21 Taboo Tales

by Robin Pressley

  Now I’m going to hop in the bathroom for a quick shower before I head out to work, but as I roll out of bed, my hand catches on something. It’s my steel handcuff, and it’s clasped around my wrist.

  The other cuff is attached to Justine.

  “Were you going to leave without giving me my good morning fuck?” She asks, smirking at me from her pillow, her eyes still shut.

  “Technically, baby girl, we’ve already had one good morning fuck already today.”

  “Fine,” she says with a giggle, “but you still owe me a goodbye fuck before you leave for work. And until I get it, Daddy, I won’t tell you where I hid the key to the handcuffs.”

  My Justine is insatiable. Her thirst is unquenchable. And I’m more than happy to oblige her. Still, I have to tease her just a little. “I’m going to be late to work—you don’t want me to get in trouble with the chief do you?”

  Speaking of the police chief, well, he’s also my father-in-law now. I knew Justine and I couldn’t keep our dirty little secret forever.

  When I went to tell Bud that I intended to make her my wife, I was apprehensive. Of course he didn’t know that she was already carrying my baby inside her. I left out that little detail. But I knew I had to be a man and look him in the eye and tell him I was going to marry his little girl. I didn’t know how he would take it.

  Turns out, he was overjoyed. It makes sense when you think about it. He knows that no other man out there except himself could love and protect his little girl the way I will.

  Justine props herself up on one elbow. Her little belly is getting round again. She’s already got another bun in the oven. Our family is growing. Our souls are linked now, the same way our bodies are chained together by these cuffs.

  Justine shakes her wrist, jingling the handcuffs like a bracelet.

  “Well, if you don’t want to be late for work, then you’d better get started mister. The faster I cum, the faster you get the key to these cuffs.”

  I throw the covers off of her, and the sight of her gorgeous naked body shining in the morning sunlight makes my cock instantly stand at attention. Justine giggles mischievously and strokes it while I squeeze her plump tits. This is so much better than a cup of coffee to get you going in the morning. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to rush this. I’m going to take my sweet time with her, just like I always do.

  After all, it’s my sworn duty to take good care of my naughty little girl.

  Hot & Bothered

  “Please come quick! I’m so hot right now, and I’m dripping wet!”

  “Don’t worry, Sweetie, I’ll be right there.”

  I hang up the phone and run outside to my truck while I’m still tucking in my shirt and zipping up my jeans. That’s how badly I want to get over there to see her. Nicole. My little girl. I climb into the driver’s seat, but as I go to turn the ignition, I pause.

  What the fuck am I doing? This is all wrong. She’s my son’s girlfriend for fuck’s sake. I’m just going to go back inside, call her back, and tell her to get someone else to come over. We can’t keep doing this.

  First it was a blown fuse on Monday. Then it was a leaky sink on Tuesday. On Wednesday the exhaust fan in her bathroom was rattling. Then the gas stove on Thursday. And now her AC has gone out on the hottest day of the summer, and she’s sweating bullets.

  If that no-good son of mine spent more time looking after the maintenance of the little hovel they share and less time traveling all over the country, Nicole wouldn’t have all of these problems. But this week he’s out of town for a “business trip,” and he’s left poor little Nicole behind to fend for herself.

  He’d better be careful with that shit, or else some other fella is going to waltz in when he’s not looking and steal his girl.

  Well now, that gets me thinking. Let’s say I do tell her to call an AC repair guy to come over. Then sweet little Nicole is going to be all alone in that cramped apartment with some strange man.

  I know how she likes to dress in those skimpy little outfits—especially on hot summer days like this one. It’s not her fault; she doesn’t know any better. She’s so innocent, she doesn’t even realize the effect she has on men.

  But whatever jerk of a repair man she ends up calling will definitely be checking out her nubile little body—and maybe more.

  Fuck all of that.

  The idea of some other guy even laying his sleazy eyes on her gorgeous little figure is too much for me to think about. Truth be told, I don’t even like the thought of my own son being with her. I shouldn’t be this obsessed and protective. It’s not like she’s my daughter. Hell, she ain’t even my daughter-in-law. But there’s just no helping it. Not with a girl like Nicole.

  She called on me to take care of her. I won’t let her down.

  I crank up the truck and squeal out of the driveway, nearly running down the mailman in the process. Sorry, pal, but my little princess needs me.

  Fifteen minutes and a few blown stop signs later and I’m on the other side of town, screeching to a stop in front of the first floor apartment Nicole shares with my son. I grab my toolbox from the bed of the truck and march up the front path. She opens the door before I even have a chance to ring the bell—she must have been watching out the window.

  And she wasn’t kidding about being wet—the poor little kitten is totally drenched in sweat.

  “Oh thank goodness you’re here, Mr. Johnson,” she says, “It’s absolutely sweltering in the apartment. I don’t think I could last much longer.”

  The sight of her standing in the doorway rocks me back on my heels like I’ve been socked in the gut. Nicole is a real piece of work from head to toe. She’s a tiny little thing. I mean, I’m a big guy, so everyone looks small to me, but she’s especially petite. Well that’s not quite right, is it? You can’t really call a girl with a bust like hers petite. I know I shouldn’t stare, but my eyes are on autopilot for the moment.

  She’s got on a tight-fitting, short-sleeved, checked shirt with the top buttons open. Underneath that, she’s wearing a low-cut white tank top that shows off the top of her full, perky breasts, which are still jiggling from how forcefully she flung open the door. Down below she has on a pair of cut-off Daisy Dukes to show off the sensuous lines of her smooth, tanned legs. Her perfect little feet with their hot pink toenails are bare and ridiculously appetizing.

  Her skin is glowing with a sheen of sweat, and wet locks of hair are plastered to her forehead and cheeks. One sexy little strand is curled to the corner of the mouth like she’s been nibbling on it. It’s a good thing my jeans are tight enough to hold my stupid cock down.

  “Mr. Johnson? Is everything OK?” she says with a smile.

  Where the hell are my manners? It’s not polite to stare, even at a little goddess like Nicole. I snap out of it. I came here to do a job, damn it.

  “Don’t worry, Nicole, everything will be fine.” I tell her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m here to take care of you. And please, like I told you before, you can call me Griff.”

  “Oh thank you so much, Griff! You’re a star!”

  She puts both of her hands on my shoulders, pulls herself up on her tip-toes, and plants a wet smooch on my cheek. Between that and the summer heat, I nearly melt into a little puddle of love right there on the doorstep.

  “Come inside!” she squeaks. “I’ll show you where the unit is.”

  She takes me by the hand and turns around to lead me inside. Her cut-off britches are so short that her butt cheeks are winking at me from under the fringe of worn denim.

  As I step inside, I realize she wasn’t kidding. It’s hot as fuck in here, and I can already feel beads of sweat popping out along my brow and my neck—although that may be due to Nicole’s delicious little body as much as the air temperature.

  The place is way too small. It’s basically just one room plus a little kitchenette off to one side and a tiny bathroom. There’s not even a bedroom. She told me before that they fold ou
t the futon at night and sleep on that. If my son was any kind of man, he’d have a big house for Nicole, a ring on her finger, and a bunch of little rugrats running around. Anyway, I know that’s what I’d do with her.

  “Here it is!” she chirps, gesturing to an ancient looking window mounted air conditioning unit.

  Jesus Christ, this is pathetic. My dumbass son should be able to provide a better home for this little girl. She’s an eleven out of ten, and he’s got her sweating to death in a one-room dump like this? The thought makes my blood start to boil. Between the heat, my anger, and the way the bottom curve of Nicole’s butt his smiling at me from under her shorts, I’m in real danger of overheating.

  I take a deep breath and count to ten.

  “All right, little lady, you can just relax,” I tell her as I crack open my toolbox. “Griff will have you all fixed up in no time.”

  “Gosh, you’re the best Mr. Johnson. Oop! I mean, Griff. Hey, do you want a Coke?”

  She doesn’t even let me answer; she just scampers over to the refrigerator. As she’s rummaging and rattling through the contents of the fridge, her mouthwatering little butt is up in the air and on full display. The jean shorts ride up her crack, showing even more of her plump, perfectly round cheeks, which are shiny with sweat. There’s only a thin strip of frayed denim covering up her soft little mound.

  Quicker than a squirrel with couple of nuts, she turns around with two bottles of Coke in her hands. I drop my eyes to my toolbox and try to pretend like I wasn’t watching and drooling.

  She brings me my Coke, then she plops down on the couch and presses her own cold, sweating bottle to her forehead.

  “Oof! It is hotter than all get-out, Griff! I am absolutely roasting.”

  She clicks on the oscillating fan that’s sitting on the coffee table and it sharts blowing her hair like she’s a damn Victoria’s Secret model.

  “Ooh that feels better,” she says, as she runs the cold glass bottle down her neck and chest, and beads of cool condensation roll down into her cleavage.

  Normally I’m pretty handy with a tool, but I’m having a little trouble with the screws on the front panel of the AC unit. For some reason I just can’t seem to focus on the task at hand. Finally I get the panel off.

  “Boy, I’m sure glad you’re here to help me, Griff,” she says, “With Billy out of town on his business trip, I don’t have anyone else to take care of me when something goes wrong like this.”

  She giggles.

  “To tell you the truth, Billy’s not all that handy himself. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe he’s actually your son. You two are like night and day.”

  I concur, but not out loud. And I wonder whether I’m day or whether I’m night. I hope I’m night.

  The thing of it is, I know that Billy ain’t on no damn business trip. He’s down on the Gulf Coast knocking boots with his side-piece—some shady skank he used to hook up with a couple of years ago when he was still in high school. I guess they recently rekindled their romance—if you want to call it a romance.

  I shouldn’t know that, but Billy’s got a big mouth, and word gets around. I wonder if Nicole knows, poor little thing. If she does, she isn’t showing it.

  How in the hell Billy could even consider philandering when he’s got a gorgeous young girl like Nicole waiting at home is beyond me. I need to knock some sense into that boy next time I get the chance.

  Nicole tilts back her bottle of Coke and takes a long refreshing gulp. The sight of her delicate neck working as she swallows the sweet fluid makes me slip and drop my screwdriver, which clatters on the floor. The sound startles her and a few drops of the dark soda dribble down her chin and onto her checked shirt.

  “Oopsy! I’m such a little klutz,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’d better clean this before it stains.”

  She unbuttons the shirt, and pulls it open, revealing the white tank top underneath. The thin cloth is soaked through with perspiration, and it clings to her body. The tawny color of her skin shows through the wet white fabric.

  Oh yeah, fun fact: she’s not wearing a bra underneath. Her dark nipples look as hard as a couple of pebbles and they are poking out like nobody’s business.

  My cock is doing the hokey-pokey against the front of my jeans, so I turn myself around to try and hide it. This girl is going to be the death of me. I shouldn’t even be letting myself get so turned on by her. She’s young enough to be my daughter. I make a quick mental checklist:

  Step1: get my head straight

  Step 2: get this AC unit cranking

  Step 3: get the fuck out of here

  “Griff?”

  She taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and she’s standing right there, bare inches from me. Those two perky nipples under her wet tank top are just begging to be sucked on. It takes every last ounce of willpower I’ve got to jerk my eyes up to hers.

  “I’m just going to run down the hall and pop this shirt in the washer, kay? I’ll be back in a jiffy!”

  I nod, but I don’t dare open my mouth to say anything since my mouth is watering so bad I’m liable to drool on her.

  “Kay! Be right back!”

  She darts out the door. I swallow hard, breathe a sigh of relief, and get back to work on the AC unit.

  Now that I’m alone, I finally have a chance to think, and it hits home that I need to get out of here before I do something stupid. Nicole is so off-limits it’s not even funny. The thing is, she’s such a pure, innocent little thing, she probably doesn’t even really how wild she’s driving me with her little one-woman wet T-shirt show.

  Looking around the crummy little apartment, I’m hit by an impulse to get her out of this dump, to take her away from here, back home with me where she’ll be comfortable. It’s crazy, I know, but I just feel so damn protective and possessive toward her. I just want to take care of her every need and fulfill her every desire. But it ain’t right, and it ain’t going to happen.

  What I need to do is get this dang AC unit fixed before she gets back, otherwise I’ll never be able to get it done. Actually, I’m kind of surprised she’s not back already though. I wonder what could be taking her so long…

  I think about her down the hall in the laundry room. Lord knows who else might be out there, and sweet innocent little Nicole is out there with her tits basically on display for the whole world to see. I can’t stand it. The idea of some creep ogling her perfect body is too much for me to bear. I realize I’m grinding my teeth just thinking about it.

  I’m about to go out there and get her, when I notice something funny.

  All of the electrical wires inside the AC unit have been disconnected—the fan, the compressor, the controls. They’re not broken. It’s like somebody got in there and took them apart on purpose. Like somebody sabotaged it.

  Now who the hell would do a thing like that?

  “I’m ba-ack!” she sings.

  She bumps the door shut with her butt and grins at me as she crosses the room.

  “How’s it coming, Griff? Have you found the problem? Can you fix it?”

  “Yeah…yeah I think so.”

  I rub the stubble on my chin. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Billy is still out of town. And I’m pretty darn sure Nicole hasn’t had anyone over all week besides me. It’s not like I’m stalking her or anything. But I may have happened to drive by the apartment once or twice or ten times on the way home from the bar. So then who the hell sabotaged this air conditioner. Unless…No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

  Her voice rouses me out of my thoughts.

  “Goodness gracious,” she says in her breathy, little girl voice, “I’m still burning up, Griff. You wouldn’t mind if I take these shorts off too, would you?”

  As usual, she doesn’t give me a chance to answer. She just unfastens the button, zips down the fly and peels off her skimpy jean shorts, letting them fall around her ankles before kicking them playfully into the corner of the room.

  Now the only thi
ng on her lower body is a tiny pair of white cotton panties.

  “I mean, it’s not a big deal, right Griff? It’s basically just like a swimsuit!”

  Right. No big deal. Basically a swimsuit.

  My cock strongly disagrees with her.

  Her panties are damp with sweat too, just like her tank top, and I can see the shadow of her small, neatly trimmed bush through the fabric. More droplets of sweat dribble down her smooth thighs.

  In my mind’s eye, I can see myself on my knees in front of her as I kiss my way up the soft skin of her legs, licking away the beads of sweat as I go, taking my time until her tiny white panties are right in front of my face. I try to shake the fantasy out of my head.

  “Oh, I’ve got an idea,” she says with a laugh.

  She walks over the fridge, swaying her hips as she goes. The way her butt jiggles as she walks is hypnotizing. She opens up the freezer and pulls out an ice cube tray.

  “Maybe this will cool me down.”

  I’m trying to pretend like I’m working on the air conditioner, but at this point it’s hopeless. To be completely honest, I’m not even sure I want the damn thing to come back on. And in the back of my mind—and I mean way, way in the back—I’m still puzzling over the mystery of those disconnected wires. I’ve been called a lot of things in my day, but “smart” ain’t one of them. Still, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of who disconnected them.

  Nicole sits down on the couch in front of the blowing fan. She pops an ice cube out of the tray and starts running it along her collarbone, up her neck, along the delicate line of her jaw. Drops of cool water roll down her throat and chest.

  “Oh yeah,” she sighs, “that feels good.”

  She spreads her legs and rubs the melting cube slowly over the soft smooth flesh of her inner thighs, moaning faintly as she enjoys the sensation. Her sweltering skin is melting the ice like a pat of butter on a hot corn cob. She runs the ice cube the length of her thigh one more time, and then moves it between her legs, rubbing the wet piece of ice in short vertical strokes over the front of her panties as she whines delicately, lost in her sensual game.