But the professor’s dick is still rock hard and pressed against my tush—he hasn’t cum yet. I need to change that.
As I get my second wind, I turn around and face him on all fours. His big beautiful cock is right there in my face, still shiny wet with my lubrication.
“I want to taste myself on you, Daddy.”
I grip his root and lick him from his balls to his head. His cock is tangy with the flavor of my pussy. I swirl the tip of my tongue in circles around his plump helmet. I lick the place on the underside of his head that I know is his most sensitive spot, making him groan and shiver.
“Am I doing a good job, Daddy?” I ask between licks, his cock pressed to my lips like a big finger trying to shush me. “Does that feel good?”
“Oh yes, little one.” He pets my hair back from my face as I brush my bottom lip against his tip. “I always knew you were a talented girl. You know just what Daddy likes.”
“Do you want to watch me suck you?” I whisper.
He nods. I wrap my lips around his head and start to suck, the tip of my tongue working his sensitive apex.
“Oh fuck baby girl, that feels so good.”
Going deeper, I bob my head up and down on his thick, engorged cock. I take as much as I can, but it’s so big I can only make it about halfway down his shaft. I fondle his balls as I suck him in long, wet strokes. Finally I have to draw myself off of him with a slurp, and I gasp like a diver coming up for breath. A thin string of saliva curves from his cock to my lips.
“All I need is your cock…and maybe some air.”
“You’re an artist baby girl. Nobody can please me the way you do.”
My heart swells with pride to hear him praise me, and I go down on him again, sucking even harder and deeper this time. I look up into his eyes as his cock penetrates my mouth, going so deep it almost gags me. He’s so delicious and handsome it’s not even fair. I have to have his cum inside me, even if it’s only in my tummy.
I massage his balls, gently squeezing them. I slide a finger back into his crack and tickle his asshole.
“Oh shit, baby girl, you’re going to make Daddy cum.”
That’s exactly what I want. I want him to fill me up with it until it’s dripping down my chin. But he stops me. He draws me off of him.
“What’s wrong?” I gasp wetly, trying to catch my breath.
“Nothing’s wrong, little one.”
He smiles as he lovingly strokes my cheek. The way he pampers me makes me feel good, like his little princess.
“Nothing’s wrong at all,” he continues, “but there’s no way I’m going to waste my load in your mouth—at least not the first time.”
“Do you want to come on my tits then?” I ask, lifting them up like an offering.
“Tempting… but no. I’m going to mark your pussy with my seed, baby girl.”
I feel myself getting giddy. Is this really happening? Does he mean what I think he means?
“But… I’m not on the pill.”
“Good.”
I stroke his cock, which is slippery with saliva.
“Are you going to cum in me, Daddy?” I whimper, half begging him to do it.
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“Mm-hm” I moan as he brings his face close to mine and kisses me deeply. I keep stroking him, and he pets my pussy, which is still slathered in my own cream.
“But there’s something you’ve got to understand, little one. Once I’ve painted your pussy with my seed, then it’s mine forever. Mine and mine alone. I’ll own this pussy,” he says stroking my slit. He places his palm on my belly. “And I’ll own this womb. Is that perfectly clear?”
“My pussy is all yours, Daddy.” I kiss him softly on the lips. “I want you to fuck a baby into me.”
He lays me down on my back, gently this time, and guides his cock into me again. He grips my ankles in his big strong hands and pushes them back toward my ears, stretching me out so he can delve even more deeply into me. At this angle, his cock is putting intense pressure against the front wall of my pussy. His cock is stroking right across my spot and I can already feel another orgasm brewing within me. I lean my head back so that I can watch us fucking in the big mirror by the wall.
Now I grip my own ankles to keep myself spread open for him, and this lets him put those artist’s hands to work on the rest of my body. One hand wraps around my throat, not too tight, but enough for me to really feel it. The sensation of having my delicate throat at the mercy of his powerful grip sends electric tingles all through my body.
His other hand slides down my body, skimming over my nipples, which are so hard they feel like they could pop at any moment. The hand travels lower, finds my throbbing clit, which is as hard as my nipples. He begins to thumb it, and I scream in ecstasy.
He’s pounding me now, fucking me savagely and relentlessly, and every jackhammer thrust of his pelvis jolts my body. His balls clap against my ass as he grunts and growls over me like a wild animal. In our reflection in the mirror, his beautiful eyes are locked with mine
“Are you ready, baby girl? Are you ready for me to mark my fucking territory inside you?”
“Yes Daddy!” I whine and gasp as he throttles me. “It’s all yours.”
“Are you ready for me to claim your womb?”
“Yes Daddy!” I scream as the tension explodes between my legs. My pussy clamps down hard on his shaft, sucking him as he fucks me. I come so hard I nearly pass out, but I can hear my Daddy roar as he plunges is cock so deep inside and plants it there, spurting his hot cum within me, coating my insides with it.
Finally, my orgasm releases me from it’s throes, like a broken wave tossing my naked body on a shore of total relaxation. I lie limp under my sweating Daddy as his cock finally finishes pulsing inside me. The excess cum tickles my ass as it dribbles out of me.
As he collapses on top of me, spent, his hard, hot cock still lodged in my moist depths, I think of that drawing I found. The one with the stain of Daddy’s seed. Now he has stained me for real—stained me with his hot sticky love, and I know that there’s no going back. I’m his completely now. His to love. His to fuck. His to carry his child.
I rub my fingertip around my opening to catch a little bit of the extra cum seeping out of me. I lick it, tasting him. It’s warm and creamy and salty. Now I have him in my pussy and my tummy. I’m one very satisfied student. But I still have so much to learn.
“So, Professor Cox,” I ask as he cradles my head and kisses my face. “Did I pass my exam?”
“With flying colors.” He strokes his fingertips over my lips.
“In fact,” he continues, “I’ve been looking for someone to be my assistant for next semester, and I think you’re the perfect candidate.”
I rub the thick muscles of his arms, which are wrapped around my naked body, holding me, making me feel so small and safe.
“Oh really?” I ask. “And what responsibilities does that position entail, Professor?”
“It won’t be easy, Alexis. It requires a special breed to be my assistant. I’m going to ride you hard all semester. It will call for long, hard hours of in-depth research.”
“I like the sound of that,” I whisper.
“Are you sure you can handle it? It’s a big commitment, and I don’t want you to spread yourself too thin.”
“Oh I’m not too worried about spreading anything when it comes to you, Professor. Do I have the job?”
“It’s yours,” he whispers, his breath tickling my earlobes. “And you’re mine.”
“That sounds so perfect,” I tell him. “But that’s next semester! Why, that seems like forever away. There’s a whole summer in between.”
“Oh don’t worry about that—there are plenty of summer positions too. And plenty of opportunities for extra credit.”
His cock, still hard, moves in me again. What an amazing man. A true work of art. I know that he’s going to push me to my limits and beyond, but I can take it. I can do a
nything now that I’ve finally found my muse.
Slipping Inside
The insides of my thighs are already slick with moisture as I run my fingertips up and down the groove of my slit, separating my folds and stimulating my sensitive little opening. I smear some of my natural lubrication up over the full, erect bud of my clitoris, and start working it in tight circles with the pad of my finger.
It’s my first night back home from college for summer vacation. After two semesters of sharing a dorm with my roommate who’s a light sleeper, it’s lovely to finally have the privacy of my own bedroom again. Now I can really let loose.
My body squirms and writhes on the bed as my arousal builds in intensity. My tingling little love button is so tight and sensitive it feels like it’s about to pop. Just another minute working it like this and I’ll be cumming hard.
But I don’t want another clit orgasm this time. I want an inside orgasm. I’ve never had one before.
All of my sorority sisters keep telling me how amazing it feels when their boyfriends make them cum with their dicks. I always go along with the conversation, pretending like I know what they’re talking about. I tell them I’m in a long-distance relationship with a guy from home. He’s a real stud muffin, and his dick is insane.
It’s all lies. I don’t have a boyfriend, and I’ve never had a cock inside me before.
I mean, the problem isn’t a lack of interested guys. Geez, I actually have too many of those. There are practically hordes of horny frat boys throwing themselves at me at every single keg party. But those guys just don’t get my motor running for some reason.
Speaking of motors, as I continue my little solo session, I hear a motorcycle rumbling in the distance outside my bedroom window. Someone’s going for a late-night ride. Fuck that just makes me even hornier as I rub my aching nub.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about a man on a bike that makes me wetter than all get-out. Maybe it’s just in my blood. My Daddy was a biker back in the day, back before he gave up that lifestyle to take care of me.
As I continue to work my clit over with my fingertips, I start to imagine the biker who is out there riding through the night. I picture him as being big, burly even, with beefy, tatted arms for holding me tight, and thick, powerful legs for pounding my needy little pussy.
I decide to give my clit a rest, and I slip my middle finger inside my opening. I’m so hot and moist inside it’s unreal. As I start fucking my finger in and out of my hole, the most delicious, wet sucking sounds issue from between my legs.
More. I need more. I slide another finger in, and I push them both deep inside, curling them in an alternating pattern to stimulate the front wall of my pussy.
Meanwhile, in my mind’s eye, I picture a big, bad biker pinning me down with his rough hands as he relentlessly pounds my helpless little pussy. His long, throbbing cock, as hard as trembling steel and as supple as leather, penetrates me to my very core.
“Fuck me,” I whisper to the darkness of my bedroom. “Cum inside my pussy.”
My voice is weak, pleading. I’m begging for it, but there’s no one there.
Unfortunately, my fingers aren’t as long as my imaginary lover’s penis. As the walls of my pussy swell with arousal, I try to plunge my fingers in more deeply so as to scratch that peculiar itch far up inside.
But I can’t quite reach it. I know that that special sensitive spot is there inside me. All the other girls at college can’t fucking shut up about theirs. But I can’t reach mine. I need someone to help me.
All of a sudden something rattles outside my bedroom window.
My eyes fly open and I sit bolt upright in bed. My heart is pounding, half from arousal and half from fear.
For a moment I think maybe I’m just imagining things. Or maybe it was just the wind. But I could have sworn I heard something, a rattling sound like someone is trying to get in the window.
I hold my breath and listen, the sound of my heartbeat thundering intensely in my ears. The digital clock on the nightstand says that it’s just after one o’clock in the morning. My body feels tingly and electric, my senses heightened.
After a minute of silence, I really do start to believe I was imagining things. But then, suddenly, I hear it again, even louder this time.
There’s no doubt about it—somebody’s trying to jimmy my bedroom window.
So what are my options? I could scream at the top of my lungs, but who would hear me? The only other person who is home now is Daddy, and his bedroom is all the way at the other end of the house.
Plus, Daddy is hard of hearing, and he takes his hearing aids out at night when he sleeps. His ears got messed up from close-range gunfire and ultra-loud motorcycle engines. He’s not part of the biker gang scene anymore. He’s gone legit—well, mostly—but he still has some scars from the old days, including his useless ears.
Daddy never was a very good listener anyway. At least that’s what Mom used to say when she was still alive.
The window rattles even louder. I have to think of something quick because I’m about to have a burglar in my bedroom.
Anyway, screaming is out of the question, so it’s on to option number two: the subcompact 9mm pistol that I keep in my nightstand drawer.
I’m not too crazy about guns, but Daddy said he wanted to make sure I was safe all the time, even when he’s not around. Last year for my eighteenth birthday, he bought me this gun, and he makes me keep it in my room.
I can hear the burglar grunting and cursing softly outside the window as he begins to pry it open. If I don’t make my move now, I might not get another chance.
Sliding open the nightstand drawer, I grab the little pistol. Then, doing my best action hero impersonation, I roll out of bed and somersault across the floor just as the window flies open.
Between the curtains, which are blowing in the night breeze, a shadowy, masculine form tumbles into the room and hits the floor with a thud and a curse.
“Freeze!” I say, trying my best to sound like a badass. “Don’t move or I’ll blow you away!”
The shadowy figure on the floor groans.
“Ugh, what the fuck?”
Oh my! His voice is so deep and gravelly. It sends a hot shiver prickling up my spine. What’s wrong with me, though? This is obviously no time to be getting turned on. It must just be the remnants of my unsatisfied arousal from my interrupted self-diddling session.
Anyway, it’s definitely time to shed some light on this situation and see what this home invader looks like. I flick the lightswitch by the door and the dark room is suddenly illuminated.
My eyes go wide. The man sprawled on my bedroom floor is massive—well over six feet I’d say—and quite well built. He’s dressed in a pair of worn and weathered black jeans and a pair of heavy-duty black boots. Up top, he’s got on a leather vest with nothing underneath.
This guy looks like a biker. That can’t be a coincidence. He must be someone connected with Daddy’s past life of highway crime.
“I said don’t move!” I tell him again, trying to hide the tremble in my voice.
The big biker raises his thick, beefy arms, and puts up his hands, which are covered in black leather gloves. His face is hidden by a black ski mask. All over his arms there are winding tangles of tattoos that look sexy as all get-out.
I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with ink. But again I remind myself, now is not the time for those kinds of thoughts.
“Don’t shoot,” he rumbles, leaning back against the windowsill. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
“Oh yeah? Then what are you doing breaking into my house, mister?”
He starts to rise, and I train the gun on him, right over the center of her broad, muscular chest.
“Don’t stand up, or I swear I’ll put a bullet in you, mister. Now let’s get a look at you. Take that mask off.”
The burly burglar hesitates for a moment, but he stays seated against the wall. Maybe he finally
got the message that he’d better not mess with me.
“Look,” he says, “I think there’s been a little misunderstanding.”
“Oh yeah, is that what you think?” I aim the pistol lower, so it’s dead center on his crotch, which has quite an impressive bulge, I must say. “Well I think you’d better take off that mask, or else Mr. Willy gets it.”
The big man squirms.
“Fuck, Tiffany, be careful! Don’t point that gun at my cock!”
Wait, what the heck? Did he just call me Tiffany? Okay, this is too weird. How does this biker thug know my name? And why does that deep, rumbly Harley-Davidson voice of his sound so familiar.
“How do you know my name is Tiffany? Who are you?”
He leans his head back on the windowsill and curses.
“Well now I’ve gone and royally fucked this up,” he says. “I guess there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.”
He grips the black knit ski mask in his gloved fist and slides it off of his head, tossing it on the floor between his feet.
“There. You happy?”
My heart stops, and my breath catches in my throat. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. This can’t be real.
“Marcus?”
“That’s right,” he says, nodding his head. “It’s me. Look, Tiff, I promise I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have anything to worry about. Now could you please stop pointing that gun at my cock?”
My hands are trembling. I don’t know what to do.
Why in the world is Daddy’s best friend Marcus breaking in through my bedroom window at one in the morning? None of this makes any sense. As far as I can see, Marcus doesn't have a gun on him, but he does have a great big bowie knife strapped to his leg. I wonder what that’s for.
“Tiffany, please…”
He’s asking nicely, but his voice isn’t begging. Despite the precarious situation he’s in, he still seems cool and confident, and I have to admit, that’s a pretty big turn on. I know, I know, that’s really messed up, but I just can’t seem to help myself.
Marcus is Daddy’s best friend. They used to ride together back in the day in the Pit Vipers motorcycle club. After Mom died, Daddy had to raise me himself, so he abandoned his life of crime and for the most part, he has walked the straight and narrow ever since. Marcus stayed with the gang.
21 Taboo Tales Page 8