Real Sex Story

  This story has a small hint of fantasy in it, but the main focus is on incest. All characters are 18+. Enjoy! +++ The worst thing about being immortal is the dating pool, or the lack of one. As a vampire, you can only have... relationships... with other vampires. If you don't well, you are shunned by your community and family, to say nothing of trying to explain to your partner why you are not aging. The major problem with that is that people no longer believe in vampires and group us with bigfoot and dragons as just being works of fiction. However, I can assure you that vampires are quite real as my family and I very well know. There is Dad, who despite being permanently stuck at 45 years old, is in fantastic shape. He is about 5' 10", has short, black hair and a muscular body. Mom is 44 has curly blonde hair that goes to the middle of her back. She has large D-cup breasts, a big ass and a pretty face. Then there is my sister, Emily. Emily is 18, has dirty blonde hair, ...

  Unemployment Benefit Peter laboured for Grandma; his reward was Grandma. I lived on the ground floor of an apartment block in the city with my dad and stepmom. They married four years ago, Dad was 42 and he'd managed to attract a 36yrs old divorcee, which impressed me. He was a long-distance lorry-driver and mom worked in an administrative role at a local school He'd met her in Turkey while she was on holiday and he had a day free before starting the long haul back to the UK. Like most of my friends I was unemployed but I attended night school to learn plumbing and plastering to help me find a job or maybe even starting my own business. I knew that my parents were happy together when dad was at home, but his travels took him all over Europe and he was often away for days at a time. As the start of the school summer holidays drew near and mom would have loads of free time dad asked me if I would mind going to stay with my step grandmother, my stepmom's mother, because he a...

  Under the Blanket I come downstairs from my shower, walking past my mum who's nearly done her first small bottle of cheap vodka, which is pretty good going for 7pm on a Wednesday, and into the kitchen. Scott's already in there, looking through the veg drawer in the fridge to see if there's anything we can add to the stir fry. "Hey sis, wrinkly peppers?" He shakes the plastic carton at me. I wrinkle my nose back in response, but take it from him. They'll do. We work together to chop the veg and dice the chicken, practiced in our routine of the 5 or so staple meals we can do. Weekends fall apart, with cheap takeaways and rounds of buttered toast replacing nutritious food, but during the week we try to be good. Pretty sure we eat more healthily than most 20 year olds fending for themselves on a limited budget anyway. The sizzle of the chicken in the wok stops our chatter and Scott opens the back door to let the fumes out. The cold air blasting into the kitchen ...