Mom Sis Dad Bro God & Devil

Saved and born again, Tommy and his sexy sister, Christine, find religion by having sex with their religious mother, Helen, and their father, Henry. God help them.

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Eighteen-year-old Tommy was no longer satisfied with seeing furtive, up skirt peeks of his sexy sister, Christine's panties, up nightgown glimpses of her blonde pussy, down blouse views of her bra and cleavage, and down nightgown sights of her C cup breasts. Wanting to go for broke, going all in, and willing to take the risk to see it all, the reason why he snuck in his sister's bedroom hide in her closet, he hoped to watch her strip naked in readiness for her shower. Not an easy thing to do, chickening out several times before, he waited for the right opportunity to sneak in her room undetected to hide. He listened to where she was and where his parents were in the house before hiding in her closet. Not wanting his mother, father, and/or sister seeing him hiding in his sister's bedroom, he didn't want to be caught before he even got into position.

Against his better judgment, having been brought up better than this, his parents would be so very disappointed in him if they knew their son was a pervert. Yet, hiding behind the shroud of his religion, Tommy knew that his father was just as incestuously perverted as he was when it came to his daughter, Christine. No matter, not really caring what his parents thought of him for the thrill of seeing his sister naked, he allowed his perversity to get the better of him. He was so horny, horny enough to risk being caught by his sister and reported to his parents for peeping.

Beside himself with lust for her, tired of imagining what she looked like naked, just once he wanted to see his sister without her clothes so that he could masturbate over all that he saw of her. Was it too much to want to see his sister naked when she's been teasing him with flashes of her perfect body? Was it too much to want to see his sister naked when she's been naked in front of so very many of her boyfriends? Playing the part of the good girl in front of her parents, privy to the stories of her sexual promiscuity, he knew his sister was a slut. As if she's a prostitute, every week she has a new man coming to the door.

Now too late to change his mind, he was already in place in her closet hiding while waiting for her to come upstairs, walk in her bedroom, and change out of her clothes. Through the closet that shared the exterior wall and that hung over the stairway below, he could hear their father in the downstairs hall talking to his daughter, his innocent, little pet.

"Christine, honey, do you have a minute?" Her father stared at his daughter as if she was naked.

"I always have time for you, Daddy," she said from the top of the stairs.

Listening to their exchange, Tommy imagined from the short skirt that his sister was wearing and from where she was standing above her father on the staircase, that her father had a good view of his daughter's panties. Whenever she was wearing a skirt as short as she was wearing now, Tommy had the habit of engaging his sister in conversation when she was nearly at the top of the stairs and he was standing below. As if she was an American Idol contestant or one of The Voice singers standing high above on stage while wearing a short skirt with the audience below, in the way her father was doing now, Tommy detained her just to ogle her panties. She didn't have to lean or bend for him to see her sexy underwear. Either she was clueless that he could see her bikini panties or she just didn't care that she was flashing him her bikini panties.

"I've been meaning to talk to you and other than just blurting it all out, I'm not sure how else to say this," he said with hesitation.

"What is it Daddy? What's wrong? You look so troubled," she said no doubt feigning her sincerity in the way that she always does whatever she wants something from her father.

With his life highlighted by religion, Henry looked at his daughter and gave her a fatherly smile before being taken over by the Devil and giving her a leering look.

"I know it's something you do when you're young," he said with a shrug. "Embarrassed to say this to my own daughter, but you've been dressing like a slut lately."

"Daddy? Did you just call me a slut?" She looked as if she was about to cry.

"No, I didn't call you a slut Christine. I'd never call you, my own daughter a slut. I said that you've been dressing like one," he said expressively talking with his hands as if he was sharing a story in church with his congregation. "You've been dressing very inappropriately lately young lady," he said pointing his finger of righteousness at her as if she was still his little girl in junior high school instead of an adult in college.

"What do you mean Daddy?"

'As if she didn't know, she knew exactly what he meant,' thought Tommy listening to them talking from his sister's closet.

Ready to go to her room to change out of her clothes in preparation for her shower, she looked down at herself from her perched position high up on the stairs before dropping the towel that she was holding in her hand and carrying up for her shower. With her back to him, she turned from her father to pick up her towel. Being the cheerleader that she is on her college football team, as if she was about to do a cheerleading move, a handstand, a cartwheel, or a somersault, she bent at the waist to retrieve her dropped towel. As if he was choking on a fishbone, her father's eyes nearly popped out of his head when having such a view of his daughter's bikini clad pussy and ass.

"That's precisely what I mean Christine, precisely what I mean," he said pointing at her panties as if he was the panty police. "Your skirt is so short, way too short, Christine. Every time you move you flash me your panties," said her father adjusting his emerging erection when his daughter away from her father to look down at herself.

"Eww, Daddy. You saw my panties? I'm so embarrassed," she said with a look of shocked surprise while feigning embarrassment without turning red.

"Honestly Christine, I tried not to look but when you bent from the waist to pick up your towel while standing at the top of the stairs, instead of squatting down as a lady should, I couldn't help myself from seeing all that you were immodestly and immorally showing. You must understand sweetheart, from my vantage point, it was impossible for me not to see your pretty, pink, bikini panties," said her father slowly as if he was verbalizing her pretty, pink, bikini panties in a sexual fantasy. "I hope you don't bend like that outside or at the mall in front of men?"

He looked at his daughter as if she was a seven course meal and he was a starving man. No doubt imagining his her giving men a free show of her panties while walking up the escalator or shopping for shoes at the shoe store, it was obvious by his stiffening erection that he was sexually attracted to his daughter. Obviously, if just seeing Christine's panties so sexually excited him, it wouldn't take much more for her father to want have sex with her.

"Sorry Daddy. Thank you for telling me. I'll be more careful the next time. I'm always cognizant of my short skirt. I always squat down when I drop something outside and, unless I'm wearing jeans, I never bend or lean forward while going up the escalator," she said leaning back, no doubt, her way to continue to tease her father by giving him a better view of her panties. "Too comfortable in my own home and trusting you not to look, I just wasn't thinking," said Christine with a shrug and a sexy smile.

'A dumb blonde wrapped in a stripper's body, she was nothing but a big tease,' thought Tommy while listening to their inane conversation. 'Getting everything that she wanted and needed from her father by flashing her sexy body to him, accustomed to controlling men by giving them what they all hoped to see of her, maybe she wasn't so dumb after all.'

Whether deliberately or unintentionally, he couldn't count the number of times his naughty sister flashed him her panties, her pussy, her bra, and her tits, especially whenever she needed a favor. This time, by hiding in her closet, instead of just seeing glimpses of her, he'll see everything of her. Tonight, with her not knowing that he's hiding in her closet, when she strips off her clothes, he'll see his sister naked. Naked, naked, naked, he couldn't wait to see Christine naked.

He wished he was downstairs looking up at her when she flashed their father her panties. Always a sexy show to see his sister flashing, if he left his hiding space in the closet and walked out of her room to peek down the stairs at her, she'd hear the floor creak and know that he was snooping in her room. As if he was a second story burglar planning a jewelry heist, he was so nervous. Not daring to move, he doubted that he'd be able to stay quiet long enough while waiting for her to enter her room and watch her strip out of her clothes.

'What the Hell is she doing now? Just come upstairs and strip, God damn it!' Impatiently he waited while wondering where she was and what she was doing.

With her shoes filling the closet floor and nowhere for him to stand but to stand on her shoes, filled with way too many clothes, there was little room in her closet for him to hide. He could barely close her closet door with him in it and as soon as she opened her closet door, she'd see him. Hoping she'd undress before opening her closet door, he was willing to be caught red-handed peeping on his sister to see her naked. Naked, naked, naked, he couldn't wait to see Christine naked.

As if he was hiding in department store clothing racks again while peering up women's skirts, allowing her clothes to support his weight, leaning back against her apparels was the most comfortable position he found. A good thing that she preferred wooden hangers to plastic ones, he just hoped that the rack of her hung clothes supported his weight and didn't break. If the rod broke and her clothes came crashing down, a real tragedy for his sister to discover him hiding in her closet before the show even began, he'd alarm the whole family and they'd all know what he was doing there in her closet.

'Where the Hell is she? What's taking her so long to come upstairs? Maybe she's not done flashing Daddy her panties', he thought. 'Maybe she's sitting on his lap again and kissing him in the way she does whenever she wants something. She's such an incestuous slut,' he said even though he was the one hiding in his sister's closet.

A good, religious girl before, as soon as she turned 18-years-old and started college, she became a slut. Whenever her mother wasn't around to see, as if giving her father a lap dance, she knew how to get whatever she wanted from her father by just sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. Filing his nostrils with her pheromones, her father always rested his hands on her hips when she wore jeans or on her naked thighs when she wore a short skirt. Tommy figured that his father no doubt wished they were both naked when Christine sat on his lap. Sometimes, acting as if it was accidently, he'd reach his hand up to brush back his hair and deliberately brush his hand against her breasts. With Christine being that slut that she is, as soon as her father's hand deliberately brushed by her breasts, her nipples made their erect appearance through her bra and top, that is when she was wearing a bra. Then, when she stood to thank him for whatever he gave her or did for her, doing everything but humping her father, she'd give him a pelvis to pelvis, full body hug.

"Thank you Daddy," she'd say.

As far as he was concern with the acorn not falling far from the tree, Christine was just as horny as was their father and Tommy knew that he was much like his father in his horniness for his sister too. Only, not the incestuous slut that he wish she was, Christine's horniness wasn't for him or for his father. She saved herself for her dozens of boyfriends and freely gave herself to them. Yet, for the benefit of whatever she could get from her Daddy, she played her father's incestuous game by allowing him to touch her and feel her. The only member of this family who wasn't bitten by the incestuous bug was his mother, Helen, Saint Helen, the name his father called his too religious, God loving and Devil fearing wife.

Perhaps born to be incestuously wild, Tommy wondered if his sexual desire for his sister and for his mother, for that matter, was something that he inherited from his father. Maybe his father had a thing for his sister and/or his mother back when he was Tommy's age. He had no idea if that was the case as his parents never discussed sex or anything sexual. Everything that they talked about was religion, God, or the Devil. For people who were so openly religious, referencing the Devil more than they did God, they talked about the Devil a lot.

Always pressing her big tits against him and kissing him on the lips, albeit without tongues, with the daughter getting everything from her father and the son getting much less, Tommy knew his father groped his daughter, especially when playing their game of tickle and tease. For such an outspokenly religious man, their father more walked down the path with the Devil than up the road with God. Always so stealthily sneaky, from his clandestine, squatting perch on the stairs to peek in the living room, Tommy's seen his father inappropriately touch his sister before when they thought that no one was looking.

Slow to react to his horny hands, she'd always pretend that she didn't know her father was inappropriately touching her but of course she knew. How could she not feel a hand moving up her short sweater that rested on her bra clad breast or that moved beneath her short skirt and that remained poised on her panty clad ass? Whenever he thought he was alone with her daughter, especially when she wore her short, up blouse top without a bra, chasing her around the house and with her allowing him to catch her, his father always played his game of tickle and tease. His surefire way of seeing and feeling his daughter's breasts, she only wore that top when she really wanted something from her Daddy. No doubt, his father wants his daughter just as much as he wants his sister.

'Hard enough to wait for her, I can't stay here much longer in this little space,' he thought. 'With my legs beginning to cramp, I'm amazed by the things that I do for sex.'

Always sneezing when he was nervous or anxious, what if he sneezed? Cursed with smelly flatulence, especially after having had hot dogs and beans for dinner, what if he burped or farted? With all her perfume that permeated her clothes and closet, a mixture of floral scents, what if he had an allergic reaction and had to cough and/or sneeze? Coughing and sneezing would cause him to fart?

So long as he got to see his sexy sister naked, desperate enough and despicable enough for him to hide in her closet, he didn't care if his sister caught him hiding in her closet so long as she didn't tell his Mom and Dad that he peeped on his sexy sister stripping naked. Yet, if she did tell their parents, seeing her naked would be well worth whatever punishment they'd dish out and whatever beating his sister would give him for spying on her. Definitely, for him to see her naked, she was well worth the shit storm that he'd have to endure to survive this crazy family.

Thinking about changing his mind and leaving her closet and her room at the last minute, he waited and listened for her to come up from downstairs to walk in her bedroom. Only, too late. As if catching him by surprise, not hearing her walk along the hall, when she finally entered her room and snapped on the light, it was too late to reconsider his incestuous plan of voyeurism and leave her closet. Now as much part of the show in his voyeurism as she was in her exhibitionism, he didn't dare move.

Even if he wanted to move, packed in her closet as if he were a passenger on a Japanese subway, he couldn't move even if he wanted to move. As if he was an assassin for the Mafia, he didn't breathe while he watched his sister through her louvered closet doors aimlessly walk around her bedroom. She only stopped walking to look at herself in the mirror. In love with herself and in the way she looked at herself, she was always looking at herself in the mirror. With her having that kind of supermodel and beauty queen look, one of the beautiful people, if only she had money or rubbed elbows with those who did, easily, she could have been one of those kept women that he saw during the Grand Prix race in Monaco.

Mesmerized watching her, he stared at his sexy sister as if he was the one hypnotized by her. As if his incestuous leer commanded her to obey, she stood in front of her full length mirror and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. This was it. This was really it. He couldn't believe his eyes. She was undressing.

Finally this was the moment that he's been waiting to see. Finally, he'll get to watch his sexy, big sister strip naked. Finally, after all the peeping and spying he's done on his sister and all the flashing she's given him, whether flashing him deliberately or unintentionally, he was going to see all that he hoped to see of her in one, prolonged, striptease flash. Hoping she'd take her sweet time and not rush her striptease, with just four clothing items limiting him from seeing her naked, he couldn't wait to watch her remove her blouse and skirt before she removed her bra and panty. The best day of his life, he'll be masturbating over this wonderful day and the sexy images of his sister's naked body for the rest of his life.

With his unobstructed view of her reflection in the full length mirror, he could clearly see not only the back of her but also the front of her too. His hiding place in her closet was the perfect place to give him a nearly a 360 degree, sexy show. Reluctant at first, fearing the worst that he'd be detected before she even unbuttoned a button or unzipped a zipper, he was now glad that he decided to hide in her closet. Having wasted so much time and energy masturbating over up skirt views of her panties, up nightgown views of her pussy, down blouse views of her bra, and down nightgown views of her tits, today was the day that he'd finally see all of her in one prolonged, striptease show. He only wished he had thought of hiding in her closet sooner. He only wished he could record her stripping without her seeing the red light of his camcorder.

As if she was a customer in a department store, he watched his sister walking around her room touching this and looking at that. He watched her pull out her new, sexy, low cut, short, sheer nightgown from the dresser drawer and he couldn't wait to watch her strip naked to wear that. Never even seeing her in her nightgown, as if she's a modest virgin, which she's not, she always walked around the house wearing a bathrobe, probably because of their horny father being too free with his hands. In the way that he leers at his daughter, his father stares at his daughter as if he's a terrorist about to plant a bomb or detonate his vest. Holding her nightgown up in front of her as if it was a gown and she was going to the ball, turning one way and then the other, she stood in front of her full length mirror looking at herself.

Always staring at herself, she looked in the mirror a lot, so much that he wondered if she had narcissistic personality disorder. Always checking her hair, her clothes, her teeth, and her makeup, her favorite person to see, she was obviously enamored with herself. With so many people in the world hungry, homeless, poor, and/or infirmed, she should have a problem. She doesn't have a clue what it is for her to have a problem. Pampered and isolated, a bad day for her is a bad hair day or a broken fingernail.