by Eve Taboo
Contents
Copyright
Sneak Peek
1. Summer
2. The Heat
Keep Reading
Author
Links
Hot for the Brat
(A Bareback Virginity Taboo Erotica Short)
Feating the Man of the House
Copyright © 2016 by Eve Taboo
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Cover design by Eve Taboo
All photos and fonts used within this book were found online on websites listing them as free to use (under CC) in any capacity or purchased, no attributes required. If there were any mistakes please e-mail me at [email protected] and I'll rectify it!
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book contains explicit material of a sexual nature and is intended for mature audiences only.
Everyone in this book is 18+, and there are absolutely no blood relations.
PREVIEW
I should've felt... wrong. It was forbidden, taboo, not even something I'd admitted to myself I wanted... but standing there half-naked, face to face with his throbbing manhood and a clear sign that he was attracted to me... I found myself wanting to push the boundaries of right and wrong even further.
"Shit, I didn't mean to, it just--you--" He scrambled as I inched closer, taking slow, deliberate steps to the chair he was laying down on, until I was close enough to sit next to him.
I bit my bottom lip sheepishly, nervous and anxious and terrified because this wasn't something I would've ever dreamed of doing before, but the adrenaline rush was guiding me now.
My hand moved over and immediately found a place on his thick bulge, cupping and squeezing it in my hand. He took a sharp breath in and squirmed a bit, but didn't pull away--and in that moment I decided to go for it entirely.
I felt the beams of sunlight fall across my skin, heating up under the very touch of each ray as it was uncovered by the moving clouds above, and I couldn't even imagine spending my time off another way.
Everyone told me it was stupid, dangerous, immature--everyone except Brad, my step-dad--but no one ever really understood me or what I needed, anyway.
No one but Brad, that was.
I'd finally graduated, I was a legal adult and I could make any damn decisions I wanted to make now. I could even scream damn at the top of my lungs, if I wanted to!
Sure, maybe it would've been more responsible to apply to more colleges, or just take the acceptance letters from the ones I did get into and think about actually attending. Maybe in a few years I would even regret taking a semester (or two... or three...) off to figure out myself, and what I wanted.
What I needed.
But for now? For now, this was just fucking fine for me.
I'd spent my entire school career thus far just doing what everyone else wanted me to do. Going to parties I didn't even want to go to just because my 'friends' said I needed to so I'd be more popular, studying all the time because my mother said I wouldn't amount to anything otherwise, dating guys on sports teams that I didn't even like because everyone else liked them.
They were well known, they were popular, I'd get nominated for blah, blah, blah. Looking back I couldn't even believe some of the stupid decisions I'd made over the last four years--in fact, the only ones I'd made and didn't regret were ones that my step-dad backed me up on.
If I didn't want to join a club, or stay in an activity, or go to a party, he would always support my decisions and tell me I was doing the right thing. When I was dating someone on the basketball team and he told me if I didn't sleep with him he'd dump me, all my friends told me I was crazy not to.
He had nice hair, he could drive me around in his parents' car, what more could I want?
The truth was, I wanted so much more. I wanted a guy who looked at me and really saw me, understood me... hell, even one that just seemed to enjoy me for me. Not someone that called me Dani underneath his breath half the time, then scrambled to fix it when I noticed the mistake. It was Debby, not Dani, and not knowing my name was definitely a deal breaker.
Even after talking to my friends about it I was still nervous--I just didn't want to, and everything in my body was telling me it would be a mistake. Not only did he not know me, and definitely didn't appreciate me, but whenever we tried to make out or fool around he'd always get way too excited, way too fast.
Sure, I didn't know a lot about sex... mostly just things I'd learned from TV and the internet, but I knew that if it was over in two thrusts there was a really, really good chance I wouldn't even enjoy it. Why risk giving myself and my virginity away to someone who wasn't even going to make me feel good?
Oh, that's right--he had nice hair, and he could drive us around in his car. That was the big, compelling reason my friends kept coming up with.
After yet another make-out session where his unimpressive erection made a surprise appearance, I finally caved in and went to Brad for advice. I remember it clear as day; my hands were shaking, I could barely even make eye-contact with him, but I'd always felt so much more close with him than with my mom. Even before she started working late all the time, we never really had a connection... but with Brad? It was always there.
"He... he says if we don't have sex he'll break up with me, that he needs it and it's normal and I'm weird for not wanting to. All of my friends said I should do it, but--but I just don't want to! He isn't even a good kisser, why would I want to--"
Then he shh'ed me, cutting me off from my already-embarrassing rant, my cheeks burning pink as I fiddled with my hands in my lap. I was so afraid he would think I was weird, too. That it was strange for me to not want to sleep with this perfectly attractive age-appropriate boy, for almost no reason.
There just wasn't a spark, a drive, a... chemistry. I couldn't picture it turning out any way other than him convulsing on top of me and rolling off after five seconds, no one getting any enjoyment out of it but him.
When I imagined having sex for the first time I wanted it to be passionate, legendary, my toes curling while I screamed the way they do in movies. Every inch of me satisfied, not laying there confused and wondering if we'd even really started.
After a long pause, one that I was fairly certain would extend onto forever--at one point I thought maybe I was actually in purgatory and I'd died of embarrassment while telling him my problem--he finally broke the silence, and the invisible tension between us... although I could've been the only one feeling that.
"If you don't want to do it, don't do it. Fuck what your friends say. It's your body, your choice," Brad said, his eyes lingering over my frame as he spoke.
That was the first time I felt like he was looking at me like a woman, and not like his little princess. For a split second I wasn't sure which way I enjoyed more, but I did know that his profanity made me flustered in an entirely different way than it would have a few years earlier.
"Thank you, daddy," I said before throwing my arms around him, hugging him tightly. He embraced me back, pressing his significantly larger frame against mine, and I knew then that I was making the right decision for myself.
I just didn't belong with him, no matter how nice his hair was.
When it came to deciding my future a few weeks ago, the situation was eerily similar.
All of my frie
nds were making their college plans for the fall, excited over their acceptance letters and still rolling around in graduation fever, but I couldn't have been dreading it more.
Nothing seemed right, nothing fit me the way it did my friends. I didn't know if I wanted to be a doctor, a lawyer, a vet... I didn't know anything about what I wanted to do. What if I went to school for four years, never deciding on a major, then realized I wanted to get a certification instead?
All that money would've been wasted, and I knew how hard my parents were working for my education. Their whole lives had suffered for it! The later my mother worked the more they fought, and the more we fought. They never hugged anymore, kissed... they barely even acknowledged each other, and I almost never saw her either.
For her job, for the money, for the savings I'd be draining with every semester I wasted. That was the last thing I wanted.
I went to Brad and explained to it, my whole body shaking with nerves as I rambled on. "--But I'm afraid to tell mom, you know she'll be mad. Then she'll complain about how I'm not doing enough, how I'll be wasting my life away because I'll be around the house so much, spending my summer here swimming, or whatever else, and I--"
Like clockwork he cut me off with a soothing 'shh', taking his time to think while he placed a reassuring hand on my knee. I relaxed almost instantly, the comfort of his touch something I hoped to never take for granted. He was always making me feel better, protecting me even if it was just from myself.
"If you don't want to go, don't go. It's one semester. You'll have time to work it out later, and it's a big decision. Besides--she's always at the office anyway, she'll hardly even notice. Just ignore her if she goes off, you know how she can be..." he shook his head, no doubt recalling their last big blow out only a few nights before.
With his encouragement I marched right up to her that night and took my verbal lashings for it, but I didn't regret a moment of my decision. It was like a sudden weight had been lifted off my shoulders, all the stress and drama about my future was gone and I actually had things to look forward to.
Things like sunbathing, swimming, and actually acting my age for once. I couldn't even remember the last time I had an entire weekend unplanned, not devoted to meetings or clubs or studying or something that someone else wanted me to do more than I actually wanted to do it.
As I laid back on one of our sun chairs, fully ready to get to work on the new, olive-toned color I was dying to achieve, something shifted and I felt a shadowy block over my light.
"What th--" I opened my eyes and looked up, only to see my step-dad hovering over me, a half-smirk on his face as he looked down at me.
"Looks like we'll be spending the summer together. Sorry to crash the festive party you have going on here..." He gestured towards my cup of juice, decked out with a decorative umbrella, with the crutch I only just noticed him leaning against.
It seemed as though my summer was about to get a lot more interesting than I'd anticipated.
"What did you do!" I gasped, suddenly overcome with worry about how serious his injury was, or could have been. The idea of him hurting was more than upsetting for me--he'd always protected me, and I wanted to protect him from hurt, too.
"Rolled my ankle. Relax, princess, it's just a sprain. I can take it." He said, as if it were nothing, before taking two long strides on his crutches towards the free seat next to me.
And that was when summer truly began.
He told me all about what happened--how he was in the packaging warehouse with a few of the other guys, covering themselves in bubble wrap so they could play a game of overly-touch tackle football inside--but before they even got to act on that stupid decision he'd trapped over a roll of wrap and injured himself.
I broke out in a fit of giggles and laughter the entire time he told me about it, picturing his easily 6'3" frame falling over onto a bunch of bubble wrap with loud pops in the background.
It was hands down the funniest visual I'd ever had in my entire life, and by the way my body was quaking with laughter, I'm sure he could tell. I noticed an almost embarrassed pink flush creep onto his cheeks and willed myself to calm down, not wanting someone I looked up to so much to actually feel bad about something so silly.
It'd been so long since we had a chance to really talk to each other, to get to hang out and get to know one another, that I couldn't even remember the last time it'd happened. Growing up we spent time together constantly--he took me to my practices, girl scout meetings, sleep overs, even the mall, and never complained once. Bought me everything I ever dreamed of--and everything my dolls could've, including their dream houses--and still managed to tuck me in at night.
Things changed after high school, I was too busy with looking for summer jobs, hanging out with my friends, studying, and extracurriculars to even think about having one of our trademark movie or camping nights.
Now everything had changed--all of my friends were spending all of their time getting ready to move, researching their new colleges, their grounds, the states they'd be leaving for, and looking at apartments, so they didn't have any time to spend with me.
Brad, however, had all the time in the world for his little princess now that he had mandatory time off of work due to his ankle. We ate breakfast together, went grocery shopping together, even spent afternoons together doing whatever we felt like that day. Movie theaters, video games, renting DVDs to watch a home, bringing over take-out to pig on in the middle of the night... the world was our playground.
And it was awesome.
My mom was getting more and more annoyed as time grew on--now their weekly fights were almost-nightly, and it didn't help matters that she was going on some 'work trip' for a few weeks overseas to help the international division of her company.
I didn't mind it much; if anything, it just meant she wasn't going to be around to keep me up all night with her yelling. Wouldn't be around to tell my my hair didn't look right, or I was dressing 'too trashy' to go out--wearing a one piece bathing suit to the beach!
If anything, I actually felt good about it. Maybe with her out of the house daddy would actually be able to relax and enjoy his time off instead of being yelled at for every little thing he did.
Sometimes I wondered if they'd just been together for so long, that she forgot what it was like to not have a man around--or to have one that wasn't even worth being around. She met Brad when I was in grade school, and they'd been together forever. I couldn't even remember what my real dad was like--we never met, and he never came to visit--but I knew what dating guys my age felt like.
It was a terrible, horrible, awful disaster, and a huge waste of time. They were all rude, crass, and didn't care about anyone or anything other than themselves. Brad wasn't like any of the guys I'd been with--he was nice, thoughtful, and considerate. Sure, he didn't bring home diamonds every night or flowers every day, but he always remembered what I liked to eat from which restaurants, and he never left the toilet seat up.
He was hilarious, gorgeous, and so masculine... what could my mom have been thinking when she treated him how she did!? Doesn't she know how hard it is to find a guy that's even half as great as he is? Let alone the total package!
For some reason, though, I didn't feel compelled to actually say that to her... and when she left, I was more relieved than anything else. Finally time where we didn't have to worry about her coming home and yelling at us for what we're eating, or staying up to late, or breathing too loudly.
Our first week of freedom was absolute paradise, we did whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted to do it, without having to worry about a thing! I got my olive-skinned tan, ate cupcakes for breakfast, and still didn't think about what major I'd pick in college when I went back for spring semester.
It was getting even more hot than usual, though. The air conditioner had broken days ago, and every time the repair man was scheduled to come fix it, he either wouldn't show up or would cancel in advance. We had to spend every day outside swimming to
make up for it!
We were laying out by the pool, drinking out of our festive cups with decorative umbrellas, and I couldn't believe how much I was sweating. It was glistening off of me everywhere! I knew he'd noticed, too--I saw him look over at me then look away--and all I could think of was how embarrassing it was.
He must've thought I was awful! Covered in sweat laying out there in the sun, even though I had sunblock on so I wouldn't get one of those awkward short/shirt tans. I still felt gross, though, and the pool was only a few feet away... sweet, cool relief from my embarrassment, and from how hot my skin was feeling.
I stood up and walked over to it, trying to unbutton my shirt, before I heard him whistling for my attention.
"What are you doing?" he asked as I struggled, accidentally ripping my flimsy white shirt when my head turned to look at him.
Great. Even more embarrassing. He probably thought I was a total klutz now! The biggest spaz on Earth!