Family Forbidden Taboo Erotica for Women Box Set

by Patricia Parks

  "Feel good?," he asks.

  "Yes, I am about to cum." As I say this, he reaches up and grabs my nipple with so much force, I scream. It hurts yet feels so good at the same time. I can feel the orgasm starting as my vagina starts to shiver and throb with the much needed orgasm. I am panting as he pulls out. "What are you doing? You haven't cum yet."

  "Who said I am done with you yet. Grab your goodie bag."

  I keep a goodie bag at work, with lubes, jells and other stuff. I have been know to fuck Derek in my office on a weekend, so I just keep it there in case the rare chance that Derek will want to fuck if we are driving downtown. I showed it to Keith about a week ago. What the fuck can he want in the goodie bag? I think.

  He looks at me and says, "Did you forget that you tell me everything? Did you forget how much we both think about anal sex?"

  My heart starts to pound in nervousness. I could never convince Derek to have anal sex. The last time I had anything in my ass it was about three years ago. I love feeling a dildo in my ass. But, it has been so long ago, I have almost forgotten how much I love it.

  He takes my goodie bag and looks at me. "Do you want to put it on?"

  I take the lubricant out of my bag and squeeze a good amount into my hand. I place my hand on his hard shaft and rub it. He groans in need and shoves me back bending over the desk.

  I am so scared and so eager at the same time. I feel the head of his dick at my puckered asshole. I can feel him pushing slowly and find myself backing up. His head starts to enter my ass. I breathe deeply. Oh, the pain. Try to relax I tell myself. His head is entering my ass as he is moaning. He continues to push as I try to relax my sphincter muscles.

  This is so different then a dildo that I controlled going into my ass. It hurts so bad, yet feels so good. He enters his shaft all the way into my ass, moaning with delight. I think I am going to pass out from the pain, although my pussy is starting to quiver. He reaches and starts to massage my clitoris. The mixed feelings are too much to handle.

  "Are you ready", he asks. I nod my head yes. He starts to pull his shaft out a couple of inches and then rams it hard back in. Oh, I scream. "Did you like it?," he asks.

  I nod my head yes. I have never felt anything like this. He does it again removing it farther and slamming back into me. The force of it takes my breath away. Yet, it feels so good.

  He is now really fucking my ass and I find myself matching his pace. I touch my clit and start stroking it. I moan as I begin to cum, my whole pussy throbbing as my ass tightens around his hard cock.

  He starts to groan and I can feel him stiffen up to cum just as I reached my peak. He fills my ass with his load. I tighten myself against his dick and pull the last bit of cum from his shaft; I can feel myself starting to cum again. I scream in delight as we both collapse against my desk.

  I am not sure if I am going to be able to walk anytime soon. He is still leaning against me. He leans up and kisses me on the cheek. "I am sorry I was so rough on you. I hate the fact that I want to fuck you. I hate the fact that I just cheated on Lisa."

  We slowly part from being as one. I am so sore, but yet I feel complete and whole. I have never felt so wanted in all my life. So sexy and needed. I look at Keith and say. "I am sorry too. I am sorry that I pursued you so much that I make you want me."

  "Don't be sorry. I have never experienced what we just did with anyone else. I think I am going to be okay with being friends with benefits."

  The End.

  The Birthday Gift

  He heard the door to his office open. It was late. Who could that be?

  He was halfway through his third bourbon and was likely to either kill or be killed by a burglar, but pleasantly toasted enough to not give a shit about either outcome.

  Then she appeared in his office door way.

  He smiled.

  She was wearing all black. What else was new? Her black wraparound dress was secured with a loose knot at the waist. He glanced long enough to ponder if that was all that held it together. He also thought she was wearing too much lipstick.

  "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to happy hour or something?" he asked.

  "I did. Just left," she said.

  She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

  "Did you think I forgot?" she said.

  "What?" he said, playing dumb.

  "Your birthday. Did you think I forgot your birthday?" she asked.

  The thought had crossed his mind. In the many years they worked together, she'd never forgotten his birthday. Always a message, a card, a small gift. Something. And always on his birthday. She never missed the actual day.

  He wasn't upset or hurt anything. What was he, a chic? It was just a birthday. But he did feel slight surprise at it.

  "I forgot it was my birthday, so how could I think you forgot?" he said.

  "Liar," she said.

  "I just wanted to bring you my present in person," she said.

  "It isn't more ice by any chance, is it?" he shook his glass at her.

  "Haha, no. It isn't. Depending on your view, it could be interpreted as the opposite of ice. But give me that," she said.

  She took his glass and got him more ice from the freezer.

  "Here," she said.

  "Happy birthday," she said.

  He added some more to his glass, and leaned back in the chair.

  She was always flirting with him, jokingly propositioning him. It had become a running gag between them. So much so that he no longer took any of it one bit seriously.

  "So? Where is it?" Is it edible? I'm starving," he said.

  She laughed again, but he realized he was sort of being a jerk. Unfortunately, he was in that kind of mood. So she'd have to deal.

  "You tell me," she said.

  "But first," she said, walking into his office.

  She was wearing heels he liked.

  He turned around in his chair to face her.

  She took the string to her dress and held it up to him.

  "First, you have to unwrap it," she said, smiling at him — an evil smile, a pirate's smile, as they say.

  He looked up at her and put his glass on the desk.

  "Seriously?" he said.

  "Seriously," she said.

  "It's easy to unwrap. Just pull," she said.

  He was stuck for a minute. Should he do it? It was probably not advisable.

  The angel on his shoulder scolded him to keep his hands to himself. The devil on his shoulder urged him to pull. What was the big deal? It didn't mean he had to do anything.

  Come on, the devil said, you know you want to....

  And the devil on his shoulder was three bourbons bigger than his puny angel. He flicked her out of his mind.

  And then he pulled.

  She stepped back as the dress fell open, and his eyes started at the bottom, and worked their way up.

  Slowly.

  Heels leading up to stockings. Stockings heading up to end mid thigh. Red garters holding up stockings, leading past red satin and lace panties.

  The garters finished at a red lace and satin corset bustier tied tightly with a thick black satin ribbon under her full breasts, ending with black satin bow tied just low enough at her cleavage.

  Now he got the red lipstick. It matched perfectly.

  She looked like some type of sexy old West saloon girl, and searching his eyes, hers held that same combination of bravado, sensuality and vulnerability he imagined those women exuded.

  Also, while he preferred the girl-next-door type usually — she looked hot.

  "Well?" she said.

  "You did all this for me?" he said.

  "I didn't do anything yet," she said, smiling.

  "I thought this was the present?" he said.

  "You haven't finished unwrapping the present yet," she said.

  "That's a lot of red lipstick," he said.

  "It is. What do you want me to get it on first?" she said.

  He laughed.<
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  "I want you to get it off," he said.

  "I'll get it off," she said, smiling.

  He fished an ice cube out of his drink, and stood up to her now. She involuntarily took a step backward, suddenly nervous. Vulnerable.

  He held the ice cube to her mouth, and ran it around her lips, and her lips were so ticklish, she shuddered a little with the feeling of his fingers on them, the freezing cold, and she took the ice cube in her mouth with her tongue.

  She wiped the lipstick away from her wet lips with her fingers, and as he sucked the water and bourbon off the tips of his, she watched him.

  Her lips looked softer, still reddish, but full and kissable now.

  "So what do you want me to do now?" he asked.

  She leaned against his desk.

  "Whatever you want. It's your birthday present," she said.

  "What do you want to do?" he asked.

  She smiled.

  "Sit," she said.

  He sat back in his chair.

  She leaned over him in his chair, hands on both arms, she brushed his mouth with hers. He was dangerously close to that black satin bow now, and could see her ample chest about to explode out of fitted corset.

  His turn on simmered. It was strange. Psychologically twisted. Maybe it was the bourbon, but he couldn't help it. As she kneeled between his legs, as her fingers gently found the button of his pants, and even as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, he knew it wasn't going to work this way for him.

  "Stop," he said.

  He saw the confused look of hurt in her eyes.

  "I can't do this now," he said.

  "Ok," she said.

  "I have a date for drinks," he said.

  She laughed.

  "You've got to be kidding me," she said.

  He smiled and shook his head.

  "Well, ok then," she said, leaning to take her dress off the floor, her brain a roulette wheel of four letter words and different ways he could go fuck himself.

  Always the same shit. Good enough for the moment. Important for the day. Her significance fleeting and unreliable.

  And often painful.

  He stopped her hand holding her dress and dropped it back to the floor.

  "No," he said.

  "What? I don't get it," she said.

  "I want you to wait here. Dressed that way. Until I'm done and come back," he said.

  Now she really laughed.

  "Please tell me you're kidding," she said.

  "No," he said.

  And he wasn't. There was something about knowing she was waiting for him there in that outfit. Having to wait for him. It was turning him on. Somewhere inside her under being pissed off, he knew it was turning her on too.

  "Let me get this straight," she said, now sitting in his chair, crossing her stockinged leg, giving him a good view of her upper thigh, crossing her arms and giving him the same of her chest. Her high heel bounced up and down in tense irritation.

  "You want me to wait here, like a stupid idiot, after getting this whole outfit on especially for you, putting myself on the line, while you go out and have drinks with another woman, until you feel like coming back?" she said.

  "Yes," he said, smiling.

  She shook her head.

  "You're really an arrogant prick sometimes, you know that?" she said.

  "I do," he said.

  "Have a great birthday, and go fuck yourself while you're at it," she said, getting up from the chair.

  He pushed her back down in the chair.

  "Get off me, really," she said.

  He moved to embrace her and she weakened for a moment, but he took that weakness to find an unused computer cord under his desk, and before she had time to realize he'd tied her hands together, under the chair arms, behind the back of the chair.

  Now she was stuck.

  "Not funny. Untie me," she said.

  "Who's laughing," he said, grabbing his stuff from the desk.

  "You've got to be fucking kidding me. Now. Do it," she said.

  "I won't be too long," he said.

  She yelled his name.

  He ignored her and grabbed his glass and added more ice to it. And more bourbon. He found a straw and stuck it in.

  "Here," he said.

  "In case you get thirsty," he said.

  She stared at the glass and realized he was serious.

  "You realize if I get out of this cord I probably will never talk to you again," she said quietly, not looking at him.

  "Maybe for a little while, but you will eventually. And I'm not worried, because you won't," he said.

  "I hope you choke on your drink," she said.

  He laughed.

  "Well I do not wish the same on you, because no one will be around to call 911," he said.

  He leaned in to kiss her cheek and she pulled away.

  "You'll see. You'll feel better when I get back," he said.

  "Just get out. Go meet whomever," she said.

  And then he was gone.

  She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of struggling against the cord while he was there. Once she heard the door click behind her, she pulled, yanked, and tried everything to get the cord loose. Nothing worked.

  What a bastard.

  She was so angry and yet there was that little trickle. That thread running through it. That hint of turn on he was talking about. Him keeping her there, tied up, wanting to know she was there, letting his mind wander to her tied up in his chair while he was having drinks with that other chic.

  At least this was one time she knew she'd be on his mind while he was with someone else for sure.

  And then the anger came flooding back. All the effort she'd put into his birthday and it was taken for granted. There were so many times she'd felt that way over the years, periods of him not seeing her, not seeing her as anything or anyone of value, and then there were so many more times that he made her feel like she was invaluable — precious really.

  Sometimes her head was so fucked with him in it she just waned to run off to Siberia. What better time to ponder that ultimate fuckitude of her head than as she sat, tied to a chair, in a satin corset, with a ration of bourbon, by herself in the dark?

  That about summed it up, didn't it? She was imprisoned. Held captive mostly by her own head, heart and body.

  She took a sip of the drink on the desk. Might as well make the best of it.

  He was gone two hours.

  She'd vacillated from totally turned on to totally hating his guts many times over that two hours. But as she heard the door unlock, she was back to being totally enraged.

  Her arms were sore, first from struggling, then just being in the awkward backwards position for that long. And she was thirsty. She hadn't finished his crappy bourbon.

  And to add insult to injury, he was finishing a phone call on the way into the office. He had to be on the phone with a girl. His alcohol-soaked voice was full of flirtation and promise. Both of which had been rarely spared on her, other than in similar increments to his quarter of a glass, watered-down bourbon on the desk.

  Her rage seethed.

  He finished his call and his nauseatingly sweet endearments while looking at her directly in the eye, just to make sure she heard him and he could watch her listening.

  He hung up the phone.

  "Hi," he said.

  "Do not talk to me until you untie this," she said.

  He came over to the chair and gently undid the knots, trying to take her wrists and massage them a little. She yanked them from his hands.

  "Come on," he said, smiling.

  She stood up from the chair.

  "Come on? Come on?" she asked in anger.

  "You didn't finish your drink," he said,

  "You noticed," she said, lifting it to her mouth in the darkness of the office.

  "I was saving it," she said.

  "For now?" he asked.

  "Yes," she said, and tossed the watery bottom of the drink in his face.
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  He laughed, wiping it from his eyes.

  "I suppose I deserved that," he said.

  "You deserved more than that," she said.

  "If I wasn't physically opposed to touching you right now, I'd slap you across the face," she said.

  "So do it," he said.

  "I won't give you the satisfaction," she said, once again bending to get her dress off the floor. He grabbed her arms to stop her.

  "Don't," he said.

  "Don't fucking touch me," she said.

  "Wait," he said.

  Then she did slap him. Slapped him hard. And insanely found herself getting hot. Getting wet.

  Anger more at herself and her fucking weakness more than at him drove her to slap him again.

  "Come on, that's all you got?" he said.

  "How many drinks did YOU have tonight? How many did you finish while I was stuck here?" she asked.

  "Hard to recall. Four or five?" he said, smiling.

  She slapped him again.

  "I should have called the cops and reporting you for unlawful imprisonment, or something," she said.

  "That would have been an interesting police incident for us to report in our newspaper," he said, smiling still.

  "Have I done something to you that causes you to enjoy torturing me like this?" she said.

  "No, but I think you were about to before I left earlier," he said, moving in closer.

  Now it was her turn to laugh.

  "You think you're going to get me to come near you now? You aren't arrogant. You're insane. That's what you are," she said.

  "Now get out of my way," she said.

  "You're leaving like that?" he said, eyeing her in her corset and stockings, dress in hand.

  "I'll get dressed in the elevator. I just want to get the fuck out of here," she said.

  "Ok," he said.

  "Move," she said, as he stood in the way of her and the door.

  "No," he said.

  "I'm serious," she said.

  "So am I," he said, smiling at her.

  She tried to move around him and he blocked her. Then the other side, and he blocked her again.

  She dropped her dress now and tried to push him out of the way, pushing hard, and pounding at him with her fists, and he took her elbows and pushed her back into the room, against his desk, kicking the door to his office closed behind him.