Collaborative sex stories let us write the plot together
(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by VCG...)
The light fades and you find yourself and your girlfriend alone in a dark street, still naked. You look around in an attempt to orientate yourself but you don’t recognise anything.
“Where are we?” you ask your girlfriend.
“The better question is when,” she replies, crossing her arms across her chest and shivering against the cold. You look at her and notice her nipples have hardened.
“You don’t know? You built the machine,” you say.
“I don’t know; it wasn’t meant to go off without any uranium. Look, can we find some clothes before we have this argument? I’m freezing my tits off and it doesn’t look like you’re faring much better.” She nods towards your penis and you do have to admit, the cold weather isn’t doing you any favors. You agree to table the topic for now and the two of you spend the next few minutes creeping from back street to back street looking for some stray clothes.
Through your exploration, you find you’re in a residential area — one that looks strangely familiar yet also very outdated. You vault a fence into someone’s garden and steal some clothes off a washing line. You grab a dress, leggings and a leather jacket for Rachel and an obnoxiously bright-colored t-shirt, blue jeans and a letterman jacket for yourself. You would have picked something more trendy but everything on the line looks like it went out of fashion around the time you were born.
“God, I look like my moum,” Rachel complains as she puts on the outfit.
“Good, your mom’s hot,” you respond and Rachel shoots daggers at you with her eyes.
“Well, you look like your dad,” she spits back. You look down at your outfit and you have to hand it to her, this is the sort of thing he would wear.
“We can’t hang around outside all night,” you say in an attempt to change the subject. “Let’s go over a couple of streets and see if someone will call us an Uber or let us crash on their couch until morning, then we can figure out how big of a mess you’ve gotten us into.”
Rachel huffs but follows you as you walk away and after a few minutes of walking in painful silence she points to a house.
“Let’s try this one,” she says seemingly at random and drags you over to it by the arm. She rings the bell and after a short wait, a woman opens the door.
As soon as you see her face something connects in your mind, and you recognize her instantly. She’s much younger than you’re used to seeing her but you’re certain, the young woman standing at the door in jeans and a loose-fitting plaid shirt is your own mother. Rachel must have sent you back pretty far, because she can’t be a day over 21.
You fight off a gasp and instead give a weird spluttering cough. Rachel, who doesn’t seem to recognize your mom, speaks for you.
“Hi, our car broke down a few streets from here. Nobody else is answering their doors. Is it okay if we come in and use your phone?”
“Oh, come on in, please,” your mother responds and steps back to allow you both in.
“Thanks, I’m Rachel and this is my boyfriend, Ross.”
“Nice to meet you,” your mother says and introduces herself, confirming what you already knew. “You’re lucky my parents are away, they’d never allow me to let strangers in the house like this. Especially not a boy. We’ve got the house to ourselves tonight though, just my friends. We’re having a sleepover.”
She leads the two of you through into her living room, which you recognize instantly as that of your grandparent’s house. Your head is spinning as you fully realize what is happening here. There are a few other women in the room, all around the same as your mother. You recognise one instantly as her older sister, your aunt, Sarah, but the others are all strangers to you. Among them are a pair of red-headed identical twins, a black woman with big, curly hair and a woman who looks a lot like Rachel. Around the women are glasses and bottles, they’ve clearly been drinking. The TV is turned on and the screen is fuzzy with the tell-tale scan lines of a paused VHS.
“Girls, this is Ross and Rachel,” your mom tells the room. “Their car broke down and they want to use the phone.”
“Dad said we’re not allowed to use the phone,” Sarah says. “One of the rules of us using the house while they’re away. No phone and no boys.”
“Well, we’ve got a boy now, don’t we?” the black woman says, eyeing you with interest. The twins giggle and look at each other. The black woman finishes the drink she’s holding and places the bottle on the floor in the middle of the room.
“Everyone take a seat, ” she says and the others do, sitting around the bottle in a circle. You and Rachel follow suit.
“Ross, how would you like to play a game?” the black woman asks.
“Knock it off, Simone,” your mom complains. “Sorry if they’re bothering you, sweetie.” As she speaks she leans over and places a comforting hand on your leg, but maybe does so a little too high as her fingers just brush where your penis is. You can feel her touch even through the thick fabric of the jeans and something about it is electric. You feel weird, she is your mother after all and yet in this young form she looks beautiful, sexy even. As she leans forward, you get a glimpse down her shirt at just a flash of firm, young breasts and your mind races.
“He doesn’t mind,” Rachel says, speaking for you.
“Great. You probably know how to play already, a good-looking guy like you. You should spin first, being the only boy after all,” Simone explains.
You reach forward and grab the bottle and give it a solid twist, letting it spin around and around. As it rotates, the neck drifts from girl to girl. Rachel, the woman who looks just like her, the twins, Simone, your aunt, your mother and back to you before starting another rotation, slowing considerably as it does so until finally it stops to point directly at…
Link
