Daddies Taboo

by Iona Nixon

  Dr. Ward was as charming as ever. He gave no sign that he knew me, and before I knew it, he was repeating the whole thing he'd done with me the first time.

  "It's simple really, only you can make the positive change you desire in your life. I'm just your guide, here to help you achieve your goals. Denise, are you willing to give me your trust, to let me help you enjoy anal sex?"

  Help me enjoy it, it was all I could think about. Hearing him say it made me want it even more, but I managed to play my part.

  "Yes."

  "George, the same goes for you. If we're going to have results, you need to join Denise in putting in the work for this to happen. Both of you need to be in sync for everything to be just right. Will you trust me with helping you be able to have some incredibly fulfilling anal sex?"

  When I realized he was going to hypnotize George too, I should have stopped it. I should have told George everything, but all I could think was that if I just went along with whatever Dr. Ward wanted, I would surely be rewarded--rewarded right up my behind.

  My husband looked so excited then, he must have been imagining finally getting what he'd so long desired.

  "Yes," George said.

  The hypnotist reminded us that we needed to trust him, that we needed to let him give us what we wanted. Then he told us both to lie back and close our eyes.

  Ten minutes later, I was floating in the fluffy white emptiness of the relaxing white room in my head again.

  **********

  It was disorienting to awaken to lost time again. More so still as I watched George going through the same confusion. The shame of knowing that it was my fault he'd been under the trance as well hit me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I thought. Then I looked at Dr. Ward and mentally added "up my ass, fuck me up my ass."

  I knew things weren't right, but still I didn't say anything. We got up to leave, and again I felt that feeling of repeating some pattern. Some past sequence that was heading someplace wrong, but wrong in a way that made me feel hot and needy too.

  George and I made it almost to the door. That's when Dr. Ward spoke behind us. "You know, George, it's not just your wife that has a sweet backside. You've got a nice tight little ass too, don't you?"

  We both turned to look back at him. He was standing, and his erect cock was poking out of his open pants. I waited for George to go ballistic, but when I turned to look at him, he was just staring down at Dr. Ward's thick penis.

  "Look at what the sight of your tight little virgin ass is doing to me, George. I'm hard as a rock just thinking about how good it would feel to ram my fat cock inside it," he said.

  It was hard to concentrate on my shame at what I'd now dragged George into, because the sight of Dr. Ward's erection was making me so hot. I stared at it alongside my dazed husband and it was all I could do to keep from begging Dr. Ward to stick it in my ass. How could I put myself and my husband into this position? I had to resist, I had to get George to snap out of Dr. Ward's spell.

  "No, don't listen to him," I finally found the strength to say, but George didn't blink at my words.

  "What's that, Denise? If you have to talk, why don't you say what you really want to say? Look at my big dick and see if there isn't something you'd like to ask me."

  Staring at his cock the need to feel it inside me grew to the point that it felt like it would consume me. I felt myself shaking and then I took a step towards him, but he shook his head. "Say it," he said.

  "Fuck my ass. Please. Please fuck my ass," I said.

  Still George said nothing. Dr. Ward looked at me and gestured to his desk. "Show him how you like it, Denise."

  In moments I had my pants and panties down and I was on my elbows, bent over his desk. The only thing left on my mind was the overpowering desire to have him inside my ass. My pussy was sloppy wet, I was on fire for him.

  "You see George, Denise loves it. You will too, I promise you. Now why don't you join her there?"

  I couldn't believe it, but then it was happening. George was leaning over next to me with his pants and underwear down around his ankles! Dr. Ward's hand roughly squeezed my rear cheeks, and his touch was electric. I wanted him inside me with every fiber of my being. I was far beyond ready, I was past needy even--I was desperate. I wiggled back in anticipation when his fingers probed my boiling slit, but then his hands left me.

  "Beg for it, beg for my cock in your ass," he demanded.

  I started to obey, but George beat me to it. "Please fuck my ass," George implored over my voice, and Dr. Ward snickered behind us.

  George stiffened next to me and rocked slowly forward. He closed his eyes and a low groan came from him, of pleasure or pain I couldn't tell. Dr. Ward grunted and George was pushed a bit further still, and then George exhaled heavily and gave what was definitely now a moan.

  "You're almost as tight as your little wife; this must be a little painful for you. Do you want me to stop?"

  With his eyes still clenched, George rushed to reply, "No, please don't stop. Fuck my ass. Fuck my tight little ass."

  I couldn't believe my ears. My husband kept his eyes shut tight and groaned as Dr. Ward fucked him deeper still. I felt ashamed, not just for bringing George to this position, but for the fact that I felt jealous of George at that moment. All I could think about was how I wished it was my ass getting fucked.

  George started to rock forward and back next to me, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. Throaty moans soon joined his low grunts and groans of pain. His head was slamming forward next to me with each resounding meaty slap behind him, his whole body getting thrown by the force of Dr. Ward's fucking.

  "I'm fucking you like a woman and you love it. You'll let me do this whenever I want now, and you know it. Whose ass is this now?"

  "Yours. It's your ass now. Oh God, don't stop, please."

  My jealousy grew as he continued to hammer away at George's ass, but even as turned on as I was, it was still a shock to hear my husband's submissive admissions.

  Something changed in the timber of George's moans. He was gasping and grunting and making sounds of pleasure all at once. His body still rocked forward under the force of the ass-fucking, but there was another pattern of motion too.

  I had to lift myself upright for a moment to see it, but his right hand was beneath him, clenched around his own hard cock. He moaned faster still, and then he tensed and gave a twisted little groan that I recognized immediately--it was the sound he made when he came.

  Dr. Ward laughed behind George and the pace of the slapping rhythm of their fucking slowed and then stopped. I stared at my husband in shock as he shuddered on the desk next to me, clearly getting off from having his ass fucked. I felt Dr. Ward's hand on my hip and I looked back to see him smiling down at me as he moved his still-straining erection between my cheeks.

  "It's your turn now, but I need to hear you beg for it first," he said with a smirk.

  "Please fuck my ass. Fuck my ass, fuck it hard." The words poured out of me without thought. I wanted him so badly that my pussy was a boiling cauldron of slippery need.

  I would never have spoken that way before, but I'd never felt that way before either. I wanted him to not just fuck my ass, I wanted him to do it hard and fast. I wanted him to take my ass like a rutting animal, and I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything.

  He pushed inside me and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming as he buried himself in me to the hilt and then pulled back and did it again. It hurt, but it also felt so good that I was on the verge of cumming by the time he slammed himself inside me the third time. Following George's lead, I let my fingers find my clit, and I rubbed myself as I lay there getting fucked.

  I couldn't contain the noises that burst out of me when my orgasm hit, and somehow it just turned me on even more to hear him laughing down at me as he continued to slowly pound my ass while I came.

  "That was quick, you really did want it. Dirty little slut. You didn't come here to get fixed at all, did you? You came he
re for this, to feel my big dick up your ass. Admit it, tell your husband the truth. You love having my cock up your ass, don't you?"

  "Yes," I groaned the word as his cock filled me again.

  "Say it."

  "I love having your cock up my ass."

  "Not to me, tell him," he demanded.

  I turned to George and said it again. George just stared at me in a flushed post-orgasmic daze.

  "Is there anything you love more than feeling my big cock plow your ass?"

  "No."

  "What will you do for me? What will you do in return for my granting you the pleasure you're feeling right now?" he said, just as another climax ripped through me, leaving me shuddering there helplessly, my ass still filled with his incredible manhood.

  "Anything," I half-moaned the word.

  He was still hard, still fucking my ass but slower then. There was nothing else in the world, just that glorious cock stretching my ass, filling me, completing me.

  "Anything huh? So you'll be my slave if I want?"

  "Yes."

  "You'll come in here and be my cock-worshiping slave, you'll pay me to fuck your ass and make my power over you stronger every time I do it?"

  "Yes, oh God yes."

  Dr. Ward's cock rammed into me with a savage tooth-jarring rhythm that grew more frenetic with every passing moment. I felt myself rushing towards climax again at the submissive feeling of being taken, of being used by him like a dirty slut.

  Shuddering, I came, and a moment later he buried himself deep with one last great thrust before his cock erupted. I could feel him twitching and spurting inside me as I lay there in orgasmic bliss. When he withdrew from me, I longed for him already.

  We all got dressed, and neither George nor I met each other's eyes.

  "That will be two hundred for the joint session," Dr. Ward said.

  Even though he'd just ass-fucked us both to orgasm, you couldn't tell from his demeanor. It was if nothing unusual had happened at all. I knew it had though. My throbbing ass, still oozing his juices, was proof it had. I wrote out the check while he waited, and handed it to him.

  George was starting to look green around the gills. The euphoria seemed to be wearing off, replaced by something like shock, or maybe it was shame.

  "Oh don't be down. I know how much you enjoyed it. Really, you should thank me for fucking you and for fucking your wife in front of you."

  My husband looked different then, subdued and confused. He must have been in the grips of the same mix of shame and arousal I'd felt after my first time.

  "Thank you."

  "So, will it be another joint session next Thursday at two then? Or would you prefer something sooner?"

  "Sooner," we both said it at the same time, and George and I looked at each other with embarrassment.

  Dr. Ward looked down at his appointment book for a moment. "How about Tuesday at three instead? Or would you prefer to keep the Thursday as well?"

  This time I met George's eyes before I spoke. "We'll take both."

  Dr. Ward smiled and scribbled in his book. "Excellent. With each session I'll be able to take you both deeper. Also, from now on I don't want you to having any sex. You can masturbate, but you'd better damn well be imagining me fucking you while you're at it, understand?"

  We agreed and shuffled stiffly out of his office in our soreness. George and I didn't talk on the car ride home. Or even look at each other for that matter. We both just stared out the windshield, lost in our thoughts. I was thinking about how long it would be before Tuesday came, and from the looks of George he was probably thinking the same thing.

  The End.

  Giving Thanks

  I had just separated from my wife after 10 years of marriage. The person who I had become bore little or no resemblance to the person I had always wanted to be. I had systematically dismantled myself over the course of my relationship with my wife and could no longer remember who I was or what I wanted at all.

  It was the day before Thanksgiving and I had no plans for Thanksgiving day - my ex was taking the kids to New Jersey and I wasn't invited. I felt self-hatred and fear and paranoia to a dangerous depth and degree. I had absolutely no plan in my head about how to spend the holiday. In fact, it was impossible for me to make any kind of plan to soothe or satisfy myself because I had lost myself so completely I no longer know what I liked or didn't like. Shattered as human being, I was going through the motions at all times.

  I left the house and wandered stupidly. With no plan at all in my head I wandered into Key Food and started looking at the shit on the shelves. The Thanksgiving crap was everywhere and in my mind ideas began to coalesce into something like a plan. A small turkey. 8 pounds. Stuffing. Potatoes. Sweet potatoes...I tossed it all into my cart, added a case of beer on top of it and headed for the registers.

  Did you ever think about the millions of tiny choices and decisions you make in a day and the consequences that unfold or fail to unfold as a result? On September 11, 2001, for example, I dropped my daughter off for her first day of preschool. I walked out the door of the place at 8 am and I walked halfway to the subway with her Hello Kitty lunchbox in my hand and, upon realizing what I was holding, had to turn back and bring it to the daycare. Leaving the daycare at 8:21 I was irritated with myself, cursing under my breath that I was going to be late. Getting off the train at Chambers street at 9 am I was greeted by sirens and panic. And I think to myself, damned near every single day, "what might have happened if I hadn't walked out with that lunchbox?"

  In a way, of course, it didn't matter. In a way, I was dead despite having survived.

  What might have happened on that Thanksgiving if I had chosen register 7 instead of register 6? Impossible to say. I got on line for register 6 and when I reached the front of the line I started putting my items on the belt and I peripherally clocked the cashier watching my hands. I turned and looked her in the eyes. Her nametag read "Ana Sofia." I had flirted mildly with her before but it was just small talk.

  Ana was a Puerto Rican woman somewhere in her mid thirties. Her brown eyes were smoky and she had a penetrating gaze that made me avert my eyes when I spoke with her. Her face was pleasant and she smiled brightly. Her nose was a little too wide, her cheekbones too soft, she had a scar on her left cheek. She was the sum of her imperfections, but the depth in her eyes offset the odd way her face was assembled. For me, anyway, everything came together in a nice way, and I found her to be pleasant to look at.

  The stupid blue vests they made the cashiers wear made it impossible to get an idea of what her body looked like, but I couldn't help but notice the firm, full breasts that pushed that vest out from the inside like a gust of wind in a parachute.

  All of this I had noticed, because a thirsty man can't help looking at a glass of water, because a man who is starving can't stay away from a thick juicy steak. All of this I had noticed before and yet none of it meant anything because I was dead inside, incapable of sorting the feelings and facts and figures into something of value, and it would be like that until I learned to live again.

  Ana watched my hands as I unloaded my cart and when I finished she gave me a smile that stopped me dead. "You ring," she said. "You lose you ring."

  I looked at her stupidly. She held up her own left hand, pointed at her empty ring finger and repeated, "you ring."

  "Ah," I laughed lightly. "Yeah." I exhaled. "Not married anymore..."

  She looked at my groceries, the unassembled component parts of a Thanksgiving dinner. She looked back at me, straight in the eyes, a deep gaze that knocked me onto my heels. "You cook all this yourself?" she asked.

  Suddenly I was at ease. Funny the things life teaches you. All those years married to someone who couldn't be relied on to prepare meals, those years of being the only source of income and, functionally, the only parent, did give me a few little gifts. One of them was that I learned to cook. I could pull off a delicious thanksgiving dinner without breaking a sweat.

  "Sure," I
answered. I felt some swagger returning to my battered ego and, before I had a chance to stop myself, I said "how 'bout you come over and let me cook for you?"

  I am sure the surprise was obvious on my face when she said "yes" and she giggled a little at my reaction. I gave her the address and phone number and only half expected her to actually appear the next day.

  I woke up at 7am on Thanksgiving, walked my dog, and cleaned my shitty apartment. I had been there a month and already had let it go to seed, a testament to how little I gave a shit. Then I started cooking and by the time the bell rang at 3pm I had a nice meal prepared.

  Ana's hair was done up, her makeup was nice, all the stuff you wouldn't bother doing for a shitty cashier job. I have her a hug and told her she looked amazing, which she did. I helped her out of her coat and turned to hang it up, and when I turned back I nearly hyperventilated. Ana was wearing a short red dress that accentuated and displayed a body that made my throat close. I couldn't help but stare a little at her incredible, c cup breasts, her hard nipples poking through the sheer fabric. She did a flirtatious little spin and asked "you like it?" and in so doing showed me one of the finest asses I have ever seen. High and tight, perfectly shaped, generously proportioned...I considered grabbing her and kissing her hard right there but I resisted the temptation.

  I looked in her eyes and she smiled, a smile that promised things that I wanted more than air, that held secrets I needed more than life itself. I had squandered the gifts I was given, wasted my time, erased myself. For years I wanted nothing for myself because I didn't deserve to want, let alone to have. That day, that Thanksgiving Day, I wanted. What I wanted was Ana Sofia.

  We sat and ate. She was very impressed that I could cook. We made slow and halting conversation but despite the language barrier we were able to communicate and things were comfortable. I felt myself being absorbed by her voracious, big, open eyes, eyes that were eager to watch, to learn, to live and to love.