This story has family incest between an adult brother, mother and sister. There is some mild violence committed by a fourth party but this is not part of the main theme. This is a longer one, over twenty thousand words in one chapter with an ending. Although I might, in the future, revisit the story I'm not planning to at this time.
All parties involved in any sexual situations are at least eighteen years old.
INTERVENTION
PREQUEL: We just couldn't take it anymore. My sister Becky and I watched as our lovely mother sat down at the breakfast island. She was wearing a fluffy housecoat that was loosely tied at the waist. She was hung over, again, and both Becky and I could see the marks that her lover had left on her upper chest the night before. She also had a bruise on her beautiful cheek and her hair was a ratty mess. When she slumped into her chair her housecoat opened, exposing her entire upper chest to our view. I could see the marks and bruises that the asshole had left on our mother's boobs, paying particular attention to her areola and nipples. I spoke for the first time, "Mom, your tits are showing. Don't you have any respect for yourself anymore?" She looked up in shock. I had never talked to her like this before.
******THE DESCENT OF MOM******
She was still, at thirty five, a very pretty and desirable woman. She had gotten pregnant very early in her life and my dad had been forced by our two grandfathers to marry her so that I wasn't born a bastard. Actually the term 'shotgun wedding' was the term that our grandparents had used. Two years later my sister was born. Our parents had lived with one or the other parents' home until my dad could support his family.
That was the past though, over twenty years ago. Nowadays my parents were not getting along at all. They had been arguing almost continuously for months. Mostly they argued about why my father had no sex drive. Little did we all know that the reason for his lack of sexual desire for my mother was that she was a female.
My parents had made it very clear when their issues began to surface that their marriage, and any other personal aspects of their life were to be theirs to deal with, in private. End of story and no further discussion would be tolerated. From that point on my sister and I had just accepted their arguing and simply wanted to be kept in the dark about our parents' personal life.
My mom, as beautiful as she was, would have been a catch for almost any man but her confidence took a huge hit when she caught our father finally, with his boyfriend, in bed together. Imagine that, the man that you thought was your soulmate, the man that was the father of your children, the man that you had wished to be beside you as you grew old together tied to his bed with a dick up his ass.
She had been devastated when she found out about the affair. She was served with divorce papers within the week. But amazingly she had insisted on counselling, praying that a third party would get my father to change his ways and understand what he was giving up. It didn't work though. My father was adamant that he and his lover, a young man of only twenty, would be happy together. After he moved out neither Becky nor I ever saw him again.
When she started to accept the fact that she had lost her husband and the divorce was going forward my mother had gone into a deep depression. She started drinking a lot and picking up men in seedy bars and nightclubs.
The divorce was nearly final, just weeks to go and my father was long gone so Becky and I thought that she must have just accepted the inevitable. My sister and I watched as the beautiful woman that had raised us, that we both loved and cherished, began the slippery slope of depression, alcoholism and degrading herself with casual sex. We didn't figure it out until months later that there was anything that we could do for her.
My mom had always reminded me of a movie star named Jill Ireland that was a popular movie star in the sixties. She had blonde hair that she kept shoulder length, a timeless pretty face, nice shape and long legs. If I were to describe my mother in one word it would be statuesque.
******BECKY AND I THE BEGINNING******
A bit about my sister and I. I'm Brett Morgan and my sisters' name is Becky. To be blunt, we have always been very close as siblings. Much closer than normal siblings. We have always been each other's best friend and confidant. I, as her older brother, had always felt that I was her protector and now I wanted to be there for her if or when our parents were not able to resurrect their marriage.
I had noticed that Becky had become more clingy as she went through her teen years. She would always sit next to me when we had our meals and she would sometimes cuddle into me with my arm around her while watching movies at home. We never fought or argued like most kids would so I have to admit that it wasn't a total surprise when we became each other's only lover.
As I said, we were very close while growing up. I was twenty and still living at home because my job as an assistant manager at a fast food place wasn't lucrative enough to fund an apartment, yet. Becky was eighteen and in her senior year of high school. I was older by two years and should have been the more mature and responsible of the two of us but as our parents' marriage began to crumble we turned to each other, as we always had, for comfort and security. At first we would just go into one of our bedrooms together to avoid the drama. We would just lay low and talk while our parents fought. Then as time went on, when the arguments got really loud, we would leave the house and it's toxic atmosphere and go to the movies or hang out at fast food places, always together, to avoid the arguments, and then stay out until late or at least until we thought the fireworks were over. It usually worked.
When we were home our father ignored us. Other than giving us money for our nights out he seemed to have no interest in what Becky and I were doing. So we took matters into our own hands so to speak and we comforted each other.
