Hello Lively Stones,

Let me start this story from the very beginning, or at least close enough to the beginning for you to understand what I'm talking about, so that you can rejoice with my sister/fiancée and I. Back in the year 2008, my father was promoted from his small-time desk job in his company's Department of supply and moved to the Department of Admin.

Normally, a promotion is a cause for celebration, but my father's promotion brought only sorrows to us. On the night that he was promoted, we all cried, and my father who hardly ever drank alcohol, drowned his sorrow in alcohol until he was so drunk that he could not stand.

The reason for our tears was this: Department of supply was in charge of doling out supply contracts and everyone in the department was sure of receiving fat bribes and kickbacks from prospective suppliers. My father with his small- time clerk job, bought a small Honda car from the bribes he'd received and he was building a house in the village. But now that he'd been 'promoted' and transferred to the Admin, he had no way of making any side money, he was ruined.

Infact, we were all ruined, the poverty that sneaked into our home affected us all. When my father's car began to develop engine trouble and he didn't have the money to repair it, he had to park it. When finally it began to decompose and rust where it was parked, he was forced to sell it at a ridiculously low price.

My mother's shop which was always full of high-quality goods brought in from Lagos, began to look empty. And my sister Chinwe, and l were forced to drop out of our highbrow private school and enrol in a government owned school, where there were broken chairs and no desks. Soon we all had to move from our three-bedroom flat to two small face-me-l-face-you rooms. Life was hell.

Living in one room was a new experience for me. Before then, when we were still living in a three-bedroom flat, l had my own room, Chinwe had hers, while my parents shared the remaining one. But now, l had to share one room with Chinwe, while my parents shared the other one.

Now l had to watch Chinwe dress up everyday. At first it was nothing to me, untill l was introduced to pornography.

I had visited my best friend and classmate John one Saturday afternoon at home, his parents had gone out, and his elder brother was at work. So we were alone when he brought out a video disc tape, slotted it into the VCD player, and told me to just watch; "you are going to like the video," while smiling wryly.

Lo and behold, the video started showing images of nude white men and women having sex. I surely did enjoyed the video like John had promised me.

Honestly, I didn't know what happened to me that day, but l got addicted to porn from that very day onwards. Every Saturday afternoon that power was on, saw me running over to John's house to watch different porn videos with him. I didn't know how he managed to do it, but John was always slipping out a new porn disc tape from his elder brother's room every Saturday morning, before his senior brother left for work.

I was just seventeen then, while my sister, Chinwe was fifteen.

Perhaps it was because of my new-found porn addiction that l began to watch Chinwe more closely and imagine things, whenever she was dressing up. Of course, l'd seen her naked so many times in the past, but now, l began to look at her with new eyes. I recognized that this girl was just not my sister, she was a woman. She had all the things that the women l saw in the porn videos having sex had: breasts; though hers were still small and a triangle in-between her legs.

And she was beautiful. Chinwe looked very much like our mother, and nothing like our father, who was an ugly man. I, on the other hand looked very much like our father and nothing like our mother. My father and l were dark, very dark indeed, while Chinwe was light and creamy as milk, just like my mother. She was a delight to look at.

Soon, l fell in love with my sister Chinwe, and when l say love, l'm not talking about the love that brothers have for their sisters, I'm talking of a more mature love, the love that men have for their lovers. Love more powerful than an electric current.

A love so powerful that it scared me. The passion that l felt for Chinwe was so powerful that l always felt a lump in my throat whenever l laid eyes on her. I remember one day that my mother was beating her because of something she'd done. Anger swelled in my heart as l watched my mother beat my beloved Chinwe. I felt like throwing caution to the wind and rushing at my mother. It took all my willpower to restrain myself, but afterwards when Chinwe ran to our room to cry. I went to comfort her.

My father later came in and saw Chinwe weeping on my shoulders with my arms around her, trying to comfort her.

Later l overheard him talking to my mother,

"Ugo and Chinwe are so close, it's wonderful to see them together."

"Mm-hmm, Ugo is a good boy, very caring and protective of his sister, Chinwe," my mother agreed.

I sighed, no one knew the dilemma l was going through in my mind, about my love for Chinwe.

I knew that l had to do something fast about the passion l felt for Chinwe.

And about two years later, it almost came out into the open.

One day she had bought one of those tight blouses that girls use to wear, and she was in our room struggling to get into it. I sat in one corner of the room laughing at her.

Finally, she shouted at me in exasperation.

"Ugo, stop laughing at me, and come and help me, won't you?"

I got up from the mattress and sauntered over to her.

"Na you girls dey put yourselves into trouble with all these tight tight blouses you people wear"

"Oh, just shut up and help."

And so l grabbed one edge of the blouse and pulled it down. My hands slid to the front and casually brushed against her breasts. I'm sure that Chinwe didn't notice that slight touch, but there was an instant reaction from my manhood.

Casually, very nonchalantly, l moved my hands, brushing it against her breasts again. An electric current seemed to shoot through me. Slowly, l moved my hands upwards, until they were cupping her breasts. I then squeezed ever so softly.

"Come, Ugo, what do you think you are doing? Is that how to help me? I knew you would be of no use to me. Leave me alone, jare."

From her tone, l could tell that she hadn't suspected my motives. So l quickly returned to the mattress, and thanked God under my breath.

But still, l knew how close l had come to revealing my secret passion for Chinwe, and disgracing myself. How do l continue like this? How was l to distance myself from Chinwe, before l disgraced myself before her?

The answer came soon enough; School.

I took both WAEC and JAMB, and passed both of them with flying colors. And was offered admission to study  Accounting at Unilag, l deliberately chose Unilag to be as far away as possible from Chinwe. But my father had no money to send me to the University.

Fortunately for me, my father's younger brother, who was my 'baptismal father', heard about my wonderful results. And took it upon himself to see me through the University. He was the principal of an high-brow Secondary School in Ikeja, and his wife was doing very well in her business too. But they had no kids yet, so my uncle took me as his own son, and promised to see me through the University. We were all over joyed.

I finally left Asaba where l grew up to Lagos. Unilag is one of the most bubbling universities in the country, and l really had fun there. I spent my holidays at my Uncle's house in Ikeja. I didn't want to go home, back to Chinwe.

But finally, during my third year, l did go home. I couldn't stay away forever.

And by the time l got home, things had changed. Infact, things had fallen apart at home, l don't know what happened to my parent's Love, but they began to fight every night. My father would always return home drunk and begin to beat my mother. And a bitter fight would ensue between them.

Chinwe, now more beautiful than ever would hide in our room, covering her ears, trying not to pay them any attention. Her face would be red with shame.

The house was like a war zone, l just couldn't stay there in the midst of all the fightings and unhappiness. And things were made worse for me when l discovered that l was still in love with Chinwe.

Once l came across her crying because our parents were fighting as usual. And impulsively, l kissed her on the lips to console her. The kiss was enough to arouse me, but not deep enough to arouse any suspicions in her innocent soul.

After the kiss, l tried my best not to cry, So l was still in Love with her, after all these years? What was l going to do?

The next day l packed my bag and returned to Lagos, and vowed never to come back home for the next three years.

But just five months later, l received a very rare call from my father; informing me that he wanted me to come home at once!

Was someone sick? Was something wrong?

So I rushed home.

To be continued.................


Do you have a story to share? We want to hear all about it. Email us at livelystonesng@gmail.com or Whatsapp +2348029870309


https://livelystones.ng/true-life-story-my-sister-is-pregnant-for-me-and-we-are-getting-married-soon/

Siofra is that you

Ndi-ara

This is from the mind of a demon... It is fictional but designed to dilute the inhibitions for incest. Op if this came out of your head, you need deliverance.... Most stories of father's sleeping with thier daughters and brothers sleeping with thier sisters and mother's is due to the proliferation of content like this on porn sites and in the media.

It is well

Don’t start what you can’t finish ,most of this nairaland stories una go start get someone hooked and una no go finish am

Concluding part will be posted here later, though already posted on the blog - https://livelystones.ng/

Koralords:
Don’t start what you can’t finish ,most of this nairaland stories una go start get someone hooked and una no go finish am

ahnie:
Ndi-ara

Prolificlife:
Hello Lively Stones,

Let me start this story from the very beginning, or at least close enough to the beginning for you to understand what I'm talking about, so that you can rejoice with my sister/fiancée and I. Back in the year 2008, my father was promoted from his small-time desk job in his company's Department of supply and moved to the Department of Admin.

Normally, a promotion is a cause for celebration, but my father's promotion brought only sorrows to us. On the night that he was promoted, we all cried, and my father who hardly ever drank alcohol, drowned his sorrow in alcohol until he was so drunk that he could not stand.

The reason for our tears was this: Department of supply was in charge of doling out supply contracts and everyone in the department was sure of receiving fat bribes and kickbacks from prospective suppliers. My father with his small- time clerk job, bought a small Honda car from the bribes he'd received and he was building a house in the village. But now that he'd been 'promoted' and transferred to the Admin, he had no way of making any side money, he was ruined.

Infact, we were all ruined, the poverty that sneaked into our home affected us all. When my father's car began to develop engine trouble and he didn't have the money to repair it, he had to park it. When finally it began to decompose and rust where it was parked, he was forced to sell it at a ridiculously low price.

My mother's shop which was always full of high-quality goods brought in from Lagos, began to look empty. And my sister Chinwe, and l were forced to drop out of our highbrow private school and enrol in a government owned school, where there were broken chairs and no desks. Soon we all had to move from our three-bedroom flat to two small face-me-l-face-you rooms. Life was hell.

Living in one room was a new experience for me. Before then, when we were still living in a three-bedroom flat, l had my own room, Chinwe had hers, while my parents shared the remaining one. But now, l had to share one room with Chinwe, while my parents shared the other one.

Now l had to watch Chinwe dress up everyday. At first it was nothing to me, untill l was introduced to pornography.

I had visited my best friend and classmate John one Saturday afternoon at home, his parents had gone out, and his elder brother was at work. So we were alone when he brought out a video disc tape, slotted it into the VCD player, and told me to just watch; "you are going to like the video," while smiling wryly.

Lo and behold, the video started showing images of nude white men and women having sex. I surely did enjoyed the video like John had promised me.

Honestly, I didn't know what happened to me that day, but l got addicted to porn from that very day onwards. Every Saturday afternoon that power was on, saw me running over to John's house to watch different porn videos with him. I didn't know how he managed to do it, but John was always slipping out a new porn disc tape from his elder brother's room every Saturday morning, before his senior brother left for work.

I was just seventeen then, while my sister, Chinwe was fifteen.

Perhaps it was because of my new-found porn addiction that l began to watch Chinwe more closely and imagine things, whenever she was dressing up. Of course, l'd seen her naked so many times in the past, but now, l began to look at her with new eyes. I recognized that this girl was just not my sister, she was a woman. She had all the things that the women l saw in the porn videos having sex had: breasts; though hers were still small and a triangle in-between her legs.

And she was beautiful. Chinwe looked very much like our mother, and nothing like our father, who was an ugly man. I, on the other hand looked very much like our father and nothing like our mother. My father and l were dark, very dark indeed, while Chinwe was light and creamy as milk, just like my mother. She was a delight to look at.

Soon, l fell in love with my sister Chinwe, and when l say love, l'm not talking about the love that brothers have for their sisters, I'm talking of a more mature love, the love that men have for their lovers. Love more powerful than an electric current.

A love so powerful that it scared me. The passion that l felt for Chinwe was so powerful that l always felt a lump in my throat whenever l laid eyes on her. I remember one day that my mother was beating her because of something she'd done. Anger swelled in my heart as l watched my mother beat my beloved Chinwe. I felt like throwing caution to the wind and rushing at my mother. It took all my willpower to restrain myself, but afterwards when Chinwe ran to our room to cry. I went to comfort her.

My father later came in and saw Chinwe weeping on my shoulders with my arms around her, trying to comfort her.

Later l overheard him talking to my mother,

"Ugo and Chinwe are so close, it's wonderful to see them together."

"Mm-hmm, Ugo is a good boy, very caring and protective of his sister, Chinwe," my mother agreed.

I sighed, no one knew the dilemma l was going through in my mind, about my love for Chinwe.

I knew that l had to do something fast about the passion l felt for Chinwe.

And about two years later, it almost came out into the open.

One day she had bought one of those tight blouses that girls use to wear, and she was in our room struggling to get into it. I sat in one corner of the room laughing at her.

Finally, she shouted at me in exasperation.

"Ugo, stop laughing at me, and come and help me, won't you?"

I got up from the mattress and sauntered over to her.

"Na you girls dey put yourselves into trouble with all these tight tight blouses you people wear"

"Oh, just shut up and help."

And so l grabbed one edge of the blouse and pulled it down. My hands slid to the front and casually brushed against her breasts. I'm sure that Chinwe didn't notice that slight touch, but there was an instant reaction from my manhood.

Casually, very nonchalantly, l moved my hands, brushing it against her breasts again. An electric current seemed to shoot through me. Slowly, l moved my hands upwards, until they were cupping her breasts. I then squeezed ever so softly.

"Come, Ugo, what do you think you are doing? Is that how to help me? I knew you would be of no use to me. Leave me alone, jare."

From her tone, l could tell that she hadn't suspected my motives. So l quickly returned to the mattress, and thanked God under my breath.

But still, l knew how close l had come to revealing my secret passion for Chinwe, and disgracing myself. How do l continue like this? How was l to distance myself from Chinwe, before l disgraced myself before her?

The answer came soon enough; School.

I took both WAEC and JAMB, and passed both of them with flying colors. And was offered admission to study  Accounting at Unilag, l deliberately chose Unilag to be as far away as possible from Chinwe. But my father had no money to send me to the University.

Fortunately for me, my father's younger brother, who was my 'baptismal father', heard about my wonderful results. And took it upon himself to see me through the University. He was the principal of an high-brow Secondary School in Ikeja, and his wife was doing very well in her business too. But they had no kids yet, so my uncle took me as his own son, and promised to see me through the University. We were all over joyed.

I finally left Asaba where l grew up to Lagos. Unilag is one of the most bubbling universities in the country, and l really had fun there. I spent my holidays at my Uncle's house in Ikeja. I didn't want to go home, back to Chinwe.

But finally, during my third year, l did go home. I couldn't stay away forever.

And by the time l got home, things had changed. Infact, things had fallen apart at home, l don't know what happened to my parent's Love, but they began to fight every night. My father would always return home drunk and begin to beat my mother. And a bitter fight would ensue between them.

Chinwe, now more beautiful than ever would hide in our room, covering her ears, trying not to pay them any attention. Her face would be red with shame.

The house was like a war zone, l just couldn't stay there in the midst of all the fightings and unhappiness. And things were made worse for me when l discovered that l was still in love with Chinwe.

Once l came across her crying because our parents were fighting as usual. And impulsively, l kissed her on the lips to console her. The kiss was enough to arouse me, but not deep enough to arouse any suspicions in her innocent soul.

After the kiss, l tried my best not to cry, So l was still in Love with her, after all these years? What was l going to do?

The next day l packed my bag and returned to Lagos, and vowed never to come back home for the next three years.

But just five months later, l received a very rare call from my father; informing me that he wanted me to come home at once!

Was someone sick? Was something wrong?

So I rushed home.

To be continued.................


Do you have a story to share? We want to hear all about it. Email us at livelystonesng@gmail.com or Whatsapp +2348029870309


https://livelystones.ng/true-life-story-my-sister-is-pregnant-for-me-and-we-are-getting-married-soon/

......SIOFRA...

.....TRY AGAIN WIT YOR FAKE STORY!!!!

We all know its you siofra ... Give up na