Disclaimer: This story is fictitious and so are the characters. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. All characters are 18 years old or older. All rights reserved.
This story is a fantasy picking up where I left off as David Thornton expands his circle of family conquests. It can probably stand on its own, but it would help if you read the first 13 chapters. Some will like it, others won't, but sequels are that way. This story leans more towards reluctant than non-consensual sex, but even reluctant sex is truly nonconsensual. It definitely includes incestuous sex. If that bothers you, don't read it. You've been warned. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral and illegal, and not condoned by the author.
KRISTINA'S VISIT
Kristina Donovan had only divorced within the last year. Suddenly single after her husband Thomas unexpectedly left one Saturday morning, Kristina was suddenly alone -- unskilled and wondering what to do next.
Thomas had returned from an extended business trip that Kristina hadn't realized included a woman he'd met while leading a complex architectural project. He was packing on a turnaround to meet the shameless homewrecker again when he dropped the bombshell on his unsuspecting wife.
"You're just too boring, Kristina, and too weak-willed. People walk all over you," he declared harshly. "I only married you because you were pretty with a great body. I thought you'd be a good housewife and mother, but then we find out you can't even have kids."
"That's not my fault, Thomas. You know that," she defended her wounded pride. "It's the way my father raised me, and not having children is just unfortunate biology. It's not like it was on purpose."
"The baby thing maybe, and the submissive personality too, but not the boring part. That's all you," Thomas retorted harshly. "You never do anything wild or unexpected. Hell, you don't even put out like you used to when we met. I want a girl who's exciting, sexy and vibrant."
"But Thomas?" Kristina called after him as he headed for the door.
"I'll have my lawyer contact you," he replied, "and you'd better find a new place to live by the time I get back next week."
Then, he was gone.
*****************************
Six months later, Kristina was divorced and without a home. With nowhere else to turn, the newly single woman moved in with her gruff but loving father, Sam. It was a tremendous change, as her dad lived halfway across the country, but Kristina didn't see how she had any other choice.
Samuel 'Slammin' Sam' Bolton had lost his wife of 42 years, Kristina's mother Maggie, in a tragic auto accident just two years prior. He was 63, a former military careerist as a master mechanic now living alone.
Sam only had his two adult daughter's left -- Kathryn, or Kate Thornton, at 41 the oldest, lived on the west coast with her husband George and their three teenage children. Kristina, now 36 with no kids and recently divorced, moved into the room she grew up in down the hall.
Frankly, Sam was happy to have the companionship, as living alone was growing sad and unbearable she he'd lost Maggie. He was used to having a woman around to do his bidding.
Kristina wasn't the most lively or adventurous person, but she was his sweet little girl, and made for good company. Sam also knew from how he'd raised his obedient daughter she'd do as he said and take care of the house in the absence of his wife and her mother.
In truth, Sam wasn't always easy to be around. He had been a take-charge, no-holds-barred disciplinarian in raising his girls, ensuring they were brought up conservatively and respectful of their superiors. The two girls learned early to do as they were told and not to question authority.
Kristina had lost that attribute a little in college, falling prey to the feminist leanings of her professors and fellow students, but Sam was convinced he could rid her of those very tendencies while living under his roof. He was certain the liberal attitude was the reason Thomas had dumped his lovely youngest daughter in the first place.
By his training and character, the rigid ex-soldier had always held an old-fashioned patriarchal view of male-female relationships. He wasn't unnecessarily harsh or mean-spirited. He truly loved his wife and daughters, but he demanded respect and obedience, holding deeply set beliefs about the family unit and the role of the man as leader.
Maggie was expected to demurely accede to his commands without question, and she did. It was the only way he knew after his own youth in a traditional home and a lifetime of military living.
"Hi Kristi," Sam greeted his youngest daughter when Kristina arrived with just a suitcase and a check for $50,000 from Thomas' lawyer as the only payment she'd receive as compensation for 12 years of living with the man who left her for the arms of another woman without a home on virtually no notice.
Her father was the only person to call her Kristi.
"I don't like the name Kris," he once explained to Maggie, insisting she do the same. "It sounds too much like a boy."
Someone once tried to call her Krissy, but she hated that name. She believed it made her sound like some kind of mindless airhead instead of a vibrant young woman of intelligence and bearing, but Kristi was agreeable, especially by her beloved and respected father.
Sam wanted his youngest daughter to be all girl -- frills and lace and everything, especially after her older sister Kate grew to develop her natural athletic skills.
Kristina was just that, not possessing any of the ability in sports or gymnastics preferred by Kate. Instead, she opted for cute dresses, dolls, and all the stereotypically girlish interests society assigns to the so-called 'fairer' sex.
"Hi daddy," Kristi smiled at her manly father with a tear in her blue eyes, happy to be enveloped in the secure, powerful arms of her caring dad. "It's good to see you."
"Let's get you home and settled in, sweetie," Sam offered kindly, before dissing Thomas for his callous disregard for his little girl. "You can start over and put that asshole ex-husband in the rearview mirror."
*****************************
"David? You in the den?" Kate Thornton's melodic voice rang from the hallway as she tracked down her only son.
Neither of Kate's two daughters, Allison and Britney, were home. Egg-headed Allison was at the library, as usual, while carefree Brit was off with her friend Jenny doing who the hell knew what, although Kate had a pretty good idea.
"Yeah, mom. Watching the game," the newly-anointed Thornton family leader cheerfully called to his animated mother. "Get your sweet ass in here and tell me what you want?"
The coarse remark hardly phased Kate, who'd become accustomed to her dominating son's demeaning references to her and her daughters. Nevertheless, entering the family den the suburban wife was confronted with a sight she should have expected, but even now struggled to mentally accommodate.
"Ohhh," Kate gasped upon seeing the young college wrestler reclining on the sofa facing her dressed in a tight muscle t-shirt and a loose-fitting pair of shorts.
Her 18-year-old son's legs were parted with his pant-leg wide open, exposing his long soft cock beneath the abbreviated cotton fabric to her wandering blue eyes.
"David, sometimes I wish you'd cover up," his surprised mother admonished lightly, knowing she was wasting her time, but feeling she should act like a parent, at least sometimes. "It can be disconcerting to walk into a room and see your, well, everything on display."
"You mean my cock? You can say it, mom," the smart-aleck kid smirked as he checked out her out from head to toe. "Besides, you're not dressed much better, if you know what I mean?"
"Okay, your cock. Happy now?" Kate shot back good-naturedly considering the circumstances, but blushed nonetheless in using the raunchy word. "Besides, I dress this way for you. Remember, wise guy?
Sophisticated and charming, Kate generally didn't use such crude terms except at the height of passion during the taboo sexual bouts with her son. At other times, she preferred more refined language.
In keeping with her cultivated style, the respectable socialite wore her sandy brown hair in her ubiquitous ponytail, but styled in a French braid adding to her allure. Beyond that, Kate was decked out in very unmotherly fashion, with her athletic body contained in only a snug fire engine red sleeveless top that left very little of her abundant curves to her son's fertile imagination.
No pants, no panties, no nothing.
Kate's large, upright breasts pressed against the stretchy fabric emphasizing her round silver dollar-sized areolae and the large arm holes revealed a generous sampling of her ample side boobs. The hem of the scanty garment stopped merely an inch or so below the swell of her firm, muscular butt cheeks honed from weekly tennis sessions -- and now, a frequent course of rigorous fucking by her insatiable son.
It was a scandalous outfit for a mother to don in the presence of her teenage son -- any mother except Kate Thornton, that is, now fully under the sexual weal of the imperious youth.
"So, to repeat, what's up, mom?" David asked for a second time while training his attention on his half-naked mother's gloriously carved legs stretching down to the tops of her red and white-checked sneakers.
"I just got off the phone with my sister," Kate started tenuously, uncertain of the response she'd receive from her uncompromising son.
"She and dad want to visit next week," she uttered mildly. "You know, to help her get over her divorce. How do you feel about your Aunt Kristina and Grandpa Sam staying with us for a couple of weeks?"
"I'm cool with it mom," David answered casually, dispatching the notion it was a problem while at the same time creating a new concern in the mind of his mother. "I've always liked Aunt Kristina, and gramps is pretty cool too, for an old guy."
"Are you sure? It could disrupt things around here for a bit. What about," Kate paused, thinking carefully about her next question, "the situation here? At home, I mean?"
