#Cheating #Incest #Mature #Teen

By TwistedMarriedJohnny

John meets Female, daughter and grandmother while at the hospital caring for his wife who is in a coma. An incest family comes together and cums together.

In the heart of Nashville, Tennessee, where the neon lights of Broadway faded into the sterile glow of hospital fluorescents, St. Augustine Medical Center stood as a beacon of suspended agony. Lives hung in the balance here, teetering between the faint beeps of life-support machines and the crushing silence of despair. It was in these quiet, emotionally charged corridors that John Reynolds found himself trapped, a 57-year-old man whose world had shattered like glass under a semi-truck’s tires.
John was a burly figure, his broad shoulders and calloused hands speaking to decades as a construction foreman. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped short, his face etched with lines from years of squinting against the Tennessee sun. He’d been married to Ellen for over twenty-five years—a solid, if predictable, union built on routine and quiet affection. But one rainy night on Interstate 40, a drunk driver had plowed into her sedan, leaving her in Room 412 with severe brain trauma. Comatose, hooked to ventilators and IVs, her chest rising and falling in mechanical rhythm. The doctors offered no promises, just platitudes about time and miracles. John became a fixture at the hospital, arriving before dawn with a thermos of black coffee, leaving long after visiting hours under the judgmental eyes of night-shift nurses. He sat by her bed, holding her limp hand, whispering apologies for the numbness that had settled in his chest like concrete. Guilt gnawed at him—why didn’t he feel more? Weeks turned to months, and the hospital’s cold linoleum floors became his second home, a prison of grief and routine.
Across the ward, in Room 427, Valerie Carter endured a parallel nightmare. At 35, she was a vision of frustrated sensuality—curvaceous hips that swayed with every step, full D-cup breasts straining against her blouses, and long auburn hair that cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders. Her green eyes, once sparkling with ambition as a real estate agent, now held shadows of exhaustion. Her husband, Mike, a sturdy factory worker, had been mangled in a freak industrial accident—a hydraulic press malfunctioning, crushing his spine and skull. Comatose like Ellen, his prognosis was a coin toss. Valerie oscillated between fierce devotion, wiping his brow and reading him old love letters, and crushing loneliness that left her pacing the halls at midnight, her body aching for touch in ways she dared not admit.
Their first meeting was mundane, born of shared misery. An elevator ride where their eyes met—his weary blue gaze locking onto her tear-streaked face. “Rough night?” John muttered, his voice gravelly from disuse. Valerie nodded, forcing a smile. “Every night.” From there, it escalated: late-night coffee in the dimly lit family lounge, where vending machine sludge passed for comfort. Polite sympathy evolved into raw confessions. “I feel like I’m dying inside,” Valerie whispered one evening, her hand trembling as she stirred her cup. John reached across the table, his rough fingers brushing hers. Electricity sparked, unspoken but undeniable.
What began as emotional support crossed into forbidden territory one stormy afternoon. The hospital power flickered, casting shadows in the lounge. Valerie’s blouse clung to her sweat-damp skin, outlining her hard nipples. John’s cock stirred in his jeans, a betrayal he couldn’t ignore. “I need… something,” she breathed, her eyes dropping to his crotch. He pulled her into an empty patient room, locking the door. No words—just animal need. John shoved her against the wall, yanking her skirt up to her waist, exposing her black lace thong soaked through with arousal. “You’re dripping like a whore,” he growled, ripping the fabric aside and plunging two fingers into her hot, slick pussy. Valerie gasped, her walls clenching around him as he finger-fucked her roughly, thumb grinding her swollen clit. “Fuck me, John—please, I need your cock,” she begged, fumbling with his belt.
He freed his thick, veined shaft—eight inches of throbbing meat, the head purple and leaking pre-cum. Lifting her leg, he slammed into her in one brutal thrust, her cunt stretching around him like a velvet vice. “God, you’re tight—been too long since this pussy got wrecked,” he grunted, pounding her relentlessly. The bed rails rattled as he fucked her, her tits bouncing free from her bra, nipples begging for abuse. He sucked one hard, biting down until she yelped, her juices squirting down his balls with each deep stroke. Valerie came first, her orgasm ripping through her like lightning, pussy spasming and milking him. “Cum inside me—fill my cheating cunt!” she screamed, muffled against his shoulder. John roared, hips jerking as he unloaded, thick ropes of hot semen flooding her womb, leaking out around his cock as he kept thrusting through the aftershocks.
They collapsed, panting, rationalizing it as survival. “It’s not betrayal if they’re not here,” Valerie whispered, but the guilt mixed with thrill. Their fucks became routine—quickies in storage closets where he’d bend her over crates, ass high, and ream her dripping hole while she bit her lip to stifle moans; slow sessions in the parking garage, her riding him in the truck’s backseat, grinding her clit against his pubic bone until she soaked the leather. John dominated her, slapping her ass red, pulling her hair, calling her his “hospital slut.” Valerie craved it, the age difference fueling her submission—his experienced cock hitting spots Mike never could.
Enter Monica Hayes, Valerie’s 52-year-old mother, arriving from Atlanta like a whirlwind of suppressed fire. Monica was a voluptuous force—wide hips that screamed fertility, massive E-cup breasts that jiggled with every step, and silver-streaked blonde hair framing a face still beautiful despite the years. Pregnant at seventeen, she’d sacrificed dreams for motherhood, marrying young and divorcing bitter. Now, supporting Valerie, she roamed the halls, her tight dresses hugging curves that turned heads.
She noticed John in the lounge, his brooding presence magnetic. “You look like a man who’s carrying the world,” she said, sliding into the seat beside him. Their talk flowed—shared burdens of aging, regrets, the weight of family. But beneath it, lust simmered. Monica’s eyes traced his bulge; John’s cock twitched at her cleavage.
Their first encounter exploded in the hospital chapel, empty at midnight. Monica dropped to her knees on the worn carpet, unzipping him with eager hands. “I’ve wanted this fat cock since I saw you,” she purred, engulfing him in her hot mouth. She sucked like a pro—deepthroating until her nose buried in his pubes, gagging wetly, saliva dripping down his balls. John fisted her hair, face-fucking her roughly. “Suck it, you dirty MILF—choke on my meat.” She did, tears streaming, fingering her own sopping cunt through her panties.
He pulled her up, bending her over a pew. Hiking her dress, he found no underwear—just a bald, glistening pussy begging for invasion. “No panties? What a filthy whore,” he snarled, slapping her ass until it glowed red. Then he rammed in, her mature cunt engulfing him in wet heat. “Fuck—pound my slutty hole—make me cum like the bad mommy I am!” Monica wailed, pushing back. He drilled her, thumb pressing her asshole, feeling her clench. She squirted hard, juices puddling on the holy floor, as he emptied his balls deep inside, cum oozing out as he pulled free.
Their secret trysts multiplied: On the rooftop garden, under stars, John ate her out voraciously—tongue lashing her clit, fingers curling inside to hit her G-spot until she flooded his face with squirt. In a patient bathroom, she rode him reverse cowgirl on the toilet, ass cheeks spreading as she bounced, his cock disappearing into her greedy snatch. “Own me, John—I’m your cumdump,” she moaned, grinding until he blasted her insides white. Monica submitted fully, loving his erotic power—begging for facials, swallowing his loads, even letting him finger her ass while she masturbated. She thought it was their isolated sin, blind to the web.
Then there was Mallory Carter, Valerie’s 16-year-old daughter, a budding bikini and fitness model whose body was sculpted perfection—toned abs, long legs, perky C-cups, and a bubble butt from endless squats. Navigating high school graduation amid her father’s coma, she felt invisible, her mother’s distance a void. Hospital visits and charity events brought her into John’s orbit.
At a coma research 5K in Centennial Park, their eyes met. “You remind me of my dad—strong, steady,” Mallory said, her sports bra hugging her tits, shorts riding up her thighs. To John, she was forbidden fruit—youthful vitality stirring his daddy kink. Tension built in private moments: a lingering hug, his hand brushing her ass.
It snapped at the afterparty in a downtown hotel ballroom. In a shadowed alcove, Mallory pressed against him. “I need attention, Daddy,” she whispered, hand grazing his crotch. John dragged her to a bathroom stall, shoving her against the partition. “You little tease—gonna make you my fucktoy.” He yanked her shorts down, fingers diving into her shaved, teenage pussy—tight, wet, and eager. “Finger my virgin-tight cunt, Daddy—make me wet for you,” she begged, grinding on his hand.
She dropped to blow him, innocent eyes watering as she slurped his cock, tongue swirling the head. “Good girl—suck Daddy’s dick like a pro.” He face-fucked her gently at first, then harder, balls slapping her chin. Then he lifted her, legs around his waist, and impaled her on his shaft. “Oh fuck—it’s splitting me—Daddy’s so big!” she cried, her walls fluttering as he bounced her. He fucked her raw, thumb on her clit, until she came shuddering, pussy gushing. “Breed me, Daddy—cum in your little girl’s hole!” John obliged, pumping her full, semen dripping down her thighs as they snuck out.
Their liaisons grew bolder: Stairwell quickies where he’d eat her ass, tongue probing her puckered hole while fingering her clit; car sessions where she’d straddle him, riding reverse, ass clapping as she called him “Daddy” and begged for anal. One time, he lubed her up with spit and eased into her tight backdoor, inch by inch. “Take it all—Daddy’s owning your ass,” he grunted, pounding until she squirted from the pressure, his cum filling her bowels.
Unbeknownst to the women, John wove this network of depravity. Each believed her bond unique: Valerie’s desperate passion, Monica’s submissive worship, Mallory’s taboo innocence. The hospital became a labyrinth of secrets—stolen glances in halls, cum stains wiped from skin, the scent of sex lingering in air vents.
Months passed. Ellen showed flickers of improvement—eye twitches, brain scans lighting up. Mike faded, organs shutting down. The possibility of awakenings loomed, threatening exposure. John’s guilt mounted, but the thrill addicted him.
The unraveling hit like a Nashville tornado. In the family conference room after a grim update on Mike, Valerie stormed in to find John and Monica locked in a kiss, her hand down his pants. “What the fuck?!” Valerie screamed. Mallory entered seconds later, face paling as pieces fell. “Grandma? Mom? With… him?”
Chaos erupted—tears, shouts, accusations flying like shrapnel. “You bastard—fucking my mom?!” Valerie yelled. Monica sobbed, “It was just us!” Mallory whispered, “But Daddy…” John stood, confessing all: the closets with Valerie, the chapel with Monica, the stalls with Mallory. The room reeked of betrayal, but beneath it, desire pulsed.
In the pressure cooker, truths emerged. “We’ve all been surviving through him,” Valerie admitted, eyes flicking to Monica’s lips. Monica nodded, hand brushing Valerie’s thigh. Mallory bit her lip, arousal mixing with shock. “Why fight? Let’s… share.”
The shift was electric. Valerie pulled Monica into a deep kiss, tongues dueling sloppily, hands roaming. “Taste your daughter, Mom—I’ve wanted this.” Monica moaned, pinching Valerie’s nipples through her shirt. John watched, cock hardening. Mallory joined, kissing John’s neck. “Family fuck time, Daddy.”
They stripped in frenzy. Valerie pushed Monica onto the table, spreading her legs. “Eat my pussy, Mom—lick your girl’s cum.” Monica dove in, tongue lapping Valerie’s folds, sucking her clit while fingering her hole. “Mmm, so sweet—my slutty daughter.” John positioned behind Monica, slamming into her doggy-style. “Fuck your mommy while she eats you—dirty whores.” His thrusts made Monica’s face grind deeper into Valerie.
Mallory knelt under the table, sucking John’s balls as he pounded, then licked Monica’s clit. “Grandma’s pussy tastes like candy—let me help.” The room filled with wet slurps, moans, the smack of flesh. Valerie came first, squirting on Monica’s face. Monica followed, pussy clamping John’s cock, milking him until he pulled out and sprayed across Mallory’s tits.
They rotated: John fucking Mallory missionary on the floor, her legs over his shoulders, pounding her young cunt. “Breed me, Daddy—fill your baby girl’s womb!” Valerie and Monica 69’d beside them, tongues buried in each other’s asses, fingers pumping pussies. “Ass to mouth, Mom—taste my shithole,” Valerie groaned. Cum swapped in kisses—John’s load passed from Mallory’s mouth to Valerie’s, then Monica’s.
Exhausted, they dressed, but the decision solidified: move in together, a sexually open family. John’s Belle Meade home became their den of sin.
The first night was legendary. Door shut, clothes shed. Valerie tackled Monica to the couch, scissoring their pussies together, clits rubbing in slick friction. “Grind that mommy cunt on me—make us cum!” Juices mixed, squelching loudly. John and Mallory watched, him stroking his cock, her fingering herself.
John commanded, “Knees, sluts.” They knelt—Valerie, Monica, Mallory—mouths open. He throat-fucked each in turn: Valerie gagging deep, Monica swirling tongue, Mallory slurping balls. “My family of cumwhores—swallow Daddy’s load.” He exploded, painting faces white, cum dripping into cleavages. They licked each other clean, tongues lapping semen in a three-way kiss, snowballing the salty mess.
Upstairs in bed, it escalated. John lay back; Valerie straddled his face, grinding her asshole on his tongue. “Rim me, John—eat my dirty hole.” Monica impaled on his cock, riding hard, tits flopping. “Stretch my used cunt—fuck your MILF!” Mallory sat on his chest, facing Monica, pussy on his fingers. “Finger-bang me, Daddy—make me squirt.”
Positions shifted: Doggy train—John reaming Mallory’s ass, her face in Valerie’s pussy, Valerie’s tongue in Monica’s cunt. “Chain fuck—eat that family snatch!” Asses slapped, holes gaped, squirt sprayed. John came in Mallory’s bowels, pulling out to watch cum fart out. Valerie licked it up, rimming her daughter clean.
They slept entangled, bodies sticky with fluids.
Mornings became rituals. In the kitchen, Valerie on the counter, legs spread. John ate her voraciously—tongue fucking her pussy, nose on clit, fingers in ass. “Devour me—make me flood your face!” Monica joined, sitting on Valerie’s face. “Smother your daughter—ride my tongue, Mom.” Mallory behind John, rimming his ass while stroking his cock. “Taste Daddy’s hole—get him hard for us.”
John fucked Valerie bent over the sink, pounding her sopping cunt. “Take it, bitch—your husband’s coma made you my whore.” She came squirting, soaking cabinets. Then Monica on all fours on the floor, John switching holes—pussy to ass. “Double dip me—wreck my shithole!” Mallory and Valerie 69’d nearby, scissoring clits while watching.
Afternoons: Poolside orgies. Mallory in bikini, posing. “Oil me up, family.” Hands roamed—John’s cock in her mouth, Valerie’s fingers in her pussy, Monica’s strap-on in her ass. “DP my baby girl—stretch her holes!” They fucked in the water, bodies splashing, cum floating like pearls.
Evenings: Bedroom marathons. Toys emerged—dildos, vibrators, plugs. John directed: Valerie and Monica double-penetration with a strap-on, scissoring with a double-dildo. “Fuck each other like incest sluts.” Mallory on John’s cock, bouncing, while he fisted Monica. “Fist Mommy’s cunt—make her gape!”
One night, full family anal: Lined up on bed, asses up. John lubed and fucked each—Mallory’s tight ring first, then Valerie’s experienced hole, Monica’s loose, welcoming ass last. “Ass parade—Daddy’s owning your shitholes.” They begged for more, fingering each other, squirting in unison.
Grief lingered in quiet talks, but sex healed. Ellen improved slowly; Mike passed peacefully. They visited graves together, then fucked in the cemetery once—taboo thrill.
Years blurred in Nashville bliss. John’s home echoed with moans, the family bound by cum and love. Moral lines erased, vulnerability turned to power. In this house of secrets no more, they thrived—a dirty, happy, sexually open clan.

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By TwistedMarriedJohnny
#Cheating #Incest #Mature #Teen