21 Taboo Tales

by Robin Pressley

“B-but, I’m not on birth control, Cason,” I let him know.

  “Good,” he growls. “I’d be pissed if I found out that you were. Just look at your body, princess. You’re meant to have a baby inside you, and I’m not gonna rest until you do.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is so far over the line—totally forbidden. I mean, he’s my Daddy’s best friend for goodness sake.

  “You mean…you’re gonna make me pregnant?” I stammer.

  Cason has already pulled off his tie, and now he is deftly working the buttons of his dress shirt. A moment later, and he has shirked it off his musclebound shoulders and tossed it somewhere across the room, allowing me to feast my eyes on his chiseled pecs and abs which are lined with just the right amount of salt and pepper fur.

  “That’s right,” he growls aggressively. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Antoinette. It’s the only way I can keep you with me forever, so I can keep your naughty little butt in line. Now get on the couch on all fours like a good girl. I wanna see that dirty little tramp stamp while I pound your pussy from behind.”

  It’s so wrong. And there’s no way that we’ll be able to hide this from my parents. But I can’t resist him. I need to feel him spill his seed inside me. I need to have my sexy older stud’s baby growing in my womb.

  “On the couch,” Cason demands again. “All fours. Ass up.”

  My body is on the verge of spontaneously combusting as I do exactly what my demanding daddy says. I crawl onto the couch on my hands and knees and arch my back, offering my pussy to him.

  I watch over my shoulder as Cason kicks off his dress shoes, drops his pants and underwear, and pulls off his socks. Now he’s just as naked as me. The only thing he’s wearing is a chunky, Rolex watch. And the only thing I’m wearing is my sexy little baby-girl choker.

  “Good girl,” Cason says as he climbs behind me.

  He grips his cock and angles it up and down, brushing his cockhead, still wet with my slobber and his oozing precum between my even wetter petals of flesh. I wiggle my butt as he teases me like that until finally he lines himself up with my hole.

  “Is it gonna hurt, Daddy?” I whimper, glancing nervously over my shoulder.

  “Just a little bit at first,” he soothes. “Then you’ll get used to it.”

  My fingers bite and dig into the leather upholstery as I prepare to take Cason’s cock. He wedges his blunt head against my hole and then gripping my hips tightly he starts to thrust.

  He’s right, it hurts at first as his incredible girth stretches the muscles of my pelvis. But I do my best to relax and melt into him, and soon my walls accommodate his thickness. He impales me until he is hilt-deep in my wet hole, his hips pressed firmly against my tush.

  “Oh God, Daddy,” I whine, squeezing the leather even tighter. “You feel so big inside me.”

  He starts to fuck me, first with long gliding strokes, until he is confident I can handle it, and then he gradually increases the pace until he’s pounding me from behind with a rapid rhythm.

  My dangling tits swing and jiggle with each jolt of my body as he thrusts into me. One big, firm hand slides over my ribcage and clutches one breast, squeezing and kneading it, and pinching the erect nipple.

  “Fuck your pussy is the tightest thing I’ve ever felt, princess.”

  He swivels his hips, stirring his pole in my channel like he’s trying to stretch and reem me even wider. My sensitive inner walls tingle and thrill at the touch of his hard cock fucking and churning inside me.

  “Fuck me harder, Daddy!” I scream.

  Cason smacks my butt cheek for using a bad word, but he obliges me just the same. Raising the tempo to a fevered pace, he pummels my pussy so hard that I feel like he might break me. Dropping my face onto the couch cushions, I slide one hand between my legs and splay my fingers to feel him sliding in and out of my opening.

  “Are you ready, baby girl?” He grunts behind me. “Are you ready for Daddy to stain your virgin cunt with his seed?”

  “Oh yes, Daddy,” I beg. “Please come inside me. Please—“

  But my words get garbled as another toe-curling orgasm breaks over me. My hips buck uncontrollably as shock waves of pleasure wrack my tender body.

  Behind me, Cason grunts. His cock pulses inside me, spurting streams of hot semen into my depths as my channel flutters around him and milks his throbbing shaft. At last he plants himself fully in my core and holds himself there as he spills the rest of his abundant load. There is so much that it oozes out of me and drips onto the expensive leather.

  “Oh no, Daddy,” I gasp. “We’ve ruined the couch.”

  “Fuck it,” he snorts. “I’ll get a new one, and we can ruin that one too.”

  As his orgasm finally starts to subside, he withdraws his cock and squirts a few final ropes across my tailbone, painting my tramp stamp—my target—with his cum.

  “That felt so good,” I mumble as Cason gathers my weak, quivering body in his arms.

  We stretch out together on the couch, and as I catch my breath, his fingers wander and explore my sweat-sheened body.

  “Cason,” I whisper at last. “Do you think it worked? Do you think you got me pregnant?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he says rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “If it didn’t happen this time, I’ll just keep fucking you and pumping you full of cum until it does.”

  I smile.

  “I hope it takes a few tries,” I giggle. “But Cason, what about my mom and dad? What will we tell them?”

  “You just let me worry about that,” he says softly, giving my breast a firm squeeze.

  Cason’s fingertip traces along my breastbone and down my soft, twitching belly. I giggle as he circles my belly button, tickling me.

  Then his finger stops.

  “Antoinette…” his voice grows stern again. “What the fuck is this?”

  “W-what?” I stammer, although I know full well what he’s talking about. Shit, Cason has even better eyesight than I thought.

  “This,” he says sharply, prodding his thick index finger at the lip of my belly button. There’s a little pierced hole there. It’s super tiny, but if you look closely, you can see it. I was in such a hurry to sneak out of the house earlier that I forgot to put my belly button ring in. But Cason has caught me just the same.

  “You have a belly button piercing, don’t you?” he growls.

  “Cason,” I beg, “please, you won’t tell my parents about this, right?”

  I squeal as he sits up and lifts me, flipping me over onto my belly, leaving my bare bottom exposed across his lap again.

  “Hell no, I’m not gonna tell them.” His voice is like rumbling thunder. “I’m gonna handle this my way. But this time I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

  Close Encounter

  It’s Mom’s snoring that wakes me up.

  One second, I’m sleeping so peacefully, bundled up in my brand new sleeping bag that I bought especially for this dumb camping trip, and then all of a sudden, the loud, Harley-Davidsonesque sound of her snoring startles me awake.

  And not a moment too soon, I might add, because I was having another one of my naughty dreams. One of my dreams about Braxton.

  In the dream, we were at the beach, which is a perfect example of wish fulfillment because that’s where I wanted to go for this family holiday instead of camping out in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere. Anyway, in the dream, the bright sun was sizzling hot, lighting up a pristine, white sand beach that was completely deserted. The blue-green waves were crashing lazily at the shore, and a few white seagulls squawked as they glided overhead.

  I was lying on my tummy in my favorite teensy-weensy string bikini. Braxton was applying sun-tan lotion to my back with a masterful touch, his strong, rough hands working the slippery lotion deep into my skin while simultaneously massaging and relaxing my muscles.

  Without saying a word, he untied the back of my bikini top, and I let the strings fall to either side so I w
ouldn’t get any tan lines. Then, at Braxton’s suggestion, I let him untie and remove my bikini bottoms too, leaving my plump little tushy exposed to the warmth of the sun and my sexy older man’s intense gaze.

  After he thoroughly lotioned and massaged my rump, kneading my buttocks like two firm lumps of dough, he gave my bottom a playful little smack and told me to roll over so that he could put some lotion on my front too.

  And that’s when Mom’s snoring woke me up and my mind was transported from the fantasy of a warm, sun-drenched white-sand beach to a dark and chilly tent in the middle of the woods.

  Like I said, not a moment too soon.

  You probably think I’m being sarcastic, right? I bet you think I actually wish my dream had finished. Well, you’re wrong. I’m dead serious. I mean sure, I’d enjoy a nice full body rubdown from a masculine pair of hands as much as the next girl. But my little dream was way too twisted and pervy to go on. I mean, like, totally taboo.

  Why, you ask? Because Braxton is my Mom’s long-time boyfriend, and he’s practically been a daddy to me for as long as I can remember.

  Wrong. So freaking wrong.

  But why did it feel so darn right in the dream? Why does part of me want to roll over and go straight back to sleep to see if I can pick up the dream where I left off? There’s only one answer I can think of…

  I’m a pervert. A filthy little pervert.

  Knuckling away the sleep crusties from my eyes, I take a deep breath and let myself come fully back to reality. The interior of the cabin is almost entirely dark, which means it is still deep in the middle of the night. The enclosed space is filled with the sound of my Mom’s loud snores, and I wonder if she has woken Braxton up too.

  I don’t hear any noise coming from his side of the tent, so I guess he must be asleep, although I have no clue how. He must just be used to the noise after years of sleeping with my mom.

  Well, I’m sure as heck not gonna be dozing off anytime soon, not with all of that racket my mom is making.

  Rolling over, I quietly rummage through my bag, which is right next to me, and I dig out my phone. Cupping my hand over the screen to avoid lighting up the whole tent, I check the time.

  Shit, it’s only 2:30 a.m. I’m gonna have to listen to Mom’s snoring all night, and that means I’ll be dead on my feet during our hike tomorrow. That totally sucks balls too, because we are planning to hike up to Ripley Falls, which is a famous waterfall in the area. That’s the one part of the trip I’ve actually been looking forward to.

  Oh well…

  With a sigh, I fumble through my bag again until I find my mini Maglite and my Kindle, which is bursting at the seams with all the steamy stories I’ve loaded up for this trip. Once I’ve got everything I need, I slip out of the silky fabric of my sleeping bag, and dressed in my thermal undies, I crawl to the entrance of the tent.

  If I have to be awake all night, I’m not gonna spend it here in this cramped and noisy tent.

  Opening the zipper, I stick my head out into the cool night breeze and sniff the forest air. Overhead, the winds are stirring the treetops, making the pine needles flutter and whisper. The breeze carries earthy scents of mushroom covered logs and the sweet and bitter odor of leaves and needles, along with the pungent, charred odor from the remains of our campfire from last night.

  When I hear a strange rustling noise of a nocturnal creature, I duck back inside the tent. But a moment later, a low “hoo hoo-hoo!” calls from the trees, and I realize it’s only an owl. Feeling a bit ashamed for being such a scaredy-cat, I pull on my boots and crawl outside, zipping the tent shut behind me.

  Our tent is set up in a tiny little clearing with dark trees towering all around, but the moonlight through the opening in the branches gives just enough light for me to see the stone circle that holds the ashes of our fire, surrounded by three folding chairs and a little pile of fire wood.

  I head to one of the seats, plunk my butt down, and turn on my Kindle, but before I even have a chance to read one word, a sound in the woods behind me jolts me out of my chair, the fine hairs on the nape of my neck standing erect.

  No clue what that was, but it sure as heck wasn’t an owl.

  My first thought is that it’s a bear that’s wants eat me. My second thought is that it’s some snaggle-toothed hillbillies who want to make me eat them. Even worse!

  Raising my mini Mag-lite, I click the button and aim the bright beam in the direction of the noise. What I see illuminated in the trees makes my jaw drop.

  It’s not a bear.

  It’s not a backwoods redneck.

  It’s Braxton. He’s wearing next to nothing—just a pair of boxer shorts and his hiking boots. For me it seems way too chilly to be shirtless outside, but Braxton is a real manly man, so I guess it doesn’t bother him. Anyway, the thing that really gets my attention isn’t what he has on.

  It’s what he has out.

  Braxton is taking a piss against a tree, and from where I’m standing I’ve got a clear view of his penis which is hanging out over the pulled-down elastic of his boxer briefs.

  And it’s huge. Like, insanely huge. And it’s not even hard.

  My mouth waters, and a sudden and unexpected heat pulses and spreads between my trembling thighs.

  “What the fuck?” Braxton blurts as he raises a hand to shield his eyes from my glaring flashlight beam.

  “Sorry!” I yelp, immediately turning away.

  “Lacie?” Braxton says in surprise.

  Shoot, I’m so embarrassed right now that all I want to do is scamper back inside the tent, crawl up inside my sleeping bag, and die.

  I just saw my mom’s boyfriend’s enormous cock. And what’s worse, I liked it. Well at least Braxton doesn’t know that last part. Although, if my stupid nipples don’t stop poking through my top, it will be hard to hide. Maybe I can just blame it on the chilly night air.

  “I’m sorry,” I sputter, heading back to the tent. “I didn’t see anything…”

  But before I can go back inside, Braxton’s hushed voice calls to me.

  “Lacie, hang on sweetheart.”

  I freeze, not daring to turn around in case I see that monster dong again. Just thinking about it is making my nips pebble-hard beneath my top and my pussy is creaming so hard in my thermal underwear that the fabric is started to soak through.

  God, what is wrong with me? Why am I such a little pervy girl?

  Braxton’s boot feet tromp toward me across the forest floor.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “You can turn around.”

  My cheeks and ears are scalding hot with embarrassment, but there’s a slight chuckle in Braxton’s voice that sets me at ease. I turn around to find that he has come up right behind me, and my eyes go on autopilot for a few seconds, grazing over his spectacular body.

  The moonlight casts a soft, blueish sheen across his thick lustrous head of hair that I have more than once fantasized about curling my fingers through. His neck is strong and corded with muscles that taper down into is round, bulging shoulders. His torso and arms are ripped, with deep, carved lines separating his abs, and sexy veins popping along his arms and trailing down into the top of his boxer briefs.

  I feel a twinge of disappointment when my eyes land on the crotch of his tight undies and find that he has tucked his long, meaty cock back inside. An even greater feeling of shame immediately follows—shame that I want to see that magnificent penis one more time.

  My whole body heats inside my thermal undies, and I start to sweat. It’s a good thing, because maybe that will disguise the slippery wetness pooling between my legs.

  Struggling to get my stupid body under control, I flick my eyes up to meet Braxton’s.

  “I didn’t see anything,” I stammer again.

  A cocky smirk tugs at the corner of Braxton’s mouth.

  “You know,” he chuckles, “If you really didn’t see anything, then how come you keep saying that?”

  The blush in my face and ears feels like it q
uadruples, and I can only hope that the darkness of the night time hides it. Braxton is right, of course, and I can’t think of anything to say.

  “Listen, don’t worry about it,” he says, “It was my fault. I should have gone a little farther off to take a leak. But what are you doing up so late?”

  I just shake my head, letting my hair fall in front of my face to conceal my embarrassment and wishing like all get-out that my crazy little nipples would stop trying to poke their way all the way through the fabric of my top.

  “I just couldn’t sleep, y’know?”

  Right on cue, an especially loud snort like the rumble of a chainsaw emanates from the tent, and Braxton gives me a knowing nod. He’s had to put up with Mom’s annoying snoring for years now. Somewhere in the deepest, naughtiest part of my mind, I think that he deserves just one night with a girl who doesn’t snore.

  But who am I kidding? Braxton would never want anything to do with a young little girl like me. I mean, sure, I’m nineteen now, so I’m technically an adult, but I’m half Braxton’s age and young enough to be his daughter.

  Thank goodness he doesn’t know that I’m a virgin, at least.

  “Well,” Braxton says, his voice suddenly tightening slightly. “I guess I’m gonna head back inside and try to catch some Zs. Don’t you stay up too late, okay? You’ll need your energy for that big waterfall hike tomorrow.”

  I nod. But Braxton doesn’t go inside. Instead he lingers a moment longer. His eyes rake over my body, and I can almost feel his gaze like the touch of fingertips.

  “Lacie—“

  But before Braxton can say another word, a beam of light a thousand times brighter than my measly little flashlight illuminates the area where we are standing. The source of the light is from somewhere up above the treetops, and it gives me a funny feeling like it’s a spotlight aimed at a stage.

  My heart thumps fearfully in my chest, pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. When I look at Braxton, his mouth is open too, but he’s not making any sound either.

  He throws a protective, muscular arm around my shoulders, and I hug his waist like a frightened child.