"Why don't I stay with Grandpa?"
I never thought that such a simple, innocuous question would set up a chain of events that would completely change my life.
My name is Jenna and I was 21 years old. It was the summer after my sophomore year of college and I was spending it at home with my mother Katie. Juniors were no longer given on-campus housing, so we were discussing possible options. My grandfather lived in the same city where I went to school, so I figured I might be able to save some money by staying with him.
So I offhandedly asked that fateful question. "Why don't I stay with Grandpa?"
"NO!" my mother snapped. "No!"
I was startled. Why was my mother so frightened by the prospect. My mother and I had always had a good relationship with Grandpa. I'd always seen him as a loving, typical grandfather.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked. "Why shouldn't I stay with Grandpa? We could probably get a good money on the rent."
My voice faded away as I saw the pain and shame on her face. "Do you really want to know?" she asked.
I wasn't sure that I did, but I nodded.
"Okay, but promise me you won't mention this to anyone, especially not your grandfather."
"O-okay..."
Mom took a deep breath. "You know my mother died when I was a teenager. I took over as the mom of the household, helping your grandfather do the housework, take care of my siblings, and everything else. I became like a wife to him. Then, when I was about your age, he said he wanted me to become even more like a wife to him."
She paused again, gathering her thoughts. "He said he was in love with me. Romantically. Incestuously. His own daughter!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Y-you mean he...molested you?"
"No," my mother answered. "He never touched me. He respected my rejection and never brought it up again. But still, it was traumatic. It sort of tainted everything. Every hug, every kiss. I had to wonder what sick thoughts he was having whenever we touched.
"Please don't tell him you know this," Mom continued. "We both worked hard to get past that and heal our relationship. It'll never be perfect, but it's better."
That was the end of the discussion. I got an apartment and life went on as normal. I worked through my junior year, but the truth of my grandfather kept nagging away at my mind.
I thought back to my 19th birthday party. I could remember Grandpa taking a dip in the pool. When he came out, his swimsuit clung to him, creating a bulge that was at least seven inches. As he walked, the head of his cock peeked out from under the leg of his suit. It was the first penis I'd ever seen in real life.
The truth is that incest was always a fetish of mine. Incest porn, erotica, and roleplay were all guilty pleasures of mine. I'd called more than a few one-night stands "Daddy." But I'd only ever fantasized about men who I pretended were family, not actual family. Incest had always just been something abstract that I read about but now I knew that someone in my actual family had these same urges and had tried to act on them. I had a chance to try and join those rare, lucky few who had actually experienced it.
I knew there were a lot of people out there who shared my fetish. Lots of them are probably reading this right now. If you knew someone in your family was willing to try incest, would you take them up on it?
The next few weeks was a war between the angel and the devil on my shoulder. I kept making plans to go over and chickening out.
I opened the closet and selected an outfit. I put it back.
I got into my car. I got out and went back inside.
I drove halfway to Grandpa's house and turned back.
I went into his house. We had a platonic visit and lunch together.
I was a mess! I needed to get these sick fantasies out of my system! So finally, I stamped down my fears and, before the angel on my shoulder could stop me, I gave him a call.