It was 1986 and I was seventeen at the time that I first laid eyes upon her. Her name was Christine. She was seventeen, also. I didn't spot her anywhere, she wasn't an after school crush or anything like that. I found Christine in a magazine. Yes, a dirty magazine. And definitely not the kind kids, of any age, should be looking upon. But when you're seventeen living in a house with people 6 times your senior, you try not to explore, but end up finding things anyway. So in the midday Saturday afternoon of cleaning up after 50+ people I lived with, I was tucking the sheets in my Uncle's bed when I felt something underneath the mattress. Any kid would've looked, so I did. And found to my surprise, a magazine.
A dirty magazine with a blonde haired seductress on the cover, no older than 21, with her lips firmly pursed around the head of a stiff Caucasian penis that had to have been a good 7 1/2 inches long. But it wasn't her that grabbed my attention first, it was the name of the magazine. 'INCEST', they called it. In big bold letters, proudly portraying the one taboo that I was sworn to believe was the deadliest, deepest of all sins. I wasn't religious in the slightest, that's just what I was told. Still, my interest was piqued, despite the fact that I was raised to believe how wrong incest was, no one can help going through a dirty magazine especially at seventeen. I thumbed through the pages. Each showing pictures of girls who were older with stories saying they were younger doing the nasty throughout with men claiming to be related to them in some way.
Then, I spotted her. My Christine. Long black raven hair with pouty full lips, a pair of wide round eyes, and a smooth innocent face. She practically screamed innocence. In some ways, she was sad, but in others she was sexy. So sexy, so incredibly sexy. It was apparent why men in her family would lust after her. The magazine had pictures of Christine walking through a well-coiffed home in a thigh-length t-shirt and underwear expecting nothing. What I find most interesting about the incest mag was that the stories were more interesting than the actual act of sex. It made it more thrilling to know why family members were having sex with other family members. With each passage was a picture detailing as best they could the events as they were happening. Part of me knew this was a stage sex scene, and Christine didn't even know the guy who was inevitably going to penetrate her, but something about the solemn, everyday look on Christine's face showed me that the last thing that was going through her mind was having sex. The article talked in detail about what a great student Christine was, how she enjoyed studying and spent hours at the library. There was no need to make her appear any more innocent than to be believed. There was a picture of Christine sitting on the couch in front of the television reading a book. Then from the door behind her a man entered. The text revealed that the man was to believed to be her father. The man stood a broad 6ft. 3 inches with the strong imposing jawline meant to show his superiority as an authoritative figure. His hair was a solid dark brown, and he wore a pair of thin trimmed glasses, the text said he was 45, he was probably 22.
From the article, her father struck up a conversation, then joined his daughter on the couch. They talked genuinely, asking the simple father-daughter questions: "What's new, how's school going?". Until Christine's father's horniness overtook his thoughts. He began gazing at Christine's developing body. Her chest had now reached a 42 C, and her tummy was trim, her skin looked smooth, and well tended to. She had curves around her hips, and legs to support them. He immediately grabbed her book from her face, and forced his tongue into her throat.
At first, I was taken aback, and a tad bit angry. I had fallen into the story, and into the innocence of Christine. I didn't want to see her taken advantage of by any means. But still, I continued to read. Christine struggled to fight back her father's advances, but she was not near his stature in strength. Her father was a bulky man, and had forced his daughter on her back on the couch, as her t-shirt rose above her panties. Her father lustfully stroked her vaginal area, and appeared pleased at the genuine softness his daughter presented. There was a picture of Christine's face, close up. Her expression showed one of frustration, anger, and betrayal. I felt for her, I honestly felt for her, but my horniness was now at its peak when her father removed his pants to show an impressive erection. His cock was a stiff 10 inches long, and inside I knew Christine's pussy felt an instant attraction. Even more frustrated, the next picture showed Christine upset at her own body's betrayal to lust. Thinking to herself that the same dick that helped create me, now wants to penetrate me. Christine's father removed her red lace panties and laid eyes upon a completely shaven, thick lipped and now wettened pussy of his seventeen-year-old daughter. He wasted no time, he entered her in a flash without protection. The next picture showed a look of satisfaction on his face, and a mixed look of sadness and passion on Christine's.
He ripped her t-shirt apart revealing her beautifully full and pert breasts with her round nipples the size of quarters. He engulfed her breast into his mouth as he pounded into his daughter. Christina looked ravaged. Her face cringing with each thrusts, but accepting it nonetheless. Her story went on for pages, each paragraph telling of her father's somewhat forced sexual encounter on his daughter. They would continue to switch positions, she'd be on top riding him, then he'd fuck her from behind. I imagined him empyting his semen into his daughter often by now, but he hadn't. He'd saved that for later, in which in the final picture, Christine is lying on her back on the couch as her father sprays his semen on her tits. Despite everything, the look on her face gave me chills. Christine was nor pleased, satisfied, disgusted anymore. She took his cum on her tits, took her ravaging, and looked the camera, the reader, that being me, dead in the eye with a look of strength.
I jacked off to the story 12 times in the next couple weeks.
By the end of that experience, I was an INCEST fan. I bought every mag, and accepted the dirty looks I got from the corner store man when he'd hand it to me. After a few weeks, he'd stop, and hand it to me with a smile, thinking, I'm sure that I'm some sick depraved individual, but I'm not, I was looking for Christine. I was hoping she'd have another story in the book. I was hoping and praying that wouldn't be the last I'd see of her. The other girls all had intriquing stories though some fell under a bunch of the cliche-ish situations that anyone who's ever read an erotic story would know already. The other girls exuded sex. It was in the back of their minds and was clear on their faces, they couldn't hide it like Christine could. I'd bought about 6 magazines before she showed up again. Same wide round eyes, pouty lips and innocent look. Still so incredibly sexy, and still seventeen.
She was in school, and now, she was not tucked in a catholic schoolgirl outfit which is usually the first thing that comes to mind. She was a high schooler who shunned skirts, hated showing skin in anyway, and wore long jeans and long-sleeved shirts no matter the weather. She looked like a geek. But the kind of geek that makes you wonder why no one has had sex with her yet. She wore glasses, which may seem like a turn off to the guys in the mag, but to me, was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen. Again, they were selling her innocence to me, unneccesarily. They told the story of her father, and how she had been molested by him. She claimed it never happened again, and they never told anyone. In this tale, it was a regular school day. Christine looked typical enough. Typical enough that if I wasn't looking at her in a magazine, I'd never suspect anything with her, other than the fact that I would love to sleep with her. She casually walked to her third period class, as the text said, and was in no real hurry, the students didn't enjoy learning, and she almost never got any work done. Then, in the picture someone grabs Christine, and brings her into the boys bathroom. In her nervousness, she looks around to find a group of guys and no one she recognizes, except one. It's her brother Tom.
Tom looked 25, but they said he was 19. The guys he was with looked like a 80's chain gang, and Tom wanted to join. This group however had rules, and one of them was that he had to have rape someone in front of them. But the guys were the ones who chose, and without knowing the relation, selected his sister. This appeared like another unfortunate circumstance for Christine to be in, and I was hoping for her to gain some superhuman strength, and power her way through the guys and out the bathroom, but that other part of me had to see those full, quarter -sized nipple tits, and that smoothly shaven pussy once again. Christine's face in the pictures was one of worry.
Her black hair curled into her mouth in panic as those wide eyes of hers went bigger. Tom moved closer to her, and tussled her to the ground. Once there, Tom fought to take off Christine's long jeans, and buttoned up shirt. The other guys held her down as Tom made it out of his shorts. His cock strong and hard at 9 inches. He leaned down into his sister, got close to her ear and whispered, "I didn't want to do this either, but it's for me, be a sport okay. It won't hurt, I promise." he said, and with that, he entered into his sister. Her wet walls clinching his cock in pleasure. The guys watched as Tom took advantage of his younger sister. Her sorrowful moans barely escaping her lips as she struggled not to scream. Maybe it was for her brother, maybe she didn't want to get hurt, but she didn't scream. Her brother plowed her unmercifully from on top, then from behind, and finally up against a wall. Then, he sent his sister to her knees, and brought his cock to her lips. She took it into her mouth as Tom shot spurt after spurt of his thick cumload in her mouth. Tom cleaned up, and the rest of the guys left. Tom went to leave, looked back at his sister, and smiled. As if offering some sort of condolence for what happened. Christine looked again into the camera, at me, and with a semblance of strength, swallowed her brothers cum.
I jacked off for the next 10 weeks to that story.
Weeks went by and I bought INCEST after INCEST, only to find that Christine was nowhere in there. Months had gone by, and not one. Then a year passed, and another, and another. I wanted to stop buying INCEST because the money was starting to become less and less without a job, and my Christine was nowhere to be found. I got a job at a Checkout store. The money was good, enough to save in the bank, and for a weekly magazine. 3 years had gone past. I was now in college. The money at my job had been well saved, and I scooped a full ride scholarship to the school I wanted to go to. And I was still buying INCEST. And still, no Christine. I had taken an interest in Photography. Ironic somehow, that I spent the latter part of my adolescence staring at pictures of naked girls, and now, I wanted to get into it.
I had graduated from college with a degree in Arts and Liberal Studies in the field of Photography, and landed a job in the print business. Taking pictures of historic sights, and not so historic sights for a local upstarting newspaper. After a year, I left, and put in my resume to be a celebrity photographer. It was good pay, and mostly, I spent it covering award shows, and selling my pictures to papers for freelance work. I was living pretty good, had a decent salary, been living in a one bedroom apartment for quite some time, and still buying INCEST. My landlord saw them one day and gave me that glance I hadn't seen since the first time in the corner store.
Years passed, and celebrity photography wasn't all its cracked up to be. Especially when a famous singer is going to jail for murder, and is so irate he punches the camera man who drops his $800 camera on my foot. But it wasn't just that, after awhile, more people get into the business, and some people have to get out. I decided to take my experience to magazines. Why not? I'd spent most of my time gathering up INCEST for years now. I'd starting taking pictures of the girls I'd run into from time to time. A lot of it was decent enough to land me a job at RIDES. The car magazine about nothing but what kind of hubcaps spun the best. I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to read a magazine that boring, but it was lucrative. Enough that in a year, I quit. I was still living in my apartment, making pretty decent money, and still buying INCEST.
It was 2000 by then, and still, no Christine. I had begun to give up hope. I mean, you can't be seventeen forever. But then, my mind began to wonder, what if something happened to her? What if she's hurt or dead? Being in the photography business, you meet a lot of people, and a lot of pervs, so I'm sure someone has to have heard of Christine, but as I called around from INCEST photographer to INCEST photographer, none of them could give me, or didn't want to give me, any information on Christine. I began to lose hope. And finally, in the middle of 2003, I stopped buying INCEST. By the start of 2004, I had started my own gig. I was doing children's pictures, and family photographs for family albums and memories. Really puke worthy stuff of the ugliest kids known to man, but still, it paid the bills. And it was going well, I was taking in a good 200, 000 a year. I finally moved out of the apartment, and got a flat for myself. Paid off, and enjoyed my lifestyle for awhile. And after awhile, Christine started to drift from my mind.
Until, on June 14th, 2006, I got a phone call saying there was someone in the studio looking to do a different kind of photo for her family album. I rushed over, and to my surprise, my bewilderment, my sheer and utter delight, there she stood. Wide round eyes, smooth innocent skin, pouty full lips and sexy, so incredibly sexy. A small tear left the side of my eye, as I gazed upon my fantasy in front of me. My gorgeous, my beautiful, my Christine. Her dark raven hair curled just above her shoulders, and she wore contacts. "I'm Christine" she introduced.
"I know" I softly whispered. She smiled to herself, a strong and embarassed slightly smile, "You requested me especially?" I questioned as that was the detail told to me over the phone.
"Well, I'm aware of your work." she stated, "And I'm sure you're well acquainted with mine." I nodded slowly, but eagerly, in such amazement that she stood before me. We retreated to the back of my studio where we could be alone.
"What are these pictures for?" I asked.
"For my Father and Brother." she answered. I tried not to stir, but she knew I knew the meaning behind it. And with that, she stood before the light where I take my pictures, and slowly removed her clothing. Her long jeans, and long sleeved button up shirt, her red lace panties, and t-shirt all seemed to fall to the floor in my memory. And Christine stood there, naked before me, seventeen. Still seventeen. And by golly, she looked seventeen. Her features had not changed, and as she posed, I quivered. Everything in me wanted to touch her, to feel her against me. To be inside her, but she was a fantasy, and if you touch a fantasy, it goes away.
We worked in silence for I was too nervous to speak and she was well aware of it. I took her pictures from every side, every angle. I had to have documents of her as I couldn't fathom that the teenage girl who had been the epitome of my sexual desires now stood before me, naked allowing me the visual of her up close. I don't know what came over me, I don't know why I had to do it, but I did, I touched her. Christine was every bit as soft as I had imagined. She was smooth to the touch, and felt hot with lusty passion. I craved her more than ever at that moment. I threw my camera aside, and kissed her, hard. Lovingly, but passionately. I could taste her brother's cum on her tongue, and did not care for I had her now.
In my blissful wonder, I had stripped naked, and found her gripping my swollen 8 inch member in her hand. Stroking it calmly as her lips swarthed together. I pressed my body against hers, and never felt so alive. Then, I laid her down under the light where she took pictures and I entered her. I felt the sudden rush her father felt when he entered her with his manhood. She was so wet, and her pussy lips swallowed my cock welcomingly. I thrust inside of her over and over again. Doing to her what I've wanted to do for nearly 20 years. She moaned so sweetly, panted so hungrily. Her voice was innocence in my ears, and I had to have more, but I felt my orgasm nearing. I didn't want to let go, and I wanted her so much that I didn't care about repercussions or consequences.
In one final thrust, I let loose nearly 20 years of thick seminal fluid into her womb. I screamed so wildly, I was sure that someone in the next room had wondered if I'd been murdered. I gazed up at Christine. Her face which was once lively and real, now looked plastered in one unchanging expression. She wafted under me like a thin sheet. I rose off her, and saw how she smiled so strongly, but not at me, at the reader.
"Boy! What are you doing?!" I heard a loud scream awake me from my sleep. I was in my Uncle's bed. It was 1986. I was seventeen, and I had my pants down to my ankles with a magazine under me. My cum dripping down on an innocent girls face.