The Rise and Fall of Jamie Pt 1

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This is a work of fiction.  You must be 18 or over to read this story.  In real life, incestuous relationships, particularly when an under-aged person is involved with a parent or adult, often causes deep psychological damage.  This story is provided for entertainment purposes only.  The author does not condone any sexual activity with persons under 18 in real life.

You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and non-consensual sex. If you do not like such stories, please turn back. I do not promote rape or non-consent sex. This is only a story, fiction, if you do not understand the difference between reality and fantasy, read no more. Rape is WRONG. Those who commit rape are despised everywhere.

I’m going to prison. This sucks. I raped fourteen women and girls, more than half under sixteen, most repeatedly. I kidnapped one across state lines. I held a dozen captive for several hours of sex and torture.

And that’s just what I know they know. There’s more, much more.

Even I pleased guilty, I won’t ever be released. I don’t want to go to prison, but I’m too much of a coward to take my own life.

Maybe if I plead mental illness.

Well, here comes the FBI agent. Man, that is a THICK file as is the one his partner is carrying.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s start at the beginning. This is beyond Walden and Dallas.”

They know. I’m sure in the four days I was in the hospital, they’ve had plenty of time to do their homework. I had a fake identity; I never cleaned up after myself; I didn’t think I’d ever get caught.

It really started on my thirteenth birthday. That’s when I got the Polaroid.

Well, we can probably back up another couple of years when my twin sister and I hit puberty. For me, it was just hair in places there ain’t been hair before and that hard-ons were no longer just an embarassing nuisance.

For Janie, it meant that her hips flared out a little, her chest pumped up a touch and her ass rounded out. She was still kinda short and skinny for her age, so those little adjustments seemed a bit magnified, like someone took a fifteen year-old and shrunk her down to four-six and maybe fifty-some odd pounds.

People noticed and she loved the attention. So she started prancing around a lot in little short shorts, half-shirts, tight tanks, crop tops.

By the time we hit thirteen, I had shot up to five-six and a good buck twenty on the scales. Janie, she seemed to have stopped; still a foot shorter than me and about half my weight. Still, very cute.

See, dad was Scandinavian; he wasn’t born there, but his blood was one hundred percent Norse; tall, blue eyes, blond hair, the whole bit. And so was Janie, except for the stature. That light blond hair, fair skin and those baby blue eyes just made her all the more appealing to my senses (and dad’s).

Janie got all that but his stature. That came from the majority donor to yours truly.

Mom was as Hispanic as dad was Scandinavian, U.S. born daughter to two illegal immigrants from Guatemala. She was a foot shorter than dad and very dark-skinned, but not African. I got most of her color, with a little lightener from dad and dark brown hair. My stature, I got from dad. I admit, I was a damned good looking kid.

So, back to our thirteenth birthday. I got a Polaroid; she got a bikini.

I know my use of a lot of first person plurals seemed to imply we had that near-incestuous twin thing going… nope. She couldn’t stand me. We were night and day, but I think a lot of it was also that me (and dad in his private moments) were probably not as discreet as we thought we were, for lack of a better word, ogling her.

Mom noticed it too. Now, most moms, when dads seem to be ignoring that whole “that’s your kid” thing, will at least say, “hey, that’s your kid, not some teeny-bopper at the mall” or get the guy into counseling. The same would go for sons forgetting that that little girl he shares parents with is his sister, but anyway…

But not my mom. No, Marisol decided to COMPETE. She worked out more, also took to wearing what her daughter wore. They couldn’t physically share a wardrobe, since mom had about forty more pounds on her and was BUILT, like double-C tits and, what one might call, a spankable, grabable ass.

So, every day, I had two hot chicks prancing around the house in barely there outfits. Even when dad wasn’t home. Janie and her little friends, equally barely dressed, took to walking through the neighborhood flirting with anyone with a dick and mom spent a lot of time in the front yard, “gardening” in Home & Garden approved shorts and bikini tops.

I had a corner bedroom with a great view of the mom’s garden and got quite a few shots of her.

When Janie wasn’t turning men into pedophiles, she laid out in our “private” back yard. This time, I had a good vantage point from the kitchen, but there was an even better spot.

The yard was surrounded by an old eight-foot privacy fence. In one of the eight-foot slats was an eight-inch missing section, hard to see for the thick brush around it. From there, it was ten feet to where Janie often laid her towel. At that distance, I was still able to make out the glistening oil on her skin and the tiny beads of sweat trickling down her thighs and waist.

Mom worked during the day and I was usually out and about, so Janie thought she was alone that one Wednesday after our birthday.

She came out as always with her Walkman and lotions and towel. She spread the towel on the grass and… took off her top. I almost dropped the camera. By the time I had juggled it into place and somehow managed to snap off a clear photo, she dropped her bottoms, exposing her hairless slit.

She laid down and I could hear her moan as the soft breeze caressed her hard nipples. Her left hand found her pussy and she began to rub it, moaning louder as she finger-fucked herself. Until then, there was always a slight twinge of guilt for wanting to fuck my sister. That was gone now.

I must have snapped snapped dozen of pictures of not just Janie, but also her little teeny-bopper friends, my mom and various other neighborhood hotties. Gotta hand it to the South, we raise’em right good.

The agents are nodding. No doubt, they’ve looked though my computer and found my collection and probably the oriiginals too with my fingerprints all over them. Add kiddie porn to the list.

But all good things come to an end.

I’m not sure how my pictures came into my dad’s possession, but I’ve got a good idea. Like any loving, caring parent, my dad probably searched my room one fine day looking for drugs and instead found my picture collection that I had hidden in an inside pocket of an old coat in the back of my closet. My dad’s a thurough guy.

But instead of deciding that maybe it was time we had “the talk”, he kept the pictures for himself. And instead of hiding them better, just kept them in an envelop in his travel bag. It didn’t take long for mom to find them.

Dad was a truck driver. Mom suspected he’d had his share of lot lizards, some of them probably not of legal fucking age. She kind of accepted it, I think because she was probably fucking other dudes while dad was away. No one goes to the gym twice a day with only a day’s worth to show for it.

Now, it was pretty damned obvious that I took those pictures, but they never said anything. But they both knew because mom not only kicked dad out, but me as well, under the guise of, “a boy needs his dad and this way, neither of us needs to worry about child support.”

By then, dad had already hooked up with some black chick in Florida, a twenty-seven year-old waitress with twin girls around my age. Yeah, more twins.

All good things must come to an end to begin new good things.

Dad had bought a trailer and the ten acres of land with which it came literally for a song. His dad had written a country song back in the fifties and it briefly blipped on the country Top 40 chart at number forty for one week and then was lost to time. But it earned the elder Larsen a happy chunk of change he didn’t have a chance to spend. He died in ‘Nam when dad was a kid. Anyway, when dad turned eighteen, he got access to a $200,000 trust fund. Mom got her half in the divorce in the form of the house in Tennessee and dad used his portion to buy this little slice of paradise. He was saving up now to pad the remainder with enough dough to get a construction loan to build a house on it. Dad may have been a pedophile, creep and all around horndog, but he wasn’t stupid when he didn’t think with his dick.

This will make sense later.

Until I met the “Three Ryssas”; Maryssa, Laryssa and Klaryssa; I never gave black girls much thought. During our more cordial moments, Janie had told me that I only liked black girls that looked like dark, white girls.

Maryssa, the mom, was about my height, which was five-six at the time. She was a little on the chunky side, but still well toned with a nice set of d-cups and a round, firm ass. Her black and honey-brown curls went just to her shoulders and her smooth and very dark skin made her look younger.

She was not dressed the way a woman should around children. She wore a flimsy tank top that revealed her left tit, still standing up firm despite their size and lack of a bra, a pair of tight cut-off short and what my dad always called “hooker heels”, clear plastic with four inch stilletos.

Dad always liked’em young. I guess my 30 year-old mom was just not young enough for him, though Maryssa was only three years younger.

Her two girls were my age, but small for their age; about four-ten and eighty pounds if that. But despite their slim build, they had small mounts and hard nipples poking at the tight thin fabric of their almost sheer t-shirts. Their skin was also very dark, like their mom’s, but their hair was jet black, done up in braids and multi-colored beads.

Dad and Maryssa immediately disappeared into their bedroom behind the kitchen. I felt a little awkward with the two girls eyeing me curiously and me trying not to stare at what were virtually dark copies of my sister so I mumbled an excuse about unpacking and heading to a hastily prepared bedroom.

It was stacked with boxes and my “bed” was a full sized mattress on box springs. It was late, so I stripped to my boxers and went to sleep.

Dad took off the next morning around four for a two week run to Idaho or Iowa, I don’t remember which. I vaguely remember him telling me good bye and to behave.

When I woke again, morning light streamed through the window.

I went to the kitchen where the two girls were already eating cereal at the small island bar that separated the kitchen from the living room.

I had picked out some minor differences in the two last night. Laryssa had a slightly rounder face and her hair was just about shoulder length. She preferred tube tops to accentuate her tiny buds and tight shorts for her little round butt. She was a little more filled out than Klaryssa, but not by much.

Klaryssa was in a pink bikini. Not a top and short, but just a skimpy pink bikini. She was slightly more slender and her hair was maybe an inch longer than Laryssa.

Make no doubt; they were identical and if you saw them individually, you’d be hard pressed to know who was who, but together, yeah, you could tell them apart.

Of course, this morning I had noticed something else.

They had their names tattooed on their lower back in a fancy script, like a tramp stamp. Maryssa must have had difficulty telling them apart too.

They gave me a half-hearted good morning, then whispered. All I got was, “ell him?… be cool… he’s a boy, why wouldn’t he… no.”

I shrugged and grabbed a pop tart.

“Hey, Jamie?” Klaryssa asked and Laryssa jabbed her with her elbow. “Whatcha doin’ today?”

I shrugged.

“Probably ride my bike, look around.”

“Not much here,” Klaryssa said and got another jab from her sister. “Have fun.”

She was wrong. There was NOTHING here, just swamps and a few scattered trailers. It took sixty minutes of riding, ninety degrees of heat and one hundred percent of humidity for me to head back to the blessed A/C of the trailer.

Temporary as dad claimed for it to be, he took good care of it. Nothing creaked, squeaked or leaked. The door opened without a sound and I stepped onto deep pile carpet.

I heard moaning coming from Maryssa’s room. I could tell well enough that it was the TV. With Maryssa’s Citation and dad’s Charger gone, I knew only the girls were here, unless someone had a bad day and in that case, wouldn’t be watching porn.

Wow, her two little girls found dad’s stash.

I had not been in the back bedroom. Dad left that out of the tour when I got here last night.

The bedroom door was ajar and that was already enough for me.

The entire room; walls and ceiling, was paneled in mirrors. Once I got oriented, I saw the girls sitting naked on the bed, backs against the headboard, legs splayed, hands working their pussies and tits.

With all the mirrors, it didn’t take them long to see me. Laryssa put her hands on her chest. Klaryssa smiled and said, “Naked people only.”

“What if your mom gets home?”

“She won’t get home till six, if that. We got seven hours.”

We all have fantasies about sex as soon as we’re aware of it, but it usually stays in our heads and many would probably not go through with it, given the chance.

Not me. I had this sexy little black girl throwing herself at me. Two, because Laryssa had dropped her hands and was smiling, too.

So I came in, my six inches standing tall and proud.

On the screen, a young girl, and by that I mean illegal young like no older than thirteen, was getting her pussy eaten by an older woman in her forties. The girl kept moaning, “Mommy” and there was enough of a resemblance to tell me she may not have been acting.

“I bet that feels good,” Klaryssa said, working her pussy again. Laryssa was too, but said, “Yeah, but not a chick, though.”

“What’s it matter?” I asked. “We have the same tongues.”

“You want a dude sucking your dick?” she asked. I shook my head.

“There you have it.”

“I wouldn’t mind either way,” Klaryssa said. “You up for it, Jamie? I wanna know how it feels.”

I went down between her thighs. I’ve seen plenty of my dad’s stash, even the illegal stuff and knew exactly how to work a pussy. I slid a finger into her and began to suck on her clit and labia, and licking and fucking her young cunt with my tongue.

Oh, she tasted so good.

“wait,” Laryssa said. “Jamie, roll over.”

I did and Klaryssa looked on the screen where the woman was now straddling the girl’s face and the girl was eating her pussy while another young girl was between her legs eating her young pussy.

Laryssa took my cock in her mouth and began to suck on it, licking it and tickling my balls. She must have been paying attention to pornos too.

I discovered the joys of getting off when I was about ten and I admit I did it quite often, sometimes ten times a day. I didn’t have much of what they call a refractory period and could go three, sometimes four times in a row before I ran out of juice, so to speak, and even then, I was still able to get hard and keep going, but jacking off with no climax is kinda pointless.

I also learned from that and some articles in my dad’s stash about cumming on command, so to speak, so it doesn’t take much stimulation for me to cock the gun and then it’s just willpower as to when to pull the trigger. It made for great solo sessions and now…

I decided to let go in her mouth. The way she was going, sucking, stroking, all that, she wanted to get a shot out of me.

I let go with a sigh and Laryssa almost choked on my load. Most guys shoot out maybe an ounce, I can get off twice that on my first shot.

She pulled back. Half dribbled out of her pretty little mouth and onto her chest and the other she choked down. Klaryssa leaned forward and licked a good-sized gob off her sister’s hard nipple. Laryssa jerked back.


“What?” Klaryssa asked with a laugh.

“I’m not into that, I told you.”

“C’mon, I’ve licked icing off your finger before.”

“That’s different!” she retorted then softened when she saw the girl mount a man’s dick. “That’s what I want.”

Without asking, she grabbed my dick and guided it to her wet slit.

She let out a gasp of pain, pleasure and surprise. She moved slowly at first, her pussy stretching to take me in. As I said, by then, I was already at six inches and over two inches thick.

“Oh, baby,” she laughed. “Yeah!”

Klaryssa was watching, rubbing her hole, making it ready for me.

“Not like those pencil dicks at school, huh?” she asked.

“Oh, girl, you just don’t, oh fuck, know!”

“Oh, but I will, sis.”

I reached up and squeezed and twisted her nipples, which turned her on.

“Harder, Jamie. Twist’em harder!” she cried, which turned me on even more. I grabbed them again and gave them a harder twist; she winced but said, “More!”

As she screamed in painful pleasure, we both erupted at the same time. Oh, I wanted to get on that cunt.

We flipped into a sixty-nine and and the taste of her cum, the feel of her sexhole pulsing out our cum made me shoot another load in her mouth. Klaryssa pushed her away and gobbled up my cock now, swallowing my seed.

“I love cum,” she said, wiping it off her chin and licking her fingers.

She now planted herself on my root and ground her wet pussy on my hips, making sure my cock pushed all the right buttons inside her. She wasn’t as much into pain as her sister, not urging me on as I began to play with her small tits. But the way she was squeezing my cock with her pussy made me cum hard.

My hot sauce flooded her walls hard and fast. When I pulled out, cum was leaking from her and still dripping from me. Klaryssa’s mouth was on my rod in a heartbeat as I finger and tongue fucked her still-throbbing cunt, greedily sucking up our mingled juices.

“You’re not gonna get pregnant, are you?” I asked. Klaryssa pulled off my cock with a slow, high-vacuum suck. I could feel it all the way up my cum pipe.

“Mom put us on the pill when we got our periods. She said to make them easier, but I think she knows Laryssa and I are a couple of sluts.”

“That’s not nice. True, but not nice,” I said with a laugh.

“Everybody at our school is a slut. You’re never gonna want for pussy and we never want for dick. Me an’ Elle ain’t virgins. We had acouple o’ guys pop us last year.”

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Laryssa said, but there was a wicked gleam in her eyes. She walked naked to the bathroom and looked back at me.

All three of us showered together. I watched Klaryssa do her sister’s back and Laryssa returned the favor, but I could tell she was not diggin’ this and jerked away when her sister tried to touch her nipples and pussy.

“Quit, Klare, I told you, that’s not my thing.”

To defuse, I took over and Laryssa softened. She and Klaryssa sank to their knees. Laryssa looked up at me as she drew my cock into her mouth and Klaryssa began to tuck and tongue my balls. Seeing those two little girls down there looking up at me, their dark bodies glistening and hands working their pussies was almost too much even for me. I pulled back and yanked Laryssa up by her hair. I pushed her against the wall, pulled her ass closer and drove my hard rod into her waiting pussy. Klaryssa got behind me and started licking my ass, then slipping a finger in. I grunted and came inside Laryssa’s pussy.

Klaryssa got underneath her to catch the dripping cum in her mouth and Laryssa seemed to be okay with this and dug her fingers inside herself. More sauce spilled from her and she stuck her fingers into her sister’s mouth to suck clean.

I had enough in me to now fuck Klaryssa and she returned the favor for her sister.
(feedback mather at gmx dot com)
After lunch, we watched regular TV. Dad had satellite TV, so we didn’t want for entertainment. We watched MTV most of the afternoon.

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