Author’s Note: This is an original incest erotica written by me and first published on Literotica. To read the story in its original form please visit –
https://www.literotica.com/s/wifes-incestuous-family-ritual-ch-02
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I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the warm gentle sunlight streaming through the windows. I checked my phone; it was 5 in the morning. My wife, Ananya, was asleep next to me. I got off the bed and stood by the window; stretching. We were in Ananya’s room at her parents’ home in their country-side estate.
The estate spanned almost twenty acres at the outskirts of Pune and is magnificent. It has orchards of figs and oranges, a small dairy with several cows, vegetable farms, gardens, ponds and the beautiful two-storied villa. Far removed from the noisy, polluted and busy cities, it is a peaceful paradise. I loved to visit it.
It was more than a month since I had revealed my incestuous fantasies, about my mother, to my wife. In turn, my wife had revealed her family’s secret; she and her brother have sex with their parents as part of an ancestral tradition of worshipping a divine entity. I had then watched my wife make love to her younger brother, Ayush, in our Mumbai apartment.
Since then, I had been eagerly waiting to visit my parents-in-law. Finally, getting few days off of work, we drove down to their estate for some rest, relaxation and, hopefully, something exciting. Ayush was on a trip to Goa with his friends, so it was just me, Ananya and her parents in the house.
Now that I knew and whole-heartedly approved of my wife’s incestuous relationship with her family, I wanted to watch Ananya and her father perform the sacred ritual. I was curious about the origins of this ritual and the history behind it. My wife had also hinted that her mother fancied me, so I was excited to see where that would lead to. It had been two days since our arrival, but so far nothing had happened.
I freshened up, got dressed and left for a jog. I and Ananya liked to keep ourselves fit and in good shape. I jogged through the estate and finally stopped at Ashok Vatika. It is a garden at the back of the estate, surrounded by a tall hedge. It’s full of beautiful flowering plants like plumeria, jasmine, hibiscus, rose and marigold. The colors and fragrance of those flowers are a delight to the senses. There are few wooden benches to relax. In the center of the garden, stands the majestic Ashoka tree with its beautiful red flowers. I found my parents-in-law in the garden, performing their morning yoga.
My father-in-law, Brijmohan, is in his late fifties. He is a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hairs. My mother-in-law, Lata, is in her early fifties. She is a mature, classic beauty whom I have always found alluring. Both of them are fit and have good physique from regular farm work, country-side nourishments and yoga. I watched as they moved fluidly through the various asanas of Surya Namaskar.
Once they were done, we exchanged the customary good-mornings. My mother-in-law perspired freely, her face glowing, post exercise. She wore a saree, as usual. I admired her lithe body, beads of sweat glowing on her neck, chest and midriff. She smiled at me flirtatiously, like she had done frequently in the last two days.
“Stay here. I’ll have tea sent down. I am sure you both have lots to talk,” she said, addressing me and her husband.
As she left the garden, my father-in-law sat on one of the wooden benches and invited me to take a seat. We sat silently for few minutes, enjoying the gentle cool breeze, warm sunlight and chirping of the birds.
“This Ashoka tree has a great significance in our family,” he said, pointing at the tree. So, he is finally ready to talk about it.
I nodded. “Ananya told me about the ritual.”
“I know. She told me that you wanted to know more about it.”
I listened with rapt attention as my father-in-law started telling me his story.
“It all started after my father passed away when I was just 20. We used to live in Nagpur at the time. Ma was devastated with the loss of baba. My maternal grandma, Gauri, brought me and ma to this estate. Grandpa had already passed away when I was a kid. So, it was just grandma, ma and me living here.
“The family business and this estate were in disarray during those times. The business was in loss and debts had piled up. The estate was getting difficult to maintain, with no money to pay the farmhands. Ma was still grieving but started helping out grandma in management of the business and the estate. I was in college and helped them in whichever ways I could. Things were bleak and the future didn’t look good.”
He pointed towards the dairy farm. “Back then, there used to be a small cottage over there. It was where ma’s grand-father, Sanket, had spent his final years. Grandma decided to demolish it and build the dairy in its place. While sorting through the items stored in the cottage, she found Sanket’s memoir.”
A servant entered the garden carrying a tray with two steaming cups of tea. We accepted the tea and he left.
Sipping the hot tea, my father-in-law continued, “In his memoir, Sanket had written about his life in our ancestral village, Vrindavan. It was a very small, isolated village somewhere in the western ghats; doesn’t exist anymore. He wrote of a terrible time of suffering in the village when he was 19. When the situation was dire and all seemed lost, the village council had discovered a benevolent nature spirit. A divine, female celestial being, a Yakshini, had come to dwell among the cluster of Ashoka trees behind the village temple. She had wanted to help the village, but wasn’t powerful enough.
“You see, all the deities and celestial beings live in the Swarg Lok, a place which is in a different, higher dimensional plane than our mortal world. These celestial beings can travel between dimensions to visit our world. We usually think them to be all powerful and magical, but the energy that fuels their power comes from us; our beliefs, prayers and worship. Without these offerings, they’re powerless to affect any change in our world.
“For this particular Yakshini, the energy fueling her powers came from a very specific and unique source; the orgasmic bliss felt by a woman when she made love to her sire or her progeny. To her, the most spiritually potent energy was a mother’s love for her son and a father’s care for his daughter, taken to the pinnacle with their sexual union. She needed that energy to restore the balance of nature in the village. She communicated her thoughts to the women of the village council through their dreams. These women decided to heed her message.
“On the next auspicious date, all the council women gathered with their adult sons near the village temple. And there, underneath all the Ashoka trees, they made love. That was the first time, the ritual was officiated. That was the first time, Sanket made love to his mother.
“As the mothers attained their first ever, son-induced orgasms, they touched the trees and felt the divine presence of the Yakshini; touching them back, thanking them and sharing in their sexual bliss. The very next morning, the villagers could feel a change in the air and all around them, things started to improve. Now complete believers, all the families, started performing the ritual. Mothers & sons, fathers & daughters would come to the Ashoka trees and offer their sexual unions to the Yakshini.
“Gradually, the village was restored to its earlier condition of health, prosperity, lush flora and fauna. The villagers, ever grateful to the Yakshini, continued performing the ritual in gratitude and obeisance.”
My father-in-law paused to take a sip of tea. I put down my cup, now empty, and asked, “How did this tree and the ritual come here?”
“Years later, Sanket’s son, my grandpa, Piyush, came to Pune. He setup our family business there and got married to grandma Gauri. He bought this land and built this estate. Later, he brought his aging father here, to live with them. Sanket, brought with him, the seed of the same Ashoka trees from Vrindavan and planted it here.
“Grandpa Piyush had performed the ritual with his mother when he lived in Vrindavan. But he had never mentioned it to grandma Gauri. So, my grandma and ma were unaware of the ritual. Grandma showed the memoir to ma. They discussed the possibility of the Yakshini, or at least a part of her divinity being inside this Ashoka tree. Grandma urged ma to consider performing the ritual with me, in the hopes of reaching out to her to help us. We would’ve lost the business and the estate; the way things were proceeding back then. We needed a miracle. Ma hesitantly agreed to give the ritual a shot.
“I still vividly remember that night, when ma and I made love for the first time, here at the base of this tree. Grandma officiated the ritual. Fortunately, ma was able to sense a divine presence within the tree. We started seeing immediate improvements in our lives. So, we continued performing the ritual. Our initial awkwardness dissolved into eagerness as we both started enjoying it. We were able to turn around the business and save the estate. Ma was also able to overcome her grief and found happiness again.
“When I married Lata, I told her everything early on. I didn’t want our relationship to start with lies or secrecy. Luckily for me, she understood the significance of the ritual and was very supportive of it. I and ma continued to perform the ritual till her old age.
“I & Lata decided to raise Ananya & Ayush with an understanding about our lifestyle and family tradition, so they could make an informed decision whether to continue it. We were elated when both of them decided to undertake the ritual on their 18th birthdays.”
He gulped down the rest of his tea as he finished his story. He clasped my shoulder and said, “Nikhil, my boy. I am truly happy to have you as my son-in-law.”
I nodded my head and smiled in acknowledgement. Walking up to the Ashoka tree, I touched its trunk with a new found reverence. “Have you ever felt her presence?”
“No. Sadly, men have never been able to feel her. Only women have that privilege.”
As my father-in-law got up to leave, I asked, “That memoir. Can I read it?”
“Of course. It’s in the top shelf in my study. The one bound in red leather. But please be careful. Its old and fragile.”
I nodded as he left the garden, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Later that day, in the afternoon, I was with my mother-in-law in the orange orchard. The farmhands had been given the day off, so she had asked for my help gathering some fruits. It was the first time, in the last two days, that I was alone with her.
My mother-in-law is a beautiful woman with long, luscious, henna-dyed hair and glowing skin. Her figure is slightly voluptuous with curves at the right places. She wears her sarees tightly most of the time with sleeveless, low cut Indian blouses. Her choice of attire is mostly practical to help her manage all the physically laborious chores required on the estate with the farms, cows and orchards. But it also accentuates her figure, with her bare arms and midriff on display and a hint of cleavage teasing on top of her blouse. I had ogled her many times, admiring her beauty. She is an elegant country-side lady; strong, beautiful and sensuous; confident in her femininity.
I had noticed subtle changes in her demeanor towards me since I had arrived. During my previous visits, our interactions had been limited and cordial. But now that she knew about my incestuous fantasies, she seemed to be subtly flirting with me. She was giving me more attention, talking to me more often while being touchy-feely. Her movements and body language were definitely seductive around me. When I had mentioned this to my wife, she had winked at me and asked me to go with the flow.
We picked the oranges, mostly going for the low hanging ones, and gathered them in one basket. My mother-in-law would sometimes reach for a higher branch on her tiptoes, extending her body, bare midriff on display. I noticed she was wearing her saree and petticoat much lower on her waist than usual, almost at her lower hips. I hardly picked any oranges since I was busy admiring her body. She would bend lower than necessary to place the oranges in the basket, giving me a clear view of her ample cleavage. I was getting aroused and prayed that I didn’t get an erection.
“Nikhil, can you help me reach those?” she asked. She was already on her toes trying to reach an orange on a much higher branch.
I walked up to her and was unsure on how to help her.
“Just give me a lift,” she said.
I bent on my knees in front of her and put my arms around her thighs, locking my hands under her butt. She gripped my shoulders with both hands to steady herself as I lifted her up to the branch.
She started picking the oranges. Her navel was inches from my face, her bare skin tantalizingly close and I could smell her fragrance. Looking up, I saw her firm blouse-encased breasts and realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. I started to get an erection.
Suddenly, she pulled an orange with some force which caused her to jerk back. This imbalanced me and I quickly put her down. We both held on to each other as we tried to stabilize ourselves on our feet. When we were steady, I found us in an embrace, holding each other tightly. With our bodies firmly pressed, I felt my erection poking her. I am sure she felt it too, but made no move to disengage. She looked into my eyes, pressed her body into me, acknowledging my hard-on, and gave a quick peck on my lips.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling at me seductively. Picking up the basket she made her way back to the house, swaying her hips, leaving me stunned.
To be continued…
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/p5d53u/incest_brothersister_wifes_incestuous_family
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