Dirty Forbidden Collection

by Amira Bradford

  'Oh yes, fuck me, fuck me hard!' she gasped. 'Come on, pump it into me, cum in me, fill my cunt with your spunk!' I had never heard such words from Jan's polite lips before. It sent me over the edge. As she convulsed with another orgasm I erupted and fired jet after aching jet of sperm up into her. My balls were milked dry, and still I pulsed.

  Even before her own spasms had died away, Jan lifted off my cock and straddled me. Her pussy, the labia swollen and gaping, trickled whiteness onto my chest. She turned around and bent her head and took my softening cock into her mouth. Her crotch dripped onto my neck. Heedless of the mess, I gripped her hips and pulled her down over my face and speared my tongue deep into her hot wet tunnel. The taste of my spunk mixed with her tangy juices was heady, and to my amazement I felt my cock start to swell again in her mouth.

  What Jan lacked in expertise she made up for in enthusiasm. Her lips and tongue bathed my erection, cleaning the cum off and replacing it with saliva. One fist cupped my balls while the other squeezed the base of my shaft. She sucked and licked tirelessly. Soon I heard her gagging and coughing as she tried to force my cock down her throat.

  I was not idle either. I made love to her pussy with my mouth and tongue and nose and face, relishing the cocktail of fluids which oozed out of her tunnel. I sucked her labia into my mouth and nibbled and chewed and licked them. I teased her taut perineum and sweet little anus with my tongue tip, and licked her ridged walls of her vagina. And of course I fastened onto her firm little clitoris and gave it the benefit of my years of practice with my own wife. Soon Jan was cuming again, hot breath rasping against my cock.

  I don't know how long we stayed in that sixty-nine. Time seemed to stop and we entered another dimension where the only objects were our sexual organs and our mouths, where Jan seemed able to climax repeatedly without tiring and my cock stayed as hard as rock. Her fluids trickled down around my ears.

  After many eons my tongue began to ache, and maybe Jan's jaws did too. Our caresses died away gradually, and she slid off me onto the bed. I struggled up. Jan was lying on her back, arms and legs akimbo, with a beatific smile on her face. Her slim body was blotched where it had been pressed against me, and a pink flush covered her chest. Her sparse pubic hair was dark and matted with wetness. I knelt between her thighs, my cock red and still rampant, and inspected her body, waves of love and renewed lust surging through me. She watched me through smoky eyes. I knew that she would let me do whatever I wanted to her.

  'We should definitely have done this sooner,' I said, trailing my fingertips across her stomach and thighs. 'About 35 years sooner.'

  'I was a fool,' she whispered. 'I decided I would save myself for when I got married.'

  My fingers almost of their own accord were playing with her labia, and soon two of them slipped inside her entrance where they were gripped and sucked further in. I curled them round and stroked the front wall of her vagina, holding her eyes.

  'Oh, that's lovely! I never knew what sex could be like until this week. I think I'm going to cum again!'

  She did so, pumping her bottom into the bed, dragging my hand with her. I could see the muscles in her abdomen tensing and relaxing as the climax coursed through her. My cock ached. When she could breathe again, she said 'Fuck me again! Oh, I need to be fucked so much!'

  I turned her over – quite roughly – and dragged her hips up so that she was kneeling on the edge of the bed. Her labia stuck out from between her slim thighs. I plunged my cock gratefully into her hot tunnel, hitting bottom on the first stroke. Jan gave a cry of delight. I gripped her hipbones and pumped into her with renewed lust, watching her anus distort with each stroke, marvelling at the way her labia clung to my shaft as it was withdrawn, as if they didn't want to release it. My erection felt as if it was carved from granite and would be quite able to fuck her all night and the next day too. I remained standing and just pulled Jan's hips back and forth, almost masturbating myself with her body. In a few minutes she was tensing her muscles and climaxing around my cock.

  I crouched on the bed and Jan rested her head on the duvet, her arse in the air. In that position I could use my weight to shaft her deeply from above, but however hard I pounded her poor pussy she didn't complain, just grunted with delight and sooner or later convulsed in another orgasm. We collapsed onto the bed and I reared above her, thrusting against her clenched buttocks, cock head rebounding off the front of her vagina, which she made it noisily obvious that she enjoyed.

  I rolled us over so that I was on my back and Jan was on top of me, on her back also. Her thighs flopped either side of my legs, my cock was still buried deep inside her. I cupped her pubic mound on my hand, squeezed her right breast with the other, and started to masturbate her, a finger either side of her clitoris and one caressing its tip. Jan commenced a series of almost continuous orgasms, her pussy squeezed my cock in a slow rhythm, waves of contractions moved up her vagina as if trying to pull me even further in. I closed my eyes to let the sensations drown me, and drifted away to an altered state of pure bliss ...

  I was brought back to reality by hot breath against my ear and my wife's voice whispering hoarsely, 'We guessed what you'd be doing.' Her tongue licked my ear sloppily. 'He's fucking me from behind,' she gasped. 'I'm going to cum!'

  She did so, loudly. I don't think Jan even noticed, she was so completely absorbed in her own orgasmic heaven. I turned my head to see Debbie, naked, on all fours next to me. Russell knelt behind her and plumbed her vigorously, his eyes shut, the sinews in his neck standing out. Debbie's breasts swung back and forth, her lips were swollen and her mouth open with lust. I kissed her wetly while continuing to stroke Jan's clit.

  'It's the room,' I said. 'We're stuck here for good now.'

  The End.

  Body Language

  Back when I was about twenty, my old dad said to me, over a beer one day, "A divorced woman is a bit like a used car." I had to ask him what he meant by that, and he clarified by saying, "Just remember, a man gets rid of a used car for a reason." Looking back, I'm not sure if he was just making blokey conversation, or whether he was actually offering me some fatherly advice, but sadly he never lived to see my own wedding day himself, seven years later. He'd been gone two years by then, after we lost him to cancer, but if he had been there to see me tying the knot with Lyndall, I sometimes wonder if he would have reminded me.

  Technically, Lyndall wasn't divorced, because she'd never actually been legally married, but she'd been in a de-facto relationship for about six years, so she was the nearest thing to a divorcee. She already had two kids when I met her, so I kind of got a package deal when we got married, with a ready-made family, consisting of a wife and two young girls: Krystal, who was seven, and Karla, who was only four years old.

  I've got to say, Lyndall and I were happy for the first few years, or at least I know I was. I grew to love those two girls like they were my very own, and they grew to love me right back. Lyndall and I also tried for another baby, but mid-term, she developed some complications, and she lost him. That's right; we would have had a son, but fate decided otherwise, and the doctors told us that another pregnancy would probably kill her, so I went in for the snip, and had a vasectomy, so there was no chance of that ever happening. We decided it was better for me to get the snip than for Lyndall to get her tubes tied, because her body had been through enough as it was.

  I remember, the doctor emphasising that the procedure was permanent, and then asking me if I was prepared to accept that it was irreversible, in case my marriage didn't work out down the track, but I laughed at that, and said, "I'm married to the woman of my dreams, and that's just not gonna happen." How was I to know what the future held?

  Looking back, it almost seems that losing the baby was a turning point, but things were never the same after that. Lyndall said she'd sailed through both her pregnancies with the girls, so it must have been something that came from my side. She was bitter for a long time, and I told myself it was hormonal, then when things
didn't improve with time, I just tried to ride it out, but I really don't think things were ever the same again. Not that it was all bad times, though. We had long periods, years in fact, when things were really good, and I had my wife and two great kids to come home to, and when the bad times came, I just accepted that this was how life worked.

  Those two girls were great. They rarely gave us any grief, and they made our married life so much better. They became very close to me, and often when Lyndall and I argued, they would take my side, not that I needed backup from two young kids, but it just shows the bond that had developed between us. Things got really bad for a period between Lyndall and me, around the time Karla started high school, and as far as Lyndall was concerned, I just couldn't do anything right, but then we kind of got over that, and settled back into normal family routine for the next couple of years. I stuck it out, telling myself that I loved her, and I loved those girls too much to walk out, even though I was sorely tested a few times, but then, when Karla was sixteen, Lyndall got pregnant.

  She told me the vasectomy must have failed, but these things can only stay hidden for so long. It turned out she'd been screwing a sleazy little guy called Vinnie for ages, and Vinnie had told her a little white lie, saying he'd had a vasectomy as well. Lyndall had been playing an unwitting game of sexual Russian roulette for months, but unfortunately, Vinnie wasn't really shooting blanks at all, and one must have hit the target.

  The pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, and Vinnie disappeared for a while, but once again, Lyndall and I stayed together, for Karla's sake, I told myself, because by this time, Krystal was nineteen, and although she was still living at home with us, she was already working full-time, and was old enough to fend for herself if the marriage broke up.

  A year later, Vinnie was back on the scene, and in spite of what he'd done to Lyndall the first time, she got back with him again, and incredibly, she moved out of our place, to move in with him. The night she moved out, two weeks after Karla's seventeenth birthday, things got very ugly at our place.

  Lyndall managed to drag up something from every argument we'd had, in thirteen years together, and throw it in my face, and I put Vinnie through our front screen door, although I didn't bother to open it first. Karla finished off the evening's entertainment, by screaming at her mother, "Go and fuck yourself! You're not a mother, you're not even fit to be called one!" and then, adding, "Go and fuck your sleazy little boyfriend, see if we care! We'll be happy without you!" as Vinnie reversed his car out of the driveway, with Lyndall stone-faced in the front seat next to him. Karla hardly ever swore, so her tirade made the whole thing much more disturbing.

  That night, the three of us, Karla, Krystal and me, slept in my queen-size bed, the two girls huddled together on one side, crying themselves to sleep, while I lay on the other side of the bed, my anger at the hurt Lyndall had caused my two girls blotting out any pain I felt on my own behalf.

  The next day, we got up and started our new lives together, without Lyndall, and in time, we got things going really well. We were a family, a man and his two stepdaughters, we all got on perfectly together, and every day, the girls did things to show me they loved me.

  For sisters, Karla and Krystal weren't much alike. Krystal, at twenty, was very much like her mother to look at, being tall, fair-haired and curvy, with a pretty face. She was a looker, with rounded, perky breasts, and a beautifully shaped backside that got a lot of second glances from guys when she walked past. Karla, on the other hand, was more like her father, being tall and slender, with dark hair, and a little darker complexion than Krystal. Both girls had brown eyes, and their mother's mouth, although when I say that, it means their mouths resembled their mother's to look at, and not because of what came out of them.

  Karla was about five feet eight inches tall, and was slim built, like her natural father. She wasn't straight up and down like Olive Oyl, but was just slender, with a few modest, girlish curves, just the same. Her boobs were fairly small, but were nice enough in shape, and her bottom, while not the traffic-stopper her sister had been blessed with, was still worth a second look, especially in the cute little denim shorts she liked to wear in summer. Those shorts also used to show off her legs, and while they were still a little on the thin side, they definitely had a nice shape to them.

  If Karla wasn't a stunner to look at, she made up for it with a certain amount of style. She was bright, she spoke well, she had a ready wit, nice manners, and rarely swore or used foul language. She didn't smoke, and she was fairly popular at school. All in all, Karla was a really great girl, and I was proud to have helped bring her up this way.

  Not long after Karla turned eighteen, she got her first boyfriend. His name was Anthony, and he was two years older than she was. He was a decent enough young guy, and he had a job, dressed respectably and had good manners, so she could have done a lot worse. Nobody needed to tell me that Karla lost her virginity to Anthony, I just knew. It was little things, like their body language, a subtle change in Karla's demeanour, and of course, as homicide detectives often say on TV, Anthony had motive and opportunity. She was still in high school, in her final year, but even as close as we were, with no mother around to handle the issue, I felt a bit strange about talking to her about contraception, so I had a word with Krystal, who had a word with Karla, and then took her to the doctor to get a prescription for the pill. Maybe Mike Brady might have handled it differently, but at least I did something.

  Karla and Anthony kind of petered out after a few months, and it wasn't like some traumatic break-up; they just stopped going out together, but remained on good terms, with no fuss or bother. Then, Krystal moved out of our house, to move in with her boyfriend, so by the time Karla was eighteen-and-a-half years old, there were just the two of us living there.

  By that stage of my life, things seemed to be going okay. I was forty-one years old, and I'd gotten over losing Lyndall to her sleazebag boyfriend, but although I'd had a couple of brief flings, and one or two one-night stands since she walked out, I didn't have a woman in my life. Karla was in her last year of high school, with a part-time job at McDonalds after school and on weekends, and she was living happily at home with me, and we looked after each other as best we could. All in all, I thought life was pretty good.

  About halfway through that year, my niece, Jenna, got married to her fiance, whose name was Damien. Jenna's father was my elder brother, Frank, and although his four daughters weren't related to my girls by blood, they all considered themselves to be cousins, and they got on famously together. Naturally, Karla, Krystal and I were invited to the wedding, which, ironically, was held in the same church where Lyndall I got married fourteen years earlier.

  The wedding was on a Saturday afternoon, with the reception held afterwards, in a function centre, not far from the church. I had given Krystal and Karla my Visa card during the week, to go and buy a new outfit for Karla to wear to the wedding, and I had trusted their judgement in getting her something appropriate, but I hadn't had a chance to see what they had bought for her. Shortly before we were due to leave for the wedding, I called out to her down the corridor towards her bedroom, "You ready?"

  Karla stepped from her bedroom, wearing a sleeveless, formal dress that was knee-length, and deep purple in colour, with black lace rim. The neckline showed off some of her modest cleavage, and the dress hugged her slender curves on the way down. She had a silver necklace, with matching earrings, her dark hair was up, and then to top it off, she was wearing black high heels. She rarely wore heels, not that she needed them, and when she stepped out of her room, she walked a bit like a young foal finding its feet. Her air of elegance and sophistication was in contrast with her coltish gait, as she walked down towards me, and I said, "You look, umm," but I paused, to think of an adequate word, and then just settled for, "beautiful."

  "Well, don't sound so surprised," Karla said, smiling as she walked up to me. With her heels, she was only about an inch shorter than I was, and she added, "You don't
look too bad, yourself," as she looked me up and down.

  She gave my suit a quick adjustment, by tugging at the shoulders, and then at the bottom of the jacket, and she stood back for another look, and said, "There, perfect. Watch out ladies, Allan Maxwell's dressed up in his best suit, and he's on the prowl."

  "Come on," I said, and Karla linked arms with me as we walked towards the front door. She had only passed her driving test a few months before, after three attempts, and she liked to drive the car every chance she got, so she grabbed the keys from the side table, and said, "Can I drive?" and headed for the driver's door, without waiting for an answer. She took off her heels in the car, and she drove to the church in her stockinged feet, and then as she sat with the driver's door open, putting on her heels again, she looked up at the church, and said to me, "This is where you and Mum got married, isn't it?"

  She was only four when I married her mother, and I wasn't sure if she'd remember, but I said, "Yeah," without elaborating, and as she took my arm to walk over to the group of guests waiting outside in the sun, she said, "Happy memories, then." Her tone was ironic.

  "I got you and Krystal out of it, so I'm not complaining," I answered, smiling back at her. "We aren't, either," was her reply.

  After the wedding, we adjourned to the reception, where Krystal, along with her boyfriend, Dale, Karla, and I were seated near the bridal table. Early in the evening, the deejay played an appropriate song, as Jenna and her new husband did their bridal waltz around the floor. Then, he invited everyone else up to join the happy couple in a slow dance. "Dance with me?" Karla said, giving me a smile. "My pleasure, young lady," I responded.