Literotic asexstories – Eat, Pray, Love by incesting,incesting
If you feel the story is long, then it is my fault for not having told it well.
———
Eat, Pray, Love.
I turned the key on the main door. The banging I could hear from outside turned to loud blaring music from the main living room as I walked in.
Not really surprised by Zoe, I shook my head and moved into the kitchen. I kept the couple of bags that were in my hand on the kitchen island and put my handbag down on the chair. I walked into the living room to ask her to turn the volume down a bit and to let her know I was home.
What I saw next, took me by surprise, to say the very least. Zoe, my stepdaughter, barely nineteen years old, was on her knees in front of a huge black man. The man, not a boy, must be in his thirties, was naked. Zoe had her skirt on but had no top on her. Zoe’s mouth engulfed his huge black cock inside her mouth, and she seemed to be gagging on it.
The fellow had his hands behind her head and neck and was forcing her on his cock. Zoe’s one hand was on his thigh and the other palm on the sofa, and it seemed she was trying to push herself up. The fellow was succeeding in keeping her latched on to his cock.
His eyes were closed and his mouth open, probably nearing his climax.
My first response was to pull Zoe back. I stepped behind her and pulled her off his cock, applying pressure on her shoulders. His eyes opened, as he tried to get a grip of what was happening and who the third party was.
Zoe uncomfortably fell back on her butt, gasping, clearly out of breath. The fellow on the sofa, with his gigantic cock was clearly frustrated and tried to get up to express his displeasure.
Before he could think of doing anything, even as he was trying to get his bulky ass up, I bent forward, swung, and slapped him hard. It was no ordinary slap. I knew from training if you are angry – slap the cheek, if you are attacking – slap the ear.
I gave him a full-hand cracker of a slap on his cheek, my full palm got his ear. Instead of getting up, his hand flew to his ear. Hurt beyond his expectation, his eardrums must be ringing like a church bell, I knew.
I remained in alert mode, should he try to respond.
I looked down at Zoe, and she was scrambling back, clearly trying to get away from the scuffle. My next thought was to check on her.
“Zoe, are you all right?” I asked her.
She was breathing better but panting. Her hands around her neck gave away what she felt.
I looked back towards the man. He had risen faster than I had assumed. Unfortunately, I had let my guard down.
He was aiming for my face, and even though I took a step back, I could not catch him moving fast enough. His big fist landed on my side, below my ribs. Surely he had broken a couple.
I winced in pain and fell. The naked man stood over me. His size seemed even bigger from the ground I was on. He growled, in a power drive.
At that exact moment, I rolled my fist and punched him in his nuts with all my strength.
“AAAAAAAHHHH,” he fell in pain.
I quickly rose and pulled Zoe up. She was looking at the man in shock. He lay in a bundle writhing on the floor, deep in pain, moaning and cursing me, or possibly Zoe, “You bitch! I’ll kill you.”
I dragged Zoe into the other room. I pushed her inside and asked her to latch the door shut. She instantly did that, looking towards me in awe.
I returned to the fellow. The first thing I did was kick in his face and got a couple of his teeth in the process – at least one fell out on the floor. I held his large arm and held it in both my hands and twisted it behind him, and I kneed his spine. For a brief moment forgetting my own pain.
“Okay, Sir. Would you like to run like a dog from here? or should I call 999?”
He patted his other hand on the floor.
I got off from behind him and picked up the umbrella from my rack nearby. I couldn’t find anything substantive enough that instant. ‘This will have to do for now,’ I thought.
He got up growling in pain and anger. If he had any intentions of raising a hand, he was wise to have reconsidered it and did not do anything, because the handle of my umbrella was ready for another blow on his naked blue nuts.
He tried to pick his clothes and I said, “uunh…huh.”
I said, “Go out, and I shall throw them out for you.”
He obliged, and I did too.
After I had locked the door behind him, I rushed up to check on Zoe.
She sat on the bed sobbing and, on seeing me, instantly rushed towards me and hugged me. She cried louder in my arms. I am not sure if she was grateful to see me fine or for saving her from the brute.
“Are you ok?” I asked her first,
“Yes. Are you hurt?” Zoe returned her question instantly. I remembered the ribs that had gone numb in pain.
I nodded but didn’t answer her. I moved out to the main room again, to check through the front window whether the fellow had moved away from the house. He had, thankfully. I saw him pulling his shirt on while walking away.
We both sighed in relief.
When our breathing became normal, “Ok. Tell me who he is and why was he doing what he was doing?” I did not insinuate or presume that she was doing anything.
“I am sorry. I know him through John. He helped me with the….. pills a couple of times.” She hesitated before telling me that she took drugs.
I nodded without getting pissed or condescending.
“He told me if I suck his…. penis… he would give me a hundred g,” her eyes looked down guiltily.
“Have you been doing it with him earlier as well,” I asked.
She instantly responded, “No, today was my first time. Ever. I swear.”
Believing an addict is difficult but if it is someone you are related to you, not so much.
I believed her, more for the reason she seemed as if she was in difficulty earlier when his dick was deep in her throat. She wasn’t doing it for pleasure.
For one thing, I knew the family wasn’t short of cash, nor was Zoe. So if she was doing it for free drugs, then it was just her trying to be rebellious. So the chances of this happening regularly were low.
“Zoe, I cannot always be around to defend you. So if this is indeed the first time, let it be a lesson for a lifetime. If this has happened earlier, then we need to take precautions, so tell me again.”
She responded instantly. “No, Margaret. It has never happened. I was so scared.” She started to sob again.
I shushed her and wrapped my hands around her, pulling her head onto my shoulder. I winced in pain. She was on the same side as my bruised rib.
“Please don’t tell Dad,” She requested.
I nodded. ‘We will deal with it later,’ I thought.
———
My husband, David, was a surgeon. He returned home to a normal evening. Meal on the table, Zoe locked in her room. The house was orderly, as always, without any traces of a scuffle.
I chose to delay the discussion with David. It would help gain Zoe’s confidence, I reckoned.
———
For the next few days, I kept talking to Zoe multiple times a day over the phone and at home to see if she had been bothered by anyone.
As a precaution, I had taken details of the fellow from her, just in case I needed to track the asshole down.
The only outcome of his thrashing was that her supply got cut off, not only from him but his buddies as well. In fact, that turned out to be a blessing.
As it turned out, Zoe wasn’t addicted. Her recreational habit was her style of getting back at his dad, and me, and possibly her mom, and maybe the world for a foul deal she had got served.
———
Zoe had a tough childhood. Her mother was a bitch. When I say that, I mean it with complete modesty. I know it because I was her lawyer. Being a second-generation civil lawyer, I do get my share of divorce cases. I practice along with my father.
Over the tenure that Valerie was my client, I came to realize that I was dealing with a conniving character.
During her divorce from David, I felt for him sincerely. A few months after their divorce was consummated, I called upon him when my father needed surgery.
He was very polite and kind. In fact, I was looking for an excuse to check with him once the divorce proceedings were over, but could not muster the guts to reach out. Then my father’s surgery turned out to be in his hospital.
At a light moment, when he was diagnosing my father, I asked him, “I hope you won’t take out your angst against me on my father.”
He laughed hard and showed me a scalpel in jest.
Over the next month, as my father went through pre-surgery tests, and then around the surgery itself, and after that, when he was convalescing in David’s care, we grew close.
He had clearly moved past Valerie. But apparently still had issues at home.
We dated for a while and eventually got steady. A year later, he proposed. We were married in a small church ceremony.
What I had gained over time about David was that he was a very decent man, a mensch but unlucky on his family side.
At the time of their divorce, Zoe was seventeen. At the time we married, she was a few months more than nineteen. Zoe was a rebel without a cause. Angry at her mother, her father, herself, and just generally at everyone.
Zoe wasn’t really a loved child; at least not when she could experience it. Surely her parents loved her when she was a toddler or younger. But then their differences picked up, taking precedence over a growing child’s needs. Those differences eventually turned into mutual hostility. David started to avoid home and spent even longer hours at the hospital.
The end of their strained marriage was in fact a relief to all. It did not seem like Zoe benefitted from the arrangement.
———
Zoe became even more spiteful of me when I married David. He had learnt to live with Zoe’s contempt for himself. I did not need to take unnecessary shit and stayed out of her way as she did mine. Our pleasantries were also minimal. All my efforts got misread as patronizing. Those, too, stopped soon.
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