Pushing My Luck 2 [m/F][Mother and son incest] – The affair continues, but what’s up with Lesley?

“Yeah! That’s five wins in a row for me!”

Springing up from the couch where we’d been sitting together, her video game controller dropping to the ground, Darla launched headlong into her little victory dance. I couldn’t really begrudge her for it under the circumstances, but I knew it was expected and so I did a little grousing anyway.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Our black cat Whozit looked up from where he’d been snoozing on the back of the couch and watched her dance for just a moment before yawning and going right back to sleep.

“Are you sure you aren’t just letting me win, Sammy? I mean, you’re not usually this awful.”

“No, no,” he reassured her. “I guess I’m just a little … distracted.”

“Well, try a little harder this time, will you?”

“Okay, okay.”

Retrieving her controller and throwing herself back onto the couch, Darla restarted the game then and turned her full attention to trouncing her big brother for a sixth time.

Pushing My Luck [m/F] [Mother and son incest] – Reposting this from my new account with a couple of minor edits

Summer vacation was winding down fast, taking with it the last vestiges of freedom that my sisters and I had been so thoroughly enjoying. All too soon, I would be starting my freshman year in college and it would be back to the dull grind of boring routine.

“Samuel T. Young, you need a haircut, young man!”

Sick and tired of the shaggy look I was sporting, my mother shooed away the cat I had been playing with that Sunday and took me by the arm, propelling me into the kitchen. Meowing his displeasure, Whozits went looking for someone new to pet him. A dining room chair had already been prepositioned on the linoleum tile, I discovered. On the corner of a conveniently nearby counter, meanwhile, were the rest of her supplies – a pair of scissors, a comb, a squirt bottle loaded with water, and an old blanket.

She pushed me into the chair and quickly had me wrapped up in the blanket, securing it with a clothes pin.

This was standard operating procedure around our place.