by Raven Watyrs
Forbidden Fantasies – Big Banging Box Set!
(Twelve Taboo Tales about the Man of the House…)
By Raven Watyrs
Note: This box set contains twelve totally TABOO stories of bareback first times, untouched princesses, and the man of the house taking what’s his. Enjoy!
Copyright 2017
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialog, and everything else are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
DISCLAIMER:
All characters engaged in sexual, quasi-sexual, pseudo-sexual, or meta-sexual relations in this work are over 18 years of age, 100% consenting, not blood-relating, 100% human, and loving every minute of it.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase and additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Daddy’s Locked Up
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Busted By Daddy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Following Through
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Teach Me Daddy!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Do Me Daddy!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Fertile and For Sale
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Done By Daddy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Planting My Seed
Knocking Up Anna
Knocking Up Ruby
Knocking Up Taylor
BONUS STORY: Milking My Girls
Knocking Up Carrie
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Knocking Up Ruby
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Her Step Daddy’s Deal
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Caught In The Act
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Going All The Way
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
CHAPTER 1
My cock is rock hard in my hand, pulsing and slick with pre-cum as I lay on my back in my bunk, pumping my veiny shaft. It’s probably an hour before dawn and the prison block is dark and silent. I’m trying to be quiet, trying to stifle my groans of urgent carnal need so that my cellmate doesn’t have to hear me jacking it. But it doesn’t really matter. Cellmates are used to each other jacking off. The lack of privacy in prison more or less requires it. But hey, at least I’m doing it in the middle of the night.
I stare up at the pictures of my long-time girlfriend, Stephanie, secured between the rungs of the bunk above me. I’ve been in here six years now and she’s never really been one to write letters much, but about a year ago, she’s started sending me some unbelievable pictures. Totally pornographic and fucking hot as hell. She sits in a chair in one of them, facing the camera, legs totally spread. I can’t see her eyes, she’s cropped most of her head out of the dirty photos to maintain some semblance of anonymity, just in case someone gets their hands on the shots, but her red lips are plump and moist and blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders. She’s squeezing her huge tits together, pinching on of her nipples hard while sitting on the edge of the chair, knees spread wide. My breathing picks up as I focus on her hairless, smooth pussy. Licking my lips, my eyes laser in on her juicy looking folds and swollen red lips glistening in the photo. She’d clearly been touching herself when she did this little photo shoot.
I pump my cock and close my eyes, grunting quietly as I think about the last time I licked that delicious slit. It’s been six long years, but I remember her taste like it was yesterday - sweet and deep, like musky honey. It was the night before I got thrown in prison. I licked and sucked at her swollen clit, rolling it around my tongue, before she came all over my face, soaking me with her wet arousal and screaming out my name. Running that reel in my head, I can feel myself getting closer to blowing my load. I open my eyes and grit my teeth, staring back up at her big bouncy tits and picture my cock thrusting between them. I pump my dick furiously, precum oozes over my thumb. I picture Stephanie, on her knees in front of me, mouth open and ready, begging for my salty seed. My balls seize and I grunt as I cum hard. Spurt after spurt of hot jizz streaks my washboard stomach in ropey white tendrils. My balls contract and constrict and a moan escapes from deep in my throat as my cock twitches itself down. I lay there catching my breath, content now to finally fall asleep.
“You done now?” Daryl says sleepily from the top bunk.
My eyes snap open. “Fuck man, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to wake you.” I hadn’t been able to sleep all night in anticipation of tomorrow.
A chuckle from above. “I don’t give a shit if you jack your dick right off. But, you shakin’ the bunk like crazy. You gotta adjust your technique, boy.”
I laugh. “Right. Sorry again, man.” Daryl’s been in prison here for forty years, a victim of this country’s draconian mandatory drug sentencing. Pretty sure all he had on him back when he was busted was a dime bag and some hash.
“Don’t mention it,” he responds. “But let me guess, you got a conjugal visit coming up, don’t you?”
I wipe the cum of my stomach with a towel and chuck it to the side. “I do, actually. Tomorrow. How’d you know?” Prisoners don’t often brag about getting conjugal visits. Not when doing so could get you landed in the infirmary with a shanked side, broken ribs, and a cracked skull. Not much will stop a bunch of sex-starved, over-testosteroned inmates from kicking the shit out of someone who’s getting laid when they’re not. But I’m not worried about Daryl. He’s been my cell mate for the six years that I’ve been locked up in this place, and considering he’s 70 years old and 120 pounds soaking wet to my 38 years and 210 pounds of solid muscle, I think I’m safe admitting my good fortune to him.
“Guys always jack it extra hard when they got a conjugal coming up.” He hacks out a laugh. “Can’t help it.”
I chuckle again in the absolute darkness of the pre-dawn night. “Yeah, all my good behaviour has finally paid off. Conjugal visit granted and tomorrow’s the big day. I get 24 entire hours of real, honest-to-god pussy.”
“You fucking lucky asshole.”
“Yup,” I say, putting my hands behind my head. “Except it ain’t luck, man. This was over a year of good fuckin’ behaviour. Dotted all my ‘i’s and crossed all my ‘t’s. No mouthing off at COs and no fights with other inmates. You know how hard that can be with some of these assholes in here. Plus, I’m due for parole in six months. Finally getting out of here, so you can bet I’ve been the model fuckin’ prisoner.”
“Mm.” He considers that for a second. “I thought you and what’s-her-face broke up ages ago? What was her name again?
“Stephanie,’ I remind him. “And we didn’t break up. She’s just gotten… I don’t know, busy with her job, I guess
.” I ignore the uneasy feeling in my stomach. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit something was up. It’s been ages since she’s visited - almost a year. But it’s understandable considering how busy she is at work.
Stephanie and I had gotten together eight years ago when she was 35 and I was 28. I had been working as an investment banker on Wall Street and was raking in the cash as an up-and-comer. Stephanie was also in finance at the time, and the single mom of a 14-year-old daughter, Madison. She’d had her at a very young age – 16 years old - but had gone on to become a successful business woman despite the teenaged pregnancy.
Stephanie and I met in a bar after work one evening. We caught each other’s eye from across the room, and I knew it was on. We had a drink, then left the bar and ended up fucking each other raw for the next twelve hours in my apartment thirty floors above Park Avenue.
We fucked like animals the first time we met. It was dirty and hot, exactly how I like it. Once we started dating a little more seriously, she introduced me to her daughter, Madison. Madison was nice enough, though I was never very close with her in the beginning. What does a 28-year-old man have in common with a 14-year-old girl? While she was interested in gossiping and braiding hair, I was interested in fucking her mom up the ass until I came so hard, cum oozed out her asshole.
Stephanie and I were insatiable, fucking each other non-stop. Well, non-stop until I was arrested for insider trading and sentenced to nine years in federal fuck-me-in-the-ass prison, that is. As a successful and senior executive in her firm, Stephanie had been humiliated and horrified by my criminal behaviour. Who can blame her, really?
Madison was 16 when I was convicted, and by that time had matured into quite the young woman. She looked almost exactly like her mother, but still carried a little baby fat. In the months before my conviction, I noticed her becoming flirty with me, batting her eyelashes and pressing her tits together when I walked into a room. I think she liked me, because she used to prance around in front of me, bending over and stretching wearing not much more than workout shorts and bra tops. She was testing her teenaged boundaries. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to rubbing a few out thinking about her young, tight pussy. I’m a red-blooded man, after all. That said, I haven’t seen Madison in six years. She doesn’t visit. This is no place for a young woman.
After I was convicted and sent to this medium security hellhole, Stephanie stuck with me, albeit begrudgingly. For the first few years, she visited and called regularly, though I could tell she’d lost respect for me. To be honest, I’m surprised she’s still sticking around. As mentioned, she’s been much cooler and distant in the past couple years and last year, everything all but dried up for about two months. I called and left voicemails, but she never called. I wrote letter after letter, telling her about my upcoming conjugal visit, pleading with her not to give up on me. But I got nothing in return. Not a peep for two months.
I’d almost given up hope, but eventually, the letters picked up again. When the first letter was dropped off in my cell, I was overjoyed. She wrote that she’d been busy with work, apologized for not communicating, and said she’ll make up for it by keeping me sated with dirty pictures and dirtier letters. She’d never sent anything like that before the two-month hiatus. It was a pretty severe about face. They were dirtier and nastier than I’d expected, which is saying something considering the kinky fucking we used to get up to.
But I’m not complaining. Not in the least.
“Better get some rest,” Daryl says with a chuckle, rolling over in his bunk. “I doubt you’ll be doing much sleeping tomorrow.”
I look up at the photos again and lick my lips at her pussy spread wide and inviting, big tits with tight, pink nipples, and a wet, open mouth begging for my cock. “I can’t fucking wait.”
***
“Wake the fuck up, inmates. Head count!” The harsh ultraviolet lights illuminate with a thwack as the guards walk along the gangway yelling and banging on cell doors. It’s 6:30am on the dot, wake-up call for the entire prison. My eyes open a split second before the racket starts up as they have for at least the last five years. I bet I’ll wake up at 6:30am every day for the rest of my life once I get out of this hellhole. I haven’t slept in past 6:30am in six years and at this point, I doubt I ever will.
But I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about sleeping today. Not when I’ve got 24 hours of fucking in my future.
Swinging my legs over the side of my bunk, I rub my face and scratch at the scruff on my jaw. I stand and stretch as Daryl eases down from his bunk.
“You sure you don’t want me taking the top bunk, old man?” I say through a yawn.
“Nope. Keeps me nimble,” he answers, as he always does.
We stand and wait while the guards finish their headcount before collecting out shower caddies and heading to the bathrooms. After a five-minute rinse in icy cold water, we dress in our usual prison issue orange jumpsuits and make our way down to the cafeteria for breakfast. I keep an eye on the clock as the minutes tick away, rushing through the tasteless oatmeal gruel and weak black coffee, thinking of nothing except Stephanie’s wet mouth filling with my hot, salty load.
In her last letter, she described in great detail how she’s been fingering herself, thinking about our upcoming visit. She even wiped some of her pussy juice on the paper, which practically made me cum in my coveralls when I got to that part of the letter.
“Inmate Bell,” one of the Correctional Officers shouts from the cafeteria doorway. My head snaps up. “Jesse Bell,” he repeats over the murmur of inmates eating and talking. Fuck yes, this is it. I’m about to get laid after six fucking years of nothing but the palm of my hand.
“That’s your cue, Casanova,” Daryl ribs me. “See you on the other side.”
I shoot him a grin, dump my tray, and leave the cafeteria, smugly ignoring the rest of the inmates as I follow the CO back to my cell.
“Looks like you’re the lucky guy this week,” the CO says, perusing a checklist and absentmindedly ticking items off.
“Been on my best behaviour, sir,” I tell him.
“Right,” he replies completely disinterestedly. We stop by my cell where I grab my toothbrush and some personal items before I follow him out of the building towards a set of cheap looking trailers, the kind you might find on a construction site, near the side boundary of the prison fence.
“You know the drill,” the CO says. “You’ve got 24 hours and you better have what you need. There’s no back and forth to your cell, and no one is going to grab shit for you. There’s water in the fridge, you can cook if she brings food, but make sure that place is spotless before you leave. You’ll find sheets and blankets in the cupboard, as well as some books and decks of cards. No gifts will be exchanged, nothing she brings can be left here, and nothing can leave with her when you’re done. No phone calls, no computers, no TV.” We stop in front of the trailer and the CO opens the door for me and could not have been more bored of the situation if he had tried. “Your guest will be sent out momentarily.”
“Thank you, Officer,” I tell him as I step up the rickety metal steps into the trailer and pull the door closed behind me. I stand in the middle of the trailer and turn slowly to take in my surroundings. It’s been six years since I’ve been alone in any room and it feels incredible. At the far end of the room, there’s a queen-sized bed with a bare mattress and a couple of pillows. A small couch and coffee table take up the middle section of the trailer, and a small kitchenette with a hot plate and bar fridge occupies the other end.
It’s not unclean, but I can still smell the perfume and musky sex hanging in the air from the trailer’s previous occupants. Fortunately, that does nothing but excite me and another look at the bed reminds my twitching cock what’s coming its way.
I find sheets in the cupboard and start making the bed, and by the time I’m done smoothing the sheets into the perfect, crisp corners required by the correctional service - another habit I doubt I’ll even lose when I le
ave this place - there’s a hesitant, nervous knock at the door.
I spin to face the door, my palms suddenly clammy with nerves. It’s been a long time since I saw Stephanie. At least eighteen months, and the last time was certainly not a passionate face-to-face, flesh-to-flesh meeting. It had been terse and stressed conversation across a small metal table in the visitor’s area during which she told me that she wasn’t sure about us… about me.
But whatever I said to her that last time must have worked to change her mind, because while there had been that little hiatus in contact, she had started right up again, full force after not long. Wiping my palms on my thighs, I clear my throat before pulling the trailer door open to greet Stephanie.
But it’s not Stephanie who greets me on the other side.
“Surprise!” Madison says standing at the foot of the creaky metal steps, looking nothing like the sixteen-year-old kid I’d last seen six years previous.
CHAPTER 2
“Madison,” I huff out in shock, dropping an arm to unsuccessfully block the bulge at my crotch. I lean out of the trailer and look to the left and right before letting my eyes settle back on the blonde bombshell holding a small overnight bag and some groceries. “Where’s your mom? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you, Jesse,” she purrs up at me, batting her thick black lashes and twirling a strand of her long, blonde hair. She’s wearing a pair of denim shorts so short Daisy Duke would blush, with a pair of black cowboy boots and a tight white tank top with no bra. She’s definitely not the 16-year-old I last saw six years ago. At 22 years old, the baby fat and braces are gone. She’s got long legs, toned and tanned, a small waist cinching womanly curves, and a rack that any red-blooded man would thank his lucky stars to lay his eyes upon. Round and huge, perky yet soft, with tight, small nipples poking through the thin white cotton of her tank top. My jaw hangs open, dumbfounded by the sexpot she’s become. My cock swells as I take her in.
