a den of sin

then one night, it's especially late. you're tired as hell, barely awake, but you're way too horny and pent up to sleep properly. so eventually, without even thinking, you start humping your pillow. your big sis is in her bed next to yours, playing some dumb game, and you hope with the last of your thought that she doesn't notice what you're doing.

she doesn't. that is until you start whining and moaning. it's quiet at first, but it gets a tiny bit louder over time. you're so exhausted and in heat mindlessly thrusting forward that you don't even think about big sis. that is, u until you feel her standing over you.

"whatcha doin, sis?" oh shit, she saw you.

"mmnmgghhhmnhh..." you're way too horny to respond with words.

"don't worry, sis. i know you've been sooo pent up the last week. it's not hard to notice when you have a huge erection every night and i watch you squirm and struggle."

you're too tired to even realize that this is wrong, that sisters shouldn't be talking like this. should they..?

I've never had a celebrity crush before, but there's so much personality in the way she fights. She barely ever gets hurt, bouncing away from attacks as if the air itself would throw her from streetlight to streetlight. She always seems to keep herself on the ropes, it's as if she's grown so powerful that now she has to give herself a challenge. What self-respecting woman wouldn't fall for this!, I huff to myself.

The news(or, the news I was looking for, anyway) comes on, and I watch with a muted reverence. They show the hosts, and I maintain my one-sided conflict with them. I think they're too self-absorbed, or too nonchalant, or whatever suits me at the moment. Eventually, I replace my hatred with excitement as they promise me a more fulfilling sight.

Pink hair. Soft, but nearly hawkish features. Beautiful dark brown eyes. The picture is actually still incredibly blurry, as she seems to have some kind of power to account for this, but I can still make her out as much as I need. She's unmistakably my daughter, my moonlight, my Robin.

And right now, she's out there, fighting someone, as the news says, and it's not far away. My daughter is in danger. No matter how capable I know she is, the pooling worry will overtake me, and I know it will. She never lets civilians get hurt, and, really, if she notices me, she won't know I know, and...

I'm already out the door before I've finished justifying it to myself. I rush down the block, passing skyscrapers and flat-topped buildings. In the distance, I see her fighting something that looks like some kind of dragon, or dinosaur. I round the corner and I see the scene in full, the only woman running towards the danger instead of away. I catch her just in time to watch a laser crash into the thing, disintegrating its upper half.

The lower half, however, starts falling towards me, and Strawberry Angel swoops from her perch atop a build to land beside me, wrapping her hand around my waist, and summoning a myriad of ribbons to stop the beast's descent.

"You okay, miss? Wouldn't want a pretty thing like you getting hurt." She says, in a surprisingly flirty voice, before turning to meet my eyes. All at once I watch panic cross her face, then confusion, then a deeper level of confusion. She must she the frenzied blush I have on. "M-Mom! What're you— I mean, shit, oh— sorry, I didn't meant to swear— ah, never mind, just, come with me!"

She picks me up like I'm a handbag. We soar towards a roof, and she sets me down like she's burying a stick in the sand. This is not helping my blush at all. I steel myself for a conversation that will probably decide the future of our relationship as mother and daughter. I decide against chiding her for flirting with a supposed stranger, despite my reservations, I can at least acknowledge that that's her business. She untransforms, little sparkles flooding the air as she returns to her skirt and hoodie I know her to usually wear, and speaks before I can even formulate an opener.

"I'm sorry I never told you, mom..." She sways on her feet nervously, hands clasped together. "Its just that, like, you know, it happened so suddenly, and, I kept wondering when was the right time, and, like, then it kind went on for a while, and, then I really didn't know when to tell you—"

I pull her sharply into a hug. I stroke her hair. It's soft, and windswept. We’re both bursting with adrenaline, or, maybe it’s just me. I’m shaking with it when I pull away just enough to look at her face. I cup her cheek, and I wonder if it’s too late to pretend I don’t recognize her and…

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You never had to tell me, but I’m happy you wanted to.” I hope I sound sincere, because It’s very hard to keep the excitement out of my voice. I’m not stupid, I just found out Strawberry Angel is my daughter, I haven’t fully processed it yet, so I still feel as if I have a crush on her. But she’s not Strawberry Angel right now. She’s Robin. “You looked beautiful. I saw you on the news and I just couldn’t help myself…”

I survey her. Her skin, glossy from sweat, her subtle blush, the way her eyes can’t meet mine, her hair that’s pulled tight into a bun. I wonder how I didn’t see that Strawberry Angel was my daughter sooner. I find myself leaning in slowly, promising myself that it’ll only be a kiss on the forehead. But then, I notice she’s leaning in too, and something in me realizes this is my only chance. I tilt her chin up and I feel her squirm in my arms as she realizes I’m going to kiss her lips. It’s soft, at first. Her lips taste sweet, doubtless from the chapstick I tell her to pack every day. I unconsciously press my tongue against her mouth and realize that there’s no going back, so I force it inside. A whimper hums in her throat. My face feels hot. I’m really kissing Robin— No, I mean, Strawberry Angel, right?

In my second of hesitation she’s started to take the lead. She pushes me down against a bed I didn’t realize was there before. I open my eyes and see that we’re suddenly in my bedroom. She must’ve teleported us there, or something. I don’t care. I let her get on top of me, and I run my hands along her hips, lifting the hem of her sweater up and over her head. She’s not wearing a bra. I see her chest bounce as she reels from my forwardness. I can’t help myself. I lift her skirt and see the tiny bulge poking out from underneath her panties. She’s frantically whimpering ‘mom’ over and over. Suddenly, I’m the one who’s got all the strength, and I throw her onto her back. I rip her panties off and tear through the bottom drawer of my nightstand to find my vibrator. I set it to her side for now. I take her soft length into my mouth and hear her heavenly gasp melt into a moan. She grips the sides of the sheets and clenches her jaw.

“M-mom! Stop! Please please stop, Mom, it’s… I-I can’t…” she pleads with me but when we make eye contact, her cries get weaker, “It’s wrong, isn’t it? J-just, stop, Mom, it’s my first time, too, y-you can’t take my first time, that’s so wrong…”

I take her out of my mouth with a soft pop.

“Baby… do you really want me to stop?” I try to take a neutral tone, but my voice seeps with sweet venom anyway.

“It’s wrong! It’s… so wrong.” she can barely form sentences. “Mom, I don’t want things to change between, us, I—”

“They don’t have to… and nobody has to find out. You like it, right? I like it. I don’t feel any less like your mother…”

Her face contorts, and I can see the conflict in her eyes. She wants it, but she knows it’s incest, it’s wrong. I feel that too. I know it’s wrong, but she’s so beautiful.

It’s her first time, and she’s afraid that things are going to change. Isn’t it a mother’s job to comfort her daughter? To urge her forward to her dreams and desires even when she’s scared?

I slowly lower myself back down to her cock, taking enough time as to give her space to deny this if she doesn’t want it. I kiss the head of her dick, and bring the vibrator to it, turning it to a low setting to start. It buzzes against her, and at first, she moans softly, but as I bring my tongue to her shaft, licking what little space is left, she can only choke on soundlessness, overwhelmed as she is.

“Omigoddd…” she whines, “My M-Mom is… is…”

“That’s right, darling. I’m making my perfect daughter feel so, so good.” I almost giggle. She’s too good for me.

I run my hand along her thigh as I continue to press the vibrator and my tongue against her. I remind her of all the places estrogen changed by way of groping them. Her tummy, her thighs, her tits, her ass, all now brimming with fat as I made sure to give her proper nutrition. I can’t help but feel giving her her first proper oral is just one more step in taking care of her. Every lick, and every moan reminds me that I’m her mother, and it fuels the burning warmth in my core. I love her. I hear her moans get more and more intense, and I remove the vibrator, taking her length into my mouth and flicking my tongue in the same place I held the it seconds ago. I bob up and down, sucking gently enough to create a pleasant vacuum for her. I want her to cum in my mouth, with what little cum there might or might not be. Her moans become frantic and she barely has enough time to breathe between them. I flick my tongue faster. I reach my hands up to grope her breasts. I rub my thumbs against her nipples. Finally she orgasm against my tongue, and barely anything comes out. What does is sweet, and less sticky than I expected. I swallow it, of course. She collapses onto the bed, every muscle having tensed just seconds ago. I pull her into a hug, and stroke her hair. She’s exhausted from a day well spent. I let her fall asleep in my arms before I gently wiggle free, pulling a blanket over her and replacing my presence with an oversized bear stuffed animal. I go to make her dinner for after her nap. I set a timer for two hours, since any more or less would cause her to wake up feeling sick. I hum to myself in satisfaction.