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I’m not sure how it started. I can’t pin down the exact moment that my desire turned into an obsession. Was it when I first discovered the forbidden nature of my fetish, or was it when I began indulging in it regularly? It doesn’t really matter now. All that matters is that I can’t live without it. It consumes me, drives me, and devours my every wondered.

My fetish is taboo, and society tells me it’s wrong. But that doesn’t stop me from craving it, wanting it, needing it. My deepest desires center around a forbidden obsession: incest. It’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and every time I try to ignore it, it only creeps back stronger. I know it’s wrong, and I feel deep guilt and shame over it, but my body and mind crave it like a drug.

It all started when I was a young girl, and my brother and I began to experiment with each other. We were both curious, and soon we were exploring each other in more intimate methods. It started as innocent kissing and touching, but eventually, we began to cross lines that we shouldn’t have. We both knew it was wrong, but we couldn’t help ourselves. I was completely addicted to his body and touch.

We discreetly continued our taboo relationship into our teenage years. We both dated other people, but we still found methods to sneak around and indulge in the forbidden pleasure that we had discovered. We were even bolder, thanks to the fact that our parents were never home. They had long working hours, which provided us ample opportunities for our trysts. Whenever we heard the sound of their car pulling into the driveway, we quickly pulled aside, and tried to compose ourselves.

As we grew older, though, things changed. Our relationship grew rocky, and eventually, we ended things completely. While we remained civil with one another, we both knew that things could never be the way they once were. But I was now addicted to this forbidden act with him, and the fact that we couldn’t continue meant that I had to discover other methods to feed my cravings.

Over the years, I realized that the only person who could fulfill my darkest desires was my own father. Thinking about it made my skin tingle, and my mind race. It was so taboo, so forbidden, that I couldn’t stop myself from wanting it. The wondered of his rough hands touching me, his hot breath on my skin sent shivers down my spine.

I knew it was wrong, but my body craved it. I tried to withstand, but the more taboo and forbidden it felt, the more attracted I became. I had a deep need to satiate my lust, and I was eager to do anything to experience it again.

One day, I finally decided to act on my taboo obsession. I called my father, and I told him that I needed to see him. It was a weird phone call for sure, but I had to make him see that I craved his touch. He hesitated at first, unsure of where this sudden desperation was coming from, but the temptation was too strong, and he agreed to meet me in secret.

We planned to meet at a secluded spot in a nearby park. As I waited for him, my heart was pounding in my chest so hard I couldn’t hear anything around me. I still couldn’t believe what I was doing, but I was so hungry for his touch.

When he finally arrived, I could tell that he was nervous. He was fidgety and his eyes darted around constantly. But he couldn’t withstand me, and I could tell by the way that he looked at me that he wanted me more than anything.

We both knew the risk of what we were about to do – both to ourselves, to each other, and our family. He took a step forward, and suddenly, his rough hands were on my waist, pulling me into his body. Our lips pressed together, and the electricity that sparked between us consumed me.

I was acutely aware of every movement, every touch. It felt like slow-motion, as he stripped me of my clothes. I could feel the heat in my core building as his hands roamed over my naked body. The touch of his hands was like nothing else. It was forbidden, and that only added to the intensity.

I could feel his need, his desire for me. He kissed me deeply, his tongue plundering every inch of my mouth. His fingers played with my nipples, teasing them into hard points, as my fingers traced his solid muscles on his back.

As his hands grazed my thighs, my body quivered in pleasure, knowing that soon, he would be deep inside me. There were no words, just our breaths mingling, and the sound of our clothing hitting the grass as he pounded into me. The sensation was intense, and I was lost in my own desire. The feeling of his body over mine, his hands on my breasts, and his cock deep inside me, was more than I could handle.

Our taboo, forbidden tryst had consumed me, and it was all I wanted. My mind was lost in the pleasure, every sensory detail heightened to perfection. We both knew that what we were doing was wrong, but the taboo act was so intense, neither of us could withstand.

After we were done, there was an awkward silence between us. We both knew it was a one-time thing, but the desire remained. I knew that I would at all times crave that forbidden act.

Our affair continued for several months. We never spoke about it, but each time we saw each other, the craving just grew stronger. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch, no matter how many times we indulged in the passionate taboo embraces.

Despite that, I knew that deep down, what we had been doing was wrong. I felt disgusted, guilty…it was as if I was drowning in these dark emotions. But my obsessions and desire were just too big to ignore.

I knew that I had to do something; to confront my issues head-on. It wasn’t until I learned to accept and embrace my darker desires, to let go of the guilt and shame that I had been carrying around that I was able to quell the obsession somewhat. I knew that those taboos would never go away completely, but now, when they did crop up, I could identify them for what they were: desires.

And so, I learned to live with my obsession as a part of myself. It would never be completely quenched or completely fulfilled, but it was a fundamental part of who I was as a person. In the end, I knew that I would at all times carry a taboo secret that society didn’t condone, but I also knew that this did not make me any less of a person. My desires didn’t define me, and with that knowledge, came a sense of freedom that I had never felt before.
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