Family Forbidden Taboo Erotica for Women Box Set

by Patricia Parks

  But then you feel something. With his hands on your waist and a single thrust his fills you. The feeling is amazing and you loose all care for anything else besides this feeling deep inside you. Slowly he enters you and withdrawals from you. His size is perfect. It fills you to the fullest without any pain. Just ecstasy. It seems like you can feel every detail, every vein, and every curve of his manhood. His pace quickens as he reaches around cups your breasts as you steady yourself on the rails. You can feel his large balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. You've never felt like this before. This sensation of him inside you is like no other you've felt before. There is a "spot" that is being touched that's never been touched before. You can feel yourself working your way to an orgasm already, just by him moving in and out of you. His thrusts harden and go deeper now. You can feel the rain start coming down harder now. The cool drops sliding all over your body. Then once again he quickens his pace. You can hear the sound of his body slapping your ass.... Then thunder shakes the ground as you cum. Lightning fills the sky and more waves of your orgasm blast through your body. As if you started cumming again before the first one finished. With these multiple waves flowing through you, you can feel his dick swell up getting ready to fill you with his cum. You start rocking your body to him as he pounds into you faster and harder. Each thrust sending a new wave through you.

  The lightning and thunder sending chills through your body, non-stop. The raindrops feeling like a thousand fingers touching you body everywhere. Suddenly he starts cumming and you cum again with him. It seems like everything happens at once. The rain, the thunder, the lightning, his thrust. You are in heaven. Never having stopped cumming his thrusts slowly start to slow. Things are in slow motion now. The rain seems to have slowed. The lightning is no longer lighting the sky and the thunder is no longer shaking the earth. He pulls out but you can still feel his presence behind you. His breath on your neck, the warmth from his body. Your eyes close and enjoy the bliss of this stranger. Suddenly in the distance the thunder lets out a soft, low grumble. And you are cold again. You quickly turn around but you are alone. There is no stranger, no car. You are still breathing a little heave as you walk back to your car holding a flannel with the scent of a stranger lingering in its cloth. Once again, the thunder grumbles in the distance.

  The End.

  Bookstore Seduction

  You are browsing at the bookstore. You feel rather bored, and are not pressed for time. You pass attractive men, strangers. Intriguing daydreams wander in and out of your imagination.

  You are wearing a light colored sundress. You browse and select a book. It is interesting, and so you sit cross-legged on the floor, with your back against the book stacks, with the book resting on your lap.

  Several minutes pass when you notice a tall man is browsing in the same aisle. He is broad shouldered. His demeanor is also unrushed and casual. As he slowly searches through the books along the aisle, he is moving gradually in your direction.

  He moves closer, selecting a book now and then.

  You glance briefly in his direction. His hair is light brown, a bit longer in the back. Day-old, well trimmed stubble. Inside you feel a tingle of chemical attraction to this complete stranger.

  Every few minutes he moves closer. Soon he is next to you, browsing and reading. With him so close, you notice his pleasant scent. The hairs on the back of your neck seem to stiffen.

  He seems completely comfortable, so you find yourself also at ease. You wonder if he finds you alluring, or, is he just pausing nearby to examine an interesting book?

  He is so close. Just a few inches away. Nothing is said. You hear him sigh softly.

  You look down to see how much of your cleavage is visible to him... you lean forward so he can see a bit more.

  He shifts his weight on his leg and takes in a sudden breath. You hear him whisper something -- you are not sure what it was... Was he reading to himself? What did he whisper? Did it sound something like "oh my... lovely breasts." Or, was he reading to himself? You are not sure; is your imagination playing tricks?

  Then he reaches for a book, one very close to you behind you in the stacks. His hand gently brushes against your shoulder as he removes it. The slight touch felt like a bit of electricity passed between you. Was it intentional, or accidental?

  He stands nearby and reads for awhile, then he sits down almost directly across from you in the aisle, mirroring you as you both sit crossed-legged. You notice his muscular legs, but you try keep your eyes on the print before you, and, every so often, you turn a page.

  Minutes pass by slowly, silently. But the silence is full of anticipation. He glances at your legs every so often from under his sun visor as he turns a page. More minutes pass. Silence. Other people come and go.

  He quietly sighs. You sigh. You turn a page. He turns a page. The minutes tick. Anticipation grows, then ebbs. And grows again.

  You glance at him, but his eyes are hidden below his visor. Is he admiring your legs? You decide to slowly and seductively caress the skin of your leg with a slow, light finger touch.

  Does he react? He does. He notices. You hear him take in a slow, deep breath, and you see that he shift uncomfortably. You slightly rock your leg. He slightly rocks his. He turns a page; you turn a page. You refocus on your book; he does, too. Waxing and waning, arousal growing and ebbing. Communication without sound.

  He whispers again, but you cannot make it out. He seems to be reading softly to himself. Or, is he whispering to you? What is he saying? Only a few words come across... and even those you are unsure about the meaning or intention.

  Time passes in his presence, in such close proximity to him. Nothing said. Overtly innocent to others, but, covertly incendiary. There is a nonverbal sync, a palpable chemistry.

  You shift your position so that your dress pulls up your over your knee. Now he can "accidentally" see a tantalizing glimpse of your smooth inner thighs. He shifts his position, again, uncomfortably. You are intrigued to see that he finds you alluring. He seems to try to focus on his reading.. You very lightly caress the skin of your leg while you read.

  More minutes pass, and you turn a page, then another. Then you pull your knees up slightly, with your book in your lap. You pull down your dress modestly, but you know he can see under your dress.

  He reacts. He is tenting. Your head lights turn on. He notices, and reacts.

  You both pretend not to notice. But you do. After a while of tantalizing him, you change your position to cool him down.

  This waxing and waning cycles for some time, yet no one else can see the nonverbal communication.

  You are intrigued by the idea of teasing this attractive stranger. You adjust your top to make sure too much cleavage isn't showing. You modestly pull down your dress, only to accidentally allow him to see your inner thighs again. Heating him up, then feigning modesty, and cooling him down. Only to repeat it again. And again.

  He tries to hide his arousal with his book. You try to hide your arousal by covering your breasts -- your nipples are pressing out against the fabric of your top... clearly visible now...

  Finally, it seems as if he can take it no longer.

  "This print is so small," he whispers.

  Was he talking to you, or to himself?

  "I can barely make this out."

  "What's that?" you ask.

  "Oh, this print. It is so small. I can barely read it."

  He comes over next to you and whispers: "Would you mind reading a bit of this aloud to me?"

  You are taken aback, and say nothing for moment. Then you muster a response.

  "Oh... sure."

  "I can barely make this out..."

  "Oh, small print?" you stammer. "Sure... let's see..." You can feel your heartbeat in your chest.

  It is a large book, and he places it over your lap.

  "Oh, might you start reading here?" he says, pointing to the paragraphs with the small print.

  You begin reading it aloud to him.
He has moved close to you. In fact, his knee is touching yours.

  You begin reading aloud.

  "Oh, maybe you should whisper," he says, "so we don't disturb others..."

  "Oh, yes, of course..."

  You read quietly in a whisper. And he is so close. Your voice is a bit breathy at times, but you try to control its tempo and tone.

  He helps turn the page. As he does, the back of his hand brushes across your nipple.

  "Oh..." you whisper involuntarily.

  "Here you go," he points to the text on the page.

  You continue reading to him in a low whisper.

  You read a few sections aloud. Your voice is getting breathy and choppy at times, and you pause every so often. You continue to read in a whisper. But, under the book, you notice that his finger is touching the skin of your knee, just under your dress...

  You stop reading.

  "shhh... whisper..." he says. Others are nearby, but don't notice.

  "oh..." you pause.

  "shhhh... please keep reading..."

  You do. but your voice is getting breathy and unsteady. You have to pause occasionally. No one else can see... it is a large book covering your lap.

  You feel his touch, tracing lightly on your skin, under the book. your voice is unsteady, breathy, and you have to pause occasionally... It gives away your faux protestations...

  "Please... oh, no."

  You read a few sections aloud. Your voice choppy at times, and you pause to take in a breath every so often. You continue to read, as best you can, in a halting whisper. But, under the book, you notice that his finger is touching the skin of your knee, just under your dress...

  You stop reading.

  "Shhh... whisper..." he says. Others are nearby, but don't notice.

  "Oh..." you pause.

  "Shhhh... please keep reading..."

  You do. No one else can see... it is a large book covering your lap.

  You feel his touch, tracing lightly on your skin, under the book. your voice is unsteady, and you have to pause occasionally... Your voice betrays your arousal, contrary to your faux protestations...

  "Please... oh, no."

  Finally, his finger is exploring under the seam of your panties. Warmth and wetness. You feel his finger circle your clit, lightly... slowly.

  Your mouth is dry... it is hard now to breathe normally.

  He presses down, harder.

  "Oh! oh!"

  "Shhhh...." he says.

  With his other hand, he tursn the page, rubbing against your hard nipple.

  You continue reading aloud, in a breathy, in an entirely out of rhythm whisper.

  Others are nearby. can they tell?

  "Oh, please. Please stop..."

  "Read here..."

  "Oh, stop, please..."

  Your protestations grow more shallow and weak.

  "Close your eyes for a moment." he says.

  You do.

  You feel his lips on yours.

  Lightly at first. Then a deeper kiss.

  You cannot get enough air... you have to pull back to catch your breath.

  He allows you to calm a bit, to regain your composure, but your face has reddened. And, a red blush appears on your neck and chest

  You read again, but the words are coming out staccato, only one at at time...

  You feel your clit tingle and pulse as his finger rests motionless on it for a long while.

  Pulsating... Breathing... Whispering Trying not to let others see what is happening...

  You lean forward to let him see your erect nipple.

  He circles your clit, slow then fast. Lightly then with more pressure.

  faster

  harder

  in circles over it

  faster

  breathing deep.

  "oh! oh... oooh!"

  "shhhuuuu...:

  Your entire body quakes with deep, spreading spasms... but you cannot make a sound.

  You try to remain still.

  "Follow me" he whispers.

  You do.

  It is an upscale lavishly appointed independent bookstore. You follow him into a unisex restroom, and he shuts the door behind you. No one else has noticed.

  We are alone.

  "You have such a lovely face" I say as we stand before the large, ornate mirror. "Lovely... so lovely."

  I'm behind you, and I trace my fingers across your neck and jawline.

  "Beautiful facial structure... checkbones... lips... nose..."

  You feel my fingers explore the nape of your neck, your chest, the valley at the top of your cleavage.

  "So lovely, " I whisper. "And your breasts...."

  Slowly I unfasten the buttons of at the top of your sundress.

  As we both look in the mirror I slowly pull back your top and expose one breast.

  "Shuuuu.... we must be quiet..."

  Your nipple is erect in the reflection in the mirror.

  "Lovely... so beautiful..." I whisper next to your ear.

  We both look in the mirror as my finger circles your nipple, lightly...

  With my other hand, I reach down and around you, under your dress. Again, you feel my finger on your clit.

  "oh... no, please! We mustn't. Not here... Someone might come."

  "Shuuu....."

  After a while you can take this no longer.

  I sense it and pull down your panties from behind.

  You lean forward, steadying yourself with your hands on the hard granite sink. You wait with anticipation.

  You can see yourself yourself in the mirror.

  You see your own shocked expression as you feel me enter you from behind... penetrating deeply in one full stroke. Filling you. I pause, both of us throbbing. Then, I thrust fast. Then stop. You wait with anticipation...

  "Oh, please..."

  I thrust again.

  You can see your breasts jiggle with my thrusts.

  "Oh! oh!"

  "Shhh...."

  I squeeze your nipple with one hand, and massage your clit with the other.

  The contractions start again... and spread over your body. You see your face redden in the mirror.

  "Ohhhh!" you exclaim too loudly.

  "Shhhh shhh...."

  I am hard and deep inside of you.

  "Ah... oh... ooohhh!"

  You feel my contractions, and the warm fluid fill you inside...

  A long pause to catch our breath.

  "Shhh...," I whisper. "Close your eyes." I kiss you again. Our tongues intertwine and explore greedily.

  I slowly brush your hair back, and wipe away the sweat from your forehead.

  "Again," I whisper... "we will meet again. Meet me here again in one week, at the same time."

  Then I leave, quietly closing the door.

  You study yourself in the mirror... your face is reddened and flushed glistening beads of sweat, hair disorganized, chest still heaving with deep breaths.

  You close your eyes. You are alone.

  "Oh... ohhh" you whisper to yourself quietly. "Oh my."

  You wonder: How did this happen?

  There is silence... no voice to counter your protestations. In the mirror your nipples are still erect. Your lips are red and moist, there is a slight, unintentional upturn at the corners.

  "One week," he said. One week.

  The End.

  Thy Rod and Thy Cane

  I'd get a room for the evening. Text you the location and time. Lets say...6:30 PM. And what my whim for the night is. Tonight, I want Victorian, I think. Wear a long skirt, long-sleeved white or cream blouse, high necked. Put your hair up. Boots with heels. Underwear? do you even have to ask? Do wear a bra, though. I like playing with them.

  A knock. "Come in, please." Some people are harsh and rude, trying to establish their authority with force and bluster. Me, I never found that was needed. One either is, or is not: does, or does not. You will come in, give me a civil greeting, and wait quietly. Oh, and the term is "Sir." It
's not a Master/slave piece of nonsense -- just more common civil courtesy.

  "Stand in the centre of the room, luv. I want to look at you." Ok, these rooms are not exactly made to have a "centre" and allow one to walk around. I just twirl my finger, motioning you to spin in place. Slowly. I do rather like what I see. A step, and I am before you, staring down into your eyes. Reaching up to caress the back of your neck. Then to take hold of your hair-bun, pull your head back and kiss you. Hard. Pull your head back a bit more, and softly lick along side of your neck, where your pulse beats passion under your flesh.

  "Turn around. Put your hands on the edge of the bed. Spread your legs." I raise your skirts, leaving it draped well above your waist, your delicious arse exposed. An ass made to be caressed (I do).... and spanked (and I do that, as well.) Lightly at first, just the fingers, a slow rhythm. Mmmm...you really do have a lovely arse. Do you like that? Sightly harder slaps, now, but still just warming you up.

  "Stand up again, luv. Unbutton your blouse." Sometimes, I like to strip you myself. Others, to sit back and watch as you show off for me. Tonight, as much as I do like watching you undress, I am after the glory inside.

  With your blouse un-buttoned and pulled free just enough, I caress your tits with both hands. Yes, you can see the dreamy smile on my face -- you have lovely tits, too. I take them into my hands, one each, and squeeze. Hard. Still that smile, but less dreamy and more evil. Oh yes...I do like playing with your body. Hard.

  You've worn a back-hook bra. Not surprising -- that is normally what I like, even though tonight a front-hook might have worked better. Or mayhaps not, for then I wouldn't have as much fun with it. I have to grin to myself -- you also chose to wear a cheap bra. One you can afford to loose. I suspect you know how my mind works.

  The knife is black, a skeleton handle. A real knife, not some play toy gussied up for a scene. Flash is for putting on a show. (we might do that sometime, as well.) The boot-knife is for really doing things. Like cutting off your bra. I trail the point down your chest, from the hollow of your throat to the fabric between your breasts. Then slide the knife between flesh and cloth, and slice outwards. The cups fall away, and your tits are open to the air, my fingers, my greedy gaze and the edge of my knife.