Incest Incestuous Blood

[Ccc123]

After the long chapter of arranged marriage, secret nights between father-in-law and daughter-in-law, divorces, and open marriage, Trisha and Veerappan settled into the life they had chosen. They raised the twins from that first forbidden union. The outside world accepted the official story. Inside the large house in Chennai the past remained a quiet secret.
Years passed. The twins grew.
This is no longer Trisha’s story.  
This is the story of their son.
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My name is Arjun. I am nineteen.
I finished twelfth standard last year and joined a degree in administration. Studies come easier to me than to my twin sister Ananya. People call me the disciplined one, but I have a mischievous side. Like any boy my age I have private needs. I watch porn, play adult games, and take care of myself when the urge comes. I keep it private.
I care about Amma, Appa and Ananya. With Appa the relationship is complicated; I sometimes call him by name because of the old lie told to Amma years ago. With Amma it is different. I care for her deeply, yet sometimes feel quietly frustrated by how easily she trusts people. Ananya and I fight and tease each other constantly, but underneath it we both know we care.
My first year of college ended and the long leave began. From second year the course required practical exposure in industries and offices. Appa’s business made that easy. One evening I asked if I could do most of the exposure in our own companies. Appa agreed. Amma looked happy that I would be around more.
The holidays gave me time at home. I spent evenings talking with Appa about how he built the business, with Ananya about her college plans, and with Amma about why she left films for advertisements and whether she still thought of returning. I also told each of them my own quiet dream of running a small café one day.
After that I decided to visit my cousin Karthik in another district. The drive was only a few hours. Aunt Lakshmi, Uncle Ramesh and Karthik welcomed me. The first day was normal. We talked, ate, and planned to roam the next day.
The following evening at dinner I dropped my spoon. When I bent to pick it up I saw Karthik’s hand on Aunt Lakshmi’s stomach and her hand inside his trousers. I showed nothing on my face and continued eating. Later, unable to sleep, I went for water and heard sounds from her bedroom. The door was not fully closed. Through the gap I saw Karthik on top of Aunt Lakshmi, clearly having sex. He noticed me and said calmly, “We can speak about this tomorrow.”
The next morning he took me for a ride and told me everything. It had started when his father travelled for weeks at a time. Small touches grew longer, then deliberate. One night they crossed the line. Now it was an open thing between them whenever his father was away. He was not trying to influence me; he simply did not want to hide it after I had already seen them.
I told him personal life is personal and I was not judging. Back in my room I searched the word “incest.” An entire category of porn, stories and games opened in front of me. I closed it after a while and forced myself to treat it as knowledge only.
I returned home the next day. That night, walking past my parents’ room, I heard low sounds. The door was not fully closed. Appa and Amma were on the bed. Within minutes Appa finished and fell asleep. Amma lay there unsatisfied, speaking quietly to herself about how quickly it had ended.
The image stayed with me. Karthik’s story and everything I had read returned. I knew the risk, but I also knew Amma already had history with Appa when he was still her father-in-law. The idea of incest was not foreign to her. I decided I would move in that direction. Not today. But soon.
The next morning her dress had slipped from one shoulder. My eyes went there for a second longer than usual. She noticed, adjusted it, and we spoke normally. Later that day, while I was stroking myself to regular porn, she walked in without knocking. I covered quickly and acted calm. After she left I searched for incest videos and finished to one of them. The feeling was different.
A few days later she had an ad shoot. I went with her. The male makeup artist’s hands wandered more than necessary. I caught his wrist and told him firmly to keep his hands only where needed. He stepped back at once. Amma looked surprised, then smiled and thanked me. On the way home she thanked me again. That night I felt a quiet pride. She had noticed me differently.
When Karthik visited for a day I told him the truth: I had intention toward Amma. He listened and said protecting her from a random man was normal son behaviour, not a signal. Waiting would give me nothing. I had to create situations myself, push the boundary little by little without becoming obvious.
He gave clear advice: increase physical closeness in ordinary ways, hold eye contact a little longer, offer small physical help, create quiet moments alone, make the first clear touches look almost accidental, and never show desperation. He also reminded me of her past with Appa. That history was my only real advantage.
I wanted faster progress. I found an online account that gave direct, lust-driven advice and wrote a detailed query. The reply was blunt: stop giving pure respectful-son energy when alone with her; let my eyes stay on her body; use accidental-but-not-really touches lower and more sexual; create situations where she sees my body; escalate physical help until her body accepts my hands before her mind fully processes it; use words that sit between son and man; masturbate specifically to her; and never ask permission with words at the beginning. Make her body say yes first.
I sorted the advice, kept what felt usable, and began.
I trained hard in the home gym. One morning Amma stood at the doorway watching. I finished the set, flexed casually, and let her eyes travel over my chest and arms. She said my body had changed a lot and that I looked strong. When I walked past her I flexed again, slower. She was still staring.
A few nights later I found her sleeping with her night dress slipped up, stomach and navel exposed. I took clear photos, returned to my room, and stroked myself while looking at them until I came hard. The next morning I kept my face completely normal.
I stopped locking the bathroom door. One morning she walked in while I was under the shower, already hard. I slowed my hand so she saw everything. She jerked in shock, stared longer than she should have, bit her lip, and struggled to look away. She apologised, said she should have knocked, and left quickly. I knew the image of my cock was now in her mind.
I convinced her to join the gym. At first she stiffened when I corrected her form. After a few days she allowed limited touch. I kept my voice instructional and my face neutral. Slowly she stopped pulling away. A few times her breathing changed when my hands stayed longer than necessary.
One evening I overheard her on the phone with a close friend. She spoke about the gym touches, the bathroom incident, the way she had bitten her lip, and the growing frustration with Appa who finished too quickly. Her friend reminded her of the past with Veerappan when he was still her father-in-law and told her to stop fighting it. After the call Amma sat alone and spoke aloud to herself: she was attracted to her son, her body was already reacting, and she was going to allow it to happen.
The next morning she came into my room while I pretended to sleep. She spoke quietly, admitting everything again, then rested her hand on the thick shape of my cock through my trousers and traced it slowly before leaving. I waited a full minute before opening my eyes, heart pounding.
The following day I found her bra and panties left on the bathroom counter. I took them to my room, left the door slightly open, wrapped the cloth around my cock and stroked while speaking filthy words about fucking my own mother. She watched from the doorway without realising I had seen her. When I finished I returned the cum-stained underwear to the counter. Later I watched through the gap as she smelled them and pushed my cum into her pussy with her fingers.
There was no more doubt.
The next morning she came to the gym in only bra and panty. I turned her onto her back, kissed her deeply, and slid two fingers into her already wet pussy. She came hard against my hand. Afterwards we spoke openly for the first time. She admitted she had fought it for weeks, that her body no longer listened to the word “wrong,” and that she wanted both the romance and the incest. I told her I loved her as my mother and wanted her as my woman at the same time. We agreed the final step would come soon.
That evening the house was empty. I dropped the towel, tore her saree open, and bent her over the bed. I thrust into her in one powerful stroke.
“Amma… your son’s cock is finally inside you. This is pure incest.”
She moaned and pushed back. I fucked her hard, gripping her breasts, watching the thaali swing between them.
“Look at this thaali bouncing while your own son ruins you. You’re my mother and I’m breeding you.”
She came screaming my name. I buried myself deep and flooded her womb. She collapsed and fell asleep almost at once.
I cooked, woke her, and fed her by hand. Then I pulled her on top of me and fucked her from below, then standing, then in reverse cowgirl, talking filthy the entire time, until I filled her again. She collapsed and slept. I slept beside her.
We woke and I took her a third time in missionary, telling her she was going to carry my child. She came hard and I came deep inside her once more.
By afternoon she showed me a positive pregnancy test. I pulled her into my arms.
“You’re carrying my child.”
She rested her head on my chest. “Yes. Your Amma is pregnant with your baby.”
The pregnancy followed a normal nine-month course. I stayed close to her. When the time came she gave birth to a healthy boy. Not long after she became pregnant again and delivered a healthy girl. By then I had finished my degree. I continued sleeping with her whenever we found the chance.
At twenty-one I was the father of a one-year-old boy and a newborn girl. One evening we told Appa and Ananya the truth. Appa listened in silence and finally nodded; his own past made it impossible for him to take a moral stand. Ananya smiled faintly and said she was happy for us, but we should let the outside world believe the children were Appa’s.
We agreed.
From that day the official story remained that the babies belonged to Appa. Inside the house the truth lived between us.
With this, my story, the second part, ends.