The Fall of the House of Morgan

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This is the third installment in the Morgan family taboo saga, following “Oh Daddy, Can’t You See I’m Busy” and “Nolo Contendere” published in the incest/taboo section. As usual, the three stories can stand alone, though the reader will gain more insight by reading all three.


Bud Morgan doesn’t need to consult a law book to know what nolo contendere means. As far as he’s concerned, Marissa, his beautiful, seductive daughter and his son Stephen engaged in brother-sister incest. Upbraiding them both for such morally salacious behavior would make him look like a flaming hypocrite.

After all, months before Marissa seduced Stephen, she seduced Bud, lured him into her room while she was masturbating and then spread her silky smooth legs for him. Then, for reasons he still can’t fathom, she rejected Bud’s subsequent advances, much to his frustration. Bud’s self-image suffers enough because of his porn addiction. Now it’s in the pits. Bad enough he runs up huge credit card bills for online porn sites. He’s not alone; millions of men do. But how many of them actually screw their own daughter and then get jealous when their son avails himself of the action? Not many, he figures. What sort of sick, perverted man am I? he asks himself. This from a man whose public image is impeccable—the Boy Scout leader and churchgoer and resident of upscale Mantua Estates, where success is measured in square footage, what school one’s kids attend and what one drives. If they only knew, he tells himself, if his neighbors and country club pals only knew the depravity lurking behind the walls and doors of their spacious brick Georgian Revival.


As yet, Stephen Morgan has no idea what his dad and his sister Marissa did on that Saturday afternoon a few months ago. He did detect a weird vibe between Bud and Marissa when Bud and his mom Monique came home and almost caught Stephen and Marissa in bed together. He was going to ask Marissa about it, then got sidetracked helping her with her trig homework—ostensibly the reason Marissa came into Stephen’s room that night. Stephen helped her all right, but not before submitting to his sister’s girly wiles. Luscious, seductive, sexy, adorable Marissa—she’s tough to resist, as even her own dad and brother know all too well.

Stephen shutters to think what Riley Fisk, the straight-laced pastor’s daughter and Stephen’s virgin girlfriend (she’s “saving” herself for marriage), would say about the dysfunctional goings on in the Morgan household. She wouldn’t say anything, he imagines, but scream in revulsion. Knowing her, she might even report them to the police. Stephen’s moral compass, like his dad’s, isn’t skewed just one way. Both know that what they did runs contrary to their society’s moral value system, regardless of socio-economic class. Even so, Stephen, like his dad, won’t let moral awareness get in the way of his carnal/emotional desires.

He needs little prompting from Marissa when she suggests they go off to the Valley Drive-In, only one of two drive-in theaters left in their area. The “passion pit” patrons call it, a moniker so endemic to so many of the open-air theaters that once dotted the American landscape, that it now sounds corny. Even though they have the house to themselves, the idea of consummating their mutual desires at a drive-in somehow seems more erotic. Stephen thinks it’s that element of daring-do. Per his request, Marissa wears her gold, black and white cheerleader uniform. “You can leave the pom poms home,” he quips. “Just bring your libido.” How fortuitous that their parents decide to take a long weekend at a bed and breakfast. “Mom and dad would go ballistic if they knew what we were doing,” Stephen says.

Marissa laughs to herself knowing that her dad’s displeasure would have less to do with what they’re doing and more to do with Stephen doing it instead of Bud. “I won’t tell, promise,” she jokes after Stephen pulls up to one of the speakers.

They climb in back in one of their parents’ three cars. This one, a blue Accord Crosstour, affords them plenty of room to do what they came here for—and it ain’t to watch an installment of X-Men. “I guess you didn’t bring your trig homework,” he chuckles.

She cups his face in her hands. “No, just the love and passion I have for my sexy, handsome brother. Is that enough?”

Curling up with her on the deck of the big hatchback, he says, “More than enough.”

For several minutes they smooch and lick and feel, cramped and confined but enjoying each other too much to care. Stephen lifts the sleeveless blouse of her outfit and kisses her tummy. “You smell delicious, Rissa, as usual.” He reaches up her skirt to pull down her panties, only to discover that she’s not wearing any. “Did you forget or was this by design?”

“The latter,” she giggles. “I thought you’d find me sexier without them.”

“Rissa, I’d find you sexy no matter what you wear, though I can’t deny that your cheerleader getup is a favorite.”

“Yeah, with dad, too, it seems.” Suddenly she gets a chill inside thinking sincan escort that maybe she shouldn’t have said that. Stephen doesn’t yet know about that time with Bud and she wants to keep it that way. “What I mean,” she says after a tense pause, “is that he gawks at me more when I wear this.” She feels relieved when Stephen nods, says he understands.

Stephen’s cock is hard through his jeans when he wedges himself between his sister’s legs and starts to lick her pussy.

“Yes, Yes! Ohmygod, yes!” The sound of her moans mingles with the film’s soundtrack, one she can barely hear. Not that it matters, for any entertainment the film might offer pales in comparison to this. “The only thing stronger than that tongue of yours is your dick,” she cries out.

Stephen smiles in satisfaction. No sound pleases him more than the sound of a woman in heat. Riley will at least go this far, though she doesn’t enjoy it the way Marissa does. Riley acts somewhat inhibited, unlike Marissa who cries out for more, her body shaking in response, her pussy hot and juiced. Not waiting for her to climax this way, he slips his jeans down to his knees, then gently enters her. The car’s tight confines compromise his movement. Still, there’s enough room where he can kiss his sister’s tender lips and suck on her hard nipples, a most necessary adjunct to the process of making love to this girl, this amazingly sexy and adorable girl with whom he shares his DNA.

The feeling is mutual, of course. Marissa wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, wouldn’t be lost in the sort of erotic revelry she experienced only once before, and that’s with the man she’s with now. She loves what he’s doing, not just fucking her but making love to her, sucking on her boobs, licking her tummy and luscious thighs, whispering words tender and sweet. The sound of everything fades as she nears climax, the movie soundtrack, her moaning and his. Her focus isn’t so much on seeing and hearing but feeling, feeling the familiar but hardly routine thing erupting inside her. “I’m right behind you, sis,” is the only thing she hears during those precious few seconds of orgasmic joy.

Coming to her senses, she says, “Geeze, Stephen, that was even more intense than the one in your room.”

“Guess it was the double taboo factor,” he says, grabbing a tissue to wipe himself. “The incest thing combined with doing it in public.”

Wiping the jizz from her pussy, she says, “Speaking of doubles, there’s a double feature here tonight. We missed most of X-Men, but we might want to stay to see “Close My Eyes.” It’s an old British film about a brother who starts up an affair with his married sister. Maybe we’ll learn something.”

He chuckles. “Okay, but if it’s that hot we might be doing a second round.”

“No argument here.” She swipes a finger through her pussy, still wet and sensitive. “With what you do for me, I could go a few rounds, movie or no movie.”

True to her word, they take one of the seats when the movie ends. Marissa straddles Stephen’s lap, her skirt bunched up around her waist, bouncing up and down on his cock so high that her head hits the roof a couple times. She loves the way he grabs her ass and sucks on her boobs while he makes love to her, loves the tender, protective way he hugs and kisses her after she collapses with her climax, her head resting on his shoulder. If not for the Valley staffers eventually seeing them, she’d fall asleep in his arms.


Bud Morgan’s rational voice tells him to repress his perverted urges and move on. His irrational voice, the one that speaks the loudest, tells him that he and his sexy daughter Marissa have unfinished business. It’s one thing for her to rebuff his advances; quite another for her to then have sex with Stephen as he suspects she did.

“At least be honest with me,” he says after knocking on her door when Monique and Stephen aren’t home. “None of this nolo contendere stuff.”

“Be honest about what, dad?” she says after inviting him in. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she’s just changed into her cheerleader outfit, getting ready for a practice session. “Make it quick because I’m due at practice in another half hour.” Pause. “And quit staring at my legs.” She flashes a smile, coy and teasing. Giggling, she says, “Just kidding. I know what this outfit does to you.”

He greets her comment with a frown of hostility. “You enjoy teasing me, don’t you? Do you tease Stephen also?”

She gets serious. “First of all, I’m not trying to tease you. You just happened to catch me right after I changed into this outfit. And second, what I might or might not do with Stephen stays between me and Stephen. I haven’t divulged to him or anyone else what WE did that time you caught me masturbating.”

“A keeper of secrets are you?” He hopes she doesn’t notice his budding erection pressing against the fabric of his shorts.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” She glances at her watch. “Look, I gotta go.” Uncrossing her legs, she stands and grabs her equipment bag. sincan escort bayan Bud backs into the doorway, blocking her exit from her room. “Dad, I’ve got to go,” she repeats.

“And I’ll let you go, Rissa, but first I want to know why you refused to sleep with me after YOU were the aggressor that first and only time.”

She shrugs. “It was great while it lasted, I admit. But then, later on, I felt uncomfortable about it. I mean, sex with my dad…it didn’t digest real well. Still doesn’t.”

“But sex with your brother suits you just fine, right?”

“Well, like I said, what happens between me and Stephen—”

Before she can finish, Bud throws his arms around her, holds her vice-like and tries to kiss her. Damn, she smells so good, he thinks, fresh as tulips after a spring shower, sweet as a sticky bun. Even in his agitated state of desperation, he’s able to think that.

“Get your hands off me!” she cries. She fights to get free, not easy for a girl just a few inches past five feet and less than one-hundred and twenty pounds up against a fit, five-foot eleven, two-hundred pound man.

“Just one more time, one more time, Rissa,” he pleads. He lifts her skirt to her waist and rams his pelvis into her. “You want it, you know you do. Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop it!” she screams. “Just stop it!” Ignoring her distress, he shoves his hand inside the back of her panties. She grabs the front, trying to keep him from pulling them down. “Dad, please don’t, please don’t do this.” Looking into his eyes, wild and bulging, she sees a man she barely recognizes. She grabs her panties with both hands, pulling upward with all her mite. With one hand, Bud pulls in the other direction, while his other arm holds her around her head. For a second, she feels relieved when he backs off. Then, the next thing she knows, she’s on her knees shaking her head, dazed and dizzy, felled by Bud’s hard slap across her face. Looking up, tears streaming down her cheeks, she sees him back into the hallway, sees him standing there looking as horrified and ashamed as any human being she’s ever seen in her entire life.

Head in his hands, he says, “I’m sorry, Rissa, I’m so sorry. I must be insane, fucking insane.” He moves forward in an apparent attempt to make amends and to comfort her.

“No dad, no!” she cries. “Just go away, okay? Just get the hell away from me so I can get out of here.”

She stands, then rushes past him, down the steps, out the door and into her aging Civic. Crying hysterically, she drives away, not sure where she’s going. She’s hardly in the mood for cheerleader practice. She thinks of calling Stephen, but then thinks better of it. Telling him what happened would then force her to divulge everything, something she still wants to avoid. Telling her mom is totally out of the question. Go to the police? What would they do? No rape actually took place. Besides, as angry as she is with her dad at this moment, she doesn’t want to see him arrested, doesn’t want any further disruptions to her family.

Pulling up to a traffic light, she shakes her head and cringes, trying to fathom the hideous fact of being a victim of attempted rape. Not by a stranger, not by a date, but by her own father. Bud’s words ring in her head (“I must be fucking insane”). “Well, maybe I’m not wrapped too tight either,” she says aloud. “Maybe my whole family’s screwed up.” One thing IS clear: never again does she want to be alone in that house with Bud.


By the time Marissa returns home after driving around aimlessly for a few hours, she’s no longer alone with Bud. To her relief, Stephen and Monique are also there. She and Bud keep their distance from one another. Over the next few days, tension permeates the household like a bad odor. Monique finally backs off after Bud and Marissa meet her pleas for answers with shrugs and silence. Not Stephen, who knows something is terribly wrong and refuses to quit asking questions until Marissa agrees to meet him for lunch. Over a late weekday meal of burgers at Friday’s, she reveals what happened. “He was like an animal,” she tells him, “a raging, horny animal. One minute he’s my dad, the next minute he’s the werewolf of Mantua Estates. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“I can imagine. It’s the first time he ever hit you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And man, did he make up for lost time! I was actually knocked unconscious for a few seconds.”

Stephen winces, then takes a bite of his burger. “Did you take a standing eight?”

“A what?”

He grins sardonically. “Nothing. Just trying to inject a little dark humor. It’s what happens in boxing matches after an opponent is floored and then gets up before being counted out.”

She shoots him an admonishing look. “There’s nothing funny about it, Stephen. Our dad tried to rape me.”

He reaches across the table, takes her hand. “I’m sorry. Look, we can still go to the police, charge him with assault at the very least.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not worth escort sincan it. It’s not worth the insane turmoil it would cause to our already insane family, not to mention the reaction of our neighbors, our showy, gossipy, busybody neighbors, after the whole story gets out. They’d either completely ostracize us or run us out of Mantua Estates.”

They eat in silence for a minute or so. Then Stephen says, “A stupid question, I know, but are you sorry you had sex with dad that day?”

After wiping her mouth, she says, “Not such a stupid question. Truth be told, I feel ambivalent over what happened. Had we not had sex, I’d have avoided the trauma that followed and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. On the other hand, I learned something about dad from it, something very dark and disturbing.”

“What? Like he’s got the hots for you? So do I, remember.”

“Yes, but you don’t have his temper, his potential meanness. We both know how angry dad can get.” She reminds him of past incidents, the time Bud capsized the dining room table during the family’s dinner hour, the time he smashed one of Stephen’s toys over something Stephen did (she can’t recall what) and the time he threw Monique to the floor during an argument. “What he tried to do to me,” she continues, “takes that anger to another level. I’ll always be on guard around him.”


The tension that gripped the Morgan household following the attempted rape ramps up a few notches after Marissa tells Stephen what happened. Never mind Stephen’s attempt at dark humor in Friday’s—he seethes with anger. Had he been home at the time, he has little doubt that he and Bud would have clashed in violent altercation. Marissa, still rejecting Bud’s repeated attempts to reconcile, makes an effort to cover up when he’s around: no more cheerleader outfits or sexy nighties in front of him. Stephen sneers at Bud whenever they pass each other, and Bud returns the favor with sneers of his own. Monique, meanwhile, clueless and exasperated initially, is becoming angry herself because of everyone’s failure to communicate. The domestic atmosphere feels like a tinderbox ready to explode at any moment.

As Stephen knows, all it would take is a single match. Nearly a week after his lunch with Marissa, he decides to light it. He doesn’t care that it’s a Sunday when everyone’s home. Nor does he care that Bud is in his study with the door closed, probably looking at porn, Stephen figures. Instead of knocking as he’s been instructed to do, he barges in to find Bud in front of his HP desktop. When Bud spins around, Stephen catches what Bud’s been watching on his computer—not porn as he thought but a movie.

“You know not to barge in here like that,” Bud snaps.

Ignoring him, Stephen looks toward the screen. The movie looks familiar, and that’s because it is. Bud’s been watching “Close My Eyes,” the same movie that he and Marissa saw at the Valley Drive-In, one they actually watched. He steps closer. “Any good? It looks hot.”

“First you need to apologize for barging in here,” Bud says, still seated in his office chair wearing flip-flops, a blue T-shirt and black spandex running shorts.

“Sorry guy, I forgot.”

Incensed at his son’s irreverence, Bud glares at him for a few seconds, then says, “All right, Stephen, out with it. What’s your problem? You’ve had some sort of beef with me for over a week.”

Hands on hips, Stephen stands there in jeans, barefoot and bare-chested, his youthful muscularity rippling, primed for battle. “You noticed.”

Bud rises from his chair. “Look, smartass, save your guff and sarcasm for someone else. Just say what you came in to say or get the hell out.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, dad. I was about to tell you the same thing.”

“What’s that?”

“To get the hell out. Out of this house, out of our lives.” When Stephen sees Bud ball up his fists, he says, “Go ahead, slug me. But just beware that I won’t go down like Rissa did. You’ll have a fight on your hands.”

Bud swallows hard, continues to glare at his son. “So that’s it. She told you.”

“Your ass should be locked up by now. You touch that girl again and they’ll be hell to pay.” Stephen again looks at the screen. “By the way, we saw the same movie, Rissa and me. It’s playing at the Valley. Brother-sister incest can be very exciting, especially when one is doing it as well as watching it.” He grins.

“You smug, spoiled, disrespectful ingrate,” Bud roars. He then grabs his office chair and hurls it across the room toward the far window.

Stephen ducks and then sinks into a defensive crouch. “Nice shot, dad. You know, you really ought to control that hot temper of yours. It’s bad for business and sexy daughters alike.”

The sound of glass breaking and Bud yelling “get the fuck out of my den” alerts Monique and Marissa. They rush downstairs into the room to see Stephen and Bud facing each other like Western gunslingers. The chair lies on its side, a couple feet below the smashed window.

Monique, her dark brown hair set in a bun and wearing a green housedress and low heels, takes charge. “Okay, I’ve had enough. What the hell is going on around here?” She blocks the doorway with her stout but shapely, five-foot-five inch frame. “Nobody leaves this room until somebody gives me answers.”

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