Incest is Our Way of Life

Dear Reader, what is incest? Webster defines an incestuous relationship as one that involves sexual intimacy between close relatives, typically those related by blood or lineage.

Our family's definition of incest is broader. If you were born or married into our family, we believe it is permissible for you to have sex with any willing family member. Intercourse with your mother, my mother, our fathers, aunts, uncles, cousins, and the spouses of any near or distant relatives is acceptable and encouraged.

Our family ruled the Kingdom of Luxembourg for over three hundred years. To keep the family united, the Grand Duke Adolphe-Hazar, decreed that our family members should practice incest. The royal house kept this behavior secret from outsiders.

We continued this secret behavior during our transition to the New World. We were fearful a gang of Puritan bible-thumpers might interfere and smack us in the net egg with a paddle.

To align ourselves with the powers to be, we sought important members. George Washington, known as Big George because of his large gastropod, was an enthusiastic member and was known to never miss an Incest celebration. New female inductees were told not to mention Big George's bad breath because of his wooden teeth. In the War of 1812, Dolly Madison mistook British forces as well-wishers for the Incest Harvest Ball and welcomed them while wearing no undergarments. After she'd had sex with a number of them, she realized it was an invasion.

I never knew about the incestuous proclivities of my family until I reached the age of eighteen. To my surprise, I was informed that the ruling members of the family reunion committee had scheduled a coming-of-age party on New Year's Eve in the Grand Hotel in New Orleans. On the first day, new inductees were instructed on our family history and traditions. On the second day, when the New Year's Ball was held, we were encouraged to socialize and become intimate. A large group of hotel rooms above the ballroom were set aside to allow us to pair off and indulge ourselves in whatever incestuous activity we preferred.

In addition to party favors, there were large stainless bowls filled with assorted foil-wrapped brands of condoms, including extra-large sizes to fit all porpoise snouts. Viagra pills in plastic wrap were available. Although many of the girls were on the pill, condoms were still favored for STD protection, medical reasons, avoidance of pregnancy, or for the few who had a weird allergy to the pill. Women who had latex allergies lifted their hips, opting for bare-back, anal sex as a safe alternative. No one ever got pregnant from a butt-fuck.

Tastes being tastes, as our Italian cousins remind us, variations of sex were evident. I looked for females who preferred both anal and vaginal sex on the same night. Vaginal sex, for hygienic reasons, is preferred for the first sexual contact. The secondary act, anal sex, may be less hygienic; but slipping your cazonga into a willing button hole provides an exciting, refreshing finish, like seeing the twinkling stars on a winter night.

Later in the year, a springtime festival was planned for all the family members to attend. No one was forced to have sex with a near relative, but frequently, daughters paired off with Daddy. A few gay members of the family might try a tryst with Pops, Uncle Bill, or a male cousin. Those who preferred same-sex partners were instructed to wear a green shirt or dye their hair Irish, that is, green.

There were no limits on how many trysts a family reunion member might have. The more virile young men might exercise their erections two, three, or more times. The older folks were satisfied with one or two pops. There was a notice on the table warning that the use of more than one 100mg Viagra tablet might limit the user's ability to ejaculate. This was ignored by younger rebels hoping for a super boner, but the truth of the warning was borne out by the testimony of those who defied it. My cousin Hamlet said, "I had a strong boner for an hour, but I couldn't cum no matter how many times I inserted my lubed weegee into her grommet."

My wife, Brenda, has always been the most popular party girl. She often takes a Viagra pill, which allows her to climax more than her usual six or seven times per tryst. At social events, an oak tag poster is placed on a table or taped to a wall for box scores. Family members are encouraged to list each of their incestuous encounters and rate the success of their coupling by marking if the encounter was passionate, perfunctory, or dismal (meaning one partner needs more practice).

I still recall my first incestuous experience. I had just turned eighteen, and the wonder of youth had filled my ball sack with youthful hormones. It was necessary to jerk the mule's tail nightly in order to fall asleep and wake refreshed. I tried to contain myself for five days before the incest ball. My abstention proved to be quite embarrassing. During the nude dance event; my penis was drooling sperm like saliva out of the lips of a stroke victim.

I was dancing naked with a big -breasted partner who pushed me away, complaining my leaky dick was getting her thighs wet. A couple dancing nearby yelled, "Get a room," and we thought that was an excellent suggestion. When we entered the room, I turned on the music and rolled back the sheets. My date suggested a blow job to start the night off. Her suck-off corrected my leaky sperm production, and I was able to perform coitus satisfactorily with Betty.

I recall with pleasure that it was my first time ejaculating without a dirty magazine in my hand. That night, I used both hands to play with Betty's big tits and tweaked her tiny nipples. A few years later, after she'd been married and had two children, we recoupled. I was surprised to see that her nipples were now much longer. I almost choked on her left nipple that slid down my throat like a sweet Jell-O shot. That night, I came quickly in Betty's mouth.. Betty noted on the oak tag that I filled her mouth with so much sperm that it took two swallows to clear her throat.

When Betty and I finished our incest, I was not ready to quit. The room next door had an open door. I tip-toed into the entry and spied someone fucking my mother-in-law. Who was it? From the big head of long dark hair, I thought it might be Jimi, but no, it was cousin Leo, busy plunging his bristle brush into her heynanny. As the middle-aged beauty lay back, her head cantilevered to the side, her wide-open mouth invited entry. I sidled up close to her head and stuck my magic dong into her gape without a word being spoken. She smiled up at me tenderly as she stoved-piped my hornet swatter. Leo gave me a wink and continued his marathon.

Not content with one pop, when my mother-in-law finished with Leo, I insisted on shoving the big kahuna where the sun doesn't shine. This was easy as she had reversed position, kneeling on all fours to blow her son, Junior. With Junior's pecker in her mouth, her big butt was an enticing target. I zapped her bull's eye with my interloper.

This time, as most second acts take longer to finish, I did not rush and at the opportune moment, I pulled Lancelot out of her tush and aimed the royal knight under her butt, making entry into her tender pearl-meat. That is the advantage of having a nine-inch kebab: you can first ram between the lady's buttocks and then swoop under and nab hubby's pride and joy.

It was a marvelous threesome. Brenda's mother skillfully contracted her hairy bear trap at the moment Lancelot entered her saddle. Mom carefully noted this on the oak tag after we finished our tryst. As a result of her reportage, I was deluged with offers to inseminate many of my female kissing cousins' derrieres and kaboodles, one dillywanger after the other. I headed to the bar to get a drink, passing my 3rd cousin's Peruvian wife, where twelve guys had lined up to get a taste of her nachos. Her breasts were so gorgeous that guys were jerking off just looking at her and dripping their goo onto her Double D's.

Being human, I took a break from the sexual activities, wishing my wilted pickle was made of steel. I had some refreshments at the back of the ballroom, where I met my chubby cousin Jill, a dimpled twenty-two-year-old. She was able to persuade my dingus into a semi-erect state using only her two hands. Hoping for the best, we retired to her room and at her request I spent a long time tonguing her large butt hole, which gave me time to recharge my dingus, before working myself forward and going in for a butt hole in one.

Not content to stop once Jill was on her back, I held up her chubby legs, and 'bidened' my time, inserting my twilight avenger into Jill's hairy pussy. The novelty of her sharp pubic hairs, that felt like sandpaper grabbing at my Bentley's cat-skin, was a reward in itself. Afterward, I sucked all my sperm out of her honey pot until there was just a moist cum lining in her twat to welcome the next relative. My mother told me that this was the best way to leave a sex partner's pussy.

When I finished lathering Jill, I felt sleepy, so I took a short espresso break in the cafeteria and indulged in a slice of whipped cream cake. Afterward, I felt sufficiently recharged to ask my sister Malinda to go upstairs to an empty room so she might split her legs for me. We'd never had sex before in a public place. At home, I was always in a constant state of erection, with her living in the next bedroom. As we share the same bathroom, the smell of her pedericca was always in the air.

I used to listen carefully to keep track of my sister's midnight bathroom trips. On more than one occasion, I snuck into the bathroom after her and licked the toilet seat where a few yellow drops remained. None of us is perfect, but I thought my behavior, driven by primeval necessity, was on the borderline of perversion. When my sister entered the bathroom and saw me stooped over the toilet seat licking up her urine, she said,"Why don't you just ask, brother. I'll let you lick me clean whenever you are desperate for a taste of yellow nectar."

Content with her generous offer, I asked,"Sis, does that mean I can enter your magic realm?"

"Of course you can slag me," said my sibling,"Now that you are eighteen and I am twenty-two, you may enjoy my body anytime you please. You don't have to be licking the toilet seat to capture the leaking pee from my kinkle cherry."

As a result of my sister Malinda's generous offer, I asked her to urinate once we got up to the hotel bedroom, and not to dry her kinkle cherry. When she returned from the bathroom, her thighs and legs were wet, but my tongue cleansed her so well that she complimented me. Sis was always critical of my cleaning skills and frequently said my bedroom was a sloppy mess. That night, I made her curly pussy hairs glisten with my saliva and she called me Mr. Clean..

I was so charged up after the lick-er-roo. My cock was dripping sperm like someone with a urinary infection dripping piss. I was so excited from the foreplay that filled my mouth, and I used my nose as if it were a pedicula to tease her ring of fire. I slowly plunged my Jonas into her tight lariat, taking my time to enjoy the sensation, although I came a little too soon to please her. Sis excused my haste, saying, "These things often happen with young men who can't hold back their ejaculation." Thankfully, my copious seminal eruption was so intense that my sister called me a cum bed wetter, a distinct complement in our family.

The most important incest social event is the Granny Day Bash, when we attempt to lick life back to our aged family members. I chose my grandma even though I had to push many family members away, saying to them, "I won't be long. You'll get your chance. My dick will lube Grannie like a greased pig at a carnival. She'll be well lubed for all of you to stuff your overripe bananas into Grandma's Paradise Cove, once I am done."

Granny welcomed me, wrapping her skinny legs around my neck and almost strangling me. I made every effort to please her, gently chewing her clit and licking in a circular pattern that my Dad had recommended. When my grandmother climaxed, she shouted, "Oh my God, my flesh and blood has a tongue like a mixmaster." She was so pleased with my oral sex skills that she begged me to finish by putting my dingus all the way inside her. I obliged, filling up her purse-catcher as if it were a Thanksgiving turkey.

For Father's Day, at the start of the event, all the gents were pumping up their cocks to make a good impression at the nude dance event. I was surprised to see my Dad wearing a green plaid cut-off shirt that left his ass, cock and balls airborne. I have to admit, the older man looked great with his white hair slicked back. When he came over to me and grabbed my dick, I could not say no.

They say that fucking your Mom is the closest you will get to heaven, and after frequent bouts with Mom, often on the kitchen table while she was cooking, I'd have to agree, but after spending that royal night with Dad, I learned that old adage about putting your cock in your father's asshole is second in pleasure to no other sexual act. Try it! If you don't believe me. My Dad and I were never as close as when I shot my power hose into his tight heiny. The tongue kissing he gave after was proof of his satisfaction and saved me a trip to the dentist for a dental cleaning.

Having experienced this manly fling with Dad, I approached my brother hoping to experience the same, but he put me off, saying, "I think we are as close as two testicles in a pea pod, but I'd prefer if you'd blow me." Being my older brother, Shamus always sought to be the dominant sibling.

Of course I sublimated myself and got on my knees in front of Shamus and with effort got most of his wang into my mouth. His cock is so large it usually takes two gals to blow him, one on his cock's head and one mouthing his ball sack, but I was determined to show him how much I loved him. After about twenty minutes his cannon erupted and filled my palate with so much creamy jizz that it ran out of my mouth and down my chest like a waterfall.

I was out of breath, but to show him how happy I was to have satisfied him, I gave him the thumbs-up sign, and not understanding my glee, he jammed his thumb right in the middle of my rose garden. I had not expected his move, but it gave me an erection that looked like the Pinnacle of Persia. Not wanting to lose the rigid sidewinder, I approached cousin Adele.

I recalled how my cousin John had sexual relations with our kissing cousin at the last ho-down. I was determined to use my hard-on with his dream girl. I got in line behind a gaggle of guys waiting to grind their meatballs into Adele's snatcheroo. She was in such demand that I was forced to wait thirty-five minutes at the end of the line of her admirers. When it was finally my turn, I was amazed to see Adele's usually neat and clean appearance had been undone by the large number of guys in the gang bang. Her modest guise was hidden under a blanket of jizz that family members had deposited in her every nook and cranny, even in her ears.

When I got on top of her in the missionary position, her body was like one of those slip-and-slide plastic mats. I had to grab onto her hips and breasts to avoid slipping off her. When I asked why she did not avail herself of the showers to clean off, she said, "I love the smell and taste of cum, and it leaves my skin with a heavenly shine. I won't wash it off till it sits on me for at least two days. When it gets itchy and smelly, I give in, but I hate to be without it. When a cum blanket is laid down on me one at a time by a group of guys, it is as if the different sperms are fighting a battle to possess me, and some of the sperm deposited in my belly notch even climbs up to nestle between my two tits."

"Yes, I can see that," I said. "I thought the sperms might cause you irritation; they bit me on the side of my scrotum as I smeared my apple jelly inside the pretty lips of your pudendum."

When I finished pandingeling, I pulled my wazoo out of Adele's love chasm. I noticed sperm from my relative's jizz had also collected in that depression where of her cute belly button. "Yes, sweet-pee, (that is what I call her when I am performing cavatappi), I've noticed that the sperms do race to the pinnacle of your titties, leaving a wet path for the next guy's sperm to follow."

At the Sunset Jamboree, we were honored to have

jpin attendance. Joe was in good shape and even remembered his own name. Joe was there with his bird dog, who kept scratching his ratchet. I think he'd picked up an STD at a naked barbecue. Thinking an attractive Cher look-alike was a nude female, Joe mounted the transsexual, who replied, "I didn't know you cared." While Joe was struggling to attain a presidential hardon, his son tried to pull his dad off, saying, "Dude, that ain't no woman." The attractive tranny, anxious to be fecundated, held onto Joe's leg until Joe's son jabbed her with a paintbrush. The transsexual looked shocked and said, "The golden fox never has had trouble getting his wang stiff for me." Sonny cupped his palm to his ear, as if he had not heard, saying, "Pardon me," to which Joe mumbled, "I already did."

One of the new visitors at the ball was a Polish girl who was a 2nd cousin. Crista was a blonde with long hair intertwined like a ship's anchor rope. She wrapped her legs around me while tightly squeezing my sailboat rudder with her firm hands. She asked me in her thick Polish accent, "Please stuff your salami as deep as you can to arrive at where I keep my kielbasa." I had no idea what she was talking about, but I did my damndest to get as deep inside her sprocket as my cock length would allow.

You might guess that both men and women have sexual preferences. I've noticed that the girls always try to pick the guys with the biggest log jammers. My diddler is about nine inches, and more than adequate; in fact. Some shy gals pushed me away, saying my dicky boy was too long and thick and would cause pussy pain in her junction box. Causing pubic pain is a felony I never want to be guilty of, although I don't think it is actionable in a court of law, especially if you got permission to widen her sacred chasm..

Some guys in our family have horizontalia that resemble cannon barrels, which should be mounted on a wooden military cradle. One of these guys, wearing a green headband, scared the piss out of me when he rapped his giant dogo against my bare ass. All I could say, politely, was, "I'm a little dry right now." To which he replied, "Sweetie, when I enlarge your gupta, you'll be able to catch rainwater in it."

"No, you're too big," I shouted as he chased me upstairs to my room. And I was right; that fucker almost split my butt in half with his axe wedge. It hurt so badly, I had to defecate sideways for a week, but I admit, his genghis lubed me very well. Sex with his giant cazanga was a unique experience that opened me wide should I ever be anally attacked by a giant Neanderthal.

One of the fun things at our incestuous parties is the slap-off event. Several big-assed ladies are chosen, and one guy at a time uses their asses as drums and accompanies 1950s-style country music played by a band of nude family members. One of the naked band members is known as Thorny Dick. He plays the guitar with his kazuki while using his left hand to bridge the fretboard. You gotta see it to believe it. While strumming, at the same time he was able to play "America the Beautiful" on a harmonica, a sign of impressive musicianship.

Some of the guys wanted to do a slap-off on big-titted ladies, but the gals agreed only if they could do the same to the guys' testicles. One gal, whose titties hung down against her chest, took an unexpected swing at my bombay door and laughed, "I'll slap your red rosary till it turns blue. Fortunately, the planned event never came off. With my big pair of hairy globos, I would have surely been the victim in a blue-balls slap off.

Before I bring this story to an end, I want to tell you about how I met my famous wife Brenda at the yearly nudist fuck-a-rama. Many readers are familiar with my promiscuous wife's adventures in the arms of foreign nudists, but readers are unaware of how she has championed incest. Brenda, when she is not enjoying multiple sex partners, teaches at a local state college. She is one of these woke intellectuals who wants to save the world. Brenda has made it her mission to encourage the practice of incest among mature adults. My wife believes that incest creates strong family ties and makes our communities and our country great again. Brenda equates true freedom with sexual promiscuity, and incest is her gold standard.

Brenda is a financial wunderkind. She was recently featured in The Wall Street Journal, in a lengthy article announcing the creation of an 'Incest Bitcoin', which she partnered with a Saudi Prince she met in a co-ed bathhouse. They are working out the new coin's design, which features her front and rear torsos in bold relief. I admit her body is fantastic from all angles. A preliminary rendering of the coin shows the bearded Prince astride Brenda's booty, but that 'heads and tails' design is currently awaiting approval from international monetary agencies.

Brenda advocates that birth control be practiced by incestuous parents and their offspring. A research paper presented at the Genetic Institute of Helsinki (1998 Conference in Dubovt) suggested that procreation among 3rd or 4th cousins is acceptable if those individuals are genetically free of harmful inherited conditions that might have an adverse effect on offspring. I would ask Brenda to confirm this policy, but at the moment, her mouth is so full of the Prince's cock jelly that she cannot speak. The two of them have just returned from the Cock Suckers convention in Long Wang, Oklahoma, but will be available for CNN interviews in a few days.

I receive many emails and messages from readers who are anxious to know how I met Brenda and how she has made our marriage a total joy. Several years ago, we both attended the Harvest Incest Ball in Cumstock, Texas. Brenda had just reached the age of eighteen. She is a beauty with long blonde hair, a shaved poducki, long legs, and two tumblers that shook like an earthquake when she walked.

Brenda had just finished having sex with her brother, who had passed her off to the arms of her father, who was teaching her the fine art of ball-sucking.

When Dad's right hairy testicle popped out of her mouth, I asked if I might interrupt their soiree. "The more, the merrier," Brenda gurgled, popping Daddy's left nut out of her mouth. Brenda told Daddy, "Take a break and fool around with sister, Rebecca."

This was my chance. I took Brenda in my arms, and our lips met for the first time. Even though her lips were coated with sticky zumba juice from her brother and Dad, I plunged my tongue into that horde of fighting seminal critters.

"Eat my pussy clean," shouted Brenda, as I came up for air. A relative, Angus-one-hung-low, due to a testical disparity, thought Brenda was talking to him, and he advanced on her pussy. My firm, friendly shin kick suggested to Angus that Brenda's request had been directed to me alone.

"You can eat her out as soon as I fill up her honey pot," I said to Angus.

"Mister, this ain't Brenda's first rodeo," replied cousin Angus, adding, "When is that scoundrel arriving, is he still putaning around?" "I think he only attends the incest event in the Everglades," I responded, "But his sons are here somewhere selling bitcoins.

I mumbled as I knelt before Brenda, amazed at how her pussy retained the festival of swimming gametes. I put my hand as deep in her sex as deep as possible to clear the dense swarm of spermatocytes. Once I got most of the little buggers out of her hutch-cabinet, I concentrated on using my tongue to excite her clitoris. My effort was rewarded when Brenda climaxed several times, making squeaky sounds like a rusty door hinge.

"Ok, said Brenda, "My cubby-hole is now as clean as a whistle, so get you waddy-cum-lately into my love chanel."

Those were the words I was longing to hear. My curved banana split Brenda's red-prickly-pear wide open, and as each inch entered her vagina, she provided an oral countdown. While the 9th inch was being basted in her sexual furnace, Brenda began to have machine gun orgasms. Once they passed, as all good things do, she ordered me, "Ok, pull out and squat." I didn't have to wait but a nanosecond on the receiving end as she squirted all of my creamy deposit out of her vag lips hitting me in the face. It was much like being at the wrong end of a fireman's hose.

What a sexual wonder my Brenda is. I knew, even though I'd have to share her cunt with a world of her erect admirers, I had to make this Princess my own. Brenda waved Angus over to her as I lay on my back in total exhaustion. Just as Angus inserted his meat thermometer inside her spangellina, I asked Brenda, "Will you marry me?" When Brenda failed to respond quickly, I added, "Is this a bad time to propose?"

"No, I'll be happy to marry you as soon as cousin Angus gets his dick out of my ass."

Once more, Angus, who I now realized was more than a little deaf, thought I was talking to him. Angus replied, "Of course I'll marry you, ah neber married a guy before but I'm game, as long as yo asshole is wide enough to sustain my royal scepter."

Brenda knew I wanted her, just her, and her alone. Later that afternoon, when she finished servicing all her close relatives at the Ho-down, she came over to me and asked me to lick her clean, which I did, even though it tasted like coagulated cum juice.

"Sure, I'll marry you," said Brenda, "And if you want to have an occasional rooting with Angus, you have my permission, a firm meat hook in the cavern is a guarantee against constipation."

I wasn't interested in hooking up with Angus, but after seeing what a great job he did fucking Brenda, I thought, "My grease hole might garbo an interlude with this Sasquash, also featured known in People Magazine as the Boston Bigfoot.

I decided not to argue about the marriage date; better soon than later. Brenda and I took a midnight flight to Nevada and were married by Elvis at the 'Little Wedding Chapel' in Vegas. I was surprised that Elvis was still alive, but there he was, fingering my beloved under her very short skirt. I still have the framed marriage certificate on the wall, proving our marriage, stained by the love juice Elvis' fingering produced.

Brenda gave Elvis a quick blowie for his tip (you have to tip everyone in Vegas) and swallowed his juicy rock and roll jizzum. The three of us went upstairs to the hotel to hang out for a few hours, and if you asked me if I knew Elvis, yes, I got to know the great singer in a biblical sense. I am still so proud that Elvis was the first dead man to cum inside my wife three times without a condom. He managed to rest up, inserting his ring-ding in my donut hole, which he said, "Felt as warm as a summer night in Graceland." What a great Elvis complement.

Once Elvis finished with my bride Brenda, he was so exhausted that I had to use a plastic shoe horn, one of the hotel amenities, to help him extricate his swollen Tupelo, Mississippi, corkscrew out of my wife's punjab. I was forced to spit on Elvis' grunion to get him out of Brenda's tight snatcheroo. I gave his dingus a quick suck to clean it off, and a large hairball from his pubic zone got tangled between my two front teeth.

I still have that pubic hairball in a Mason-Dixon jar (one of the rare jars) in our freezer. If I ever go broke, I can sell that hairball on eBay for a cool million buckaroos. Seeing how painful Elvis' organ extraction was, I offered him a half bottle of Applejack and a handful of Kennedy Juniors' Central Park bear grease to smooth his corkscrew's extrication.

Before we could get out the door, Brenda shouted,"Give Elvis your Incest Club membership card so he can come to our next family reunion. We'll get you another one once we are back home." Dearest Brenda thinks of everything!

On the way down in the elevator, Elvis explained when his diddler lost its steam, it took on the shape of a sailboat's corner screw. Elvis apologized and took the brute out of his britches. An older lady, who had gotten on the elevator some floors upstream, let out a shriek and then embraced Elvis before he could get his gismo back in his shorts, shouting,

"Do you remember me, Elvis? You autographed my tits when I was much younger."

"Is dat you, Lucy Louise? Da King neber forgots yo titties."

When Elvis began unzipping his crotch shooter, I figured that was a good time to let him finish his business with Louise of the autographed tits. Of course, Brenda was still shouting, "Elvis, don't forget the family incest reunion next month."

That made Elvis smile as he reached down to play air guitar on his huge naked pecker. Louise leaned against the wall, lifting her skirt to reveal her welcome mat; she wasn't wearing any panties.

Elvis mumbled, as his red neck grew bigger inside his tight fist, "Ah luv a gal who don't wear no britches."