A Girl from a Broken Home


Caveat: This is not just an incest story. But Celeste’s relationship with her brother Franklin plays such a big role in her life, the incest is the dominant force. So I am placing it in incest. This is a long story, and it only gradually builds to the incestuous part. If you do not have the patience, I suggest that either you begin with the fourth (and last) string of stars (*********) which is near the end, or else you could just read a different story instead of this one. If you do read this one (and I hope you do!), I hope you like it.


I come from a broken home. It’s not that unusual these days, to be raised by one parent after your two have divorced. Maybe it’s not even unusual for your parents to have such a bitter divorce. With my parents, it was a humdinger.

There are lots of reasons divorces happen. One of the causes frequently cited is infidelity. Often there are causes for infidelity, nothing is ever simple, and such was the case for my parents.

The initial problem is simple. My father is a philanderer. He never saw a skirt he did not want to get into. Why he needed constantly to validate himself with new conquests when he had a wonderful wife at home, is something for the psychiatrists. I won’t attempt to explain that.

At home, he had knocked up and married the prettiest 18-year-old girl in the county. My mother is a wonderful woman, a sexy, pretty one, and one who was a good wife and a great Mom. My father is a jerk. He loves my Mom, and he also loves my older brother, to whom my mother gave birth when she was 19, and he loves me. I’m four years younger than my brother. But my father is, quite frankly, a jerk.

Every Monday night his friends would come over for Monday Night Football and argue fantasy football for long hours. My mother hosted the events. She would bake the men treats and serve them drinks. I was living at home at the time, my older brother was away – in college.

My mother is a looker. Gifted with a pretty face and a dynamite body, I give her credit for her wonderful smile and gracious, welcoming, and lovely personality.

Growing up, my friends loved my Mom; she was like a den mother to all of us girls. I’m pretty sure all the fantasy football men enjoyed her company, too. To my eyes, I was growing up in heaven.

The trouble began when my father got serious with his secretary. My mother knew about it, of course. Everyone knew. My father was a trouble shooter for a large company. He was always being sent to the four corners of the country to “put out fires.” He would be gone a few days to two weeks. Then the company opened an office in Singapore. They wanted him to go over to help to set it up and to get it working properly. It could take up to 3 months, possibly longer.

The company said he could take his family. We were excited about going overseas, and seeing such an exotic locale as Singapore. We made arrangements with our school for this exciting trip; we would do our schoolwork over in Singapore within a kind of home school environment.

My Dad surprised us all by taking only his secretary, whom he said he would really need for his work, and taking none of the three of us. This was too flagrant for my Mom. She was crushed. Her smile that always lit up a room simply disappeared. She began to sleep longer and longer, getting up later in the day, and drinking a glass of white wine with breakfast.

I was a kid, and she was my Mom, so while I noticed, I did not think to try to do anything to help. My brother did not even notice, even though he was of age. My mother still hosted the fantasy football nights, even with my father not there.

Everything changed during my senior year in high school. I had only recently turned 18 years old. The change, as far as I was concerned, happened in the morning, at breakfast. One time, the morning after a fantasy football night, one of my father’s friends showed up at breakfast with my Mom. My brother was off in college. My father’s friend had got too drunk to drive home, so he spent the night. Or so I was told. He slept in my brother’s bedroom. Or so I was told.

It became a pattern. After each fantasy football night, I would see one of the men at breakfast the next day. My Mom’s depression lifted, and her smile returned. If anything, it was even brighter, full of life. When my Mom is happy, I’m happy. When my Mom is happy, everyone is happy.

I gradually realized of course what was going on. I helped my mom around the house, and it was not long before I realized my brother’s bed had not been slept in. But my Mom’s bed was a wreck.

My Mom went through every single one of my Dad’s fantasy football buddies, over the course of five weeks. Each week a different one showed up at breakfast. Then one day I saw all five of them at Breakfast. My Mom was still upstairs and she made known she was not coming down (I think she was too ashamed, in front of her daughter, and all), so I made them breakfast, and I served it. My older brother Franklin was off halkalı escort at college, and even had he been home, he did not even know where the butter was kept. He is hopeless.

The men explained they had all drunk much too much, and they all pretended to have hangovers. For the first time, they also seemed to notice me. At this point I was just 18, and I knew from old photographs that I was the spitting image of my Mom when she was around my age. In other words, I too was a looker.

I was dressed like a typical 18-year-old girl at breakfast. I should have expected one of the men would be at breakfast (although definitely not all five of them!). I wore a short T shirt showing off my midriff, and Daisy Dukes, and nothing else, other than a bra and panties. My bra showed off my boobs to great effect. I was sizzling hot, and fairly innocent about being so hot.

The men looked at me with the lust of the forbidden. I was 18 years old and just barely no longer jail bait, but I was the daughter of the woman whose charms they had just enjoyed, and also the daughter of my father, the prime mover in their circle of friends. I was out of bounds for so many reasons! They never tried anything, but their looks! I’ll never forget the way they looked at me.

The way they looked at me creeped me out. It sent shivers down my spine, and it scared me. I also got me wet between my legs. I realized later that their looks of pure lust, the lust for the forbidden pleasure they could not have (which of course was me), was a look that scared the bejesus out of me, while at the same time, it turned me on. It turned me on something fierce, in a way I had never experienced before.


When my brother returned from college, he often came home with a friend. His friend invariably asked me out. Being gracious, I would go out with my brother’s friends. I was 18 in my senior year, and looking forward to college. These men were college seniors, and in my mind they were glamorous.

I guess they thought I was a sitting duck. I was, too, in some sense. I was flattered and wanted a good time with these romantic, older men. They wanted sex, pure and simple. That was pretty much all that they wanted. I was not ready for that, and my brother’s friends were frustrated. He told me so, and he was angry with me.

Wanting to please my brother, and also to satisfy my sexual curiosity, I began to let them feel me up. After each date, I would call my best friend Susie and go over what happened in graphic detail with her. She did not simply listen as would a good girlfriend. She had a true interest in the details. All of them.

The first one of my brother’s friends I let feel me up was named Kyle. We kissed a lot, and he felt my boobs through my clothes. He asked me out again the very next night.

“You’ll have to give him more on the second date,” Susie had said.

“I know,” I said.

“Are you going to let him get you naked?”

“Susie!” I yelled through the phone. “Of course not! I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Celeste, we are all that type of girl. Otherwise, the human race would have died out long ago.”

“Well,” I replied. “You can continue to propagate the human race. I don’t have to do it tonight, you know,” and we both giggled.

Susan was right. Kyle wanted more. I showed him a good spot for us to make out, and while we kissed in the car, I let him take my top off. We kissed some more, and I was getting aroused; he pushed my bra over my boobs and he began to caress them. I pushed him away, but his frown became a smile as I took off my bra.

Kyle was all over my boobs. It felt nice. This was as far as I had gone with any boy, including the one I really liked in my high school, Josh. But Kyle was a college man, a senior. He knew a lot more about what to do with a girl than Josh did.

His hand snaked up my skirt and found my panties. I was a real innocent, and I had never been fingered. I had never even masturbated. And I was curious. So, I did nothing to stop Kyle. He was kissing me magically as his hands found my panties. But I was determined on that score: There was no way he was getting my panties off.

He did not have to get them off. He just pushed them aside and began to massage me down there, hitting places previously unexplored by man or woman. Well let me tell you, the first time a man does that to a girl, when even the girl herself has never done it, is a powerful moment.

I had no idea what had hit me. I was experiencing pleasure I had never known was possible to experience. No wonder people like sex! I became now hyper curious. I lost all reluctance. All of it .

To my great surprise, I actually wanted Kyle to take it farther. I was excited about shedding all my fears. He did not know it, but he had carte blanche with me right then.

When Kyle tried to pull off my skirt, not only did I not stop him, I lifted my hips to help him to remove it smoothly. taksim escort He outfoxed me, too, by removing my panties at the same time. My pussy was exposed to a man for the first time. But it was not just a man: It was Kyle, and at this point I was entranced with his magical abilities.

Kyle took me to the back seat and he lay my naked body down. He gazed at me lovingly, as he slowly undressed, and I got to see his erect cock. I had never really seen one before, and I got scared, but also highly aroused.

I had seen a wide variety of cocks on the porn Internet sites I sometimes watched together with Susie, and one time even with Josh. When Josh convinced me to watch with him, I suspect he was hoping it would inspire me to want to try things myself with him. He was wrong of course, but watching the porn did in fact get me wet.

It was very different having an erect, throbbing cock where I could reach out and touch it.

“Kyle, what should I do to pleasure your cock? I don’t really know,” I said. This was not completely true, of course, since I had seen hand jobs and blowjobs on Internet porn sites. Hell, I had seen fucking, gangbangs, and bondage. I think I had seen everything that there is to see on porn sites. But seeing it, and knowing what to do in such a situation, are two different things. At least they were for me.

Kyle taught me how to give him a blowjob. I did not know it was considered gross to swallow a man’s cum, so when he told me to do that, of course I did it. He was a happy man. Then he gave me pleasure beyond description when he went down on me, right there in the back seat of my parents’ car. My juices ended up coating the seat cushions. I didn’t care.

It progressed to where I was giving blowjobs to all the friends of my brother, and letting them undress me. Every one of the friends he brought home got to see me naked, and every one received a loving blowjob. Only a few of them went down on me, however. Kyle had been unusual that way.

I was happy to pleasure these romantic college seniors, but also I was scared. They were big, strong, and they knew what they wanted. I was new to this scene. But I adjusted and eventually I broke down and gave one of them what I knew they all wanted. Once I gave myself to one of them, the others all expected the same for themselves.

Kyle was not the first one to fuck me. That was my brother’s friend Mike. It was kind of a hybrid between seduction and nonconsensual sex. He had gotten me naked, and he was naked and lying on top of me, but I was not ready for the ultimate act. I had thought he was just teasing me when he moved his cock around all over me. I thought that’s just what people do; yet another aspect of foreplay. When he pushed my legs apart and rubbed my pussy lips with his cock, it felt really nice. I even told him that, saying, “That feels nice, Mike.”

Mike then said, “Good. This will feel even nicer.”

Not knowing what he meant, I simply smiled, and his big cock entered me.

“Oh no! Not that, Mike! Not that!” I said. But I was too slow, he was inside me and pumping away. The sensations were so special, I was in ecstasy. So, when he pulled out after my protest, I was disappointed. He had known I did not want sex, but he had put it inside me anyway, the bastard.

“Sorry,” he said.

I was panting at this point. My naked chest was heaving. I said, “That’s okay, Mike. I’m a virgin you know. I’m not ready for that.”

I lay there before him, naked, his lovely cock hovering in the air. That’s when my hormones won the battle with my brain. I said, “You feel so nice inside me. Maybe a little more? Just a little? I don’t want to get…Oh my God, that feels amazing!” I yelled as he pumped inside me.

It was cramped in the back seat, so he pulled out again. He opened the car door and we both got out. He leaned me over the front of the car; the engine was still warm, and it helped against the cold night air. “Should I come back in?”

“Yes, please, but don’t cum inside me! Cum in my mouth.” At this point, any hint of this being nonconsensual sex had disappeared. I wanted it. I wanted it bad. I wanted him to cum inside me, too, to see what it felt like, but for once my brain prevailed: I was too terrified of getting pregnant.

We lived in Indiana, you see. It’s a Mike Pence state. Well, it was’ now he’s our country’s vice president, and he’s our country’s problem, and no longer my state’s problem. But his policies remain. If I were to have gotten pregnant, getting an abortion is next to impossible, from a practical standpoint, unless one has lots of money. I had no money.

That’s how I lost my virginity. He fucked me so well I came during the fuck, and when he was finally done, he pulled out and I sucked him off and swallowed his load. Later I had a lot of fun telling the whole story to Susan.

After my time with Mike, I was giving away sex to all my brother’s friends. I was very ashamed. I was even more ashamed because I şişli escort was loving it. It turns out I love giving away sex. I love seeing the men want me, get hard for me, and want to fuck the bejesus out of me. And moreover, I love when they do it to me, too.

Mostly I love seeing the desire men have for me. I see it in their eyes. But I must confess that I love the sex, too. But without the desire, without the lust, the sex is no big thing. It’s the desire that gets my motor running. Especially, at least for me, it’s the dirty, lustful, desire of the forbidden.

At that point in my life, during the hormone fueled teenage years, I was what my high school friends would call a sex crazed slut. They had made me this way, my brother’s friends. But I had no complaints. My brother was happy, his friends were happy, and I was terrified of getting pregnant or of getting an STD. But neither fear stopped me. Indeed, the risk fueled me.

My Mom figured out what was going on, and she bought me condoms. Also, she put a stop to my brother pimping me out. I was grateful. She had extricated me from a self-destructive, addictive cycle of gratuitous sex.

I made two exceptions. When my brother brought home either Kyle or Mike, I would sneak out with them, or even visit them in their bedrooms at night. But only those two. They were special: Mike because he deflowered me, and Kyle because he was the first man to give me an orgasm.

I was going through the supply of condoms my mother bought for me. It surprised me when she suddenly gave me more condoms. She knew what I was doing. Nothing got by my mother.

I was no longer the innocent virgin I had been. The big beneficiary of my newfound lustful knowledge was my boyfriend Josh. He did not know what had hit him, when suddenly he could do whatever he wanted to do to me and with me.

Josh did, too. The weirder it was, and the riskier the sex, the better it was for him. I did not mind: whatever he wanted, I gave to him. He could have done a lot more with me than he did. I seemed to have no sexual brakes during that period. We got into exhibitionism. It was fun. He liked to video our sex, too.

One time Josh got me stark naked in a forgotten corner of the local shopping mall. I kept on only my shoes. He fingered me to orgasm while several men surrounded us, watching. I was scared they were going to want some of me, too, and the fear helped me to cum quickly. Luckily for me, though, they only wanted to watch. A lot of cell phone pictures later, I came explosively, a second time. That’s just one example.

In case you want a second one, Josh took me down to the river. There’s a river walk there, but it’s not used much. I was naked wearing only a coat. When no one was around, he had me open the coat, exposing myself to the empty walk. At one point, I took the coat completely off, and a little later I was surprised by a bicyclist, who came up so suddenly he saw a full frontal of me.

The cyclist was so startled he crashed. I ran over to him, forgetting I was naked, to see if he was okay. He was, of course. Not only was he okay, but he kissed me. Suddenly I remembered I was naked, but what the fuck, I kissed him back. That night I made love to the cyclist and to Josh, back to back, on the river walk. That ended our foray into exhibitionism. That was too much, even for me.

Later I discovered Josh had set the whole thing up. The cyclist was a friend of his older brother. He had sent him a text for when he should race down the walk by the river in his cycle. I fell for it hook, line, and tow cocks inside me. Josh lost out when that ended exhibitionism with him for me.

The big loser however was my brother, for this period of my life. I could not forgive him for having destroyed my innocence.


When my father returned with a pregnant secretary and to a promiscuous wife, all hell broke out. The fight was brutal. As is customary in these situations, both parents used us kids against the other. My brother ended up siding with my Dad and hating my Mom.

My Mom reclaimed her maiden name, and I sided with her. As soon as I was 18 I changed my name to my Mom’s family name, which is the unimaginative name Jones. I am now known as Celeste Jones. My brother has the better name: Franklin Dobbs.

Oh yes, my actual birth name is Sahlesst. I don’t know why my parents decided to give me such a strangely spelled name, but it did kind of make me unique. Since I was changing my name anyway, however, I changed Sahlesst to Celeste. With my new, correctly spelled name, I felt less like the poor white trash that I was; that we all were.

My brother was in college then, about to graduate. I was just beginning college. My mother was now in abject poverty after the divorce, so I lived at home and went to the cheap, local state school. My brother got a fancy education (thanks to my Dad’s money). He became a banker.


It’s now ten years later. I’m 28. My Mom is chronically sick, and I’m still living at home, taking care of her. I began a small business: I own a combination café and muffin shop. I provide free internet and free coffee refills. My shop is very popular, and I make enough money to eat well and I use the rest to try to pay my Mom’s medical bills. I’m nevertheless falling behind. I have three employees.

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