21 Taboo Tales

by Robin Pressley

  Finally, he lets me off, and I gulp the air. Thick strings of semen mixed with saliva dribble down my chin, and I can feel it dripping onto my bare thighs.

  I flop back onto the bed completely exhausted, my tummy full of Daddy’s hot liquid love.

  “Good girl,” he husks. “Good little princess.”

  My chest is heaving, my hard nipples poking up beneath the thin fabric of my shirt. I smile up at him and wipe my mouth as he peels off his leather gloves and tosses them to the floor.

  “Don’t get too comfortable, baby doll. We’re not finished yet. Not even close.”

  His cock is still jutting out, as erect as ever. He shucks the leather vest off his shoulders and then grips me by the legs.

  The way he manhandles me is amazing. He flips my whole body over in one motion like it’s nothing at all. The feeling of having my body manipulated and controlled by the strong and dangerous biker makes my pussy practically gush with moisture.

  Now I’m lying on my belly. Marcus’s fingers curl under the elastic of my panties and rip them off of me, exposing my ass and making me feel totally vulnerable.

  “Fuck, look at that adorable ass” he groans behind me. He spreads my legs apart. “And that pristine little pussy.”

  His rough hands are all over me, rubbing and squeezing my smooth bare thighs and the naked cheeks of my ass. The clashing sensation of his rough palms on my smooth skin is unbearably delicious.

  “Daddy needs a taste of that sweet little honey pot.”

  His strong arms curl under my hips and draw my ass upwards as he plants his slavering face between my legs. His mouth is ravenous. His sweltering tongue licks the length of my cleft, lapping my nectar and coating my already wet crotch with even more moisture from his mouth.

  I whine and whimper as my big biker Daddy works over my undercarriage with his tongue. I’ve never felt anything even remotely like this in my life. I squeeze his head between my thighs and the warm, thrumming pressure builds inside me, expanding outward from my core.

  “Oh Daddy,” I cry, “What are you doing to me?”

  My body is slipping out of my control, twitching, convulsing as his tongue rocks and rolls over my slit and my clit and around my sensitive little anus. He’s devouring me, eating me alive, and it feels excruciatingly good.

  I clutch the bedsheets, steadying myself in anticipation of the ecstatic release that I know is only moments away. I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum all over my Daddy’s wild tongue.

  But suddenly he stops. I give a disappointed squeak of deprivation. I want that raunchy tongue back, and I want it now.

  What I get instead is even better.

  “The only way you’re allowed to cum tonight is around Daddy’s cock.”

  He grips my hips and pulls me backward onto his already slick pole. Even though his cock his huge, it slides right into me. My pussy is absolutely drenched with my wetness, and his cock is still slippery with my saliva and his cum.

  It hurts just a little, but the pleasure of being filled with Daddy’s throbbing meat far outweighs any pain. If anything that just makes it better.

  “Oh Daddy!,” I squeal.

  And just like that, my dirty biker Daddy rips my V-card in half.

  He’s making a little woman out of me, and he’s doing it the rough way.

  “Fuck baby doll, your little princess pussy feels so damn good.”

  I gasp and moan as his raw cock pounds into me again and again, delving so deep into my wet hole. His hard pelvis is clapping into my soft ass cheeks, which are slathered with a mixture of so many different kinds of wetness.

  “My pussy was made just for you Daddy,” I whimper, “You and nobody else.”

  The hot smell of our bodies fills the room. It’s so fucking raunchy and dirty. I thought I was never going to get my cherry popped, and I definitely didn’t think it would happen like this. Marcus isn’t just popping my cherry—he’s crushing it mercilessly, pulverizing it with his fucking sex hammer.

  My pussy starts to clench tight around the shaft of his dick as he throttles me. The way he’s fucking me raw feels amazing, but now it’s my turn to admit that something isn’t quite perfect. But what’s missing?

  Almost as if he can read my mind, Marcus grips my hair and yanks my body up so that my spine is curved against his front.

  And there it is. From this angle, his cockhead is pounding into that tender little target on the front wall of my pussy. He’s hitting my spot, and he’s hitting it hard.

  “I’m going to make you my precious little fuck toy,” he breathes in my ear.

  Marcus’s hands reach around and slide under my T-shirt gripping and squeezing my supple tits as he continues to fuck me relentlessly. I slam my hips back into him too, letting him ram his cock even further inside.

  The way that he’s bludgeoning my hotspot is almost unbearable. That delectable tension is growing to dangerous levels

  “I want to see you cum.”

  He shoves me down on the bed, and with his cock still buried deep inside, he flips me over to my back cradling my body as he fucks me and gazes open-mouthed into my face.

  “I want to see your pretty little face when you cum around Daddy’s cock.”

  Now his dick is punching my G-spot, driving directly into it with every powerful thrust. The walls of my vagina are so swollen and inflated with fluid, that my pussy is extra tight and sensitive. I’m right on the verge of losing control completely, and Marcus’s magnificent cock is about to push me over the edge.

  “Daddy!” I whine as the tension within me expands to the breaking point. “Daddy, I’m gonna cum!”

  “That’s right, princess,” he whispers, petting my face. “Cum with Daddy.”

  His cock pulses inside me, spurting even more jets of thick cum into my depths as my pussy squeezes him tightly, refusing to let go. I lose myself in spasms of pleasure as my orgasm cascades through my whole body. I shiver and convulse with agonizing bliss.

  And still Daddy’s cock is punching my tender button inside. Finally, when I just can’t take anymore, I clench my body tightly to his, moaning incoherently before going slack in his arms.

  When I open my eyes, Marcus’s face is wearing an expression of awe and tender, nostalgic love.

  “God, you look just like her,” he breathes. “That’s exactly how she used to…”

  He lets the words trail off into silence, but I finally understand. The other woman that Daddy stole from him all those years before, that was my mother. Marcus loved my mother first, and now he’s found that same love again inside me.

  I kiss him tenderly on the lips, and his face relaxes. His cock is still pulsing lightly within me. He slackens his hold on me just a little, and we both melt into the mattress and into each other.

  “Was I good, Daddy?”

  His fingertips are gentle, brushing back a stray lock from my eyes.

  “You were perfect, princess. You’re always perfect.”

  I nestle into his shoulder as he caresses my exhausted body.

  “So,” I tease him. “Do you think you’re even now?”

  “Even with your old man?” he scoffs. “Not by a long shot. This isn’t some one-time thing, baby doll. I’m playing this one for keeps—you belong to me now, remember? And I’m going to breed your sweet little pussy every chance I get.”

  God, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. There’s nothing I want more than to be possessed by my dirty biker Daddy, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be than safe in his rough and rugged arms.

  “But what will we do in September, when I go back to college?” I ask, not even trying to disguise the concern in my voice. I know without a doubt that I’m addicted to this man, and there’s no way I’ll be able to live without him.

  He just smiles comfortingly as he tenderly strokes my cheek.

  “You know I love a nice long trip on my bike,” he says, “That’ll just give me another excuse to ride.”

  I smile as waves of relief
wash over me.

  “And I love a nice long ride on that big hard cock of yours,” I purr. “I can ride all night long. I guess that makes us a perfect pair.”

  I snuggle my face against his warm throat as he bundles me tightly in his strong, protective arms.

  “But until then,” I murmur, “You know where to find me. I’ll keep my window open.”

  Melt with Me

  1. TRIXIE

  “Lean forward a bit more. Yeah, just like that. Let your legs do all the work. There, can you feel it?” Dante shouts, as we begin to pick up speed.

  “Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it!” I holler back to him.

  This is only my second day of skiing, and Dante, my mom’s boyfriend, is showing me the ropes. He is so encouraging and gives me so much confidence. Still I have a lot to learn. Right now, I’m just trying my best to stay upright as I follow him down the slope.

  My mom is somewhere behind me, probably watching me with an eagle eye and making mental notes so she can criticize my technique later. Ever since I was a little girl, she has never been able to let me just relax and have fun. I can never live up to her unrealistic expectations, whether it’s in school, or finding a suitable boyfriend—or in this case, downhill skiing.

  Still, I’m really starting to enjoy myself, and gliding down these snow-covered slopes is quite a buzz. Dante glances over his shoulder at me to make sure I’m still doing OK. He flashes me a bright smile that shines whiter than the snow. That smile of his always melts something inside me. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Plus it makes me feel a little bit of something else that I can’t quite define. Or maybe I’m just afraid to.

  When Dante sees that I’m managing to stay reasonably steady behind him, he increases his speed and we dip into a steeper section of the slope.

  This really is a thrill unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I can taste the crisp Colorado air, so pure and clean as it rushes over the exposed lower half of my face. I take in the view of the majestic mountains surrounding us. The sight is absolutely breathtaking. And sharing the experience with an amazing man like Dante just makes it all the better.

  The problem is that all of these distractions, especially the latter one, have taken my mind off of my technique. I’m not paying attention to what I’m doing.

  I have really picked up speed. I suddenly realize that I have come up alongside Dante, though very far to his right. When I look over at him, he is gesturing with his arms. What is he trying to signal to me? Then I realize—I am heading straight for a copse of fir trees at the edge of the slope. If I don’t adjust my trajectory ASAP, I am going to run into them!

  I have plenty of room and time to adjust, but my inexperience gets the better of me, and I panic. My concentration lost, I start to wobble, and I feel myself going over. I hit the snow, which is surprisingly hard, even with all of the padding of my ski gear. Still, I remember how Dante showed me to fall, and I manage to avoid any injury. After a moment, I skid to a stop.

  “Beatrix, what the hell was that?”

  It’s my mom. Of course she has been watching the whole thing, and she never misses an opportunity to berate me for my failures, no matter how insignificant. She swoops in beside me and comes to a stop, sending up a spray of snow.

  “How many times have I told you, Beatrix, you have to concentrate on what you’re doing?”

  How many times? I lost count around noon of our first day here, but if I had to guess, I would say she has told me about eleven thousand four hundred and fifty-two times so far on this trip. I roll my eyes behind my mirrored ski goggles, but out loud I just said “Yes, ma'am.“

  “If you don’t pay attention to what you’re doing, you’re never going to amount to anything as a skier.”

  That’s fine by me. I have come on this trip just to relax and have fun. If I happen to learn how to ski along the way, that’s all well and good. But my mom can never see things that way. “Relax” is not part of her vocabulary, and to her even “fun” is serious business.

  “Trixie, are you OK?”

  It’s Dante. His voice is filled with concern. I am glad that at least one person is worried about my well-being. Anyway, I am totally fine, aside from my bruised ego that is.

  I struggle to get myself upright again, and then Dante’s powerful hands are under my arms lifting me up to my feet. For as slim and lithe as he is, he is also incredibly strong.

  “Well,” my mother says, “I don’t want to stand here all day chit-chatting. I’ll meet you two at the bottom.”

  She shoves off and skis away down the slope.

  Dante must have noticed my sour expression, because he says, “Don’t mind her, Trixie. Your mother just has her own unique way of dealing with people.”

  “I know,” I reply. “She’s my mother. I’ve had to put up with her longer than you, Dante.”

  There is a bitterness in my voice, and I suddenly feel bad for redirecting my anger toward Dante. After all, he is the one trying to look out for me. To be honest, I have often wondered how the hell he has put up with my mom’s shit for as long as he has. A guy like him could have any woman he wanted.

  He was born in Italy, shortly before his parents moved to the States. They would travel back to their homeland every year, and Dante was raised in both California and the Italian Alps.

  Dante is also shockingly handsome. He has intense, glacier blue eyes set deeply into a sculptural, suntanned face, and his angular jaw is furred with short sexy scruff.

  He flashes that alpine smile at me again, and I feel the temperature rise inside my ski suit. My heart always flutters whenever I’m alone with him like this. It’s kind of messed up, actually. I mean, he is my mom’s boyfriend. What the hell is wrong with me?

  But then sometimes I think maybe it is just because he is kind of like a daddy to me. I can’t really remember my real daddy, aside from some really vague memories, and of course that picture of him in his uniform that sits on the mantle over the fireplace. Maybe the feelings I get when I’m around Dante are just normal daddy feelings.

  “Look at you, you’re a mess,” he says with friendly laughter in his voice.

  He reaches out with his gloved hand and brushes some powdery snow from my shoulders and arms. Then he turns me around and swats some more snow off of my butt, and my daddy feelings get turned up by about ten degrees.

  “Come on,” he says with a wink, “I’ll race you to the bottom.”

  I watch him for a few seconds, enjoying the effortless, athletic way that he moves. The touch of his hand still echoes where he just patted off my little tush, and a soft warmth pulses between my legs. I’m a mess all right. A hot fucking mess.

  The way he swivels his pelvis as he skis down the slope brings memories flooding back into my mind. Memories of when I saw his hips making similar motions, but without any clothing to obstruct my view of his perfect butt.

  ***

  It was a few weeks before our trip, and I had just returned from college for winter break. I woke up in the middle of the night nearly dying of thirst. The digital clock on the nightstand told me it was just after three in the morning. I got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to grab a can of La Croix water. As I was rubbing the sleep from my eyes, still only half conscious, I rounded the corner that led to the kitchen and was stunned by an unexpected sight that jolted me awake.

  The silver moonbeams through the kitchen window lit the contours of a masculine body, tall and statuesque—and very naked. He was standing with his back toward me, and in the darkness and my shocked state, it didn’t immediately register that it was Dante. Then I heard his deep smooth voice whispering my mother’s name.

  He had her bent over the kitchen table, and he was fucking her. Hard.

  He wasn’t pounding her. His rhythm was slow and steady, but each thrust was strong and forceful. The muscles of his back bulged with tension, and his gorgeous powerful glutes flexed and clenched with each stroke. I had never seen such an appetizing bo
oty before. In fact, I had never seen any naked man’s ass before. It was my first time.

  The silhouette of his smooth balls swung between his legs, and an electric tingle of excitement sizzled up my spine.

  My mother was trying to stifle her groans of desire and pleasure as he plunged his cock deep inside her. She must have sensed that he was getting close, because she hissed through clenched teeth, “Careful, Dante. Don’t cum inside me.”

  When he pulled out, his cock was still hidden from my view, but I could see the thick ropes of semen that shot across my mother’s back, all the way up to her shoulders. Six ropes. Seven. Some of it even got in her hair. Eight. My knees wobbled with weakness.

  How the fuck was he still cumming?

  Then I raised my eyes to the wall where a framed mirror hung. I hadn’t noticed at first, being too focused on the live sex show that was taking place on the kitchen table. But as I looked, I realized that I could see Dante’s face in the mirror. It was dark, and his face was shrouded in shadows, so I couldn’t see his features clearly. But I think I caught a glint of those icy blue eyes. Was he looking right at me through the mirror? Surely that part was just my imagination.

  As Dante rubbed his thick cream over my mom’s back like it was suntan lotion, I quietly slipped off down the hall. I drank a few dozen handfuls of water from the bathroom tap, splashed my face, and then went back to my room and slipped under the covers. That’s when I noticed I was moist between my legs. OK, I’ll be honest—I was sopping wet.

  For a while, I lay there trying to fall asleep, but I just couldn’t. All I could see in my mind’s eye was that juicy butt flexing in the moonlight. God, I just wanted to sink my teeth into it. I wanted to squeeze his meaty cheeks as he fucked his hard cock all the way into my mouth. I wanted to smell his masculine musk and taste his hot skin.

  I knew it was wrong to think about Dante like that. I knew he was totally off-limits. But I simply couldn’t help myself. There was nothing I could do to get him out of my mind.