I Know Youre Drkingschultz

Prologue.

August 2024.

My father is a somewhat successful author; he's had four novels published as well as written several film and television screenplays, a few of which have been produced. He's received some professional recognition for most of them. He also happens to write incest stories, or erotic fiction, or erotica, or just porn, depending on your terminology, or generosity. You may have guessed from my highly imaginative title that you possibly know of his work as DrKingSchultz. For the sake of recounting this story I'll just call him Dad, or 'John' if necessary, to protect his identity. As liberal as publishers and producers tend to be, I don't think they'd be too accepting of incest. Fact or fiction it's such a loaded topic isn't it, morally repugnant to most, a taboo hot potato for the rest.

My name is Alyssa, yes, as in 'Hurricane Alyssa;' one of my father's recently published stories. And no, that wasn't a true story, I mean parts of it are factual, a lot actually; my name, I am 19, I do look like Aubrey Sinclair, (I had to look her up, I'm certainly not mad about the comparison,) my nickname is Lemon, my mom's name is Kim, and we do live in Florida. But despite the accuracies, that story took place in the future, which is actually now, August 2024. So yeah, my dad was incautious, I suppose, including factual personal details, but then again anyone who might recognize us from the story would have to admit to reading incest stories, right? But If you're wondering why he wrote about his actual wife and daughter? How I found out? What happened after? And is it a hot story? Well, I'm hear to tell you all about it.

I have to warn you that I'm no writer. Despite being encouraged by my dad, and minoring in English, I haven't inherited the gift of story telling, I find creative writing tedious, but I do feel compelled to share my story, so I will do my best to convey the events of the past several weeks. I'm sure I will break some rules, and judging by some of the comments to my dad's stories and others (yes, I'm a fan of the site now), you will let me know. It's cool, like I said, I'm an English minor, I get it.

****

I: What do you want for your birthday?

Why can't men answer that question without shrugging it off? Is it a remnant of the hunter-gatherer thing, they're not supposed to want anything from others, even presents? It's so annoying. My dad's birthday was coming up, the big 5-0, what do you get someone who can afford to get what he wants for himself? The older he gets, the harder it is to pick out gifts for Dad, he only collects a couple of things, watches and knives, and he has a lot of both already. Mom and I know his concert bucket list, but no one on it is touring this year. He used to go to Vegas for his birthday, but hasn't been since Covid started. He always went to a couple F1 races every year, but he says it's too popular right now, which kind of sucks because he used to take me to at least one race every year since I was like 12, and it was always a fun trip even if I didn't understand what everyone got so excited about. Anyway, Mom and I were stumped what to get him. She said she'd been subtly interrogating him for months to no end, "I've tried everything short of snooping on his laptop," Mom threw her hands up one day. So I swear I had the best of intentions when I started down this road. I knew I was snooping, but I was genuinely only hoping to find inspiration for a gift idea, something he was into or interested in that Mom and I weren't aware of.

So, with that in mind, I awaited an opportunity, and the second week of summer break (you may have surmised that I did not, in fact, drop out of school to start an Always Fans like in Dad's story) that opportunity presented itself when Dad left to go to his 'shop.' His workshop, or shop, or man cave, is a big warehouse in a nearby industrial park where he keeps his other car and his old pickup truck and all his tools from his past life before he became a writer. Dad also likes mid century modern furniture and will buy pieces and take them there to rehab, or refinish, or whatever the term is. I guess that's his hobby, though he does make money from it. The warehouse is what you might expect an almost 50 year old guy to have as a 'man space' if he could afford a whole big ass warehouse. Some sexy (and possibly sexist) posters of naked and half naked women, an old stereo, posters of old bands, an old refrigerator, two old couches, an old recliner, and like a million tools. I think he just likes to remember what it was like when he worked with his hands and also I think sometimes he just likes to get away from Mom and me. But there's no harm in that and we do have some cool furniture he's found.

Anyway, Dad was at his shop, Mom was away on a business trip, so I decided to take the opportunity to look on Dad's laptop and see if there was anything he seemed to be interested in that might make for a good gift. Now, yes, I knew I was invading his privacy, but I had good intentions and I thought I was prepared for anything I might stumble across. It was Daddy, how 'bad' could it possibly be? I'm 19, pretty smart, open minded, and I do have a good, open relationship with my parents. I thought at worst I might stumble across some porn. I figured if I did it would be worth a giggle seeing what got Dad going. I didn't expect to find anything genuinely shocking.

Opening his laptop, the Literotica 'My Home' page greeted me. At first, I had no idea what I was looking at. I was vaguely aware of Literotica, but had never spent any time on it. Erotic stories weren't my thing; my pornography habit was primarily limited to tubesites. So, it took me a bit to figure the site out. Initially I just thought Dad liked erotic stories, he's a writer, that made perfect sense, but the actual truth slowly began to form, piece by piece and my original purpose for being on Dad's computer was quickly forgotten. I deduced Dad had an account, lists of favorite stories, and of course, stories he had written himself. And all were about... INCEST. Incest, what the actual fuck? Incest? Obviously, the title 'Hurricane Alyssa', a just published story I discerned, caught my attention and demanded my immediate investigation.

As I said, other than dropping out of school to become a nude model, the Alyssa part of 'Hurricane Alyssa' was shockingly factual, even me being a 'hurricane baby.' My conception had never been a secret to me though, I was well aware I was born nine months after Hurricane Charley. Apparently my name was almost Charley, Alyssa having won on a literal coin toss according to my parents. So, I nervously read 'Hurricane Alyssa,' it didn't take long before I was breathing shallow and my pulse was pounding. I felt nervous, bordering on ill, my face felt tight and hot, my stomach upset, churning. Why did he write this? Incest? Me? Mom? What? The?? Fuck??? I felt really dirty reading it. It was beyond shocking, beyond naughty, and just plain overwhelming in every way.

I tried to make sense of what I'd found, but all my feelings and questions were demanding bandwidth at the same time. I attempted to focus on one thing at a time, but as soon as I'd start to process one dilemma, 'Does Dad really want to have sex with me,' another would intrude demanding attention, like, 'Did Mom really fuck Grandpa?' But the most persistent question was 'Why is my pussy so wet?'

Despite my parent's liberal, straightforward sex education, where nothing was off limits question wise, naturally there were some things that had never come up for discussion. Oh, like, fucking INCEST, for example. And Dad had certainly never acted inappropriately with me in any way. I mean, we live in Florida, and as my father is fond to point out in his stories, we can't help seeing each other in very little clothing, and occasionally even less. Your body was nothing to be ashamed of I'd been taught, and going around in bikinis or underwear was nothing unusual for Mom or I, or even tanning nude and rinsing off nude under the outdoor shower after swimming. Of course Dad looked, how could he not, right? And occasionally he'd offer an encouraging comment about how good one or both of us looked. But there was nothing perverse about it and I've always been perfectly comfortable around him. And being completely honest, I have always appreciated his attention. It never morphed into sexual fantasies like in Dad's stories, but I can't deny it's always made me feel good whenever I earned his approval.

I assume because of all this, my brain was reluctant to condemn my father for his taboo fictions. I instinctively sought explanation that would exonerate or forgive him. Ultimately I found it within my own feelings. I could walk you through all the steps and processes I went through to get there, but the short story is I spent the week reading and re-reading his stories (and other incest stories), researching incest, re-examining my feelings and memories, paying more attention to Dad and how he was around me, but most importantly I acknowledged my own physical reactions to the idea.

Since you're reading this on Literotica I'll assume you're thinking I ended up feeling quite positive about it. And yeah, I certainly did. I still had lots of questions, but I didn't doubt my father's love and care for me. Or my mother's. I also decided incest was nothing to be demonized so long as it was between consenting adults. Love is love. Sex is fun. And hot is hot. And I could not deny the stories were fucking hot! And no amount of concern, nervousness, anxiety, or bewilderment could douse the physical fire the stories, and the idea that my Dad thought about me sexually, ignited within me.

Imagining my own father as my lover, him taking me, using my body to satisfy his physical need, the two of us joined in pursuit of mutual gratification, unlocked a depth of emotional need and physical desire within me I never imagined. I somehow instinctively understood my father was capable of taking me to levels of pleasure I hadn't before known possible.

I masturbated constantly that week (and since). At first I justified my indulgence in the taboo as a way for me to try to understand my own feelings, but as any misgivings I had quickly faded one after the other, I soon found myself just chasing the libidinous high the idea fed within me. By the end of the week the idea consumed my thoughts wholly. I was like a junkie, I tried to resist indulging myself, but I constantly relented, I needed my incest fix.

I was no virgin and hadn't been for some time, but I wouldn't label myself a slut either. I love sex. I've been with men and women. And of course I'm not immune to the physical charms of attractive people or the opportunity to experience new things, but lately I had started to find those things seemed somewhat poorly intertwined. The hotties, male and female, were kinda boring in bed I had come to discover. Perhaps because they didn't need to try hard, I surmised. I decided I had been too choosy and had begun to consider finding more varied sex partners, older, less physically perfect, etc.... But definitely someone more experienced, someone who used their mind as part of sex; imagination, role-play, and the willingness to push the envelope, was at the top of my wish list. The timing of finding out my father desired me sexually, and being forced to reconsider the concept of incest, seemed downright fortuitous

And I don't mean to imply that Dad isn't hot. He is in his own way, I just had never considered him as a sexual partner, you know? But once I did consider it, it didn't take me long to come around to the idea. Rugged and handsome. Physically fit and strong, but also intelligent and kind. He can be very intimidating, but all my friends crush on him once they get to know him and discover how generous and actually very funny he is. And he loves me. I couldn't believe I hadn't considered him as a man, a male, before. Also, I was pretty sure he had a big cock. I'd seen it a few times over the years as happens with family. Obviously I had no idea what big was until I had some experience and something to compare it to, and then I couldn't help doubting my memories. Memories that quickly took on new importance as I lay in bed imagining having sex with him, and spoiler alert; it's even bigger than I remembered.

So, like Dad in 'Hurricane Alyssa,' I ultimately decided that I had no moral or ethical objection to incest or committing it with my father. It was just a practical matter. Did he really want to fuck me? Would he? What would it take? Would Mom be okay with it? I still had a lot of questions. I needed answers. Usually I would turn to Mom and Dad. Well, confronting Dad didn't seem like the best option, so I went to Mom.

****

II: Did you ever fuck Grandpa?

I didn't come right out and ask that, but that was the gist of my inquiry. I had figured out some time ago that my parent's were likely not monogamous. They usually got really dressed up and 'went out' at least one Saturday night a month, coming home very late. They'd been doing this for years, and at some point I recognized what well fucked looked like and, putting two and two together, I surmised they were swingers. I'd always wanted to ask but hadn't, deciding it was none of my business unless they chose to make it so, and it had never come up in any way, but the portrayal of my Mom in 'Hurricane Alyssa' was far naughtier than I had even envisioned. Was that real? Did Mom do blowbangs? Was she hooking up on her business trips? Was Dad getting some strange when she was gone or when he traveled?

Mom was back from her trip, and true to habit was having a lazy day recovering. She was sitting at our kitchen island, sipping coffee in panties and a tank top, when I came down. And, if you're wondering, Mom does look like Jenteal, the porn star my dad referenced in his story. I looked her up and when they were both young she and Mom could have been sisters if not twins. After seeing this, I was mildly surprised none of my friends had ever questioned if my mother was Jenteal, their ages don't match up, but Mom still looks more like the young Jenteal than not. I guess maybe a 90's porn star was too obscure to warrant attention decades later. Sadly, I also discovered she passed away not that long ago, due to an infected tattoo of all things. RIP, Jenteal. So anyway, Mom and I made the usual small talk, how was your week, updates on a few things, etc... Nervous but excited, I decided to go for it; "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Of course, Sweetie. What's on your mind?" Mom asked, giving me her attention.

"I don't know how to ask this without just asking, so... Do you have sex with other people when you're traveling?" I questioned, instantly hoping she didn't think I was judging her.

Clearing her throat, Mom almost laughed before answering, "Finally asking, huh? I do, yes. Sometimes. Well, usually. It depends." Mom paused, before saying, "Your father and I assumed you knew we have an open marriage. We expected this kind of question a long time ago, but... you did know, right?"

"I put two and two together, but I never knew what exactly you labeled it, or defined it, or how it works." I answered, glad Mom wasn't upset.

"I don't know how much you want to know, but basically your father and I like having sex with different people and we make time to do that. Traveling for work has always been an easy opportunity. He doesn't travel as much anymore, but he's still free to seek his pleasure, same as me. And it's not always separately, sometimes it's together," Mom said straightforwardly.

"Your Saturday nights?" I asked.

"That's right," Mom grinned, pausing, than asking, "Can I ask what brought this on, why now?"

Having always found honesty the best the best option with my parents, I confessed, "I found Dad's stories on Literotica."

Mom gave me a slight grin and nodded, "Okay. I see. Well, you don't seem stressed. Your father didn't mention anything going on with you this past week, so... can I assume your not upset... or disgusted?"

I can't help chuckle, "No, honestly, not at all. I just have a lot of questions," I told her.

Mom giggled, "Oh, I fucking bet," she said, getting up to refill her mug. "Let's get comfortable," she said, heading towards the living room, "we have a lot to talk about."

After confessing my discovery and reaction and ultimate realization that not only was I not bothered by my own father's sexual interest in me, I was very turned on by it and equally interested in the possibility, I asked Mom if she had ever had sex with her father like Dad had portrayed?

"No, I didn't, but the parts about it being my biggest fantasy and your father encouraging me to seduce him are all true," she said before further explaining that she could never bring herself to go through with it. Her description of her relationship with Grandpa was very similar to Dad's and mine; loving, honest, trusting, fun. The main difference being Mom never had any reason to think Grandpa thought about her sexually. "When we were burying your grandfather, in the midst of all the wonderful, loving memories, I couldn't help feeling a deep regret that we were never lovers, that I never knew him as a man, that I'd never welcomed him inside my body, that I'd never given myself to him in that way. If I could do one thing differently, I would have confessed my feelings to him." Mom was tearing up as she told me this and we were both crying by the end. I hugged her, telling her how sorry I was she had to carry that secret and those feelings and now this regret. "I hope you realize how lucky you are to know how your father feels," Mom told me, "Regardless of what you choose to do with the information, you'll never have to wonder about his secret heart."

My mother answered all my questions and confirmed most of my suspicions, including that Dad had had an unrequited sexual attraction for his mother (I never met either of my dad's parents as both died before I was born.) He made me an Always Fans model in the story just because he thought it would be hot if he and Mom could secretly watch me. Mom said she's done 'several' blowbangs, confirming her love of giving head, a love I blushingly admitted to sharing.

Mom told me she and Dad share pics and vids of their extramarital hook ups and all the details, each getting off on the other's enjoyment. She confessed that she was the one who pointed out I look like the porn star Aubrey Sinclair and she had often used her videos to engage in role-play with Dad, pretending Aubrey was me. Or I was she. Whatever. She further confessed that more than once she's given Dad a blowjob while he watched me tanning from their bedroom. Mom admitted that they both got off on the idea of Dad getting me pregnant. She grinned saying, "just mentioning it always makes your father cum." I admitted the idea made me cum like crazy too. Mom asked if I would want to have a baby with Daddy, I told her I needed to think about it, I hadn't ever considered getting pregnant beyond the need to avoid doing so, but the idea was sooo naughty, I couldn't help smile and Mom and I giggled like schoolgirls.

The biggest shock was when I inquired about their Saturday 'parties,' (the term she used) I asked where they went and she said sometimes swingers clubs or someone's home, but "usually your Dad's workshop." She went on to explain that Dad also has the warehouse behind his, which he's turned into a private bar and 'sex club' as she called it. Mom refused to tell me more details, saying, "Save it, let it be a surprise, if things go like I think, you'll get to see it soon enough." Imagining what that might entail, and getting her tacit permission drove me fucking wild.