Whole Family Ki Chudai

I grew up in a rather bizarre family environment. Mom has a split personality, and my dad is a creep. Mukesh, my teen brother, three years my junior, had it pretty easy. He lived in a voyeurs paradise, and Mukesh is a voyeur.

Somewhere along the way something happened to twist my mother’s sexual wires. For as long as I can remember, she has been caught doing nasty things to herself. She acts like a little girl when we catch her, but gets turned on like a lusty slut at the same time. Rarely would she stop once she got caught. Afterwards, she’d act like she had a spell. Amnesia set in after a spell.

We never talked about her spells, though her spells were hard not to talk about. Ninety-five percent of the time, she was your typical Indian mother: nurturing, loving, a good housekeeper, moody at times, sentimental at others, always the disciplinarian of the family. It was the other five percent that discouraged us from inviting friends to our house.

It isn’t easy eating a family dinner with your mother fucking herself with food from the table. She acted as if nobody noticed that her right hand was in her lap going like mad, or that we couldn’t hear the suction noises as her twat got all soupy. We never knew when or where we might round a corner and find Mom, buck naked, stuffing her pussy with something phallic, usually something personal of ours.

Mukesh’s Shaktiman doll has spent more time buried in Mom’s trench than any Shaktiman ever spent in the real trenches. My Barbie doll got the same treatment. Our tooth brushes always smelled like pussy. Everything we ate, and the utensils we used, smelled like pussy. I remember when Mukesh was a baby, Mom walked around with his pacifier stuck in her pussy and would take it out and pop it in his mouth. He teethed on her tampons after they’d been in her for hours. Periods did not alter that practice; if anything, they increased. I’m sure I got the same treatment.

She never did stop breast feeding us, consequently she never dried up. Her big titties are always leaking milk; and, like a milk cow, Mom has to be milked several times a day. She likes being suckled, but she also likes being milked like a cow. When we eat cereal, Mom bends over the bowl and we milk her into the cereal bowl. Dad milks her for the cream in his coffee. I don’t ever recall buying store-bought cow’s milk. The first time I tried it at school, I didn’t like it. I still don’t. Mother’s milk is much sweeter.

Mom was an expert beaver shot and more often than not, a glance to her crotch would reveal a pussy with legs sticking out, or one with Barbie’s head sticking out. Sometimes I’d see a short mane of blond hair hanging below the front edge of a bath towel she had wrapped around her, or under the short skirts she liked to wear around the house.

As I entered puberty, much of Mom’s sexual eccentricities turned to me. It began slowly, very subtle at first. She used dad to do her dirty work. He would never have acted on his desires if it weren’t for my mother goading him on.

Dad was just a dirty old man with no backbone. Mom had to push him along to do everything he did to me. He did just about everything, too. The only thing he could never bring himself to do was actually forced me. She tried to get him to forced me, but he couldn’t. Even in this role, mother was rather bizarre. She thought she was invisible or like a ghost. She was always hovering over the scene, whispering aloud instructions to my dad as though only he could hear. Things such as: “Keep rubbing her knee, Jack. Keep her mind on her knee. Good, now undo the top button. Good, now the next.”

I learned to enjoy this game and went along with their charade. I pretended not to notice whatever I wasn’t supposed to notice, and usually ended up naked with Dad’s finger in my pussy. I knew Dad was pretending; he knew I was; we both knew that Mom really believed. He played along because, through her, he got the courage to do what he wanted to do. I went along because the things she had him do to me felt good. Mukesh was a ghost like Mom, only she couldn’t see him. Since she couldn’t see him, we didn’t see him either. Consequently, whenever something nasty was going on, Mukesh was usually nearby.

Dad and I never discussed openly what we both knew. Doing so would have taken some of the magic away. I say magic, because that’s how it felt to me. When we got sucked into Mom’s weird alter reality, where normal rules didn’t apply, it was like being transported into another dimension. Since that other reality brought us so much pleasure, we had no motive for destroying it. Even Mukesh knew this and probably had the most to lose if it all came crashing down. His was all pleasure with no consequences.

In my early teen years, we never actually fucked. We did have intercourse, though. This was accomplished, supposedly, while I slept or took naps. Several times each week, they’d come creeping into my room and uncover me. Mom would talk him through positioning me, then guide his every action until he had his thin cock buried to the balls. Taking my virginity took them over an hour from the time his cock touched my pussy until my hymen ripped. Trying to pretend to sleep through that was a real challenge. I not only had to hide the pain, I had to hide the intense excitement I experienced with the first feel of a real penis inside me.

He couldn’t actually fuck me as that would have been too overt. No one can sleep through a real fuck, even in Mom’s other world, but I’m sure they would have tried if I appeared to stay sound asleep. Whenever he did get carried away, I would pretend to wake up, sending them scurrying. I never had to actually open my eyes, a simple stretching yawn was enough. As a consequence, he learned to get half way in and jerk off. Sometimes, he’d fuck me with long, super-slow strokes, then pull out and beat off on my pussy. I wouldn’t permit a real fucking, because I wanted to be forced. Torturing them that way was my way to bring that about. I loved the idea of being forced by my parents. It never worked, but I never stopped trying.

Half of the time, I was the initiator. I knew that to announce my intention to take a nap was as good as saying, “Hey, Mom and Dad, come fuck me, I’m horny.” Sometimes, they needed it, and Mom would say, Connie you look tired, dear. I think you need a nap, sweetheart. If I felt like indulging them, I’d yawn. I usually yawned. On rare occasions, I’d tell her I felt fine and was wide awake. They never pressed the issue. In that way, I did have some control.

It wasn’t always Mom and Dad together. Mom had me by herself quite a bit, too. Those were fun, also. She loved to explore my body cavities with fingers, tongue, lips, or objects. She also liked putting her or my own body fluids in my mouth. Menstrual blood might sound hard to take, but I was raised on it and got used to that long before I had to deal with my own and hers.

Piss freaked me out at first, but it isn’t bad. Pussy juices, sperm, saliva, it all went in my mouth. Once in my mouth, it all got swallowed. I developed a taste for everything. I also developed a full range of actions while asleep.

This evolved slowly. In the beginning, she was extremely careful. As things progressed, and I never woke up, she’d push the limits. She discovered that she could whisper suggestions in my ear and direct my dreams, or so she thought. One night, she took her tampon from her pussy and poised it at my lips, whispering, “Would you like to suck on my dickie, Connie? Can I put my dickie in your mouth?”

I nodded groggily. She’d say, “Will you suck on my dickie if I do?”

I nodded and said, “Uh huh,” then opened my mouth. She inserted the tampon and I sucked on it as though it were a little boy’s cock. This tickled her to no end. She also liked a variation on this theme that I call the old switcheroo. She uses two tampons. One goes in my mouth, the other goes in my pussy or hers depending on who is having her period. After a few minutes, switcheroo. The ultimate is those rare occasions when we both flow, the triple switcheroo.

They did do one thing that bothered me a great deal when it first happened. They liked getting Papa’s semen in my pussy. If he ever came on my body, Mom would insist that he scoop up the semen with his finger and put in inside me. Eventually, he learned how to ejaculate inside me by either jerking off with a few inches inside me, or jerking off on the outside, then sending his cock all the way in as he climaxed.

I never knew if they were intentionally trying to get me pregnant, or whether they were simply irresponsible. I sweated out those first few months, but relaxed after nothing happened. I learned to like the idea of taking Dad’s semen in my pussy. The risk they we were taking made the act all that more exciting. It wasn’t long before I looked forward to getting pregnant if it happened.

They also dribbled the sperm in my mouth while I faked sleep. In the beginning, their choices were evenly split between the two places. I wanted my father’s most intimate of body fluids in either. I developed a craving for the taste, and when I felt it in my pussy, it gave me a warm, sexy feeling. When Mom discovered how to make me suck a tampon, it was an easy transition to replace the tampon with my Dad’s cock. That’s how we added cock sucking to the list of things I could do in my sleep.

After one year of taking his sperm without a pregnancy resulting, I noticed a change in their behaviour. My pussy took precedence as the orifice of choice. Also, the frequency increased from two or three times a week to a nightly event. In addition, we started doing some regular fucking. Mom used the same dream intervention technique that proved so effective for cock sucking. I was lying perfectly still, as usual, with Papa’s cock half way in. She says, “Connie, I have a nice big dickie, would you like me to put it in your pussy?”

I was so fucking horny, I said, “Uh huh.”

Dad pushed all the way in. Mom said, “Does it feel good having my cock in your pussy, Connie?”

“Ummmm!” I wiggled my pussy on Dad’s cock. He drew out and went back in, ten times faster than he’d ever dared before. He began a steady in and out stroke, and my hips met each thrust. Before long, we were fucking. I even got to cum like a real woman, showing some feeling, a wet dream of sorts, but it was great. Dad also got to fuck a load deep in my cunt, and I’m sure he enjoyed that freedom. Before, he had to cum passively, now he could grunt and groan and give my cunt a relatively good humping. Mom was ectatic watching Dad fuck my sleeping body.

Mukesh got off on it too, masturbating for the first time in his ghostly condition. I knew he liked looking at my body, and I liked having my body put on display for him. I enjoyed daytime sessions mostly because they gave Mukesh a great view, and I could see everybody through my partially sealed eyelids. Dad wasn’t all that keen on having Mukesh witness his dirty deeds, but then Dad couldn’t see Mukesh’s ghost. I couldn’t either, but then I was sound asleep. Like I said, Mukesh had it made and eventually took more advantage of his unique position. This pleased me greatly, but drove Dad to distraction. It didn’t matter what Mukesh did, Mom could not see him, hear him, or feel him. When Mom was focused on me, Mukesh ceased to exist.

When Mom and Dad began to concentrate on my pussy, Mukesh filled my mouth with his sperm. When he first started doing that, he’d jerk off in his hand and bring it to my lips, one finger at a time. He got more daring as time passed, and would get close enough to cum on my face. This is what shook Dad, because his face was often near the scene. When Mukesh got away with doing that, he tried the next logical escalation, getting his cock in my mouth. Doing this got in Dad’s way, but rather than acknowledge Mukesh’s presence, Dad gave him room to work. I couldn’t have been more pleased. I got to eat sperm and get a womb full.

After another six months with no pregnancy, I was sure I had nothing to worry about. Mom and Dad seemed intent on succeeding. By now, I knew they wanted me pregnant. That knowledge excited me. It was so dirty and perverted, it had to turn me on. They went to extremes to do the job right. There were days when I got fucked three times before dark, and three times during the night. I discovered the joy of waking from a true sound sleep to a fucking.

I also discovered the joy of receiving the sperm Papa put in Mom when they had sex. If she sucked his cock, she’d bring it to me in her mouth and push it in my hole with a kiss to my cunt while Dad held my ass up and my legs fell open wide, very wide. If he fucked her pussy, she’d stand by my hip and bring fingerful at a time into my pussy as she scooped it off her leg or dug it out of her hole.

As each month went by with no success, Mom became quite frustrated. When I’d start my period, she’d yank the tampon out and smear my face with the blood, sticking the tampon in my mouth before storming off, leaving Dad to clean me so I wouldn’t awaken to the mystery of a bloody face. When my next period arrived, she did the same thing, but took Dad with her.

When I looked at my face in the mirror the next morning, I was in a quandary. I looked like a sioux warrior with bad warpaint skills. How is the game played when you can’t ignore the obvious. Do I confront them with questions? Do I hide it and keep quiet. Where was the rule book? I washed it off and said nothing. When I went down, Dad looked relieved, Mukesh looked relieved, Mom looked like a woman suffering from amnesia. “There’s our little girl. Sweetheart, are pancakes fine, or would you rather have French toast?”

I missed my next period.

Mom and Dad acted innocent when I told them I might be pregnant. When the test confirmed it, they acted outraged. I was a bit taken aback by this response. I half expected a party or a medal. I reasoned that it was all part of the game on Dad’s part, but Mom surprised me. She went so far as to accuse me of whoring around. She even grounded me for the duration of my pregnancy. Nine months, she said.

In the back of my mind, I always assumed an abortion would be in store for me. After Mukesh was born, they practiced the abortion method of birth control. Mom loved getting pregnant, announced the fact right away, found ways of reminding us every day that she remained pregnant, then waited till the last minute before aborting it. Trips to the abortion clinic, over one-hundred miles away, were annual family outings. There was no discussion of an abortion for me.

They took me out of school and taught me at home. I was only fifteen and very confused. It never dawned on me to challenge my mother’s delusions or to confront my father who played along. They both treated me like a whore. They both acted angry and humiliated by my bringing shame on the family by my sluttish behavior.

As my belly grew, so did their abuse. Many times, I was forced to listen to long lectures about decency and virtue while forced to stand in the living room in front of my teen brother with my dress up over my big belly and my panties at my knees. One reason I never challenged them was that I really got off on this treatment; I willingly went along. I even acted guilty for them, thus encouraging them to increase their abuse.

They added another twist in my seventh month. She had Dad hit my ass with a belt while they forced me to stand in the nude. Mukesh was always present, not the ghost, the real Mukesh. Mom would say, “Are you ever going to let those boys put their dirty little penises in your vagina again, Connie?” I’d cry, “No Mommy!” She’d then order one, two, or three smacks. I loved the way she used the plural, implying that there were many lovers and many penises. I thought the plural should be pini, anyway. Besides, Dad never hit hard. It was mostly for show. This went on through a series of questions and a series of whacks. Afterwards, I’d be sent to bed.

The truly funny part was that no more than five minutes after I was in bed, even in the dead of afternoon, in they’d creep. I was, of course, expected to be sound asleep, so that’s how they’d find me, naked and snoring. The fucking was different, too. They no longer treated me as a sleeping person. It was more like a person in a coma. I got manhandled into position, then screwed without preparation. With my big belly, I was placed on my knees, shoulder on the mattress and done dog fashion. Mukesh liked this position, because he could get in place with my head in his lap. I sucked Mukesh’s cock and took Dad’s screwing with my eyes being closed, my only concession to feigning sleep.

Mom’s delusions were different after I got pregnant. Her bad self was evident more and more, with her good self being dominated. Her good self was still there, but had moved into the background. I noticed the change. Dad and Mukesh were never as tuned in to her as I was. Mukesh still thought he was invisible, but I knew she could now see him quite clearly, and was amused by what she saw.

Her two personalities seemed to be merging. I always suspected that she knew very well what her bad side was doing, and that her amnesia was her game. I could tell she fought internal struggles, reconciling the two parts. Her bad self had selective perception, such as blocking out Mukesh. Her good self saw it all. Denial was her survival technique. She still had two personalities, but both were moving closer to the center. Her good self became corrupted. The punishment scenes and my exposure to Mukesh were acts perpetrated by her good self.

Her bad self altered also. Her childlike fascination with pee, poop, and body fluids, matured to a more adult preoccupation with the genitalia and screwing. In other words, the sex was less dirty and more sexy. Since I was also maturing, this was a welcome change. You can only ingest so much piss, pussy juice, menstrual blood, and saliva before it ceases to be turn on. Poop smeared on your body just made you smell bad. Fucking, or sucking a hard cock, however, never grows old.

I knew the game had long outlived it’s utility. No games were necessary any longer. Dad had overcome his inhibitions. Mom never had any, and Mukesh didn’t seem to care if she saw him or not. As for me, I was hooked on being the family sex toy. I would do anything they wanted, anytime they wanted. I looked forward to the day when everything would be out in the open. I wanted to be used, misused, and abused with my eyes wide open; however, I was determined not to be the one to crash the game. Dad and Mukesh didn’t want to take any chances of blowing their good deal, but Mom was in no hurry. She liked taking advantage of me in my sleep, so I slept, even through a butt fucking.

Eventually, I got the best of both worlds. Mom had gone off on an all day shopping spree, leaving me with Dad and Mukesh. They got horny, because in my ninth month, mom, my good Mom, forbade me to wear any clothes, ever. This was to humiliate me. I was also forced to show my spread beaver at all times. Walking was the only time my knees got near each other. Consequently, I made the guys horny. They took matters into their own hands and forced my repeatedly, even tying me down to do it. I struggled and fought, just for appearances sake. It was a divine raping, just as I’d always wanted. After that, it was forced, forced, forced, whenever Mom’s back was turned.

I delivered a baby boy that Mom took control over. She was shameless in her abuse with him. She never hurt the child, but her good self was almost as bad as her bad self. Her good self made me keep his pacifiers in her pussy, and her good self taught the child to also use her clit as a pacifier. Sometimes, I’d remove the pacifier and stick it in his mouth. At other times, I’d carry him to her as she laid back with her knees drawn up and laid open, then settle his mouth at her clit. We teethed him on tampons, of course, and Mom fucked herself with his tiny limbs. It was nothing to see her naked, watching tv, with my baby’s leg in her pussy to the knee.

Her bad self brought my child to me in my sleep and treated me to the same. Furthermore, I got to suck his tiny penis and she helped him fuck my pussy. 18 year old boys quickly get erections, by the way.

By this time, Mukesh was visible and brought into my sleep sessions. With his help, I was soon pregnant again. This time, I delivered a girl. Two more boys, twins, followed her, and another girl on my twentieth birthday. I moved out when I was twenty-two, but Mom kept the teens. I married at twenty-five, and have three kids of my own. My husband knows everything. He won’t let me play games with our kids, but he loves to visit my folks and watch me with my other teens. The youngest is now twelve. My first boy is fifteen.

The whole family comes to me in my sleep. My husband is a ghost. He is also a voyeur. Mukesh never had it so good, because my husband is a ghost from the time he enters until the time he leaves. My family has never acknowledged him, said a word to him, or given him a thing. He roams freely from room to room and sees it all. Papa has no inhibitions. My kids don’t know the word. Mom is bad all the time. Her two selves have finally merged.

The sleep sessions are great, but if you’ve never been forced by five little teenagerss, you just don’t know what you’re missing. After we returned from our last visit, my husband stood looking down on the sleeping forms of our three daughters. They all sleep nude in the same big bed. The youngest is three, the oldest is five. I came up behind him, wrapped my arms about his waist, unzipped him, and stroked his hard cock. I whispered sexily in his ear, “You could have your own private little harem, you know. I could make it happen. No pussy is too young for her own father’s cock.”

I never felt his cock so hard. I gave it a good pumping while he licked his lips. After just a few seconds, all he said was, “When can we start?”

“Pick one and bring her to the bedroom.” I left him and went to our room. I left the light on and sat with my back to the headboard, legs apart, and a lifelike cock working in and out slowly. He entered carrying our youngest daughter, Cindy. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and looked at me. I smiled and said, “Sweetheart, Mommy and Papa want to show you something fun to do with your pussy. Would you like that?”

Cindy’s eyes focused on the dildo going in and out of my pussy. Her face came alive with interest. All she said was, “Uh huh!”


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