Author’s note: This is my first attempt at writing an incest/taboo story. I would appreciate feedback. Although it is told from the first-person narrative, and the title has “True” (“True” as in genuine, not as in fact) in it, it is complete fiction, and just the product of my kinky imagination. I do not directly mention the actual ages of the characters in my story, however, here is a break-down: Mrs. McKenna (“mama”) is 40, Tad (the narrator) is 30, Bobby-George (Tad’s love interest) is 23, Junior (the older brother) is 21, Tommy (the younger) is 19, and the twins (Sarah & Sammie) are 18. Thanks for reading!


Where do I begin?

I have never told this story to anyone, and most people would call me a liar if I tried. You know the saying about how truth is stranger than fiction? Well, this little tale I am about to unfold takes the cake in fucking weirdness! I even thought about buying one of those mega-ba-jillion-dollar lottery tickets, because I was really running the long odds on this one.

My story starts about four days before Mardi Gras, in Portland, Oregon, when I got a wild-hair up my ass to hop in my car, and go to New Orleans. I had always wanted to go, and never had -hell, I never even been east of the Mississippi River! I wasted no time packing, and loaded up my little toaster-car for my long journey. Within an hour, I was on I-84, and heading east.

By the time I reached Arkansas, I realized that I did not plan my trip all that well. The freeway came to an end, in a city called Pine Bluff, and I ended up on state highways and county roads, as I passed through the rural farmlands. Although lost, I knew I was making progress.

It was on a county road, somewhere south of another no-name town, that I blew a radiator hose, and I was suddenly stuck out in the middle of bum-fuck, Arkansas. As I sat along the roadside, with no cell-signal and a bottle of pop, that song from Deliverance suddenly started playing in my head. It wasn’t long, however, that an old pick-up rounded the bend, and saw me -stranded. The old, beat-up jalopy pulled in behind me, and I started to worry about what kind of hillbilly hell I was going to wind up in. But instead of some coverall-clad, toothless redneck with a shotgun, the driver was a gorgeous young woman! She had dishwater-blonde hair, and wearing a short, floral summer-dress that showed off her long, shapely legs. My eyes widened, as they drank in her stunning beauty, and graceful walk.

“Looks like y’all ‘er in a peck o’ trouble.” she stated, with her delightful southern drawl.

I paused to remember my manners, as I knew how southerners don’t like familiarity from strangers, then answered, “I think I blew a radiator hose, miss. Is there a garage somewhere near?”

“We got everything you need to fix that little, ol’ car back on the farm.” she said, with a flirty twinkle in her eye. “Daddy’s outa’ town, but my brothers ‘ll fix ‘er right up for ya.” she concluded with a smile.

“Oh, thank you, miss,” I blurted out, “I would be happy to pay them, of course!” then I remembered my manners, again. “Uh,” I stumbled, “my name’s Tad -Tad Webster.”

“Of course, where are my manners?” she exclaimed, as she rolled her eyes. “I’m Roberta McKenna -but folks just call me Bobby-George, on account ‘a my middle name’s Georgina.”

The next thing I knew, I was in her truck, and headed down a dirt road. The house, at the end of the the road, was rustic, bet very large. It was a two-story farmhouse, that looked like it hadn’t been painted in fifty years. There were several other building on the property, what I guessed to be a small workshop, a huge barn, and a ramshackle garage. And just like out of a “…you might be a redneck” joke, there were quite a few cars and trucks, in various states of disrepair, littered about the numerous fruit and nut trees in the front yard. I immediately felt a little guilty for entertaining these stereotypes. After all, the pretty, young lady was offering her help out of the kindness of her heart -or, so, I thought.

We walked in the house, and were spotted by a tall boy (who looked to be in his late-teens, or early twenties), that promptly heralded our arrival, “Ma, Bobby-George brought comp’ny!” he bellowed, at his unseen mother. This was followed by the thunder, of several pairs of feet, scurrying to the living room. The whole fam-damnly -sans the father, of course- piled in to see who “comp’ny” was, but the mother remained in the kitchen.

The was another tall boy that looked a little younger than the other, and twin girls -that were also teenagers.. The boys were similar, in appearance, as the both were a little over six-feet in height, lean, and muscular, with light-brown hair. The twin girls were petite in frame, with big, green eyes, and wavy locks of golden-blond tresses that fell down below their shoulders. They were the cutest little book-ends, and both had a very bubbly demeanor, as they just stood their with coquettish smiles -swaying nervously, to-and-fro.

“Well, who in tar-nartion is izmir escort bayan it?” an irritated, matronly voice asked.

“Stranger, ma, looks like a city-boy!” the young man called back.

“Well, hell, Junior, offer the man some ice tea!”

We all sat at the dinner-table: Me, Bobby-George, Mrs. McKenna (her name was Roberta May, but I was all about minding my manners around this southern family), Jimmy-Junior (the older boy), Tommy (the younger one), and the twins (Sammie and Sarah).

“Ma,” Junior began, “took a look at that-there radiator-hose, an’ he’s gonna need a new one.”

“Well, son,” his mother replied, “yer’ jus’ gonna hafta go inta town tommorah’ mornin’, an’ pick another up.” Roberta-May finished, and then turned to me, “An’, you, are jus’ gonna hafta stay the night here.”

“I’ll make up a room for him, mama!” Sammie volunteered, eagerly.

“Me, too!” Sarah chimed in.

“That’s fine girls,” she confirmed, “jus’ you finish yer supper first.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McKenna,” I graciously said, “I hate to impose, and you all have been far too hospitable, already, but I don’t see how I got much of a choice.”

“Oh, now, son,” the matronly woman responded, in a playfully admonishing tone, “you jus’ stop with all that ‘Mrs. Mckenna’ nonsense. While yer a guest in my home, you call me mama -ya here?”

I smiled, slightly embarrassed by her offer, but just replied:

“Well, thank you, mama.”

She was in her forties, but much like her daughter, she was quite stunning. Roberta-May had long, chestnut hair she kept in a neat bun at the back her head, and steel-blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with life, and vigor. And I was surprised, after having five children, that she had such a trim frame, yet she had all the proper curves. Her breasts were large, and she showed them off with her low-cut sun-dress, and her hips were round, and full. To be honest, even though she had to have -at least- fifteen years on me, I would have no problem with hopping into bed with her! However, at the moment, my interests were focused on her eldest daughter.

Bobby-George was tall (and judging from the height of her mother, compared to her and her brothers, the tall stature must have come from the father), and was a bit more petite, in build, than her mom. She was smaller in the chest, and a bit trimmer in the hips. For dinner, she had pulled her dark-blond hair back into a ponytail, and this only served to draw attention to her luminous, green eyes -they were captivating! She had a delicate, and refined, aire about her, yet one could tell that she was a hearty, young woman that could get down-and-dirty with the best of ’em.

After dinner, which was a delectable fare of fried-foods, we all ‘retired to the parlor’, as mama would say.

We all sat around, laughing and joking, over iced-tea, and short-bread cookies. It was, really, quite relaxed, family environment, and it kind of gave me a ‘down-home’ feeling. I was, very much, enjoying myself in this atmosphere. It was quite different from the stale, cold family I was used to. That was until Mrs. McKenna put me on the spot.

“I’ve seen the way y’all been lookin’ at my Bobby-George,” she said to me, skeptically, with an uncomfortable interrogative close at hand, “an’ I was wond’rin’: have y’all been thinkin’ about what my little-girl looks like nekkid?”

My heart, suddenly, lodged in my throat, and I just sat there -speechless. I felt a cold sweat begin to bead on my forehead, as I -greatly- feared that I had offended this nice family with my wandering eye.

It was then, that the entire room erupted into a boisterous laughter. Although the sudden mirth let me know that I had not upset these kind people, it did little to alleviate the tension I felt.

“Ah, hell, son,” she said, when her cackling had died-down enough for her to form words, “don’t you worry ’bout one little thing. Mama’s gonna make sure you are taken care of, tonight!”


“Bobby-George,” Mrs. McKenna said to her daughter, after she realized that I could not seem to respond to her, “take off all yer’ clothes, and show our guest from out west all about ‘southern-hospitality’.”

Without a word, the beautiful, southern girl -that I had been lusting after- rose from the love-seat next to me, and pulled the light, cotton summer-dress from over her head.

Her body was taut, and tan, and I could see the tan-line -from a teeny, immodest bikini- wrapped around her waist -as she wore no panties. Her milky-white mound was clean-shaven, and I could also see the first signs of her sweet nectar glistening in lamp light.

My God, how I wanted her! Yet, I was so scared, and uncomfortable, with what was going on around me. After all, her mother just told her to strip -right in from of me! And worse yet, she did it without hesitation, or question.

What was going on, here?

My question was answered when she knelt down in front of me, and reached for my belt.

I admit, I jumped. I was no unnerved, but mama’s soothing escort izmir voice calmed me:

“It’s okay, sugar,” she purred at me, “let Bobby-George show you how friendly we can be.”

I took her advice, and relaxed, as her daughter unbuckled my belt, and zipped-down my fly.

Nervous, or not, I was rock-hard, and as soon as I lifted my hips, so she could pull down my pants, my rigid cock popped out -throbbing, and willing.

“Mmm…” Bobby-George purred, as she took my pulsating shaft in her hand, “you see this mama? Looks like this city-boy likes me!”

“Sure as hell-fire, he does, baby-girl,” Mrs. McKenna replied, as her right-hand lifted the hem of her dress, and made its way to her loins, “so why don’t y’all jus’ treat his dinger to yer sweet mouth?”

Bobby-George responded with her actions.

The warm, wet feeling of her hungry maw engulfed my swollen prick, as she began to suck, and flick her tongue along the under-side of my manhood. Her dark-blonde hair brushed my hips as the young, southern vixen expertly worked my tool.

“Ah, mama,” a dulcet little voice chimed, and interrupted my my reverie, “are we just gonna watch, or do we getta play, too?”

“Of course, my sweet,” momma answered, “you jus’ play with yer sister.”

Mrs. McKenna’s words sent me reeling. This whole scene was twisted, taboo, yet it was really turning me on! It was so wrong, on so many different levels, yet I wanted to revel in these perverse acts.

I looked over to see what was happening, and sure enough, the sweet, little book-ends were helping each other undress. Bobby-George sucked and slurped, as I watched the two young gilrs peel their modest clothing from each other. Their bodies were supple, creamy, and taut. They touched each other ever-so gently, as soft cotton fell to the floor, and exposed almost-womanly frames. Each had a downy thatch of golden hair growing in sparse wisps from their little mounds. I couldn’t keep myself from staring, as the two began to grope each others nubile, young bodies, and couldn’t help but wonder if I would get a chance with them!



I never even entertained the idea of doing such things, but now it consumed my mind!

Not wanting to seem like too much of a freak, my eyes scanned the room. By this time, mamma’s panties were on the floor, and the hem of her dress was up to her waist. She had splayed her long, slender legs over the arms of the chair, while her fingers explored her moistening snatch.

Her sons must have had the same idea, as their pants were down at their ankles, and stiff pricks in their relative hands. They stroked as the watch their elder sister work my burgeoning pole, and then their eyes would shift to the younger sisters.

My eyes returned to the twins:

Sammie and Sarah were really getting into it. They had since stopped watching Bobby-George and me, and were focusing on each other. One of them -I could not tell which- was licking and nibbling the her sister’s neck, as one hand pinched her nipple, and the other rubbed at her creamy slit. The other twin’s back arched, as she moaned and writhed under the lustful actions of her sister. In this moment, I did not care if the others caught me gaping at their salacious scene.

“Now, Bobby-George,” mamma interjected, in mock admonishment, “don’t think y’all can have our guest all to yourself. Share with your sisters.”

Mama must have seen my prurient stare.

But, alas, here I was: about to take part in such debauchery that it would make a Roman Emperor blush like a school-girl!


I had to get that image out of my head as those sweet, little book-ends moved on me with with a predatory grace.

Yes, I said, predatory…

The look in their eyes was most definite. They meant to have their way with me, and I felt as if there was nothing I could do to stop them. Their little gashes glistened with their pussy-juice, as they sauntered over to me, in a sexy, seductive manner. And, honestly, I could not wait for them to descend upon me.

No, no, no…

This was just wrong!

How can I be doing this? I felt like a total perv!

“Boys?” Mrs. Mckenna called to her sons, “Y’all come over here, and keep yer mama comp’ny, ya hear?”

Mama had interrupted my self-scolding inner-monologue, but she now had my attention, as Bobby-George moved off of me, and the twins knelt in front of the couch where I sat.

The boys stood, and removed the remainder of their clothing, while their mother did the same in preparation for their “comp’ny”. Their cocks were rock-hard, and jutting out from their crotches. The older of the brothers was pretty good-sized, but the younger one was packing a monster! He was hung like a porn-star! That damn thing had to be, at least, nine inches in length, and was almost as thick as his younger sisters’ wrist! I could not help but stare.

Mama sat back down in the chair as her boys made it to her. She immediately took her boys’ throbbing members in her hands, izmir escort and began to stroke them gently, as if savoring the moment.

“Mmmm, yeah mama,” the older one purred, “now, stop yer teasin’, and suck on it, would ya?”

“Patience boy,” she shot back, in admonishment, “Mama will get to that!”

She fulfilled her oath, as she started to flick her tongue over the pair of rigid dicks, which twitched with each pass of her oral appendage. Soon, she had taken the larger of the two in her mouth. She had to open-up pretty wide to get her son’s colossal fuck-knob in her maw. She quickly moved to her other son’s anxious rod, where she sucked and stroked it with a craven hunger. The boys moaned loudly as she went back-and-forth between to pair of young pricks.


I could feel Sammie and Sarah begin to kiss my inner thighs, and felt their little tongues tease my ball-sack. My cock jumped with every touch. As the little book-ends started to stroke my pulsating meat, Bobby-George settled in beside me on the loveseat, opened her legs, and began to run a slender finger up-and-down her wet snatch.

She moaned as she watched her sisters work my burgeoning pole, and swap it from one maw to the next. Their oral explorations were wet, warm, and their little mouths felt smooth as silk. I was pure bliss! Then one of them (I think it was Sammie) handed my cock over to her twin, and made he way up to my face -where she began to kiss me, deeply.

The tongue that was just on my swollen member clashed with mine, as we groped each other. Her skin felt more luxurious than satin, and was flushed with lustful heat. She moved down my neck, nibbling and suckling my inflamed skin, and then she whispered in my ear:

“Please mister,” she begged in my ear in a soft, breathy tone, “will you please lick my thingy?”

I responded by grabbing her by the waist, and lifting her sopping, little honey-pot toward my face. I could not wait to taste her, as the musky-sweetness of her sex moved closer to my awaiting mouth. Little Sammie cooperated quite readily with me, as she stood, and put her long, slender legs over my shoulders. Her dripping pussy was less than in inch from my mouth, as I gripped her firmly by her ass-cheeks, and started to lap at her pink petals.

It tasted better than I could have ever imagined, as she let out tiny yelps, at my vigorous and ravenous tongue. Her fingers laced into my hair, and I felt the young girl grab handfuls of it, as she gyrated against my face. It was then that I noticed that her sister had stopped sucking me off, and I could feel her reposition herself to take my throbbing tool into her eager, wet hole.

I could feel Sarah straddle my pelvis, and felt her hand take hold of my pulsating manhood, as the sodden lips of her tiny gash brushed the tip. I shuddered at this, and wanted to grab her by the hips and push her down on my cock But, I was supporting Sammie’s by the fleshy globes of her ass, and could not -besides, if this girl was going to be as tight as I thought, I did not want to hurt her.

Sarah’s lips parted to my tumescent crown, and felt it begin to slip into her slick fuck-tunnel.

Jesus! I was tight! Yet, it was so slick from her sweet cream that my cock began to inch in to her more-than-taut passage. I heard her gasp with each gentle thrust downward, as it went deeper, and deeper inside her ayoung cunt. And as she took the entirety of my length inside her, her twin sister started to convulse, and buck her hips against my head.

Sarah began to grind against me, as Sammie’s little cunny gushed in my face.

“Oh, mister, yes,” she cried, “y’er makin’ me cum so good!”

She continued to bellow and bray her lust, as her climax wracked her body. She leaned away from me, still holding my hair, and arched her back.

“Oooooo!” she called, “Aw, fuck, yes! I’m cuuuummmminnnngggg!”

I could feel her musky juices dribbling down my chin, and on to my chest, as her body shuddered against me. But, this did not slow me down. I was a man on fire, as I continued to suck on her quivering snatch, and not let her climax abate.

Alas, it did abate, as she let go of my hair, and collapsed on to her older sister -panting, and giggling at her own ecstasy.

“Umph!” Bobby-George exclaimed, as she felt the dead-weight of her younger sister land atop her. “What the hell, Sammie! I was git’in close!”

“Sorry, sissy,” the young twin replied, in between labored breathes, “maybe I could help y’all out?”

The elder sister only purred at the offer, and removed her hand to give her sister access to her wet loins.

Bobby-George threw her head back, and moaned softly, as Sammie went down between her legs, and started to lick. She squirmed as the young girl went to work on her, and she watched the other twin ride my throbbing prick.

My hands now free, I explored Sarah’s tight, youthful body. Her pussy gripped my cock like a vice, as she slid up and down on it, and rubbed her swollen love-button against my groin. Both her, and her older sister’s, moans became louder, and were quickly turning into unabashed cries as they neared climax. And, it seemed as if the came in unison -one bookend riding me, and Bobby-George having her pussy lick by the other bookend.



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