Thanks to all the people who helped edit this story.
Disclaimer-
This takes a bit of reading before the actual incest. Also if you feel uncomfortable with coercion, drugs, prostitution, non consent, or incest, please stop reading.
*
Alexandria
I met Xan when I was 28 years old. I was fresh into my new job in Emergicare ambulance services and trying desperately to get into the local fire department. In other words, I was killing time. I had just sold my old house, made a tidy sum in profit and moved into a small duplex apartment that was a miraculous find. It was just at the edge of the nice part of town and priced cheaper than it should have been. It wasn't big, but it was clean, and the utilities were relatively cheap. The reason my new change of life my new living quarters was simple, divorce.
I had married the wrong girl. Nicole, my ex, was a decent enough person. She had most Latina characteristics I liked. Short, beautiful brown skin, beautiful face, and nice legs. She was also thin, and that was the problem. She was thin everywhere. I had been a breast man all my life, and Nicole was an "A" cup. Please don't get me wrong, if you like that in your girl, then more power to you. But I soon found out that when your sexual partner isn't turning you on, it can destroy a marriage. I always thought that I could learn to like it, the sex when we did have it was fine, but never great, never imaginative, and she never liked anything besides missionary. In the end, I would always end up fantasizing about other girls with bigger breasts.
I never cheated, but the sex suffered, and after awhile I became less interested, and then so did she. It wasn't long after our sex life died that our marriage followed. One night, I came home to find her with some random guy in our bed, oddly enough I was kind of happy. I felt released even. It was an "out". I took it with both hands. To be honest, I don't blame her, I was even kind of turned on by the idea of her sleeping with someone else, but not enough to stick through it.
I sold our house, gave her half of the money, and took $15,000 in cash to the other side of the country and started my crummy new job. Six months later I was moving into my new place, trying to carry a heavy box up the flight of stairs to my second story apartment.
Click click click.
I could hear the chirping of a camera lens coming from behind me. Someone was taking my picture.
My vision was blocked by the large box in my face but if I turned and shifted my weight right, I could get a look at whoever was watching me.
I'll admit, as lecherous as it sounds, my eyes caught the size of her rack before anything else. As hot as it was outside, she was sweating through her thin white top enough that it made the fabric a little transparent. She couldn't have been more than five feet in height and tipping the scales at 110lbs, mostly in her chest. Her dark hair was long and tangled and multicolored, like she didn't care if it looked good, but she knew it did. Her torn washed jeans were tight and showed off her curvy hips. Her natural brown skin was damp with sweat and her thin tank top tee was sticking to her tits like a second skin.
I would say she had a beautiful face, but her eyes were covered with heavy dark eyeshadow. Her plump lips, painted in black lipstick, twisted into a smirk as she looked up at me. Everything about her said stoner girl who didn't care. Her camera was cradled in her tiny hands as she eyed suspiciously for a moment.
"Are you moving in?" She asked.
"Trying to," I grunted.
She gave me a once over with her eyes before deciding I was acceptable.
"Do you...want...help, or something," her voice trailed into a whisper.
"That'd be great," I said.
"Oh, ok, I wasn't expecting you to say yes," she mumbled.
It took me a moment to understand what she had said. "What?" I asked.
"I was kinda hoping you would just carry it in yourself, and give me credit for asking, but ok." She slowly walked up the steps, taking her time as if she was hoping I would just suddenly change my mind.
Honestly, I would have told her never mind, except this particular box had all of my heavy books, and I couldn't open the door to my apartment without an extra hand. I knew myself well enough to know, if I put it down now, here is where it would stay.
"If you could just open the door, I can take it in." I nodded at the door, waiting for her to slowly take the four steps from the landing to my front door.
She sighed loudly and dramatically. Much slower than necessary, she walked to the door and twisted the handle. Nothing happened. She twisted it again, and again nothing happened.
"Its locked," she sighed.
"Damn." I must have turned the switch on the knob by mistake with the last box I took in. "I have the keys in my pocket, can you grab one end of this box for a second so I can get them out of my pocket?" I asked.
Honestly, I just needed her to hold it enough so I could move one hand, but the look on her face when she raised her eyes at me was like I asked her to strip naked.
She really did have a beautiful face, now that I could see it, but there was a faint scent of weed. Her big golden-brown irises starred back at me in offense.
"I'm not caring a big heavy box, what if I pull a muscle of something? It would be all your fault." She put her camera on the railing and ran her fingers along the top of the box and gave me a smile. "I'll get the keys and unlock the door."
Before I could explain that wasn't necessary, she reached forward and began patting my pants pockets. The keys were obvious, even from the outside, but almost like she didn't know what they felt like she just kept patting away at my hips.
"The right pocket," I told her, while I could feel the box slipping from my grasp. I considered just letting it fall but to be honest with myself, I knew if it went down, I was too tired to lift it again.
She reached into my left pocket and I could feel her tiny hand rubbing my bare skin through the jeans. I didn't wear underwear back then. She fumbled around a little bit trying to unravel the pocket from being bunched up against my skin. Between her fumbling hand digging in my pocket, and my lack of boxers or briefs, I was starting to have a growing problem.
"This is the right pocket," she spat.
"My right," I grunted.
She slipped her other hand into my right pocket and felt my keys, and then she felt something else. I could feel her fingers brush against my hardening dick, accidentally teasing it with attention.
"What is this?" She asked. Her face said she was genuinely clueless about what her fingers were beginning to wrap themselves around.
"That's not my keys." Despite my initial embarrassment, I began to feel small waves of pleasure pulse through me. A pretty girl was touching me after all.
"Well then why do you keep something this big in your poc---" she stopped herself, understanding dawning on her.
She pulled the hand not investigating my hard on from my other pocket and brought it to my crotch on the outside of my pants. Her beautiful eyes were wide with accusation.
"Is that your..." she trailed off, her fingers giving my dick a squeeze.
My eyes closed and I began feeling weak in the knees, and arms. I dropped my box letting the cardboard crumple outward and spilling its heavy contents onto the floor in front of my door.
I grabbed her thin little wrist and was about to pull her hand free, when she tightened her grip.
There was a moment, not really a clear one, but something passing between us that said she wasn't really put off. Her eyes bored into mine and I could see her chest rise and fall with deep breaths. Her eyebrows which had been stuck up in her hairline were now coming down to give me a look of curiosity. Her hand roamed down the length of my rod like she was examining its potential. She licked her plump little lips and I could see a flush creep up her skin. Then, her face softened, and she gave me the faintest of smiles.
Normally, when a hot girl with big tits grabs a hold of my cock, I'd be happy to kick back and enjoy. However, besides the pleasure, two horribly scary things were racing through my head and forcing my brain to scream at me to stop this now. The first; how old was this girl? She was clearly a teenager and if she wasn't eighteen, I could already see myself on the news. The second; this teenager probably didn't live alone, which means there would probably be a very big angry father type walking around here looking for her.
"Oh shit," I moaned out as I tried to articulate the question appropriately. "How old are you?"
She gave me a mischievous grin and squeezed my shaft hard. I winced and gasped at the same time.
