by Sophia Taboo
Table of Contents
EROTICA:11 FILTHY Taboo Brat Sex Stories (MEGA...
- Daddy Loving Chapter 2
Chapter 3
- Baby for Stepmother Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
- His Daughter's Cherry Chapter 2
- Doing the Twins, Part 1 Chapter 2
- Doing the Twins, Part 2 Chapter 2
Chapter 3
- MMF: Stepmom DP Chapter 2
Stepbrother's Illicit Toy
Family Threesome
- Tricking Daddy Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
- Lessons from Daddy Chapter 2
- ULTRA HOT SECRET BONUS!!! Chapter 2
Chapter 3
EROTICA: 10 GROUP MMF FIRST TIME TABOO BRAT SEX STORIES (MEGA COLLECTION BUNDLE: Man of the House, MFF, MMF, Alpha Men Gang, Menage Romance — BONUS FREE BOOK: Stepbrother Forbidden Romance)
Sophia Taboo
Thanks for reading!
Get more of my stories for free by signing up at http://j.mp/freerotica
Get more here: http://amzn.to/1UNgVBp
This is a work of fiction. All characters are adults 18 or older.
He took his time as his hands began to slowly explore my body, caressing my skin and stroking my hair. He cupped my breasts, rolling the tips of my erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger before dipping his head and taking each nipple into the warmth of his mouth, flicking them with his tongue and grazing them with his teeth. My breathe was shallow and came quickly in gasps and murmurs of sheer, torturous pleasure. His hand then made its way down over my belly, over the mound of my womanhood before sinking his fingers into the damp, dewy folds of my throbbing pussy.
"Crikey, baby girl, you are ridiculously wet. My fingers are literally drowning."
He then sank to his knees before me and wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking it hard so that it was drawn into his mouth. He licked it, circling his tongue around and around before plunging it straight into the depths of my opening. He then took up the rhythmic motion of fucking me with his tongue. This was an experience that I had never encountered before, my only sexual experiences of the past having been awkward fumblings of inexperienced heavy petting. It felt to me as though I would explode as the heavy waves of undulating erotic pleasure began to build and build. As the point was reached where I was certain that I could take no more, Carl abruptly stopped. No! No! No! My brain screamed hoping that he would hear, silently begging for him not to stop. Instead he stood up and placing his hand into the small of my lower back he pushed me onto the round velvet bed so that I lay on my stomach.
"Position yourself onto your hands and knees and arch your back," he commanded, leaving me with little choice but to do as he said.
"Hey sleepy. How was your interview?"
"I think it went very well. She told me they would be in touch very soon. I really hope I get it. Living here and working for a magazine like that is all I ever wanted to do."
"I'm sure you did great. And just look at you. All grown up and ready for business in this suit. I couldn't help but admire you when I came in. I decided not to stay late at work tonight so we could spend your last night in New York together." He reached for my hand and noticed the marks from the ropes.
"Ouch. That is an unfortunate side effect of all the fun we had last night. I can't control myself around you. I usually take it easy on women the first time I let them into my bedroom, but you aren't like any of them. Sexy, but still innocent. I wanted to show you so much, but I'm sorry if I hurt you."
"It only hurt a little bit, but I loved it. You gave me confidence for my interview. You made me feel like I could handle anything. I woke up this morning still wanting you."
"Are you trying to make me even harder than I already am, naughty girl? You look so fucking sexy in that skirt. And those fucking stockings are incredible. Do you think you can handle more fun?"
"Yes, please. I'm aching for you."
Brett pushed me onto by back on the bed and lay on top of me. He kissed me hard on the mouth, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. He started to unbutton my blouse, then gave up and ripped it open to reveal my black lace bra. Buttons went flying across the room, but he didn't even flinch. He started to bite my nipples through my bra. He closed his hand gently around my throat as he took control of my body once again. I was more than willing to let him. He helped me take off my shirt and bra, then he began to unzip my skirt. He pulled it down over my hips and got on his knees. He was admiring me in nothing but my lace boy shorts and my stockings.
"Take the panties off, but leave the stockings on," Brett demanded.
I did as he asked and slipped off my panties, revealing my bare pussy to him once again. To my surprise, he lay down on the bed on his stomach and sucked my swollen clit into his mouth. Then he flattened his tongue and licked slowly from my forbidden hole back up to my clit. I felt like I was on fire, and it was obvious he knew exactly what to do to get me off quickly.
"Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I need you to cum for me so you are nice and wet when I fuck you. Let go and cum like my good little whore."
His tongue moved faster, working my clit until I could barely breathe. I came fast and hard, soaking his mouth in my juices. I couldn't control my cries, and he didn't punish me this time. He just moved back up and kissed me, slipping his tongue in my mouth so I could taste myself.
"Good girl. Now you're ready for me. I want you to get up and put your shoes on. Meet me in the living room."
Brett got up, left the room, and I slipped into my stilettos. When I walked into the living room, he was standing completely naked in front of the huge windows that overlooked the city. I knew people from other buildings could look over and see him standing there in all his glory.
"Come here, Kari. Now." I hesitated a bit because I was afraid to let people see me. "That was not a request. It was an order."
I went and stood next to him by the window. He spun me around to face the windows and placed each one of my hands up against the glass.
"Spread your legs wide, sweet sister. I'm going to fuck you just like this."
I looked out over the city and could see people on the street and moving in the buildings surrounding us. Brett positioned himself behind me and thrust up into my aching pussy. This time it didn't hurt. I loved the way his huge cock filled me. He fucked me slow and deep, grabbing my tits and pulling at my nipples. He didn't tell me I had to be quiet, so I let him hear how much I loved what he was doing to me. I could see his reflection in the window, and his face was filled with passion and want. I felt sexier than I ever had before standing there in stockings and stilettos getting fucked for the world to see.
I could feel another orgasm building, and I concentrated on his thrusts, wanting nothing more than to get there. His strokes hit me in just the right spot. Suddenly, it hit me, and I writhed back against him, cumming so hard that he had to hold me around the waist to keep me from falling over.
"You l
ove having the world watch me fuck you, don't you? I love the idea of everyone watching your big tits bouncing, knowing I'm fucking you good."
"I love it when you fuck me, Brett. Please don't stop."
Baby for Stepmother
Chapter 1
Robert had always been stubborn. I suppose that’s part of what attracted me to him in the first place.
We met at an ocean side carnival when he refused to allow a hot dog vendor to overcharge me for my food. It was so endearing and he was so adamant that I be treated fairly that when he asked, finally, if he could pay for my food, I couldn’t say no. We spent the rest of the day together; just Robert, me, and his adorable nine-year-old son Timothy (God forbid you call him Tim or Timmy back then; he was Timothy and he made sure you knew it).
After riding every spinning contraption, rollercoaster, and bumper car ride we could find, we wrapped up the day on a Ferris wheel at sunset. Timothy had run into a friend from school, Billy, so they rode in one car just one behind ours. As Robert’s and my car stopped at the very top of the wheel, we looked out to the West as the fading light illuminated the clouds like a pastel painting all in pinks, oranges, and blues. It was so stunning that I didn’t even notice that his hand had gently come to rest on my thigh just above my knee. When he gave me a little squeeze, I snapped out of my trance and looked first at his hand, then in amazement, into his sea-blue eyes. They sparkled in the sunset, embellished by the reflections of a thousand light bulbs from the carnival rides. He leaned in and I had no desire to resist. We kissed for the first time that night at the top of the Ferris wheel and stayed together ever since.
Over the coming months, he told me about his ex-wife and how it came to be that he and Timothy were on their own. She had left shortly after Timothy was born on a missionary trip to Indonesia. It had been in the works for several years, so she wasn’t willing to let her newborn child hold her back from fulfilling her plans and teaching sexual education overseas for the year. Robert was supportive, but it did, he later told me, rub him the wrong way that she was so willing and so comfortable leaving him alone with a brand new baby. He worked full-time so he relied heavily on his, and her, parents and a slew of babysitters constantly revolving through the door.
They communicated when they could over the course of that year. Postcards from different parts of Indonesia would arrive sporadically, and every now and again she’d find herself somewhere with an internet signal and she would find a time to Skype with her husband and child. However, about halfway through the trip, the postcards started to diminish and the Skype calls became nearly non-existent.
Finally, after about eight months, she wrote a letter to Robert detailing her experiences teaching and informing him that she’d fallen in love with one of the other teachers in the group. They had been having an affair since the third month, and she now realized that she wanted to be with him. She told Robert that she’d be coming home at the time she’d originally planned, but only for long enough to sign the divorce papers and give him full custody of Timothy; she wanted to stay overseas with her new lover and keep teaching so she wouldn’t have room in her life for her child. Of course, Robert was devastated, but eight years later when I met him he had come to terms with the entire situation and he and Timothy had become quite a dynamic duo.
They were like clones of each other. Timothy not only looked just like Robert, but his mannerisms, all the little things he did, were just like his father. Even the way he dressed was modeled after his father with his rugged little work boots, well-broken-in denim jeans, and varied assortment of sports t-shirts (with an emphasis on the Green Bay Packers paraphernalia, this was Wisconsin after all). They were a team through and through and they helped each other out, pushing each other when they needed it most.
Timothy wasn’t always the healthiest little boy, however. He had a terrible case of asthma growing up that didn’t subside until he was well into his teens. It landed him in the hospital more than a few times, but his father was by his side through it all. He stayed with him, night after grueling night, sleeping on those horrible hospital chair-and-footrest combinations that can be made into a makeshift bed if you’re desperate enough. As Timothy grew, his asthma gradually subsided thanks to the consistent treatments provided by his father’s loving care. By the time I met him he was far healthier than he had been, but it would still be some years before he’d have it totally under control. His aversion to hospitals was just as strong as ever, even years later.
As I integrated myself into their lives, Timothy was initially wary of me which I could understand considering the most important female figure in his life had abandoned him to play sex-ed with her dreadlocked boyfriend. Indeed, strong women weren’t a regular occurrence in his life. Over the course of the first couple of years, and especially once Robert and I were married, Timothy grew to appreciate me and, much to my relief, trust me.
The wedding, which I have to talk about it for a minute, was just amazing. It was outdoors under a gazebo of white covered in yellow and blue flowers overlooking the fountains at Robert’s favorite golf course. The ceremony took place at sunset, and the Northern sky making up our backdrop lit up like the pastel night we first met. It was overwhelming. There were so many people to meet from his family that I barely retained even one name, but the entire day was better than I could have imagined. After the ceremony, during which the now-eleven-year-old Timothy had served as the best man, the reception went on well into the night. Our first dance was set to Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be,” and, although he’ll never admit it, I’m positive I saw my father shed one single tear. Our cake was tiered and covered in magnificently sculpted flowers along every edge. I can barely remember the speeches, but I’ll always remember what Timothy said when he stood up to and took the microphone. He started with a joke that would become very indicative of his sense of humor as he matured in the coming years.
“Hi, everybody,” he said, feigning shyness. “I’m Timothy Edwards; Robert’s son. I know, I know. It’s shocking. How, you’re thinking, are these two possibly related? They look nothing alike!” Everyone laughed and listened with rapt attention.
“I don’t want to go on and on, but I just want to say that I am so happy for my dad that he’s found someone who truly loves and appreciates him, unconditionally, and unreservedly. And I’m very grateful to have Susan in my life. I never really had a mom before, but now I do, and I couldn’t ask for a better one. So Dad… Mom… Here’s to you. Congratulations.” And he raised his glass of apple cider as the entire collected bunch of family and friends sniffled, wiped away tears, and applauded.
The honeymoon was a blur. I know we took day trips, toured the island of Maui, saw volcanoes, kayaked, the pictures prove all of it, yet I can hardly remember leaving the room. From the minute we got to our lavish suite on our wedding night, until we returned home after the six-day, seven nights, trip, I still feel like it was all one long orgasm. Something had come over us both and we were ravenous for each other. There was no satisfaction, only pleasure leading to more desperate desire and hunger, leading to more and more pleasure. There was some outside force, it seemed, giving us unbelievable levels of endurance and energy. We made love in every position, in every room, on every surface that we could find.
We’d barely gotten into our room that first night before Robert had pinned me up against the door with his tongue so firmly inside my mouth that even if I’d wanted to I never could have stopped him; but nothing in me wanted him to stop. My hands were on his belt before he even found the hem of my sheer white wedding dress to lift it higher and higher. As he finally bunched the dress up around my hips and began to work his thumbs into my lacy white panties, I threw his slacks to the floor and felt him work his knees forward and backwards to drop them down around his ankles. As he worked his feet out of his shoes, and then free from the shackles of his slacks, he pressed his fingers down into the waistline of my panties and slid them down my quivering thighs to the floor. I stepped
out of them and spread my legs, my pussy nearly dripping already, begging him to get inside me. His tongue thrust its way back into my mouth, and I gasped as I felt his incredible hardness against my inner thigh. My legs spread wider and I bent my knees slightly, tilting my pelvis forward, inviting him into me. His rough mechanic’s hands lifted my dress up a little higher and wrapped themselves around my waist, grabbing onto my ass and reaching around slightly further, the tips of his fingers edging up against my pussy. I was shaking all over, my heart racing so fast I thought I might pass out before he could stick his cock inside. My knees bent further, almost buckled, of their own accord, and he lifted me up, pressing my back against the door of the hotel room. His pelvis tilted back, lining himself up with me, and he slid his long, thick cock so deeply into me that I squealed. He moaned with pleasure as he slowly rocked back and forth, digging deeper and deeper into me with every push; his cock sliding through the soaked folds of my pussy as I squeezed onto him as tightly as I could with every inch of my body. My legs were wrapped completely around him now, and he was holding me up, his calloused fingers digging into my ass supporting my entire weight.
He worked in me and I pressed into him with everything I had; my tongue, my breasts, my fingers, my clitoris, everything. I pressed and rubbed and clenched onto him as though my very survival depended on it.
Suddenly he spun around and without ever taking himself out of me, he threw me onto the bed where he could burrow deeper into me, my pelvis tilting even more for him, my left leg now reaching up across his still-dressed chest with his arm wrapped around my thigh; my right leg still wrapped around his lower back, pulling him tighter into me. He thrust harder and faster, and I dug my fingers into the back of his black hair, his blue eyes rolling back into his head as he got closer and closer to coming.
