Family Forbidden Taboo Erotica for Women Box Set

by Patricia Parks

  His cock exploded, pumping his seed deep in her. It gave him such a satisfied sense as he felt it spurt and spurt in her, then slowly as she milked it, the spurts slowed down, as he collapsed on her. They just lay there holding each other for a long while, his cock slowly getting soft inside her.

  Finally, he slowly pulled out of her. "You okay, sis?"

  All she said was, "Mmmmmmmm"

  "I should not have cum in you," Tom said sheepishly, as he looked for something to wipe them with. Finding some tissues on her bed stand, he began wiping first himself, then her, clean.

  "No! I really wanted you to! Really!" She opened her legs to let him clean her up.

  "You didn't have an orgasm did you?" Tom asked.

  "No, but its okay, that felt great."

  Tom moved his hand and cupped her vulva, to play with her sex. He let a finger enter slowly, and felt for her clitoris. He felt her juices start to flow again. At first, he let her guide his fingers to where it felt best. She then removed her fingers, as he kept asking her what felt good, in a sweet sexy tone, "Do you like this? How about this? You sexy thing!" Toying, circling her clit the whole time. She told him to tweak her nipples too as he played with her. He kept murmuring sweet sexy things to her the whole time, loving watching how turned on she was, watching her naked body quiver, as she softly moaned.

  Soon Amy told him to press faster and harder as her body tensed up for an orgasm. She came, her body bucked up, exploding, as she moaned more. Tom just kept telling her how lovely she was, what a sexy baby she was, as her body continued to vibrate bucking.

  Just as Amy was coming down from her orgasm (and Tom's cock was once again rock hard from watching her arousal), their mom knocked on the door, "You guys in there? Want some breakfast?"

  The End.

  The Building Site

  Meena Patel walked up and down the dreary street between her house and her children's school twice every day, just part of her stifling routine of domestic duties. In the morning she left the kids, aged 5 and 7, and returned home to cleaning, shopping and cooking the evening meal. In the afternoon, she trudged back to the school gates and collected them, the bright little lights in her life. In the evening her husband returned from work, ate his meal and played with his children for an hour before their bedtime. Then the two of them watched TV largely in silence, until it was time for bed. In the morning, the whole thing started again.

  Weekends were little better, mostly involving visits to and from her husband's family, whom she detested, as they treated her as a servant. Her own family were in India, and she saw them rarely. In fact she had seen them only twice since she came to this country to marry eight years ago, at the age of 19. On a Saturday night sometimes there was brief frantic lovemaking, which she saw only as another of her duties. Her husband's needs were not great, though, and he was not given to displays of affection.

  She felt she could not complain about her life -- many had worse. She had two lovely children, her husband was in work and their standard of living was quite good, and he didn't drink or beat her. None of the other mothers at the school gates paid much attention to her, but she didn't feel much need to socialize with them -- she could not understand their lives and their interests.

  Today Meena looked at herself in the mirror in the hallway before setting out once again to the school, and wondered why she felt so empty. Perhaps it was just the distance between her and her family. She may have been bored and unhappy, but always took great care of her appearance. She was always immaculately turned out in traditional sari, her hair tied back and her face radiant with just a hint of make-up to enhance her lovely brown eyes. Her features were delicate, and she wore a stud on one side of her nose. She was only just over 5 feet tall, and her tiny slim figure had not suffered from two pregnancies.

  As she walked along the street she noticed workmen had begun to clear a patch of waste ground near the school, and wondered why. Anything different was welcome to change the routine. It was spring now and the weather was good. The workmen were stripped to the waist, and she stood and watched them work for a minute before walking on, then stood alone amongst the chatting mothers at the school gate, listening to their gossip and their coarse laughter. She couldn't chase the image of those broad chests and strong arms from her mind, until her children ran up and greeted her and broke the spell. She walked home, listening to them chatter, but stole another glance at the workmen as she passed.

  The next week as she passed again, she noticed a temporary building being lowered onto the site. There was heavy machinery now, digging out foundations, and different workmen. As the week wore on it became a routine that when the young mums walked past the site, often dressed in skimpy summer clothing, the workmen would whistle at them, and sometimes shout suggestive remarks. Meena watched disapprovingly, but something in her wondered why they didn't shout at her.

  On the Friday morning, she trailed home in the morning having dropped off her kids once more. She was lost in thought as the passed the site, when she heard a whistle. She looked around to see the object of their attention today. There was no-one else in the street.

  "Get your tits out!" came a shout. "Come over here and we'll show you something!"

  Meena stopped in her tracks and turned to look for the speaker. She saw a group of four workmen, amongst whom there seemed to be some sort of a dispute going on. She did not know what possessed her, but she set off across the uneven ground in her sandals toward the men. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she had no notion of what she was going to do when she reached them. When she did so, they looked distinctly uncomfortable, looking at each other or the ground. One of the men, a shortish guy in his thirties, spoke first.

  "Listen love, I'm really sorry about Eric. He shouldn't have spoken to you like that. That was out of order."

  "Just a bit of fun, Mike" mumbled the man identified as Eric.

  Meena looked at Mike for a moment, and then at Eric. He was probably in his late fifties, with cropped grey hair and stubble to match. He was over six feet tall, and overweight, and the huge paunch that stretched the filthy vest he wore was peeping between it and dirt encrusted jeans. He had a pair of muddy tan leather boots, and indistinct tattoos on his arms. His face was red and lined with years of sun. Meena turned back to Mike. "Why not? I have heard you speaking to all the women in this way."

  "Yes, but they're... I mean that's different, it's..." Mike gave up . Meena walked towards Eric.

  "What do you wish to show me Mr. Eric?" she asked quietly. Eric opened his mouth to speak, and Meena noticed his top two front teeth were missing. He closed it again without speaking.

  "Do wish to see my tits Mr. Eric? Is that not what you said?" Eric gaped again. Meena could not believe she had said the words that had left her mouth; she could have turned and left at that moment, leaving a group of chastened builders behind. But something was stirring inside her.

  "Come then." Meena strode towards the site office, her sari trailing in the mud. Eric looked at his workmates, then dumbly followed her a few paces behind. She opened the door of the office and looked inside. She had no idea what to expect, but there was an untidy desk, several chairs, a battered filing cabinet and some lockers, and an old grey sofa, fraying and stained. Light came through two grubby windows, and the place was warm and stuffy and reeked of cigarette smoke. Eric stepped through the door and closed it, and stood looking at her apprehensively.

  She faced him once again, and looking him in the eyes, took her sari from her shoulder and began to slowly untuck it from the waist, and unwind it around her slim hips. She stood for a moment in just her petticoat and short tight blouse. Eric looked appreciatively at her tiny waist and flat stomach. Then her hands moved to her chest and she very slowly undid the buttons at the front of her blouse. Eric swallowed audibly as he caught a glimpse of her bra. Meena then slipped the blouse over her shoulders and threw it on a chair with the sari. She was wearing a modest bra, spotlessly white in contrast to h
er golden brown skin. As she reached behind her to unclasp it, she noticed Eric's eyes were fixed to her chest, and his breathing was coming faster. She deliberately took a long time to remove the bra, increasing his suspense. As it slid down her arms and she threw it down, she could hear him mutter something she didn't understand.

  "Now you have seen them. Does this make you happy?" she asked him. He nodded. His eyes were fixed on her small firm breasts with large soft nipples, and her perfect skin. Meena did not feel in control of her actions, and did not have a conscious plan, but she was aware of a strange sensation in her hidden parts, which seemed to be driving her on. Standing topless in front of a complete stranger was giving her a high. She took two steps toward him so that she was standing only two feet away. Eric tore his eyes away from her breasts at last and looked into her big brown eyes. He seemed to be asking permission for what would happen next, and when Meena responded with a slight smile, he reached out a hand and cupped her breast. His hand was rough on her skin, and made her tingle to her toes. No one except her husband had seen her breasts, let alone fondled them. What was she doing?

  As he massaged her breast she stepped closer, and standing on her tiptoes put her arms around his neck, bringing her face close to his. She could smell tobacco and sweat. Eric for his part smelled the clean fresh fragrance of Meena's hair. She put her lips to his, and Eric responded -- there could be no doubting her wishes now, and he got into his stride, pulling her buttocks toward his crotch with one hand, whilst inserting his tongue into her mouth. Meena tasted the bitterness of the tobacco in his saliva; she found it repulsive but fascinating. No-one had kissed her like this before, but she didn't want it to stop.

  Now using both hands, he gradually pulled her petticoat up at the back, until he reached the hem. He found the waistband of her panties and pulled it down over her small firm buttocks, which he proceeded to squeeze with one hand whilst returning to her breast with the other. Meena broke the kiss for breath, and noticed the dirt from his hands on her breast, which seemed to arouse her more. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes as he worked his hand around to the front inside her panties. Eric let out a sigh as his fingers found first pubic hair, then the warm wetness between her lips. Meena gasped as his calloused middle finger first found her clitoris, then entered her roughly. Eric was stooping now, sucking one of her nipples, one hand on her bare back, and the middle finger of his other hand thrusting in and out of her inside her panties. This carried on for a couple of minutes until Meena reached the first orgasm she hadn't given herself. She didn't make a sound, but the sudden violent shuddering of her little body told Eric of her climax. He withdrew his hand and looked her in the eye again.

  "Thank you Mr. Eric" said Meena. "Now what was it you were wanting to show me?" Both allowed their gaze to fall to his crotch. Before Eric could try to answer, Meena knelt and began to undo his belt with her delicate fingers. She undid the waist button of his jeans with some difficulty because of his overhanging belly and the strain the button was under, then eased his zip down. He helped her by easing his jeans down to mid-thigh, revealing a large but grimy pair of briefs, with a noticeable swelling in front, and a small damp patch marking the end of his cock. Meena grasped the waistband and pulled it slowly down, until his cock sprang free.

  Meena had never seen a penis other than her husband's, and she rarely saw that as he climbed onto her for his Saturday relief. Her husband's was small, slim, neat and brown, like the rest of him. She stared at Eric's for a long time without moving -- it was a good two inches longer than what she assumed was normal, and so thick! It was purplish red, with thick blue veins, and seemed so knobbly, with a big bulbous end, on which there was a clear sticky fluid. She could not say it was beautiful, but it was certainly affecting her in a way she had not experienced before.

  "Oh, it is so nice" she said almost in a whisper as she eventually reached out to touch it, tentatively at first, then grasping the shaft in her hand. It was as hard as steel, and she found her finger and thumb did not meet around it. She started to gently pump it, and Eric groaned. He felt he needed to take control of events now, and pulled Meena to her feet. He put his hands on her bare shoulders and guided her to the old sofa, and pushed her firmly down onto it. He lifted her feet onto one end so she lay flat on her back, then as Meena arched her back to help him, lifted her petticoat to her waist, and pulled her panties down, throwing them to the floor.

  He paused for the briefest look at her now fully exposed glory, then proceeded to try to clamber onto the sofa. This proved awkward, owing to his bulk, and the fact his jeans and briefs were round his knees. He lowered himself down onto Meena's petite body, and as his armpit passed her face she was hit by a strong odour of sweat. He struggled to pull up the front of his vest so that he could feel her breasts in contact with his skin. She could hardly breathe with him on top of her, but responded to his rough kiss. She could feel his rigid rod against her thigh, and parted her legs wide for him. He started to push with his hips, and his swollen bulbous end blindly struck her repeatedly between her legs. Somehow Meena managed to reach down with one hand and grasped Eric's shaft and guided him to her opening.

  As he felt his cock touch the soft, warm and wet area he had been seeking, he suddenly thrust his entire length into her with an animal grunt. Meena gasped under him, but put both hands on his lower back. Eric started to thrust in earnest now; Meena had never felt a sensation like it. She was stretched to accommodate Eric, and the depth of his penetration stimulated her as never before. He fucked her hard, with long deep strokes, which just went on and on. This was nothing like the rabbit-like thrusting of her husband, which rarely lasted longer than 30 seconds. She was so wet though, that Eric's cock caused her less discomfort. As she reached her second orgasm of the morning, she let out a little whimper, but Eric just kept going. The old sofa creaked as Eric pounded her, and she felt the sweat forming between their bodies, and his hot breath on her ear. As she lay under this heaving mound of flesh, she could just see one of the windows. She couldn't be certain as her head was moving in time to Eric's thrusting, and the window was so grimy, but she thought she saw three faces pressed against it.

  She looked towards the ceiling. Here she was, she thought to herself, a respectable traditional married mother of two, being fucked mercilessly by a disgusting fat stranger, while others watched! She didn't care, in fact the very thought brought her to another climax. She dug her fingernails into Eric's buttocks to encourage him, and he obliged by pumping away harder. He carried on for a further ten minutes, giving her two more orgasms, before reaching his own and emptying himself into her cunt. He sagged onto her for a moment, before heaving himself off the sofa, and pulling his jeans up.

  Meena got unsteadily to her feet, collected her clothes, and dressed calmly while Eric watched.

  "Thank you for showing it to me" she said to him brightly, "I liked it very much." Meena walked out of the office door into the sunshine, smiling at the workmen standing nearby, watching her silently as she passed them by. She stumbled across the site to the road, feeling their eyes on her back, and set off for home. Her face was flushed, her hair untidy, her sandals and clothes covered in the dirt of the site and the office. There were grimy hand marks on her breasts and buttocks, Eric's semen was soaking her panties and running down her thigh, and her cunt ached, but she felt on top of the world. When she reached home, she walked through the door and undressed again. She threw all of her clothes into the washing machine and went upstairs to take a shower.

  After she had removed the mud, dust and semen from her body, she lay naked on her bed, and despite the soreness between her legs, gave herself her sixth orgasm of the day. She felt a disappointment that it was Friday, but felt that she might just be returning to the building site very soon...

  The End.

  My Nasty Hotel Secret

  Not many people know this about me, but I used to own and operate a BDSM-themed boutique hotel near the Canadian border, ten miles so
uth of Blaine.

  It was called the Black Rose: 26 rooms, all themed with velvet curtains and marble pillars and packed with kinky sex implements, going for $300 a night in high season. It catered mostly to Americans and Canadians, but I had lots of German, Dutch, and French guests as well. Rich people who live to fuck. Mmmmm...exactly what I like.

  I guess you should know that despite what I look like, I'm not a nice girl. Oh no. Not when you get me behind closed doors. At this time, I was cheating regularly on my husband because he couldn't come close to satisfying me. (He thought I was partnering in a catering business with a girlfriend, which kept me away for days at a time--little did he know.) I had -- and still have -- an insatiable appetite for cock, but also consider myself fully bisexual. Many of my fantasies center on seducing other women, often barely out of their teens, and teaching them how to please me. Of course, I acted out many of these fantasies at the Black Rose. But I digress. God, I know what I'm going to tell you, and it gets me so wet that I wish I was masturbating right now.

  I operated the hotel under the name of Mistress Rose, and what made it unique was that every guest signed a waiver form putting him or herself completely in my power for the duration of my stay. No rules but Mistress Rose's rules. I get off on power and being worshipped. What can I say? I'm a nasty girl.

  The penthouse suite was called the Mistress Suite, and no one was allowed to stay there but me. Four adjoining rooms, big bay windows overlooking the surrounding forest, a four-poster California king bed, a soaker tub, TVs showing my favorite lesbian erotica, and two big walk-in closets containing my many "tributes."

  Did I forget to mention that? All the guests had to bring me a tribute based on my wish list -- sometimes spa products or silk dresses, but usually to enhance Mistress Rose's deliciously commanding image. Italian leather boots. I used to hold regular jerk-off parties in the library, where the men would kneel and shoot their loads all over my boots, while the girls would be forced to get down and lick them clean afterwards. Let's see...what else? I used to own all six models of the Hitachi Magic Wand. Handcuffs and nipple clamps, of course. A complete array of leather floggers. Lots of vibrators. A French couple brought me a gold-plated dildo from Paris one year.