd created with random pillows the night before.

Claire had one hand in his mother's blouse massaging her breast, the other between her long thin legs, the normally knee length skirt bunched around his mother's hips.

"Spread your legs for him," Claire insisted quietly, "He needs to see you."

Catherine moaned and pulled Claire's face to her own to breathe her moans into her lips.

"Show him what he's needed to see all these years, what he needs to see ... to finally find some peace."

Catherine's legs fell open as wide as they could and Claire slid her fingers under the crotch of Tim's mother's panties and inserted them into her bushy red-haired vagina.

Catherine began to quiver and shake, the beginning of a massive orgasm.

"So soon?" Claire laughed, "Must run in the family!"

The suddenness of it sent shockwaves through Tim and before he knew it he was quivering too, his penis in his hand, masturbating frantically and ready to cum at the sight of his mother's release.

"Come here!" Claire ordered him. "Quickly!"

He staggered to his feet and tripped over a few pillows but managed to obey, standing over his mother, stroking his cock furiously.

"Cum on me!" Catherine cried pulling herself up onto her elbows, ripping open her blouse, and arching her back. "Cum on my tits!"

"Unnnngggghhh!" Tim let go, throwing his head back as he spasmed, splashing her creamy white tits and large pink nipples with his semen.

"Oh God!" she cried when the hot liquid splashed across her chest, the sensation causing her to burst into another frenzy of orgasm.

"There ya go," Claire purred as she increased the frequency of her fingers inside Catherine to the point that she was literally smacking her pussy with her palm.

Tim sputtered and grunted at the sight of his thick arcs of creamy white semen pooling in his mother's cleavage.

"Look at it all!" Claire remarked at the volume of it.

Finally, when Tim had spent himself and she was exhausted, Catherine collapsed back down onto the pillows smearing her son's seed over her tits and neck.

Tim fell to his knees, his head bowed in shame and exhaustion.

"Come on, Mr. Artist," Claire said soothingly as she pulled Tim down on one side of his mother and laid down on the other, "Tell her."

"I ... I love you," he said to his mother. "I've always dreamt of you."

"Mmmmmmmmm," Catherine moaned in pleasure, sitting up to wrap him in her arms and pulling him to her cum-soaked breast, "Don't tell me you're dreaming now?"

"How would I know if I was!" he cried from the bottom of a sudden metaphysical void.

Claire grabbed the flesh of his cheek and twisted it brutally.

"Owwwww!" he cried out, smacking her hand away as she burst into laughter.

"I guess not!" Claire stated.

"There's nothing wrong with dreaming a bit more tonight ... is there?" Catherine asked him.

"You really owe me, Mister Artist," Claire said quietly.

"More than you can imagine," he told her as he pushed Catherine back down onto her back and slid between his mother's legs.

**************************************

The smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee woke him up.

He looked around, confused for a moment until the previous night's adventure blasted back into his memory and he shook in the intensity of it.

Claire was standing in the small kitchenette making breakfast. His mother sat cross-legged on the floor in his old robe looking through a pile of his sketches.

Katie must have been in class.

He sat up quickly and gasped.

"Shit!"

Catherine looked up and Claire spun to look at him.

"You weren't supposed to see those, Mom!" he cried.

Claire turned back to her cooking.

"Why not?" his mother asked him, "They're ... they're beautiful!"

He looked over at Claire and Claire smiled at him over her shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"Tell you?" he stammered, "How could I?"

"He doesn't know yet, Lady Catherine!" Claire said.

"Know what?" he asked, his frustration at his own confusion angering him.

"This!" His Mother held up the yellow envelope Claire had shown them the day before.

"Go ahead!" Claire laughed, "Who better to tell him than his own Mom?"

"You're going to get a studio!" Catherine squealed, "There's a check for Ten Thousand dollars in here!"

"That's just to get started," Claire said to him almost apologetically, "My family has money and you'll get more ... your talent's just too good to waste, okay?"

Tim looked at Claire forced a smile. Claire shrugged at him and scraped the scrambled eggs onto a large plate.

His mother crawled across the floor to him shedding the robe as she came.

"I have never been so happy!" she said as she pushed him back down and lay on top of him.

Claire turned around with a frying pan in her hand and laughed.

"I guess breakfast is gonna have to wait a minute!"

She set the pan down and watched intently as Catherine tenderly satisfied the part of her son that needed her motherly tending the most.

**************************************

Claire and Katie admired a pair of Tim's ceramic statuettes together.

Tim finished making a sale to one of the customers that browsed the myriad art pieces he'd put together for his first show and excused himself to join them.

He was doing well; he'd already made more money than he ever imagined he would.

"What do you think?" Claire asked.

"I don't understand them," Katie replied.

"This one is Eris," Claire poked her in the chest, "that's you!"

"Okay," Katie said, "So who's that?" she pointed at the sister figurine.

"She's a kind of Strife too, the daughter of Nyx ..."

"But the other is the elder daughter of dark Night," Tim interjected over her shoulder, "and she is far kinder to men."

Claire turned to him and smiled. Katie elbowed him in the ribs.

"She stirs up even the shiftless to toil;" Claire responded with the next verse, "for a man grows eager to work when he considers his neighbour."

Katie groaned and put her head in her hands.

"This Strife is wholesome for men." Tim laughed and grabbed Claire's ass lewdly.

Claire reached back and pulled him into a passionate kiss over her shoulder.

Katie looked at the two of them and smiled politely.

"Does this mean I can't get my homework done for me anymore?"

"Don't be jealous, Eris!" Claire cooed, "I'm sure our ... Arteeest ... will always be able to take care of his little sister."

**************************************

When it came time to close, Tim strolled through the dark studio, the orange light from the street casting everything in shadow.

He smiled and mentally inventoried the pieces he had remaining.

He heard footsteps behind him and spun just in time to see someone step into the alcove that he'd used to display the sketches.

"Excuse me!" he called. "We're closed ... just now ... sorry!"

There was no response.

He'd hung then in a grid using dowel rods to mount each successive row of drawings a little closer to the front so that it had the appearance that the sketches were a wave about to crash over the observer.

It had been a popular part of the show and he'd actually had to refuse at least a dozen offers for the entire display and several dozen requests for individual pieces. He'd refused them all without a thought.

He strolled through the area he'd arranged his sculptures in and ducked under a low hanging oil.

"None of those are for sale ..." he stopped short and laughed when he saw that the mystery person was his mother.

She stood under the arc of sketches and looked at them one by one.

"I didn't know you were back in town. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her although he was grateful she was here now. "I'd have picked you up from the airport!"

"She's very beautiful," she said, "don't you think?"

She ran a finger along the edge of one that presented her as a brazen Flapper in short skirt and work boots with no laces. She wore a look of pure free spirited chaos.

"At least she was," she added quietly, "once."

She wore a traditionally black, short cocktail dress and heels. Her red hair was up in a bun. She wore mascara and lipstick that made her eyes even more mysterious and her lips even more inviting in the play of the shadows.

"She's more beautiful now then ever," he assured her.

She slid a three-legged stool someone had left off to the side to the center of the alcove and straddled it, her long sexy legs spread wide on either side of her so that the dress slid up to reveal the tops of the thigh-high stockings she wore.

"You wouldn't tell her that just because she was your mother, would you?"

He stepped into the alcove and up to the stool. She put her palms on the stool and closed her legs around him.

They were so close he could feel her breath on his lips, her breasts pressed into his chest.

"All the more reason to tell her," he said with a smile.

She unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis; she slid her dress up and scooted forward on the stool and held him so that it slid over her satin panties, pressing it into her moistening slit.

"What about your darling bride-to-be?"

"Somehow, I don't think she minds."

"You're not worthy of her," Catherine said.

Tim looked at her surprised.

"You think so?" He slid her panties aside and slid two fingers into her while slowly stroking himself.

"I'm sure of it," she insisted. "Still ... she has deigned to show you favor. She obviously loves you."

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"Women's Intuition," she stated as if that explained everything.

"Are you sure that you'd want your young lover to marry me?" he teased.

She put her hands on his shoulders and her forehead to his.

"All the more reason!"

He slid his fingers out of her and between her lips as he guided his precum dripping cock into her.

She sucked on his fingers and rolled her hips, making the entire stool tip one way then the other with the movement. She didn't have to worry about falling ... she clung to him too tightly with her legs.

"Oh no!" he sputtered and came in her.

She rocked with him on every thrust as he rolled his hips and filled her with his semen.

"I'm sorry!" he kissed her eyes and nose, "I ... I can't control it!"

"It's okay!" she said into his shoulder as they reveled in the sensations of their incestuous coupling. "I've never been happier."

She held him inside her and began to roll her hips this time. At first it hurt his oversensitive nerves but soon enough the pain gave way to pleasure and in a moment or two more, he was stroking in her at a reasonable pace again.

He looked up and let his eyes wander over the sketches, enjoying the feel of his mother's cum-filled steamy hot cunt while he scrolled through the images of her over her shoulder.

When his eyes fell on the one with her beneath the gnarled Oak tree, the one his sister had asked him about, a thought crossed his mind.

"Tell me about the tree," he insisted.

"What?" his mother startled and looked around.

He leaned back and looked into her eyes.

"Tell me about the tree."

"Oh!" she leaned back so she could see the sketch he was referring to, albeit upside down, and he had to grip her sides to keep her from tumbling off of the stool backwards, "I was wondering how you knew about that!"

"I don't."

She sat back up and took his face in her hands and laughed.

"You must ... how else would you have known to draw it?"

"Tell me again, then," he insisted.

"There is a price," she warned as she reached between them and slid him back into her.

"I like it already," he laughed.

She looked at him intently and put on the face she always wore when she told him tales from the old country.

"Crazy Aunt Mary disappeared when she'd just come of age," she began the story in her spooky Irish voice, "and no one knew where she'd gone."

She rested her chin on his shoulder and ran her hands up his chest.

"Some of the children loved to play in the Old Forest during reunions." She unbuttoned his shirt. "Some said they'd see her wandering alone as if lost ..."

She pulled his shirt off over his head.

"Scary," he chuckled. "Go on."

"Some of the older boys," she unbuckled his belt, "well; they would claim she would appear to them if they came around a particularly old tree in the heart of the forest."

"An old Oak," he moaned.

She gasped then and looked at him strangely for a moment as if she'd been shocked. He held her thighs to steady her.

"Go on," he urged, quickening his pace to encourage her.

"It was an ancient Oak at the edge of a pond someone had hung an old rope swing from many years before," she continued. "They said she would try to lure them into the forest ... to seduce them."

"That's more like it," he laughed, "I can't believe I haven't heard this one!"

She was the master at telling stories and he could feel the suspense building, the gentle rolling of her hips increasing in intensity to match him, incrementally, as the story progressed.

"They say that one boy ..." she grabbed the back of his head and lifted her ass off the stool for more leverage, "Crazy Mary's own nephew no less ..."

He held her in the air by her thighs and balanced her as she ground her thin body into him.

"He was of a strange sort himself ... and ... he gave in to her charms."

He felt his balls start to swell again, building up a tension of their own.

"Then what?" he moaned. Her husky voice and the velvet heat of her drawing him in.

"She enraptured him ... made him ... impregnate her," the movement of her hips became more insistent, her legs tightening around him, "then ... drove him mad with lust!"

He felt his orgasm build, his nuts twitched and his heart began to pound, he pressed his forehead to hers ran his lips over her brow.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she sputtered and dug her nails into his shoulder blades as she spasmed.

"Yeeeeessssss!" he groaned as he pumped his thick semen into her quivering body again, jerking her hips into him as he thrust.

They clung together, pressed as tightly together as two people could be, as close as they'd been since the day he was born.

When they wound down, Tim reluctantly pulled his sweaty body away from hers and pulled up his pants.

"Then what?" he asked.

"What?" She stood and straightened her panties under the dress.

"Oh, yes, the story ..."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, "The story!"

"He hung himself in the swing and no one found his body until it had rotted completely away." She undid her hair clasp, letting her beautiful long hair fall from the updo, "He'd been absorbed by the roots of the demon tree, you see; only his bones and the swing remained."

"Is that true?" he asked.

"Boo!" Catherine laughed amusedly and kissed his nose.

"Lame!" He shook his head and laughed with her.

"I need a ride to the airport." She smiled at him sweetly and he suddenly realized where his sister got it from.

"I'll get my keys."

**************************************

Tim rolled off of his sister, sweaty and tired, but still rock hard.

Katie reached between her legs and slid her panties up to keep his cum from draining out of her and onto her skirt; she had another class today and was already running a little later than she had expected.

"My textbook and assignments are on the table," she informed him.

Claire sat with a blank look on her face in the chair and looked out the window tapping her lip with a pencil.

She'd put her long blonde hair up in a ponytail and she looked so cute that way in her school uniform that Tim sat up to get his sketch pad.

"No you don't!" Katie grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back down to roll on top of him. "I have Calculus homework for you to do."

"We should get married in the summer," Claire stated. "I like the summer."

"What?" Tim and Katie asked in unison.

"Married," she pointed the pencil at Tim menacingly, "You're not getting cold feet on me are you?"

"I thought that was just some elaborate con you were playing!" He looked up at his sister quizzically, "Wasn't it?"

"Sounds about right," Katie shrugged and sat up so that she straddled her brother and twisted around to look at Claire as well. "And he hasn't done my Calc homework yet."

"Maybe at first ..." she admitted, "But I kinda like the idea."

"Really, Claire?" Katie asked scornfully.

"Really?" Tim asked hopefully.

"Why not, Mister Artist?" she asked him, "I dig your mom and she digs me," she nodded at Katie, "and your sister's alright too."

"Thanks," Katie sneered at her.

"Do you love me?" Tim asked.

"Who says you gotta love someone to marry 'em?" she laughed, "I'm gonna marry you for your money!"

Tim rolled his stunned sister off of him and strolled across the loft to where she sat. She smiled crookedly and watched him approach her, his dick bobbing with each step.

He smiled back at her and got down on one knee.

"Claire .... Uh, shit ... hold on a second," he looked over his shoulder at his sister with a quizzical expression.

"Jensen," Katie groaned and stood up to straighten out her blouse and vest. "Her name is Claire Jensen."

"Claire Jensen," he took her hand. "Will you marry me?"

She looked at him and had to bite her lip to hold back her laughter.

"Somehow I never pictured this moment would be like this," she flicked her eyes down to his stiff pecker, "but now that It's here I can't imagine how it could have happened any other way!"

"That a yes?" he asked.

"Why should I?" she asked coyly.

"I've got money now," he reminded her, "and ... you are my Muse!"

She broke into a huge toothy smile and her eyes sparkled with delight.

"Your Muse, huh?"

"I wouldn't have done any of this without you and ... now that you've brought it up ... I can't bear the thought of not marrying you either - of not having you in my life."

"Oh, Lord!" Katie cried sarcastically. "I can't take anymore of this!"

"Besides," he kissed the fingers of her hand tenderly, "my mother would never forgive me if I let you get away."

"In that case, Timothy Fitzgerald," Claire said, reaching down to pull him up to his feet, "why not?"

"Wonderful!" he cried.

She took him into her mouth as he moaned her name and ran his fingers through her silky blonde ponytail.

"Wonderful," Katie mocked as she strolled to the door and grabbed her books, "Now I gotta worry about getting my homework done ... and finding a dress to wear."

**************************************