Climax Taboo Erotic Collection

by Kelly Fleming

  "Thank you."

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. She hugged him, hard, holding him close, so close. "No, Brian," she said. "Thank you."

  The End.

  David & Sarah

  THE MEETING

  "Hello Darling!" she exclaimed taking his face in her hands and drawing his mouth to hers for a simple though thrilling brush of her lips against his. A polite greeting for all else to see but he felt an instant electric pulse travel through his stomach, cock, balls and even his arse at her touch. He couldn't hide it.

  Blushing, he stammered his 'hello how are you' and 'haven't seen you in ages', 'god', etc...She never lost eye contact, nor took her hands from his burning face instead she cupped his cheekbones in her palms, her thumbs softly stroking the growing redness of his cheeks.

  She smiled into his eyes as he continued his spluttering small talk -- she knew that he would be hers whenever she wanted him.

  Still smiling, she squeezed his right cheek between her thumb and forefinger, shook it playfully before letting go and half patting, half slapping his face.

  As she turned away she whispered "I shall phone you my pet"

  Three weeks later he had all but forgotten the chance meeting with his cousin's ex wife. It's true that he had masturbated furiously in the days following. Standing with eyes closed, recapturing the feel of her lips against his, breathing in her scent of lipstick and make-up mixed with perfume, and in his endless embellishments, her hand wrapped around his cock or squeezing his balls while her tongue snaked into his mouth and he emptied himself into the bathroom sink convulsing and grunting like an animal.

  He had also endured several violently sleepless nights of unfulfilled fantasy -- balls in one hand, dribbling cock in the other lying next to his sleeping wife as his mind raged with a passionate lust for the abuse of another woman. He had teased himself with the fantasies, building them slowly, taking himself to the edge again and again, savouring the imagined control she held over him.

  But in three short weeks he had managed to recover some semblance of control...until his telephone rang.

  "Sweetheart, I need you to come over tomorrow at around three o'clock. You'll be a good boy and do that for me. Won't you?"

  He mumbled 'of course' and 'yes, yes' several times, stammered 'I, I...' as he blushed again feeling an erection starting to grow against his briefs.

  "You're so sweet, such an angel," she cooed, "tell me, are you still a virgin?"

  His mouth and throat dried up completely as he felt his face burning even more and felt his cock twitch at the question. He couldn't answer. His mind raced as he remembered her taunts when they were younger -- he had been an awkward teenager, she a confident young woman. She had played such mind games with him. He had adored her as much as he had hated himself for his weakness.

  "Of course not -- you're married now aren't you? Ah well, happy days...until tomorrow darling."

  The phone went dead and he was left feeling strangely alone. His balls were tingling, his cock was stiff and he desperately wanted relief. Instead he sat at his desk teasing himself once again with the possibilities that tomorrow might bring. The only certainty was that he would endure another sleepless night of intensely frustrating fantasy.

  THE PAIR

  At forty years old he felt he should have grown out of such adolescent fixations -- he had always fantasised about the women around him, always stored memories of their smell, a certain look, a particular outfit or a word or phrase to help fuel his masturbatory needs. His fantasies were invariably based on sexual submission. He was always the weaker in any imagined encounter. He dreamed of being used and abused in every imaginable way and he felt that this was normal, when he was nineteen. But even now, over twenty years later, there were certain women whom he felt spotted his weakness and could exploit it to the very full. These women aroused him in a humiliating, exciting way he found impossible to hide -- his blushes and stammering as much testament for all to witness as the bulge in his trousers. However, none had ever acted beyond embarrassing him, yet.

  At some ten years older than he, she was just beginning to fulfil her potential as a woman. The divorced mother of two now independent youngsters, she had decided to enjoy and indulge herself. She owed herself a lot of time, a lot of wasted time, a lot of loveless time, a lot of sexless time. She was on a voyage of discovery and she liked what she discovered, about herself and about the world around her. She had a very special talent for finding sexually weak men. She could spot a compulsive masturbator from twenty paces and could have him eating from the palm of her hand within minutes.

  "Why do you wank so much?" she would whisper looking him in the eye and taking his hand in hers, "You really do wank all the time don't you? I can tell..."

  Of course her quarry could rarely respond coherently. He normally would stutter a false, shocked denial and attempt to change the subject. She would invariably abruptly press her mouth to his and force her tongue inside, guiding his hand firmly to the growing bulge in his trousers. She took control.

  THE APPOINTMENT

  He turned into the in the well-kept residential street at a quarter to three and parked his car a few doors away from hers. He was nervous, excited, shaking and breathing heavily. He had showered and washed and cleaned every crevice of his body in preparation. His nails were filed and his hair groomed. Every stitch of clothing that he wore was clean and fresh. He walked to her door wobbling on legs that felt like jelly and steeling himself he pressed the doorbell and stood back. He felt his cock rise in anticipation and his balls tensed with a sharp tingle as the door swung open.

  His throat dry once again he found himself unable to speak as he looked at her figure framed in the doorway. She wore a thin silken kimono-style gown of high mid-thigh length, gathered at her waist and stretched across her breasts showing her large nipples standing proud through the thin material. Her legs were bare. Her neck was bare. He was sure that the robe alone covered her nakedness.

  Her manner was terse "You came" he thought he saw a smirk as she stood back to allow him through the door, "Inside then" she whispered.

  She allowed him just enough room to enter but not without brushing against her as he did so. He tried his best not to touch her but the space she left him simply did not allow it. She slammed the door shut behind him and in one swift movement, turned to push him against the wall with one hand, taking a firm grip on the hair at the back of his head with the other and pushing her face forward into his. She grinned as she felt him flinch to feel her leg between his own, her thigh pressing up against his balls the hardness of his cock already straining against his jeans,

  "Oh God..." he croaked.

  She laughed in his face and then kissed him on the mouth hard. She withdrew her thigh for a moment before bringing her knee up sharply into his groin and tossing him to the floor at her feet in one smooth action. He fell to floor like a sack of potatoes whimpering a little as he curled his body,

  "Kiss my toe pet" she said placing her foot in front of his face "kiss my toe and say thank you".

  Tears rolled silently from the corners of his eyes as he stretched his pursed lips to her crimson toenail

  "Thank you" he murmured.

  She placed her foot on his chest and rolled him onto his back

  "Look at me" she commanded -- his eyes met hers -- "take off your clothes".

  He began to undress looking down at his buttons as he did so but she placed her toes under his chin and guided his gaze back to hers

  "I said look at me" she smiled at his timidity "Shall I fuck you?" she was stroking his face with her big toe "Hm? Shall I sit on your prick? You'd like that wouldn't you? Should I fuck your arse with a strap-on dildo perhaps? Reaching around to wank you off at the same time? How does that sound? Take a hold of your cock and wank for your Mistress David because that's what I am now. Make no mistake, I am your Mistress, I own you darling".

  He lay naked stroking his hard cock with a mixture of fear, exci
tement and humiliation as she chuckled, seemingly to herself, circling his nipples each in turn, with her big toenail.

  THE RELATIONSHIP

  So the strange relationship began. She didn't attempt to conceal her amusement at his feeble efforts at resisting her. She teased him mercilessly. He had no control over his guilty need to attend her, his stiffness throbbing, his balls swollen and aching with the torture of their urgent need for release. He cried many times at his hopeless position.

  She would be tender with him at these moments cradling his nudity in her lap, whispering softly in his ear, stroking his hair, and caressing his cock and balls as she licked the salty tears from his cheeks before slipping her tongue into his mouth and pressing him against her bosom.

  She enjoyed these moments. He was truly hers at times like these caught in her web and utterly dependent upon her. She would often slip a condom onto her finger and slip it into his arse to fuck as she kissed him. She loved to feel his body jerk with the surprise and stiffen with the self-loathing of the pleasure she was giving him as she did this.

  "Hush now. Relax my little one," she would coo as she drove her finger deeper, softly but steadily stroking it in and out, in and out, in and out until he began to moan.

  Her free hand would roam over his body cupping his scrotum, pinching his nipples, stroking his stiffness. She would never allow him release at such times but would torment him until in his frenzy he did not know his own name. She loved him for this complete helplessness in her hands.

  A routine developed. She would let him through the front door always leaving just enough room for him to enter brushing himself against her body. She would close the door behind him and watch as he stripped and placed his clothing in a bin bag which she would lock away in her hall cupboard.

  She would then secure his right wrist to his left elbow behind his back and vice a versa with a pair of felt lined leather cuffs. She often secured a leash to his balls at this point before leading him to wherever she felt the game should be that day.

  His torment could last anything from thirty minutes to four or five hours depending on her whim. He was often released frustrated and aching with precise instructions for how to gain relief (or not as the case may be) but just as often he would have his balls thoroughly drained in spectacular and exhausting fashion.

  He never, ever knew which way the session would go. One time he thought that he caught a look in her eye, some indication that she would withhold his pleasure this day and he prepared himself mentally for what he believed was the inevitable.

  After showering she stood at the door and presented him with his clothes. He dressed. She smiled and placed her arms around his waist. She pushed his thighs apart with her own. She pressed herself against him. She found his stiffness with her leg and pressed her mouth to his.

  She took him by the hair and hissed into his ear "Rut against my leg like a dog you little shit!"

  He squirmed as her tongue once again snaked against his "Fucking cum in your pants!"

  She shouted into his face "Go on! Do it! Now!"

  He was grunting now as she put one hand on his rump squeezing hard, rhythmically, the other cupped his balls also squeezing in time to his jerking movements and he shot his wad into his pants like a schoolboy.

  "You're such pathetic little wanker" she sneered and spat into his face before tossing him out of the door with his saliva covered face beetroot red, his cock still bone hard and his jeans bearing the unmistakeable dark stain of cum.

  He did not try to guess again.

  The End.

  Insomnia

  I found that once I graduated from high school, I got to see my friends less and less. I was under the impression that I would be free and near completely unoccupied- how wrong I was! I was excited about the fun and games and the weekly outings to a club we finally agree upon partying at. But nobody has time. Somebody always can't make it. Uni. TAFE. Work. Something is always in our way! The unspoken rule of our group is 'it's everyone, or call it off.'

  But this Friday night brought a miracle. My best from high school, Felicity, managed to organise a night IN ADVANCE (something nobody else thought of doing), so that we can cough through the phone and get a day off from work- without getting abused by our respective bosses. The 90s night that the Icicle Bar has to offer is always a smash hit- now that we've all turned 20 (save for Kid Genius Sandra, who's 19), we've become old enough for the 90s to be excitingly nostalgic.

  We partied 'til 5am, we probably spent hundreds of dollars on drinks and danced to Aqua, Vengaboys and Britney Spears. Seeing that we're all on our provisional licenses, we were definitely not allowed to be driving. We managed to get home by taxi, and somehow, during our various stages of drunkenness, we also found places to sleep in Felicity's house. Sandra found a bed in a wooden table covered in cushions, Felicity slept in her room, Annie used the house's only sleeping bag, Mike was perfectly happy with the shagpile carpet and Phil and I ended up sharing a sofa bed.

  Truth be told, I don't want to share a bed with Phil. Don't get me wrong- I have nothing against him! My memory of him in high school was that of a shortish guy who was zealous about study. He was quiet, slightly reserved and very private. But how five years can change people! He was outgoing and completely comfortable with his innovative dance moves that can only be called innovative. He was now taller than me too. I used to tower over Phillip Howard.

  I generally don't like sharing beds, because I can't sleep through any kinds of distractions- quilt-stealing, snoring or a hypnagogic kick for that matter. "Sandra? Can you turn the lights off?" I barked, cranky as I just wanted to get to sleep.

  "I'll do it. Sandra's fast asleep," Mike got up from the floor and eventually found the switch. With a click, the lights went out, and I felt the blanket of sleep close my eyes and pull towards the world of dreams. The thump of Mike crashing back onto the (probably) uncomfortable floor snapped me awake again.

  Then my mind began to wonder. I'm not a very good sleeper anyway, as I'm always thinking about something, however trivial: wow, we drank a lot. My feet hurt. My ears are ringing. My head is throbbing. I have to get that assignment done by Monday. Hope we can go out together soon. Phil is adorable. He bought me my favourite drink- how nice. He was staring at my ass, and thought I didn't notice. His eyes didn't leave mine when we danced to the Backstreet Boys.

  What the hell am I thinking about? I'm not even that attracted to him. Why can't I stop thinking about him? Is it natural to reflect on how much somebody's changed? Is it normal to obsess over every detail; trying to prove whether or not he was attracted to me? Or was I being delusional, as I am secretly attracted to him? We didn't get the opportunity to talk much, as maintaining conversation at a club is hard...

  I don't think I can go to sleep like this... so I will have to pull out my favourite trick to fall asleep.

  Masturbation.

  It's really easy to fall asleep after you cum, you know. I remember reading somewhere that cumming releases some kind of relaxing hormone that aids in sleep. I've been using this technique for a while now. It's pretty cold, too. Since sexual arousal hastens blood flow, it warms you up. It gets my feet warm- which is important as you can't fall asleep if your feet aren't a comfortable temperature.

  I look both sides in the living room's darkness; as though I would be able to see if everyone's asleep. I'm too scared to utter their names, as they might awaken, and I would have to wait until they fall asleep again. Now I have to get into the zone... I'm pretty sure everyone's asleep. I've done this many time, at many friends' houses. I've mastered how to keep quiet and jerking in ecstasy to a minimal. Breathing through your nose is the key. When you feel like you have to moan, puff your chest and slowly breathe out of your mouth. If you breathe out too fast, you'll let out a vocal shudder.

  I pulled up my dress and let my fingertips sensually pass over the satiny smoothness of my 'invisible' panties. I took a deep, but painfully silent breath in as I felt the two mounds
that was my vulva. I've got masturbation down to a pat. I love teasing my self. I carefully and very gently stroked the tip of my nail in the centre; stroking over my clitoral hood. I gulped a little, and looked both sides again in paranoia.

  It felt like each stroke of my finger made my blood pump faster. My stomach caved in as my body struggled to break free from the shackles of my will; to jerk in response to its appreciation of the imminent pleasure to come. My body got warmer and warmer as my clit got harder and harder. With my free hand, I ran my fingertips over my clit. It was pretty firm, and dying to be rubbed more aggressively. Stroking my clit through my panties is not good enough anymore...

  I slid my quivering hands under the tight satin and roll my clit with my index finger. It's becoming tougher to not let out a moan of delight, but boy, do I love a challenge. I can feel my now-moist hole throbbing a bit; longing for something thick and warm to slide in and out of it. My pussy's gotten to the point of no return- the skin around the hole was now as moist as fresh raw meat, and my clit now a diamond. I had to come. As I reached closer to climax, my toes curled into the sofa; my toenails making a grazing noise. The fear of getting caught woke me up from my world of naughty dreams.

  I'm so fucking horny now that I'm softly rubbing over my clit as I carefully try and listen for any signs that somebody has awoken. Considering my toe-curling a lucky escape, I continued ahead on the long and intense road towards orgasm...

  The sound of a door opening stabbed my heart to a stop. I couldn't help but let out a gasp of fright. I tried to stifle my increasing heavy and audible breaths; making it difficult to tell what's going on. I heard some gentle footsteps as the sound of the door closing brought relief. Furiously touching myself again, I let my mind travel to the excitingly tantalising world of my fantasies. Getting ravaged by my History professor on his desk. Getting fucked by a cop to avoid a ticket. Having sex in a confession booth. It seemed that the hornier I became, the more 'taboo' my fantasies distorted themselves to become.