21 Taboo Tales

by Robin Pressley

  Being a big guy, the impact doesn’t phase me any more than a soft breeze. I catch the girl to steady her and keep her from falling. She’s so little that my big clumsy mitts wrap all the way around the circumference of her upper arms

  God, she’s petite. Well, petite isn’t exactly the right word, is it?

  To put it politely, she’s a small girl, but she takes up a lot of space, if you know what I mean. The voluptuous swell of her breasts presses hard against my abdomen. Ever so gently, I push the girl back, still gripping her arms firmly in my rough, grimy hands to hold her steady. If I’d known I would be putting my hands on such a pure little princess, I would have scrubbed them better after working.

  But here’s the kicker—her plain white T-shirt is completely soaked through, and it is blatantly obvious that she’s not wearing any bra underneath it. The thin material is plastered to her skin, and I can see everything. And I do mean everything. Her perfect, pink nipples are pebble hard in the cold rain.

  I can’t help looking for the briefest instant. After all, I am still a man. It isn’t a choice, but an ungovernable impulse to look at breasts that fucking perfect. However, I’m also a gentleman, or at least I try to be, so I immediately snap my eyes up to her face and swallow hard.

  “Are you OK?” I ask her.

  She nods her head. Her pale gray eyes stare up at me imploringly. I’ve never thought gray could be vibrant but somehow her eyes are just that, so full of spirit and something else underneath that makes my spine tingle.

  It’s probably just the rain, but I think I can see some teardrops mixed in there too, rolling down her cheeks that still retain a hint of baby fat. Her lips are full and raw and pink. Her lower lip is quivering, whether from the cold or from emotion, I can’t say.

  What I do know is that I want to take her pretty young face in my hands as she looks up at me with those pleading eyes. I want to claim her perfect mouth and tell her I will take care of her and protect her.

  But for now, I just need to get this girl out of the rain. I unlatch the passenger door and swing it wide.

  “In you go,” I tell her.

  The big towtruck’s frame sits pretty high off the ground, so I have to help her get in. I put my hands around her waist and hoist her up into the cab. She doesn’t resist at all.

  As I lift her, the hem of her t-shirt scrunches up a little, and I feel her smooth supple skin under my palms. On top of that, as the girl clambers into the passenger seat, I get an unexpected look at the sultry shape of her tush. She’s wearing short denim cutoffs, and the bottom curve of her cheeks smiles out at me from under the tattered fringe of her shorts.

  My blood pumps harder. My mouth waters. My bulge strains against my own jeans. I grit my teeth and try to ignore those totally inappropriate impulses. I don’t know how old this girl is, but she’s definitely off limits. Hell, she looks young enough to be my damn daughter.

  That thought just reminds me how much I want to take care of this little girl. As she settles her behind into the passenger seat, a shiver runs through her.

  “You must be freezing!” I say.

  I reach past her to the console to crank up the car heater. As I’m doing so, my body pushes past her. I feel those soft, round breasts against my shoulder and the silky smooth skin of her plump thighs. The smell of her envelops me like a cloud of fresh, youthful femininity. I didn’t mean to touch her. Or did I? And I could have sworn I heard her gasp a little at my touch.

  “Thank you,” she half whispers as I withdraw from the cab.

  “Don’t worry, everything is going to be all right,” I tell her, as I stand there at the passenger side door. She looks so damn sweet sitting there in the bucket seat, I could stand here and watch her all day.

  “Mister,” she says. “You’re getting rained on!”

  I totally forgot about the rain. I didn’t even feel it. What the hell is happening to me. I reach behind the seat to grab my rain poncho and heavy-duty Mag-Lite. I also grab a couple of clean towels for the girl. They aren’t much, barely bigger than hand towels, but they’re better than nothing.

  “Here, you can use these to dry off,” I tell her. “I’m going to take a look at your car.”

  I shove the door closed, pull the poncho over my already drenched head, and set off into the rain toward the broken down VW.

  Just when I thought his day couldn’t get any crazier, this happens. I know I shouldn’t be feeling the way I feel toward this girl. I try to push those thoughts out of my mind as I set to work in the rain.

  But those eyes. And that body. This girl is going to get me into big trouble, I can just feel it.

  Damn. When it rains it pours…

  3. JORDYN

  I bounce in my seat as Nolan drives me to the nearest mechanic’s shop. The rain has slackened while he was hooking up my car to the towtruck, and now the windshield wipers were beating a slow steady rhythm.

  I glanced over at him, trying not to be too obvious about it. I can’t believe how big he is—a hulking mountain of a man. He has the driver seat pushed back as far as it will go, but he still seems cramped, his bulging, denim-clad thighs splayed out to give himself room. His massive, tattoed arms are still beaded with rain, and he clutches the steering wheel with his powerful hands.

  When he reaches down to put his hand on the knob of the gear shifter, his knuckles brush my bare knee. It may or may not be because I moved my knee closer on purpose.

  He glances over at me, and our eyes met. He looks so stern and serious. His hair is all mussed up from when he dried it with the towel that is now draped over his shoulders. A damp lock of hair curls down his forehead. He’s going gray, especially around the temples, and I like that. It makes him looked experienced. Like he knows what he’s doing. Like he’s totally in control.

  The moment passes, and he draws his hand back.

  “Sorry,” he says gruffly.

  “That’s okay,” I reply.

  Then to myself, I say, You can do it again if you want to. No really you can.

  I watch the muscles of his thighs shifting under his tight jeans as he works the pedals. Without warning I find myself getting swept up in a fantasy. I’m imagining what it would be like to climb over and straddle his waist. To let my hips sink down onto his crotch. I imagine him reaching around to grip me tightly from behind as I rock against his stone-hard body. He squeezes my ass with those powerful, manly hands, his fingers slipping inside the bottom of her shorts to touch me, to caress me—

  Suddenly I snap out of my daydream. Oh my God, I’ve been getting wet as hell thinking about him. Good thing my clothes are still soaked through from the rain so he can’t tell.

  God, what is this guy doing to me? I never never never get worked up like this over a guy. Okay, sure, I’ve dated a few guys, but that was different. Really all I wanted was to have someone want me. Like, really want me. Maybe that sounds bad, but it’s true.

  It’s kind of funny because all of the guys I’ve dated were the kind of guys that other girls went crazy over. Take Ben for example. Whenever we would go out, he would always have girls hitting on him as if I wasn’t even there.

  The thing is, those other girls could give him what he wanted. They could give him what I couldn’t give. Sex. It’s not like I didn’t try to give it to him. Oh my, did we try, but it never worked, and that’s why he dumped me.

  That’s also the reason this gray grizzly bear sitting behind the wheel of this tow truck is completely off-limits. It would never work because of my embarrassing little personal problem.

  You see, the problem is that my pussy is too tight. Every time I’ve ever tried to do with a guy, it wouldn’t fit. And we’re not talking about giant dongs here. Actually one of the reasons I started going out with Ben was because my friend Candy hooked up with him years ago, and she told me in a moment of drunken honesty that he had a tiny little prick. I thought that would be perfect for me, but even Ben couldn’t fit it inside. We tried every position known to man pl
us a fucking gallon of lube, but nothing would work.

  Shit. Maybe I should just become a nun. Oh well, in the meantime, I can dream a little, right?

  The fantasy about Nolan comes rushing back into my mind involuntarily. How it would feel to have my damp hair clutched in his fingers as ride him. The feel of our lips crushed together in wet ecstasy. The scratch of his scruff against my cheek.

  I snap back to reality again. Fuck! I squirm in my seat, trying to ignore the warm wetness between my legs.

  Whenever we get to the mechanic’s shop, I’m going to pick up some coolant for my ovaries.

  “You OK?” Nolan asks with a note of genuine concern in his deep, rumbling voice. “Sorry I don’t have more towels in the truck. I usually don’t have to deal with this amount of moisture.”

  I laugh nervously. I know he’s only talking about the rain, but still…

  “Damn,” Nolan softly curses.

  “What’s the matter.”

  He pulls over into a lot beside a mechanic's shop, but the place is dark.

  “Looks like Wade closed early because of the rain. Well, we can drop your car off here for now. I can get in touch with Wade and let him know what needs to be done tomorrow. Or we can try someplace else, but it’s getting late. Most of the shops will be closed soon anyway.”

  “That’s okay,” I tell him. “This works. And I can call an Uber to take me home.”

  “Nonsense,” Nolan says. His voice is gruff, but he has a warm, tummy-tingling smile on his face. “I’ll drive you home.”

  He hops out of the cab and sets to work taking Vinny off the back of the tow truck. I slump back in my seat. I’m almost exhausted from being so turned on.

  Off limits, I remind myself. Off fucking limits.

  4. NOLAN

  I tried taking a cold shower as soon as I got home, but it didn’t do shit. I still have a boner so hard it’s almost painful. I can’t get her image out of my mind. The way she looked up at me with those puppy dog eyes rimmed with smudged mascara. The soft, pouting curve of her trembling lower lip. Her perfect, ripe breasts.

  But it’s so damn wrong to think of her like that. I mean, like I keep telling myself: she’s young enough to be my daughter for Christ’s sake!

  Gotta do something about this, but I’m sure as hell not gonna give in to this fantasy.

  Suddenly I get a bright idea. Cold shower didn’t work? How about a whole bathtub full of ice water? I check the freezer, but all I have in there are two ice-cube trays, and one of them is half empty already. No way that would be enough to chill out my big ass. Fuck it—

  I tuck my hardon up under my belt to hide it as best I can, and I untuck my flannel shirt to cover my crotch better. Grabbing my keys off the hook on the wall, I head out to my truck. I’m going to drive down to the gas station in town, buy every bag of ice that they’ve got, dump it all in the tub and put my Johnson in deep freeze until I forget all about that little girl.

  It feels good to be taking action. I ought to know it’s pointless though.

  Outside it’s dark. The cicadas have come out after the rain to make their music in the trees. I scrunch myself up into the cab of the truck, being careful not to bend the steel-hard rod I have tucked behind my belt when all of a sudden it hits me like a ton of bricks.

  The smell of her permeates the whole truck. There are layers to it—smells on top of smells—and I breathe it in deep like a sommelier sniffing a fine wine. Sure, there is the faint smell of her perfume. Something flowery and sweet. Girly. And there is the fruity smell of her shampoo too. The rain had brought that out. But under it all is the real, raw, living scent of her, and that’s the part that drives me over the edge.

  It all comes rushing back over me then. The memory of her sitting there in the passenger seat in her cutoff shorts. Her smooth bare thighs were speckled with droplets of rain like beads of cool sweat. I wanted to kiss them so bad, to lick away the raindrops, working my way up her thighs.

  I wonder if she had caught me stealing glances at her on the drive from the mechanic’s shop back to her apartment. It was crazy, but it was like I could feel this heat radiating off of her in waves.

  Now I imagine what it would be like to have her crawl up into my lap. Her legs spread wide to straddle me. Her hot center grinding out her desire on my hard cock. My face buried between those lush tits. The smell of her enveloping me.

  Shit, I can’t take it anymore.

  I won’t be getting any ice. Not tonight. I stumble back into the house, and if any neighbors see me they probably think I’m drunk. Hell, I practically am. Drunk on her. Too drunk to go get ice, that’s for sure.

  The front door slams behind me. By this point my cock is so throbbing hard it feels like it is going to rip out of my jeans. Did she see how hard it was before, when I was driving her? Did she notice? God, I wanted to show it to her. I wanted to have her naked body pressed against me. Her hot flesh on mine.

  I drop trow right there in the hall. By now my cock is so hard it feels like it’s going to shoot off like a damn rocket. I start jerking it, thinking of her.

  I see her again now as I saw her the first time on the side of the road in the rain. Those beautiful gray eyes looking up at me, pleading. On the side of the road that expression had been her pleading for help. Someone to take care of her. Protect her. Keep her safe. But now in my mind, it is something else she’s begging for.

  I imagine her sliding her warm, wet mouth down onto my cock, never breaking the connection between our eyes. I’m stroking myself hard now. Part of me knows it’s wrong to think of her this way, but that part is taking a back seat.

  As I jack my cock, I imagine the soft texture of her tongue against the underside of my shaft as she devours me. I imagine her taking the whole thing. I come so hard I nearly blast a hole in the damn drywall.

  The crazy thing is, I can’t remember the last time I jerked off. It’s been years, that’s for sure. That girl shook something loose inside me, and I’m afraid there isn’t any way to put it back.

  Later, I lie sprawled on my bed, dripping with perspiration. As I doze off, I think of how I saw her last, when I dropped her off at home. She had asked me how much the towing would cost her. I lied and said that her insurance covered it.

  I had planned to get out like a gentleman, open her door for her, and that would be that. Never see her again.

  But she had been too quick for me. She leaned over from the passenger seat, placed one little hand on my thigh to balance herself, and gave me the sweetest little peck on my scruffy cheek. Her lips were so tender, so soft. I had been speechless.

  “Thank you,” was all she said.

  She smiled, a devious twinkle in her eyes, and then slipped out of the truck, quick and quiet as a cat, and ran up the sidewalk to her apartment barefoot, her shoes dangling in her hand. My sweet little girl.

  Oh brother, I’m in deep.

  5. JORDYN

  It’s been a few days since I got stranded on the side of the road and saved by Nolan, and I still can’t get him out of my head.

  I have the whole day off from both classes and work, so I’ve hired an Uber to take me out to the shop to see about my car. I talked to the mechanic on the phone a couple of days before, and he ran through the extensive list of problems that needed to be fixed. We came to an agreement that we would only make those repairs that were necessary to get Vinny on the road again. I knew I should take care of the other problems too, but I couldn’t afford it all. After a bit of haggling, we finally came to an agreement on the price of the repairs. It wasn’t cheap, but I can handle it.

  “Here we are,” my driver says as we pull up in front of the shop. It’s a hot, sunny day, and now I get a good look at the place for the first time. It looks a bit sketchy in the daylight, but I poked around online a little, and the place seems legit. Still, I ask the driver to wait for me, just in case.

  “The mechanic told me that my car is running again, but please just wait for a few minutes. I don
’t want to get stranded out here.”

  The Uber driver agrees, but he seems noncommittal.

  The place is quiet, but the garage is open so I go inside. It’s dark inside and it takes my eyes a few moments to adjust after the glaring sunlight outside. There’s the faint sound of an old Hank Williams tune playing on a radio somewhere, but other than that, there are no signs of life.

  “Hello?” I call out. “Anybody here?” When I don’t get a reply, I venture to the other side of the garage, and there’s my car. It looks ready to go, though I can’t really tell. I need to find the mechanic. Right on cue, a strange voice comes from behind me, making me jump.

  “Well hello there lil’ lady.”

  I spin around and see the mechanic, who has somehow snuck up behind me without a sound. He’s dressed in dirty coveralls that sag on his wiry frame. His hands are covered in black grime and he wipes them on a handkerchief that is so filthy it’s probably putting more dirt on his fingers than it’s cleaning off. His face is gaunt, and he has big creepy eyes.

  “This must be yer Vokes Wagon, right?”

  He grins at me, revealing that he’s missing about half of his teeth, and he clearly isn’t taking care of the ones he has left.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I say.

  I try to sound chipper and keep my voice from shaking, but this guy gives me really bad vibes. I try to edge a bit closer to the garage door, back to the sun, but he has positioned himself to block my path. He tosses his dirty rag onto the floor at his feet.

  “When you called, I could tell from yer voice that you were a real purdy girl,” he says.

  He looks me up and down, and I shiver a little. I really don’t like the creepy way he’s looking at me.

  “Well, if the car’s ready, I can go ahead and pay you and be on my way,” I say, trying to hide the nervousness I was feeling. At least the Uber driver was still out there, right?