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Author’s note: The following incidents are probably mostly fictional. All sexual participants are living humans aged 18+. These standalone A TASTE OF INCEST tales (adapted and expanded from RON’S JOURNAL episodes) include incestuous and bisexual groups. If you object to these themes, or use of the word ‘retard’, then stop reading. Views expressed are not necessarily the author’s. Nobody here is named Honey. Your constructive comments are welcome. If you like this, join the 1%ers and VOTE!
An Taste of Incest: A Taste of Honey
(Ron and three loving sisters, and more)
Let us set the scene.
The time and place: far away and long ago (yes, some decades back), before internets, cell-phones, self-esteem, AIDS, and an all-volunteer US military…
Lean, tall, naive Ron started his senior year at Piedmont High in his suburban Los Angeles hometown. [See RON’S JOURNAL 00 for background.] He recently turned eighteen — yes, draft age — amid the familiar cohort he had known since grade school, as well as kids from elsewhere around town. Some became special friends.
“Hey Ron, what’s happening?”
That was Judy, shoulder high to six-foot four-inch Ron, with trimmed walnut-brown hair and nice suggestive curves — cute as a bunny and just as bouncy. He had known her since their sophomore year. He knew she crushed on him at least a little. They had teased each other some, but nothing much more. Until lately. They were more playful now. She was hopeful.
She skipped alongside him, clutching anonymous books to her pleasantly pneumatic chest. Her body was lightly covered by an orange and vanilla sundress sufficient for school dress-code guidelines while still drawing eyes to her. They headed toward their next history class.
“Oh, same old same old. I’m still trying to play rock’n’roll and blues on that ancient bulbous Italian mandolin my aunt gave me. Doesn’t make it. I really need a guitar.”
Judy saw her opening. She decided to bait and tease this big fish.
“Hey, you haven’t been in to my house yet. Come visit me sometime soon and you can play with my Spanish guitar — and with me!”
He smiled and took the bait. He could look forward to this.
“Sounds like a plan. How about today, oh best girl?”
“Yeah, right after school, that’ll be great!”
He smiled again and looked at his old Timex watch, which he had actually remembered to wind and set that morning. They still had a couple minutes till the bell rang. He prodded her toward an unoccupied bench.
Judy felt confident she could snag this guy. Damn, he was so tall and sexy!
Ron wrapped an arm around Judy’s soft shoulders and gave her a good snuggly squeeze. He peered around to make sure no disapproving teachers were looking their way, and kissed her forehead, with a little wet lick too. He felt her shiver. (Or was she giggling?)
“Hey Ron, careful of these PDA’s here. Am I worth a suspension?”
“Yeah, I think you are.” He kissed her again and nibbled an earlobe. He KNEW she giggled this time. He could not know she was getting wet.
“I think about you sometimes, Ron. I like thinking about you on special days — days that start with a morning.” She grinned shyly. Or, was that coyly?
Ron suppressed the urge to cop a feel. He checked the time again.
“Oops! Gotta go, or we’ll be late.” Darn, so close…
Judy felt a pang of disappointment. If only she’d had another minute…
He held her hand and pulled her up. They walked with fingers intertwined to the classroom door and shuffled to their desks for an hour of shared mental torture. Mr Beck was NOT the most inspiring of teachers.
Judy eased her pain by stealthily sketching. She drew Ron, herself, other students, and Mr Beck, all in rather rude situations. Her sketches of the teacher highlighted his ears and nose. Her drawings of Ron exaggerated his short-sleeve button-down shirt, Japanese necktie, and heavy black-framed glasses. Her self-sketches were idealized. A career as a cartoonist or caricaturist awaited her.
Their following classes were in opposite directions. They veered off, with promises to meet at her home immediately after school. Judy stopped at the campus phone-booth cluster and made a quick call. Her plan was up and running.
The endless school day eventually ended. Ron bundled his books and trundled his well-worn red Honda moped down Judy’s affluent street. Her father was a dentist; her mother busied herself with various social and civic groups and ’causes’. Their house oozed money.
Ron still lived in the modest downtown apartment his Dad was forced into after the divorce. Ron had to learn to cook from self-defense. Judy’s family economic and social status was a couple rungs above anything he was used to. He was nervous.
Judy was nervous too, but determined. She heard his old putt-putt roll into the driveway, and made her final preparations.
The doorbell rang. Judy straightened her dress again, took a deep canlı bahis şirketleri breath, opened the door, and hugged him.
“Hey Ron, PDA’s are okay now.” She kissed him lightly on the lips and then tugged at his arm. “My folks won’t be back for a couple hours. C’mon with me.”
She dragged him inside and upstairs to her pastel bedroom. Off came their shoes. A box of gingersnaps and a pitcher of iced strawberry-rhubarb lemonade waited on the window ledge.
Her Spanish acoustic guitar was in its open case on her bed. They sat on either side. Ron picked it up and fingered the strings.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll have to twist my brain around this. The bottom strings are tuned just the opposite of mandolin strings. I’m used to G-D-A-E and now I gotta start thinking about E-A-D-G-B-E. Like playing in a mirror.”
Ron clumsily fretted a few chords, picked out some melody lines, and frowned at himself. He returned the guitar to its case.
“Uncle Dan offered me a part-time job at his shop. Guess I better take it, so I can buy a guitar. I can tell I really need one to practice on.”
It was time to go for broke. Judy sent him a sly grin.
“Well, if you can’t play my guitar now, then you’ll just have to play ME! Why don’t you start here?” She stood and turned and pointed at the top button on the back of her dress.
The bait was right before his eyes. Would he take the hook?
Ron did not over-analyze the situation. He needed no more encouragement. Each unbuttoning was accompanied with a little rubbing of her back, like strumming a fleshy chord. She turned to face him. She started on his tie and shirt, then his belt and jeans zipper.
They stood. She pulled his shirt off and his jeans down to his feet. He pulled her sundress up over her head. The stood facing each other, her in creamy bra and panties, him in pale undershirt and briefs.
They slowly reached out to each other, feeling their faces, their arms, belly buttons, hips. They stared into opposite eyes. Judy moved to her plan’s next stage.
“Am I your best girl?”
“Judy, sure, you know you are.”
“Have you ever really been with a girl?”
Ron hemmed and hawed, and cobbled together an answer. He vaguely told her of some kissing and groping and fond embraces. He did not bring up a feet-vs-penis-length survey, nor a couple of close encounters.
“Is that all?” she asked. She batted her eyelids.
“Oh, that’s about it.” He tried to act non-committal.
Judy wore her sly grin again. She reached to a brass bell sitting on a bookcase, and rang it. Her bedroom door opened. A blonde girl wearing a Catholic school uniform stepped in.
“You know Ann, I think. She’s in my glee club. We’re, like, really really good friends. We’ve talked about you.”
Oh shit, I’m busted, Ron thought. Totally busted. Is it fatal?
Faith, Hope and Ann Heineke were three sisters who lived across the street from Ron in his old pre-divorce neighborhood, each born 9 1/2 months after the other. Ann was just a few days younger than Ron.
They were supposed to be Faith, Hope and Charity. But Francis X, their father, ran off to Okinawa with a JAL stewardess while the last was still a fetus. Their mother thought the whole name game was stupid, thus the youngest became Ann.
Ron rarely saw these three girls despite being long-time neighbors. They had been raised in Catholic schools instead of the public school system. Their families moved in different social circles. The closest Ron and the sisters ever got was a couple of weekends when they hung out, listening to a Hawai’ian language audio course (on 33 rpm records), drinking guava juice, and practicing hula moves.
That was their closest approach until recently, anyway. These three svelte sisters, all longhaired blondes with similar but distinctive lovely bodies and faces, were the very same Catholic schoolgirls who had attacked him with a measuring tape. They called their survey “anatomical research”.
Of course, to get accurate measurements, they applied certain sweet incentives. Sweet and sloppy-wet incentives. They concluded that yes, long fingers and feet DO correlate with the length of other appendages. All in the name of Science, hey?
Ann had offered some of the sweetest incentives. Oh shit, Ron thought, I am *so* busted…
Ann and Judy both cackled.
“Don’t sweat it,” Judy laughed. She was enjoying this.
Ann smiled, “No huuhuu!” (That is Hawai’ian for NO PROBLEM.)
(No problem, indeed. Judy and Ann had prepared carefully, including vodka shots in orange juice to reduce inhibitions. They talked first. “You sure you want us to do this? You sure we’re not going too far?” Ann asked. “Hey, if you’re careful enough, nothing good or bad will ever happen to you. I don’t want to be that goddam careful. I want things to happen. Let’s do it!” Yes, the girls were ready for Ron.)
Ann offered him yet more eye candy, piece-by-piece dropping her school uniform to the floor around her slowly wriggling canlı kaçak iddaa feet. Her honey hair topped Judy by a couple inches; her willowy form was clad in no more than Judy wore. Her face was flushed with excitement.
Judy and Ann stood and leaned together. They unsnapped each other’s bras. Ron seemed to suffer some breathing difficulty at that moment.
They pulled down each other’s panties. His nervous system shut down momentarily from the sight of their naked glory.
But he quickly recovered. He might have prayed: Ohgodohgodohgod is this real?
Ron sat heavily on the bed, still wearing his skivvies and Goldwater eyeglasses. His eyeballs oozed through the steaming lenses. Looking directly back at his dilated pupils were four nipples inside four aureoles atop four bouncy tits.
TITS! Friendly, inquisitive, approaching tits. Tits that moved closer to his face.
Four hands reached into his hair, pulled him upright, relievied him of underclothes and glasses and rational thought, and then pushed him back down, sitting on the bed. Four tits brushed across his naked eyes, his shuddering nose, his drooling lips. Tips of tits were inserted into his ear canals, his eye sockets, his nostrils. Tits were presented to each other’s luscious lips, then inserted into his slack-jawed mouth.
Ron responded rather quickly. He should have said grace: “…for these bounties I am about to receive…”
“There, there, little Ronny, it’s alright, just pucker up and suck,” said Judy.
“Mmmmph,” he replied. Yes, he was tongue-tied.
“Hey Ron, do I taste any better than Judy?” asked Ann, pushing forward.
“Mmmmph mmmph,” was all he could respond.
Ann had larger breasts, nice little melons compared to Judy’s pert peaches, and wider, rosier areolas topped by button-mushroom nipples. Narrower, stiffer, longer eraser-head nips protruded from Judy’s pale rings of color. Ron savored them all.
Ann said, “Hey, he’s done the texture test. I think it’s time for the taste test.”
Judy nodded. They each slowly insinuated a couple fingers into the other’s vagina. He watched their digits twiddling about their insides, gathering up warm aromatic juices. They pulled out their dripping fingers, held them to their own and each other’s noses, inhaled, and took tiny licks.
Ann poked her juicy fingers into one side of his mouth, and Judy poked hers into the other side.
“OK Ron, which of us tastes better?” asked Judy.
“Mmmmph mmmph mmmph,” was his honest answer.
All their mouths and genitals and torsos were rather occupied after that. They circled and writhed, sucking nipples and navels and tongues and gonads and toes and whatever else was available. He came quickly the first time, but lasted longer with each subsequent suck.
Neither girl had the greatest blowjob technique, but who cares? He did not have the best pussy-licking or -fingering skills, but he heard no complaints, only happy moans.
Ron’s naive cock was not allowed into either reserved cunt, but repetitive 69s amongst all were quite as much fun. He loved watching them eagerly tongue each other from mouth to breast to crotch to toes — but especially their mutual clit-licking, of course. He had never even heard the word ‘bisexual’.
Ron might have prayed again: “Forgive me now. Tomorrow, I may not feel guilty.”
The girls were in heaven. Both enjoyed feeling his tongue and cock, and tasting his saliva and jiz, as much or more than they savored each other. What sensations!
They all slurped like hungry puffer-fish… until the alarm clock rang.
“Hey guys,” said Judy, “we better stop and clean up. My folks should be home sometime soon.”
There was a bit more slurping and stroking and shimmying, but in only a few minutes, they looked and smelled almost innocent again. They shared gingersnaps and lemonade, and laughed.
Judy’s mother climbed the stairs and found them supposedly rehearsing folk songs: Judy playing guitar, Ron blowing riffs on his Marine Band mouth harp, Ann tapping bongos, everyone singing. Their harmonic mix was tolerable as long as he stuck to simple baritone lines.
Ron took the part-time job but only on weekends. He wanted his school days free.
He was a frequent after-school guest the following weeks. Judy’s mom was home too often; they had to act innocent. Ron’s guitar playing improved.
A society mother still had her social functions. Judy knew the schedule for fun.
Ann or her slightly older sisters Faith or Hope occasionally appeared at Judy’s home for more “jam sessions” — where all they jammed were fingers and tongues. Judy drew some sketches of their sexfests and hid them carefully. And Ron became less nervous about hanging in the upscale neighborhood, even if he was only there as a sex object.
Their next sexfest was purely educational. He was in for intensive training.
Ron rode to Judy’s house after school. She yelled from her bedroom window for him to come upstairs. canlı kaçak bahis Judy and Hope lay in bed, totally bare-ass nude, wrapped around each other, and kissing.
Ron’s glasses fogged over. His trousers tented. Instant hardon!
The girls pulled their mouths apart and peered at him.
“Ron, get naked,” Hope ordered.
“You need to learn to eat pussy the right way,” Judy instructed.
“Oh boy, a fun study session,” he quipped as he skinned off his clothes.
“First things first. Go get clean.” Judy pointed at the bathroom. He quickly complied and returned.
Hope sprawled across the bed with her legs spread wide. Judy sat herself on Hope’s mouth, facing him.
“Put your long nose in front of Hope’s cute cunny and pay attention,” Judy said, leaning forward. He hastily obliged.
“This is your Female Anatomy And Physiology 101 class, totally extra credit… ooooh,” Judy breathed as Hope’s working tongue started affecting her.
Judy caught her breath. She pointed a finger at Hope’s vulva and said, “This is a pussy. It likes to be licked. Like this.”
Judy dipped her head, stretched her tongue, and demonstrated. His face was right next to her upside-down skull. He carefully observed her actions.
“These are the lips, and the labial folds. They like to be licked all around, like this,” and she showed how.
“Now you try it… oooh ah ahh,” Judy groaned, and he did. Hope’s legs twitched.
“These lips especially like to have a tongue loop around in their folds, just like this.” Judy showed him how. He repeated her oral gestures.
“This is the vagina. It likes to have a stiffened tongue stuck down into it, like this… oh god no…” Another demonstration followed, with him copying.
Hope started to twitch, but not as much as Judy did.
“This little nub here is the magic button, the clit. It’s like a tiny penis but it’s not queer if you lick and suck that clit. Be careful and don’t slurp too hard… oh shit, like Hope is doing to me now, oh fuck…”
Hope and Judy both shook as he concentrated on this anatomical detail.
Judy gasped, “OK, now you need to slowly stick a finger in the vagina and twirl it around… oooh oooh… and also use your thumb to press gently on the clit… oh fuck oh fuck… excuse me a minute,” as she buried her face in Hope’s cunt.
Hope and Judy both rocked and rolled and moaned. Judy eventually raised herself out of the 69 and sat upright on Hope’s mouth. He could see Hope’s tongue still working. Hope reached up and palmed Judy’s breasts, then tweaked her nipples.
“Finally, there’s a nice trick. Use your tongue to write the alphabet around her clit. Go slow. Repeat yourself. Oooohhh… And now you need to practice all those moves, varying them, but especially concentrating on our clits to make us cum… oh god oh god oh god…”
Ron applied all he had learned in this lesson. He also improvised a little, reaching up for Hope’s breasts, and rubbing her inner thighs with his hands, and even blowing into her hole and nibbling her clit.
“Oh god oh fuck oh god… FUCK! OH FUCK!” whined Hope’s pussy-muffled voice.
Hope came, explosively, wetly. He guessed he had passed the course.
And practice made perfect.
Judy rolled off Hope’s face and put her own next to Ron’s.
“What do you think of our fun, Ron? Doing okay?”
“Umm, well, words can never express what, umm, words can never express.”
She slapped his shoulder. “Smart-ass!”
He reached out to tweak her nipples. “Better a smart-ass than a dumb-ass, hey?”
She slapped him again. “Shut up and get between my legs. I need that tongue!”
They practiced and practiced. Yummy.
A following session was even more interesting. Judy had planned carefully, as usual.
“I haven’t seen Ron with other girls at school,” she thought, “but I’ve still gotta be sure he doesn’t wander. He won’t wander if he gets all the pussy and visuals he can stand. I know I’m not perfect. I’m too skinny. I’ll work on that,” she vowed.
She flexed her shoulders. Did her boobs look bigger?
“But as long as I can get him to keep coming here for more, I know I’ve got him. And the sisters will help me. They only want him for fun. I want him for more!” Her brain buzzed with plans.
Judy needed little effort to persuade the Heineckes to join the fun. They loved the action, they were always horny, they trusted Judy and Ron — and they were all on The Pill. Their mother was a ‘good’ Catholic but also a realistic liberal. She wanted her girls to be more than mere baby-mills for pious creeps like their father. If that meant getting them prescriptions, and encouraging their love together, and not listening too close to the bishops and Pope, then so be it.
Faith reminded her younger sisters, “Remember, we have rules. And we have reasons. If we stick to them, we’ll have lots of fun, and stay safe. Be cool.”
Hope and Ann agreed. Whether their agreement was honest… well, you can decide.
Faith led her sisters to Judy. They hugged and undressed and plotted.
Ron rang the doorbell and was shouted in from the upstairs window. He climbed to Judy’s room. He stopped, astounded. Before him lay a wondrous tableau.
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