21 Taboo Tales

by Robin Pressley

  Well, maybe there was one thing. I slipped my fingers down below the waistband of my shorts and started to rub myself. I ran my finger between my pussy lips and smeared my hot juices all over my tender clit.

  The kitchen scene filled my mind, only this time I took my mother’s place. I imagined myself bent over the table, my rear end raised up as high as I could get it for my sexy European man. Dante pounded my pussy aggressively. He was relentless, and his cock, which I imagined to be enormous, filled my completely.

  In my little fantasy, when the time was getting close, I changed the script. I looked back over my shoulder at Dante and whispered, “Cum inside me, Dante. Fill me up with your seed.”

  I had to bite down on my pillow to keep the whole house from hearing my orgasm. As the last echos of it shivered through my body, another fantasy appeared out of nowhere: Dante holding me, naked, his powerful, masculine hands stroking my round belly in which his baby was kicking.

  I knew it could never happen—he was totally off-limits and twice my age at least—but the thought still brought a smile to my lips as I finally drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  The cold mountain wind snaps me out of my daydream. I shake off the memory and I push off with my ski poles and follow Dante down the snowy slope. He glances back now and then to make sure I’m still with him, and he even shouts some words of encouragement.

  I feel so much more relaxed and confident without my mother watching my every move. I am enjoying being coached by Dante. My legs ache with exertion, but in a good way, and the smooth flow of snow beneath my skis is thrilling.

  As we approach the bottom of the slope, I don’t want it to end. But I know we will take the ski lift back up and do it all over again. I will sit next to Dante and ask him for advice as we ride up the mountain together.

  But I notice there is some kind of commotion at the bottom of the slope.

  “Oh fuck, stop! It hurts!”

  My mother’s voice echoes over the snow. At the bottom of the slope there is a small group of people huddled together. As I approach, I can see that my mother is there in the middle of them lying on the ground. A ski patrol paramedic is kneeling beside her.

  “Mom!” I shout, skiing toward her. Dante is already there.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks in his deep, smooth voice, which is filled with concern.

  “She’ll be OK,” says the guy in the ski patrol uniform, “but I think she’s sprained her ankle or maybe even broken it. She twisted it really badly coming down the last stretch. We’ll need to get her to a doctor ASAP.”

  2. DANTE

  Several hours and one trip to the doctor later, and we are back at our cottage. Daniela’s got her leg in an orthopaedic boot. She’s been slurring her speech from all the painkillers the doctor gave her, and now she’s in bed snoring loudly.

  I quietly pull the door shut behind me, and head downstairs.

  “How’s she doing?”

  It’s Trixie. I turn to answer her, and nearly tumble backward as I’m blown away by the sight of her. She has that effect on me all the time. I try to hide my reaction, but she must have some inkling of the effect she has on me.

  Right now she’s lying prone on the sofa by the fireplace. She’s propped up on her elbows swiping her way through an ebook, as usual. She’s wearing her glasses, and her straight blond hair drapes over her shoulders.

  She’s got on a baggy knit sweater, and I should be grateful that she’s concealing that luscious, nubile body of hers. I should be grateful that she’s sparing me the agony of trying to resist the temptation of her. I should be grateful, but I’m not.

  Anyway, the thing is, her baggy sweater only serves to enhance her wardrobe below the waist, which reveals a whole lot more. She’s wearing a pair of soft flannel pajama shorts that are so skimpy I can see the curve of her perfect little bum peeking out from the bottom.

  She calls them her comfy shorts, but they make me very uncomfortable—in a good way, that is. Her legs are smooth and tawny, and she’s kicking her shins back and forth absent-mindedly as she reads.

  She turns her head toward me, and she looks at me over the top of her glasses. My little bookworm.

  “Well?” she asks with a heart-melting smile.

  “Well what?”

  “How’s Mom?”

  “Oh right,” I say, slumping down into an armchair across from her. “She’s going to be just fine. But that ankle is going to keep her out of commission for the rest of the week. No more skiing for her this trip.

  “Aw poor Mom,” she says, with genuine sympathy in her voice.

  I know that she and her mom have a somewhat strained relationship, but she really does care about her. I could tell how worried she was today as we waited at the doctor’s office.

  “Well, it may have just been the painkillers talking, but when I was tucking her in, she absolutely insisted that you go out skiing tomorrow. She said she doesn’t want her injury to keep you off the slopes.”

  Trixie’s face brightens.

  “Will you be coming too, Dante?” she asks, “I can’t go by myself, and you’re such a good teacher.”

  God, that sounds so good. I would love to have the chance to spend the day alone with her. But it wouldn’t be right. She’s my girlfriend’s daughter.

  Well, technically she’s my ex-girlfriend’s daughter, although Trixie doesn’t realize that yet. Her mom and I broke up last week. It’s been a long time coming. But we decided to still go ahead with this ski trip, mainly for Trixie’s sake.

  I gaze into the fire that is roaring in the fireplace. It’s the only way I can keep from staring at Trixie. God that girl is beautiful.

  “Sorry little one, but I need to stay back at the cottage to look after your mother, but I’ll set you up with a really good instructor I know. He should be available tomorrow for lessons.

  Her face drops.

  “Hey,” I say, “it’s been a long day. You must be hungry, right?”

  “Starving!”

  Her face brightens a little, and my heart brightens along with it.

  “OK, you stay right there,” I tell her, “and I’ll whip us up something to eat.”

  “I’ll help you,” she offers, rising from the couch.

  “Oh no, I’ve got this. My treat. You just finish your book, little one. I insist.”

  The reason I insist is because the last time she helped me cook I almost sliced my fucking thumb off because I got distracted by the way she bit her lip while stirring the sauce. That girl is dangerous, and she doesn’t even realize it.

  I pan sear a couple of hanger steaks in butter and herbs and pop them in the oven to finish them off. While I’m chopping up the veggies for the salad, I glance over a Trixie where she’s still lying on her belly, nose in her ebook. From this angle I have a perfect view of her tight little ass, and I can’t help but stare.

  She shifts her butt a little to get comfortable, giving me a brief flash up her shorts. She’s not wearing any panties under them. My cock jumps at the sight, and I’m taken back to a few weeks ago, when I got an even better view.

  ***

  Her mother and I had been having one of our fights. I don’t even remember what it was about.

  Our fights had become more frequent and emotional in recent months. The only upside was that they somehow always ended with us having intense sex. More fights meant more sex. I guess it was kind of a silver lining.

  In this particular case, we were making our peace in the kitchen, with Daniela bent over the kitchen table so that I could take her from behind. I think we both preferred it that way because it felt less personal.

  As I was thrusting into her hard, taking out all of my frustration on her pussy, I glanced up at the mirror hanging on the wall in front of me, and my heart skipped a beat. In the reflection I could see a small silhouette standing in the doorway behind us. I could make out the smooth line of her bare legs, and the sensuous curve of her hips, and her messy slept-on hair. I
t was Trixie. She was watching.

  Just the thought of that beautiful little girl almost made me shoot too soon. I pulled my cock out just in time, blowing my hot load all over Daniela’s naked back. I tossed my head back and groaned. Fuck, I had never shot that hard and that much before in my life. It just kept coming out of me, and it was all because of that sweet little girl who had intruded into my mind.

  I glanced into the mirror again. The silhouette stood in the doorway for another moment and then slipped out of sight. I almost thought I had imagined it, but I knew that I hadn’t.

  “Fuck, look at the mess you made on my back, darling. Now I’ve got to take a shower.”

  Well it hadn’t been my idea to blow my load all over her back, I thought. If it were up to me, I would shoot my cum deep inside of her. My days of wanting nothing but casual sex were long behind me. I wanted to make babies—and a lot of them at that.

  But that’s not what Daniela wanted. She was a hard-working woman, and she felt like another pregnancy would interfere too much with her career. In fact, I think she resented Trixie for that very reason. She felt that her pregnancy with Trixie had set her back a few rungs on the corporate ladder, and she wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  Truth be told, the idea of making babies with Daniela didn’t quite sit right with me either. Physically she drove me wild—her luscious curves that she so fastidiously kept in shape, the exquisitely delicate features of her face, and maybe most of all that head full of silky golden hair.

  Someone with her jaw-dropping good looks, but combined with a sweeter, warmer demeanor—that would be the dream lover to carry my children in her womb. But where would I find someone like that?

  One woman came to mind, and she was right down the hall. But she was half my age. Fuck. Less than half actually. She was barely more than a girl. It was completely out of the question. She was totally off-limits.

  All of these thoughts were running through my head as I lay on the bed. Daniela was in the master bathroom’s shower, washing off the “mess” I had made. I had to take a leak, but when I got up and tried to open the bathroom door, I discovered Daniela had locked it.

  She was weird like that. One minute she would spread herself wide so I could pound her with my cock, and the next minute she would feel that it was inappropriate for me to see her naked body in the shower. I didn’t get the logic, but I had to piss, so I headed down the hallway to the other upstairs bathroom.

  As I was walking down the dark hallway, my ears caught a sound, faint and delicate. It was coming from the guest room Trixie was staying in.

  Her door was shut, but not completely. The door had been pulled to, but there was a tiny gap between the door and the frame that let a wire-thin line of silver moonlight through.

  God those sounds. Even though I had just blown the biggest load of my life only a few minutes ago, the sounds coming from her room made my cock stir in my boxer briefs.

  She was moaning softly.

  I knew I shouldn’t look, but I just couldn’t resist. The sounds of that gorgeous girl pleasuring herself in my house were simply too enticing. I put one eye to the crack in the door and peered in.

  There she was, in all her knee-buckling glory.

  She was having herself a little solo session, and she was really going to town. Her naked ass was up in the air, the round cheeks glowing in the light of the moon. From within the shadow between her legs, the light caught the contours of her glistening pussy lips.

  Her body shuddered as the orgasm rippled through her muscles. Her pussy squirted her juices across the covers of the bed and onto the floor. She looked so delicious like that, totally consumed by her orgasm. It was so hot, I damn near blew another load in my shorts without even touching myself.

  After that, I lay awake half the night with the two sides of my brain playing tug of war. One side said I had to have that beautiful young pussy. I had to claim it, breed it, drench it with my seed. But the other side said it was totally forbidden. Somehow that just made it hotter.

  This was bad. Really really bad. But why is it that bad things feel so fucking good? That was the last thought that rattled through my fevered mind as I finally drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  “Oh my god, Dante, this is better than sex!” Trixie says as she pops the last piece of steak into her mouth, rolling her eyes back in her head.

  “Trixie!”

  I can’t help but chuckle, but I’ve never heard her talk that way before. On the one hand, it makes me want to rip her clothes off and claim her here and now on the dinner table. On the other hand, it makes me wonder what kind of sex life she’s been having at college.

  It’s none of my business. Nevertheless, a stab of jealousy makes me tense up for a fraction of a second. A breathtaking girl like Trixie no doubt has hordes of young college guys throwing themselves at her. The thought of those immature dopes fumbling with her precious body is almost too much to bear.

  “Are you OK, Dante?” she asks. She must have seen that fleeting pang of possessiveness flash across my face.

  “All good, little one,” I lie. “It’s just been a long day.”

  I take a sip of wine to try and loosen the knots in my stomach.

  “I know it has, Dante. You’ve been so great. You take such good care of us. I think you just need a chance to relax a bit.”

  Her ankle grazes mine under the table, and all of those knots cinch tighter than before. The crotch of my jeans gets a little bit tight as well. She’s right, I do need to relax, but the way she’s biting her soft lower lip really isn’t helping.

  “I know what would be perfect!” she exclaims, a curious twinkle in her eyes.

  “What’s that?” I ask, taking a bigger sip of wine.

  “We haven’t broken in the hot tub out back yet. It would be a shame to let the whole week go by without at least using it once—”

  I damn near choke on the wine going down my throat.

  “Come on! It’ll be fun,” she begs. “And it’ll be relaxing too.”

  She gives me a wicked look as she says that last bit. Relaxing. Yeah right. There’s no way I’m getting in that hot tub with my girlfriend’s daughter. It’s totally inappropriate, right?

  My answer to Trixie starts off in my mind as a “no,” but by the time it reaches my lips, it comes out as “Yes.”

  Fuck. Now how did that happen?

  “Great!” Trixie squeals, hopping up from the dinner table. “I’ll get my swimsuit.”

  3. TRIXIE

  I must be out of my mind.

  After I shut the door to my room oh so quietly—so as not to wake my mother—I lean back against the closed door and let out a sigh. I feel so giddy and silly it’s like I’m back in high school again. I know it’s totally inappropriate, but I just can’t wait to take a dip in the hot tub with Dante.

  I spring over to the dresser and pull out the top drawer where I’ve stashed my secret weapon—an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny bikini. I just bought it last week especially for this trip because I knew there would be a hot tub here, and I’ve been waiting ever since to show it off to Dante.

  Doesn’t it only seem right that I should give him a little peek, considering that I’ve seen him completely naked? I mean, he doesn’t know that…or does he? Hey, either way, fair is fair. I want to return the favor. In fact I can’t wait.

  I slip out of my comfy shorts and my big sweater, and pull on the bikini. It’s a thong, and it just feels so fucking sexy wedged in between my cheeks. I turn to check myself out in the mirror, and my pussy creams a little at the thought of showing my bare ass to Dante.

  This swimsuit is pretty darn scandalous. If my mom saw me wearing this thing, she’d definitely shit a brick. But I don’t have to worry about that now.

  As I slip the skimpy bikini top over by boobs and tie the string behind my neck, I take one last look in the mirror. I’m so fucking turned on just thinking about Dante that my nipples are fully erect and poking through the thin f
abric. Perfect. I want my handsome protective man to see everything.

  My hand is on the doorknob, and I freeze. This is wrong. This is so very very wrong.

  Seriously, I’ve got to be losing it, right? I’m totally delusional. I mean, this man is totally off-limits in so many ways it’s not even funny. A mature gentleman like Dante is probably only into mature ladies too. To him I must just be a goofy little girl. Maybe I should get back into my sweater, go downstairs, and tell him I’ve changed my mind.

  Then I hear the sound of the hot tub bubbling out back and a faint splash that must be Dante climbing into the water.

  Fuck it. It’s now or never.

  I open the door and tiptoe down the hall past the room where my mom is sleeping. She’s snoring like crazy. I go downstairs and head for the back patio door. When I step outside, the bracing winter air tightens my skin and makes my little nipples go even stiffer than they already were.

  Dante is already in the hot tub. The churning water is up to his beefy chest, which I so badly want to dig my fingernails into. There are thick tendrils of steam rising from the water's surface, partially obscuring his face. He has his head leaned back, resting against the edge of the hot tub, and his eyes are closed.

  “Dante,” I say softly as I cross the patio to the hot tub.

  He opens his eyes sleepily, as if I woke him from a cat nap. Then he does a double take as he catches sight of my body in my barely-there bikini. His jaw nearly drops into the water.

  “What do you think of my bikini?” I ask, doing a quick fashion model twirl to give him just a flash of my bare behind. “You don’t think it’s too small, do you?”

  Dante’s eyes are wide with amazement. He swallows hard.

  “Sorry, what did you say, Trixie?” he asks absent-mindedly as his eyes pan up and down my body, lingering momentarily on my breasts, and again between my legs.

  I giggle. I know it’s naughty of me to do this to poor Dante, and totally inappropriate, but it’s just too much fun. Even if we can’t be together, I still can’t resist giving him a little show. I’d like to take it even farther, to pull the strings on my hips and let the bikini fall to the ground so he could really feast his eyes—and maybe his mouth too. The thought gives me a delicious little shiver. Or maybe that’s just the cold winter air.