Climax Taboo Erotic Collection

by Kelly Fleming

  "She got lucky, ended up pregnant and married to my ex husband. Neither said if it was a favor to me or her. She also got the last laugh the judge ruled her dad can not collect any money she earned that month since she is married."

  "Wait why would it be a favor to you?" Tony asks his brow furrowed.

  "I loved him it broke my heart I could not provide him with children, I had told him to find a wife and have kids."

  "That was a valid reason for divorce? I mean seriously what the fuck a guy can leave a woman because she doesn't get pregnant." Sally says her eyes still wide.

  "Different times, back then women were only allowed to own property under a strict set of rules. Wife beatings were legal women really had little in the way of the freedoms you kids enjoy now." Frank says looking a little tired.

  "Right I think we should all call it a night, Frank we will see you tomorrow for that barbeque." Tony says before ushering everyone out the door.

  "You know damn I thought you were hot before, with that dress on I have to think about baseball to keep from getting hard right here." Tony says to me as I am putting the pizza boxes in the fridge.

  "You do not have to any longer there is no one else here." I say with a grin as I reach down to pull my panties off.

  Tony picks me up in the kitchen and sits me atop the counter he puts my legs over his shoulders and pulls up my skirt. When he puts his head between my legs I lie back and moan when his tongue finds my lips. I can't help but move with him as his tongue works over my flesh, even more so when he puts a finger inside of me. It is not very long before I am having a screaming orgasm over his pumping finger and randomly moving tongue.

  He picks me up, carries me to the sofa then sits me down on it, when he drops his trousers I have to look up at him. He guides me through giving my first blowjob, I am hooked the moment his hot cock enters my mouth. There is just something about a hot hard cock resting upon your tongue wrapped in your lips that is just beyond description. The taste of him is quite nice as well, a little sweet a little salty, my tongue travels over the end of him in search of more flavor. When my head starts to move, he throws his head back and moans.

  Tony guides my hand to the rest of him I am not taking in my bobbing mouth and guides me into moving my hand with my mouth. I look up at him his eyes are glazed over a half smile on his lips, he whispers things to me about how nice I make him feel. My free hand travels down to my pussy I find I am still wet and quite eager for more pleasure. With my fingers traveling in and out of my body getting close to another orgasm I redouble my efforts on the cock in my mouth.

  I am starting to get more flavor from him when he grabs my head and pushes me back off him. He picks me up again then carries me into the bedroom, after depositing me on the bed he removes his shirt, I assume he put it on when he went for panties. When he gets on top of me he unbuttons my vest, his hands caress my breasts before he moves down and fastens his lips on first my right then my left nipple. The sucking and tongue movement he gives to both have me squirming on the bed asking for more.

  He moves up, kisses me inserting his tongue into my mouth as he tries to enter me. I reach down between us and guide his cock to the soft lips of my pussy then let him do the rest he is inside me in one thrust. I wrap my legs around him as he pummels my pussy with his incessant pumping. I move with him as he does, the tender folds of my insides happily parting on his inward thrust, reluctantly closing on his withdrawals. I reach another orgasm like this, happily purring earning me an odd look before he shrugs and continues fucking me.

  When I reach another orgasm Tony asks if I would like him to cum or keep going, I ask if he can keep going. He grabs my legs putting them over his shoulders opening me up to him in a lovely way. His cock going just that little extra farther in me has us both panting. I revel in the feel of him going that far, he is almost touching my cervix that has never happened to me before. I have an urge to get him to touch it with the tip of him, I try and move with him getting him farther in me, when he groans and thrusts a little harder he does.

  The feel of his warmth against my cervix sets off my orgasm, I moan and yell my pleasure as he fills me up for the second time today. Tony collapses atop me breathing hard as the last of him empties into me my purring almost sets him asleep until I touch his cheek. His eyes open then he pulls out of me with a little sucking noise, he falls on the bed next to me. I roll over then curl up with my back against him, purring loudly.

  "So are you going to purr every time we have sex now?" He asks as he gets on his side then puts an arm over me after pulling the comforter up over us.

  "Old habits die hard, house cats are not the only cats that purr when they are happy. Be glad I do not have to go furry, I seem to be extra itchy on my back."

  "So long as you don't use my leg as a scratching post, I had a cat growing up."

  "I did to he was a terrific mouser, Mr. Whiskers. Don't laugh we got him when I was five. Pa was always saying he saved us ten dollars a year with his mousing ability. Of course mom was a little upset he slept with me, she picked him I suppose he knew I was going to end up like this."

  "Could be, cats always seem to know when someone is sick, dying or sad, I do not see why he wouldn't know."

  "Sick, dying, or sad give off a smell, cats can smell when a person is sick, dying, or sad. Sick and dying are both indicators it is a good target, sad can be a good time to attack as well, though with people it is an indicator they need some attention. There are myths that cats suck up the soul of the dying, it is there because they always pay close attention to dying anything."

  "I think maybe I didn't need to know that, let's go to sleep." Tony says with a yawn.

  I get myself comfy as Tony yawns behind me he puts his head down against the pillow. I listen to his breathing get quieter before he is asleep I smile to myself before giving off a yawn of my own. My eyes drift closed for a moment before opening a crack, my purring gets louder for a moment then quiets down as I settle into a languid nap.

  The End.

  Skin Deep

  "It's okay," she said, looking him right in the eye, "you can touch them if you want. I mean, you're so freaking obvious, y'know? You've been staring at my tits for the last ten minutes. So go ahead, touch them. I won't mind."

  Brian shook his head. Had she really said that? Or were his ears playing tricks on him? Perhaps he'd misunderstood her words, muffled by the constant hum of the train's engine, the rickety thump, thump of the wheels speeding along the tracks.

  She shook her head. "I knew it."

  She knew what? What was her problem?

  "Guys like you are all alike," she said. She wasn't looking at him now, though. She had the window seat, and was taking full advantage of it before night came and inked out the view. They were passing through the farm belt of western Illinois, not far from the Mississippi River. Fields of corn swayed languorously in the hot August breeze. "You're all just a bunch of cowards. Fakes."

  Fakes? Who was she calling a fake?

  "You," she said, and now she did swivel her head around to look at him again. There was something penetrating about her eyes, as if they somehow could see through him, into him, his inner secrets and weaknesses and regrets and failings all revealed. He felt naked in the face of her stare.

  "You don't know the first thing about me," he shot back. His voice had a whiny tinge to it. It always did when someone got him riled. He hated that.

  "Don't I?" she said. "I know you want to touch my tits, but are too chicken to try it, how's that for starters?"

  Swell. Just swell, for starters.

  "Pathetic, if you ask me," she said. So, who asked her? "You know, I bet you feel afraid when you're around people, am I right? Especially women. Especially hot women, women you want to fuck. Am I right? Or am I right?"

  He moved further away from her in his seat, edging his ass toward the aisle. He gained another two, maybe three inches of separation. Not nearly enough.

  The train lurched, a
nd he nearly fell over, into the aisle. Fuck. A fat, bald man shuffled past, toward the small restroom at the front of the car.

  "So I ask you again, do you want to touch my tits? Lick them? Pinch my nipples, make them good and stiff and erect for you? Hmm? Tell me what you want."

  Before he could answer, she surprised him. She grabbed his right hand, which had been resting primly on his lap, and brought it to her left breast. He tried to pull away, but she had a firm grip on him.

  "Feel me up . . ." Here, she paused. "What's your name, anyway?"

  His name? This woman, this total stranger, whom he'd just nodded hello to for the first time in his life twenty minutes ago when he boarded the train, had kidnapped his hand and was making him fondle her tit. And she was asking him his name? Acting like this was normal? Like this was what total strangers did upon meeting?

  And yet, all he said was, "Brian."

  She smiled. He tried to free himself from her grasp, but couldn't, or wouldn't—he wasn't sure which. The fat man who had gone to the restroom came back down the aisle, heading for his seat, and threw Brian and the woman a "what the hell do you think you're doing" look. But he said nothing.

  She reached over to shake his free hand with her free hand. "Hey, Brian. I'm Susan. And it is Susan, okay? None of this Sue crap."

  She let go of his free hand, but continued to pin the hand that was on her breast firmly in place.

  "Pinch my nipple," she said then. He just stared at her, open-mouthed. "Do it, Brian." He did it. "Harder. I'm not a fucking china doll. I won't break." He pinched her harder. She smiled. He swallowed. This was fucked up, Totally fucked up. But her tit felt great. Her nipple felt perky and hard.

  Then, as unexpectedly as when she had grabbed his hand and placed it onto her breast, she pushed it away. Instinctively he resisted—for a second. His fingers were getting used to the feel of her full, round tit beneath the thin fabric of her summer blouse. But of course he let her push his hand away. Of course he did.

  "Why'd you do that, Brian?"

  "Do what?"

  "Let me push your hand off my tit. You liked playing with my tit. Didn't you?" Again she was looking at him, looking into him, her blue eyes probing, prodding, like laser beams, like twin scalpels cutting into him, opening him up to her. . . . "Didn't you, Brian?"

  "Well, I . . . yes. I mean, how could I not?"

  She smirked at him, flicked her head back. Her light-blonde hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid gold. "Then why'd you let me push you away, if you liked it so much?"

  "Well I didn't want to touch you if you didn't want me to . . ."

  "I told you before, you can touch my tits. Didn't I?" She shook her head. "See? Just like I said. You're a coward. A people-pleaser. You do what everyone expects of you. Don't want to step on any toes, or pinch any nipples, as the case may be. Doesn't that fucking get you down after a while, Brian? I mean, really. Don't you sometimes just want to be a fucking man every once in a while?"

  He shook his head. She didn't know what she was talking about.

  "Don't I? When was the last time you actually asserted yourself, Brian? Stood up for something you believe in? Or don't you even have any strong beliefs?"

  What the hell was she doing? Just a minute ago she had him touching her tit. Now she was rambling about strong beliefs? Damn. Why did she have to be the one he sat next to? Why couldn't he sit next to some nice, quiet old woman with her nose in a book, or some hairy fat dude with a fantasy football magazine. Anyone would have been better than this wacko.

  "What's your take on abortion?" she asked then.

  Abortion? None of her business!

  "I bet you don't have one. You can see both sides of the argument, right?"

  He didn't answer. He wasn't going to be lured.

  "How about the death penalty?" she pursued. "Should the murderers fry? Or just be put away?"

  "Well . . ."

  "Or the health-care crisis. You think there should be universal health care for everyone, Brian?"

  "Well, that depends. I mean . ."

  "See? Told you. You haven't got any firm convictions. You're fucking softer than cheese, Brian. I bet, when you go out to dinner with a date, you let her pick off the menu, for both of you. Am I right?"

  Well . . . but what was wrong with being considerate? If his date didn't like what she ordered, she could always try what he had. And if she ordered for both of them, chances were she'd like at least one of the selections.

  She shook her head again, peered out the window. Dusk was descending like a veil. Looking past her, out the window, Brian saw the glow of a farmhouse porch light as it flickered on, a beacon in a sea of prairie grass and cornfields.

  "Pathetic," she said. "You're even worse than I thought. You probably don't even know who you are, Brian."

  "Fuck you," he shot back.

  "Mmmm, I'd love to," she said. "Where are you headed?"

  That did it. Either this chick was high on something or a full-blown schizo. How else to explain it?

  "Denver," he said. Why had he shared that? Why? Maybe she was right. Maybe he just went along with what other people wanted of him, expected of him. Maybe he'd been that way all his life, and just never really thought about it.

  "How about that," she said. "So am I." Perfect. Just fucking beautiful. "Taking a vacation. A little R & R. Much deserved, if I do say so myself. How about you, Brian? You on a trip? Or is Denver home?"

  "No. I'm going on business." Yes. Business. His boss told him he wanted Brian to attend a seminar. The company would pay for it. Brian couldn't believe the extravagance. In this economy? "It'll give you a deeper perspective and appreciation of what we're trying to accomplish," his boss said. "It'll be worth its weight in gold." Brian doubted this very much—thought the idea was stupid. He wondered if by going on this company-provided field trip, he was forfeiting his raise for this year. After all, there was only so much money to go around. . . .

  But he didn't protest. If this is what the boss wanted him to do . . .

  "Good," Susan said. "We can stay at the same hotel, then. I didn't make any reservations. Where are you staying?"

  There was no way he'd tell her, no way he'd spend one minute with her after they disembarked from the train.

  He told her.

  She smiled, licked her lips. "We'll have fun," she said.

  What was she talking about? Fun? She'd just told him he was pathetic.

  "That doesn't mean I don't like you," she said. "It doesn't mean I don't think you're extremely fuckable. It doesn't even mean I think you're hopeless. I think I just might be able to help you, Brian."

  He didn't want her damn help. He just wanted to be left alone. But he didn't say anything more about it. They still had a long night of travel ahead of them. Hopefully he'd fall asleep, and she'd fall asleep, and she'd forget the whole thing. When they woke up in the morning, they'd ride in silence, get off at Denver, and go their separate ways.

  ¦

  "So, where's our hotel?" she said when they got off the train. It was morning, and a strong Rocky mountain sun was shining down on LoDo from a deep blue, cloudless sky. It was the kind of morning that might cheer you up, refresh you, instill you with optimism. But the circumstances being what they were, he felt anything but optimistic.

  "Look, I . . ."

  She touched his lips with her finger. He noticed how long and perfect her nails were. He'd noticed on the train, too. And he'd noticed other things. Her tits, of course. He'd been up close and personal with those. She was a knockout. Tall, slim, shapely, with full, sensuous lips and a thin, long nose that looked sharp enough to cut glass. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to her. But still, this was crazy.

  "It's okay," she said. "I won't get in your way, Brian. I know you're here on business. So you do what you have to do. But we can still share a room. I'll find things to entertain myself, don't worry. But when you get back from your day, when I get back from my day . . . we can laugh and play
and fuck each other's brains out all night long. Now. How does that sound?"

  A wave of unreality crashed over him. This sort of thing never happened to guys like him. He didn't know if he should feel scared, bitter, ambivalent, or downright lucky. He looked her over again—the full breasts, the hour-glass figure, the long blonde hair. What the hell. When would he ever get another chance like this?

  "That's the spirit," she said.

  ¦

  He barely listened to the presentation at the seminar later that day. His mind kept wandering to Susan. He wondered what she would look like, unwrapped, naked, standing before him in their hotel room overlooking downtown Denver, with lust in those penetrating blue eyes. Without even being aware of it, he was getting a hard-on. But then he thought about the train ride, the way she had analyzed him, insulted him.

  Told the truth.

  She was right. He was a people-pleaser, had been all his life. It was such a default mode to him, he did it without thinking. He did anything and everything to fit in, to be liked. One time, on a trip to South Carolina, he'd even taken it upon himself to speak in a southern drawl. The funny thing was, he wasn't even aware of it until someone he was with pointed it out to him. Even now, that he was out West, he felt an urge to go buy himself a cowboy hat.

  Well, what did it matter? He'd have fun tonight. If he could just focus on having fun, that was. Too often, when he had a chance at an attractive woman, he blew it. Performance anxiety, he supposed. He tried so hard to please her, to be the lover of her dreams, that all he ended up doing was cumming too soon, deflating too soon. One time, when he had a sexy Italian woman on her knees before him, her lips on his cock, he felt his manhood shrink, grow soft. He was worried that she might not like his dick, that he wasn't big enough, wasn't handsome enough.

  The Italian woman slapped him, stormed away. She was insulted, and told him so. No man had ever gone soft while she sucked him before. He tried to stop her, tell her it was his fault, it had nothing to do with her. He was just nervous, insecure.

  But it was too late. She was already gone.