Steps For A Taboo Roadtrip

by Nadia Nightside

  Risky Threesomes: Steps For A Taboo Roadtrip

  No Limits Erotica, Volume 3

  Nadia Nightside

  Published by Midnight Publishing, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  RISKY THREESOMES: STEPS FOR A TABOO ROADTRIP

  First edition. April 23, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Nadia Nightside.

  Written by Nadia Nightside.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Risky Threesomes: Steps For A Taboo Roadtrip (No Limits Erotica, #3)

  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.

  Your opinion influences other readers and matters quite a bit to me! If you enjoyed this sexy story, please leave a review on Amazon and let others know what you thought. I want to write what you love!

  Further Reading: Owning My Co-Worker

  About the Author

  Subscribe to the Nadia Nightside New Release Newsletter for a private link to THREE completely free stories available ONLY for subscribers! Not only that, but you'll also receive exclusive access to regular special offers and discounts!

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  * * * * *

  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.

  * * * * *

  Risky Threesomes: Steps For A Taboo Road Trip

  Nora was nearly packed. She walked downstairs to the entry, bending down to sort through the massive pile of shoes next to the back door. In Alder City, they would need some good walking shoes. It was difficult to sort through her stepbrother Charlie’s various boots, sandals, work shoes, dress shoes...how did a guy have more shoes than her?

  Only he didn’t, not really. He just kept them all in a pile down here next to the door, so they seemed like more. Her own shoes were kept in her closet, neatly arranged on a stand. Except for her walking shoes, apparently.

  Their house was a tall three-story, located far on the outskirts of town. Her stepfather, Archibald, didn't trust city living or city livers. As a result, his family—his stepdaughter Nora, his son Charlie, and his new young wife Annette—lived far from anything truly interesting. All the restaurants and stores were chains, and all the concerts were smooth jazz or holiday symphonies.

  In the kitchen, she heard her stepbrother Charlie and their stepmother Annette preparing food. The swinging door to the living room, and then to the kitchen, were arranged just so, and Nora could see clearly as Annette strutted toward Charlie from behind. She wore a tight white tee shirt, her glamorously sexy body on display in tiny blue shorts.

  “Do you think these shorts are too short, Charlie?”

  Charlie turned to look. He was a tall young man, muscular and handsome. Annette clearly was tugging her shorts up at him. She did a short turn and showed off her behind—tight and bubbly—and then even bent forward a bit on the counter.

  “I just...you know? Do you see? Like, I’m afraid they show too much leg.”

  “They show quite a lot,” said Charlie.

  Annette was everything Nora wasn’t. Blonde. Busty. Beautiful—or hot, really, in the way pornstars were hot. That was what her stepdad had wanted—a new hot babe to keep at his side. At twenty-three, Annette was only about five years older than the eighteen year-old Nora.

  Nora herself was slender, short. Her bust always felt too big on her short frame—with big 36D breasts that felt like they were going to topple her over in a strong wind. But boys seemed to like them; or at least, they did whenever she bothered to show them off, which wasn’t often. She didn’t like the attention of other men, really. Their attention always invited comparisons.

  Not comparisons of her to other girls. That wasn’t so bad. Men were always doing that. Nora ranked well enough, with her lovely blue eyes and thick, dark hair. But no, Nora’s problem was that the men who looked at her never were quite the type of Real Man she wanted to look at her. And the only Real Man she knew was absolutely, completely off-limits to her.

  The only Real Man she knew was her brother Charlie.

  From her position in the entry, Nora could see Charlie’s eyes eating up Annette’s form. Flashes of jealousy sparked in her chest, powering through the darkness of her mood. She tried to put them down, extinguish them somehow. What did she care who Charlie looked at?

  Even if it was their stepmother.

  Their beautiful, ex-glamour model stepmother who had only married Charlie’s father for his money. And in an obvious way, too—but Charlie’s dad didn’t seem to mind. He had plenty of money to pass around. Not that Nora ever got much of it. Nora’s mother, Jean, had died when Nora was quite young and Charlie’s father, Archibald, always seemed to take his frustration and grief out on Nora. She, Nora’s mother, had died right after marrying Archibald, in point of fact. Nora had leaned on Charlie for all those years afterward, needing someone to hear her, to help her soldier forward.

  Charlie never complained when Nora would show up in his room in the middle of the night, needing someone to hug or snuggle up against in the bed. He never complained when Nora would empty out her feelings at him, or let off the pressure from a long day when she saw too many things that reminded her of Jean.

  Charlie never complained. Not once.

  “Could I ask you to do something for me?” Annette went on. “It’s a little weird.”

  “Sure.”

  “Could you...would you mind feeling how short they are? I just...I keep feeling like there’s something caught up right underneath the edge. Like some grime or dirt or something, but I know they’re clean. Could you feel for me?”

  Charlie laughed. His broad, eighteen year-old frame was lean and ruggedly hard from years of playing lacrosse. “Are you serious?”

  Annette nodded. Her hands were on his chest now, stroking up and down. Breasts, thick and round, were barely contained inside of her tiny half-buttoned sweater.

  “Please? I need your help. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  The excuse was flimsy as anything. Surely, Charlie could see that. Surely he would see that Annette just wanted to take advantage of him like she had done to his father...wouldn’t he?

  Think without your dick for once, Charlie!

  Of course, when it came to Nora, Charlie had never thought with his dick. And how did she feel about that?

  But Annette had already pressed her bum back against Charlie’s thighs, bending over slightly. The barely-covered crack of her denim-clad ass rubbed intently over Charlie’s crotch. Charlie, for his part, looked rather amazed at the entire situation. Annette was a one-of-a-kind beauty, and even if she was his step
mother, she was still drop-dead gorgeous. It was hard just to ignore that type of beauty practically begging you to touch it. It was especially impossible if you were an eighteen year-old male with no real attachments to any kind of girl in the world. At school, before they graduated last spring, Charlie had been notoriously single, despite every girl he came across basically drooling all over him.

  Nora always held out hope that maybe...just maybe...

  “Annette, seriously. This is...I mean, this is a little weird.”

  His hands floated over her perfectly tanned skin. Her golden hair was thick, like a soft blanket, and slowly his fingers sank down into the silken locks. Annette moaned just slightly in response.

  “Why is it weird? I just want your help.”

  “But you’re...I’m not stupid. You’re asking me touch your ass. And your nipples are hard. And the way you look at me...I’m not stupid.”

  Another woman, confronted with her own lack of subtlety, might have fled from the scene. But Annette doubled down. She pushed her ass completely back into Charlie and then rose up from the hips, sliding her slender waist and back into his broad, muscled torso.

  She giggled slowly. “You found me out. Such a smart man.”

  Grabbing one of his hands and sliding it up her bare midriff, she began to tilt and turn into his hard body.

  “I just think...I think you’re a really, really attractive young man.”

  “Oh.” Charlie shifted slightly. “Thanks. I guess.”

  He preened slightly. Nora had trouble not rolling her eyes. He preened.

  “You look so much like your father. Like a younger, sexier version of him. You know?”

  Annette’s hands slid Charlie’s grip upward, onto the soft balloon of her tits. They were real. Annette bragged about how they were so big, so buoyant and perfect, and yet still real. She did this at the dinner table, admonishing Nora for not showing off her own healthy bust.

  “Oh...god.”

  Nora's hands slid into Charlie's pants, wrapping tight around his bulging manhood.

  “I want us to really get along on this trip, Charlie. I think that would be so great. I want you and to understand each other. You know? We’re family now.”

  Nora couldn’t help herself. She had to stop this. It was...it was all so wrong. The way that Charlie’s head rolled back as Annette stroked him so urgently through his shorts. Annette’s tight, hot ass bouncing slightly with every little stroke as her weight shifted from one long leg to the other.

  On her own body, Nora’s hands drifted against her crotch. Heat, palpable and wet, grew outward from there. It was so hard to ignore. Why was her body doing that? Watching...watching her mother and her brother, doing that terrible act...

  Her fingers were so close to her pussy. They were on her pussy, in point of fact, with just that stupid denim in the way. And it was nothing, a nothing movement, nothing at all, to let her fingers slide across the brass button of her shorts and let them pop down.

  But the best part of her—or at least she hoped it was the best part—kicked her bag down on the ground across the lobby. It made a big crash, sliding over and into the other gathered bags and shoes in the hall.

  “Oh, crap!” she said, trying to make herself loud.

  From the kitchen, she heard a sudden scuttling. The doors banged and Charlie was there, face flushed. He leaned against the doorway. In other circumstances, his pose would have been positively normal. But now, Nora knew that he was simply hiding his boner.

  “Sorry,” said Nora. “I just...knocked over my bag, is all.”

  “Oh.” Charlie gulped slightly and nodded, looking back over his shoulder at Annette. The brilliant young blonde smiled devilishly.

  “Are you guys ready to go?” Nora asked. “I’m ready. Whenever you are.”

  * * * * *

  In less than an hour, they were all packed, and just waiting for Annette to finish up a quick video chat with Archibald, Nora’s stepfather. The newlyweds were, as far as appearances went, crazy about one another. It wouldn't last—so far it had been just about four months, and Annette was ringing up bill after bill as she bought bigger and better wardrobes full of clothing, cars, helicopter rides to her favorite restaurants, and even a yacht. But they were happy, now. Annette got to have whatever she wanted, and Archibald got to make the beautiful young woman smile.

  Charlie and Nora were in the large living room. Charlie sat languidly in one leather couch, while Nora sat at the edge of her seat, one foot bouncing restlessly. In her hands, she fingered the small silver locket that her mother had left for her. It was a simple thing with the shape of a shell on one side. Nothing special by itself, other than that Jean had left it for her.

  “Something is wrong,” said Charlie. “What’s up?”

  Nora sighed. She couldn’t hide anything from him.

  “I...I don’t know. It’s nothing.”

  “Something. Come on.” He sniffed. “Yeah. I can smell it. You’re worried about something.”

  God, he was like a fucking wolf. His sense of smell was preternaturally sharp, and so he could sense all kinds of emotions—terror, happiness, worry, anxiety...just not how desperately turned on he made Nora, apparently. Or if he did, he ignored it. She would have liked to say that she didn’t know which would be worse, but she knew exactly which of the two she would prefer. Better a smell-blind hunk brother than one who didn’t think her arousal was worth capitalizing on.

  “It’s just...” she shook her head. “Annette sort of rubs me the wrong way. Right? She’s very...pushy. And I think...I don’t know how attached she is to your dad.”

  And she fucking gave you a handjob!

  But Nora couldn’t say that part. That would be revealing too much. Too big of a secret. And if there was anything that was absolutely true about Nora, it was that she couldn’t reveal the inner-workings of her head. It was all too dirty, too filthy. Charlie would hate her forever. He would disown her, never speak to her again.

  Charlie shrugged. “Those two can work out their own problems if they have any. It's not up to us to solve anyone's lives but ours.”

  “I guess so.”

  He stood up and approached her, putting a hand on one shoulder.

  “You look really good today,” he said. “Let me get a look at you.”

  Taking her by the arm, he stood her up. He twisted her this way and that, using her arm to piroutte her.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Really good.”

  She blushed furiously, not looking at him. “Thanks.”

  “No, really.” His hands guided her eyes up to his. “I mean, you look beautiful, Nora.”

  She paused, clearing her throat. Trying to source out where this came from. “Oh. That’s, I mean...thank you.”

  His hands fell on her waist. “God, I love looking at your hips. When you wear tight shirts like that. And your legs in those tight pants.” He shook his head. “It makes you look so fuckable.”

  The artillery fire landing is just my heart. The artillery fire landing is just my heart.

  “I don’t...why are you saying this to me?”

  “Because I’m tired of lying about the way that I feel, Nora. And I think you are too. I’ve seen how you look at me. You’ve seen how I look at you. Why do we need to keep pretending? We’re going to be in a brand new city. We could pretend in a new way. Wouldn’t that be nice? We could act like we’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend for ages.” His lips came to her ear, brushing just slightly. “No one would know anything about who we were. Just us. It would be our secret. We ditch Annette, and then I take you out on the town. We make out in the back of cabs. I fuck you silly in our hotel room...”

  “Stop it!”

  Nora pushed him away. Charlie was caught off-balance, and tripped across the nearby coffee table.

  “Fuck,” he clutched his knee. “Fucking...gah.”

  For several moments, he worked the leg back and forth, staring with heavy annoyance at Nora.

  “Fine,�
� he said at last. “Lie to yourself. See if I care. You’ll know where to find me.”

  He walked out. Nora was left alone with her locket, staring at the unpolished surface for several minutes. It needed a good work over. A secret needed a good polishing every now and then or else it lost its luster; it lost what made it worth keeping.

  Less than an hour later, they were on the road, out of the city, and well on their way to Alder City. From their location in California, it would take a solid eight hours of driving to get there before nightfall. But that was all right. Charlie and Nora were both excellent drivers, mindful of others in their lanes and of the speed limits, and they had no qualms about trading out every few hours to rest.

  When Nora and Charlie drove together, they hardly needed to talk at all to communicate when to trade off. Once, they had made their way all the way down to the Mexican border without saying a word, just smiling and nodding and laughing and listening to the radio. Their relationship rested in each other, not in words, and they liked it like that for the most part.

  And Annette—beautiful, flawless, bimbo Annette—was a big loud stain all over their perfect, silent communication. Nora struggled with the urge to strangle her dead.

  Not really. But sort of.

  “Oh gosh,” Annette might say. “Look at that big stupid sign there. Who writes that? Why would anyone advertise a cave that’s sixty-eight degrees cool?”

  “In the winter,” said Charlie, “it’s advertised as sixty-eight degrees warm.”

  “But we’re in a car already,” said Annette. “Why stop at a cave? What a bunch of hicks.”

  Her attitude—so insufferably superior, so clearly thinking she was in the right about everything, so unwilling to tolerate any newness that wasn’t in the form of an alcoholic beverage or some beefcake passing by her sight, only intensified Nora’s deep-seated resentments of Annette.

  If ever there was an evil stepmother, Annette was it. Although, even Nora had to admit, Annette was decent enough to Nora herself. But that was clearly only because Annette saw Nora as on her own level in terms of class and perhaps even attractiveness...which was its own particular kind of sick.