TABOO TALES(erotica)

Tragedy brings David home, to find his sister waiting…..

Please Note: the following narrative contains scenes of consensual incest and anal sex. All characters indulging in sexual activity are of legal age and are portrayed as consenting adults.

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My father died in the summer of 1992. I was five at the time, and could not understand what had happened; no-one explained what had happened, I had no brothers or sisters, and mother was like a dead thing herself, almost sleep-walking; father’s friend Charlie, an American pilot at Greenham Common, was constantly at the house, and he and mother would sit, silently, staring at each other, while I sat and wondered what had happened, and why, and what happened next.

Father and Charlie were the best of friends; Father was a surgeon at a hospital in Oxford, Charlie a pilot, each apparently had nothing in common with the other, but they spent all their spare time together, tuning their motorbikes, tinkering with father’s collection of old cars, or just sitting and smoking together over a bottle of beer. Charlie was almost a constant feature in the house; if father was delayed at the hospital for any reason, mother would send Charlie on errands, or make him take her shopping, or paint the garage wall, whatever; having Charlie around was almost like having father there, he and father liked the same music, the same kind of films, they even smoked the same brand of cigarette.

But something was wrong with my father.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Charlie and father stopped playing with their cars and motorbikes, and spent more time huddled together, playing swing and jazz records and talking in low voices, father covered in a blanket, looking thinner, smiling less, not smoking.

Charlie became the main support for the family. When he was over, he stayed in the guest bedroom, dropped me off and collected me from school while mother and father stayed in their room; he cooked me meals, played with me, read to me, watched TV with me, and kept me from disturbing my parents. Other things were happening as well, things I couldn’t understand; mother and Charlie talking together softly in the kitchen, stopping when I walked in, hugging each other in front of the TV at night when they thought I was asleep. Sometimes mother would be wiping her eyes as though she’d been crying, and then something really strange happened, something that made no sense at all.

It was a Sunday afternoon, I had been playing outside, and eventually wandered into the house to ask my mother if I could have a cold drink, but she was nowhere to be found. I heard soft conversation coming from from upstairs, from my parents’ room, so I went upstairs, following the sound of voices, curiosity leading me on, to my parents’ bedroom, and the door was standing ajar. When I looked inside, I saw something that puzzled me, because it made no sense to my five year-old brain.

My mother was in bed with Charlie, with the covers pulled up over both of them. I thought they were playing, because he was whispering in her ear and she was smiling. I was completely baffled as to what they were doing, maybe it was something grown-ups did. I watched in silence, trying to work out what they were doing, then turned to leave, feeling strange, disquieted even, a little ashamed that I’d maybe seen something ‘grown-up’, although what it could be baffled me; it felt like I was spying on them or something. As I turned to leave, I saw my father sitting in the armchair by the window, with a blanket over him, smiling gently at the two of them.

A few days later, father was taken to hospital. Mother told me he was going to stay there until he got better, and that everything would soon be better. Charlie still used to come to our house nearly every day, watching TV with me and helping mother with dinner, having strange non-conversations with mother, their mouths saying one thing, but their eyes meaning something else. It was a very confusing time for me; I was trying to work out what was happening with my family, and now father was gone, and Charlie was there virtually all the time, all evening. I would be packed off to bed, mother or Charlie reading to me until I fell asleep, but sometimes during the night I would hear moaning and soft conversation, groaning and strange sounds coming from my parents’ bedroom, and Charlie would be there again at breakfast.

Father died soon after he went into hospital, and mother explained that he had asked Charlie, to look after us, and that he would be living with us from now on.

All I knew for certain was that it felt strange, seeing him every day without my father sitting and talking with him, or the two of them smoking together in the garden, or letting me help when they tinkered about with their motorcycles. I missed Charlie saying to me “Davey-boy, when you get old enough, we’ll get you a hog of your own!” which always made my father chuckle, before swinging me onto the seat of his own motorbike, letting me twist things and push buttons, pretending I was piloting my own big bike, just like him.

Then one day, mother took me to the zoo in London; it was a big day for me, and I spent the whole day running from enclosure to cage to enclosure again, thrilled to see the elephants, and chimpanzee, rhino’s, lions; all the big beasts I had seen in the picture books at home, and now they were real!

After a while, mother sat me down, telling me she wanted to talk to me, about her and Charlie, and me. She told me that she and Charlie were getting married, that they had all talked it over before father died, and that Charlie would be my new father, if I would let him. Charlie was a tall, handsome man; an ex-college footballer, tall, square-jawed, and I was in love with him anyway, so I agreed; for all I knew, getting married was what grown-ups did all the time, and I really wanted my new dad to be Charlie.

They were married a few months after the funeral, me acting as page-boy at their wedding. A few weeks later mother announced that she was having a baby, and that Charlie was being transferred back to America, so we would all be going with him, as his family. I was in a haze; America! Where there were Cowboys and Indians, and superheroes!

We settled in Iowa. Charlie had taken a posting in the Air National Guard, and life soon settled into a kind of normal for me, going to a new school, where I was a novelty with my English accent, becoming part of a new family. Charlie and mother went to great lengths to make sure I never felt apart from them, that I was their son, and that they loved me. They didn’t have to; I had always been comfortable around Charlie; actually, I knew him a lot better than father, if only because father was working so often at the hospital, and Charlie was the only other adult male I had any regular contact with.

Charlie, too, loved me, and treated me like a son, but also constantly reinforced my memories of my father, making sure I didn’t forget him; there were photographs of Father and Charlie together all over the house, drinking together at a country pub, posing beside their motorcycles, or posing with Mother, father in his favourite leather jacket and Charlie in his air force uniform, arms draped around each other’s shoulders, mother with her head on my father’s other shoulder

Eventually mother had the baby, a little girl named Loretta, who quickly became just ‘Lori’. Mother introduced me to my new sister, and I promised her faithfully that I would always protect my baby sister. Charlie also asked mother if he could adopt me as his son, and she talked to me about it. Because Charlie was mother’s husband, and treated me like his own son, and I loved him dearly, I went along with it, even though I was a little unsure about giving up my name, all that I had left of my father.

Life in Iowa was quiet and simple. Charlie eventually left the air force to work as a pilot for a small airline. Lori and I grew up as a typical older brother/little sister duo, until I reached 16. This was a watershed year for me. I had become increasingly restless in Iowa. I still remembered my life in England, and I was beginning to feel alienated from my family. This is probably normal in a teenager, but I felt the gulf between us widening on almost a daily basis. I was growing away from them, Iowa was making me feel cramped and hemmed-in, and I could feel the conviction growing that I had to go back to England, to study in England, be a doctor, a surgeon like my father. I had always known I wanted to be a surgeon, I just couldn’t see how to achieve it in Iowa, not with the cost of medical school being what it was.

I had tried to broach the subject with mother several times, but she had brushed me off, refusing to even consider the idea. Eventually, I had had enough of stalling and brush-offs, and sat her down, intending to have my say.

“Mother,” I began, “you and I both know I can’t stay here any longer. I can’t stay, I can’t live here, it’s… not where I should be.”

Mother looked at me, silently, for a long, uncomfortable moment, before replying.

“Where are you planning on going, David?” she asked me, using my given name, always a bad sign. I took a deep breath.

“I want to attend medical school in England, and qualify like father did. Please let me do this, it was always what I wanted to do, you know that, you always have.”

Again mother gave me that long look, so I plunged on.

“To attend medical school, I need to pass my A-Levels, and the only place I can do that is in a secondary school or 6th Form college. If you let me go, all I ask is that you give me enough money to live in a hostel until I pass my A-Levels, then I qualify for the Student Loan programme, and you’ll have no more expenses on that score. You know we can’t afford medical school here, this is the only way I think I can become a doctor; I just want to be like my father, this is how I can do it.”

I paused, waiting for a response, anything from her. At last she spoke.

“At least you’ve thought about how you’re going to support yourself. Are you certain this is how you want to go forward? Because I know Charlie is going to want to talk to you about this as well, you need to convince him as well. I think you’re being foolish, you have time, and you have us, your family.”

“I knew you’d say that, thanks for the support!” I snorted. I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt, so rude, but that’s how it came out. Mother’s lips tightened into a thin line, and she got up and left the room. I was just saying to myself “nice going, well done, that went well” when she stalked back into the room, and threw a thick folder on the table between us.