21 Taboo Tales

by Robin Pressley

  Later, once she has put the little one back in his crib to sleep, Trixie comes downstairs and seats herself at the table just as I’m serving up the meal. When she said she was hungry, she wasn’t kidding. It’s truly a sight to behold, such a tiny girl wolfing down plate after plate. Fortunately I made extra.

  She groans happily as she pops the last bite into her mouth.

  “God, Dante, this is better than…”

  She pauses, rolling her eyes as she thinks it over.

  “Well, maybe not better.”

  I lean back in my chair and smile at her across the table.

  “Did you get enough, Mommy? I can make more if you’re still hungry.”

  “No, I’m not hungry, but…”

  She’s got that mischievous look again.

  “But what?”

  She pushes her plate aside and climbs onto the table. All she’s got on is a shirt and her favorite little comfy shorts. Her bare legs are so smooth and tan. She crawls toward me on her hands and knees, her lovely eyes locked on mine the whole time.

  “I’m still thirsty, Daddy” she whispers, and reaches down between my legs, making me instantly hard. Baby girl is insatiable. She can never get enough, and neither can I. We were made for each other.

  I take her soft face in my hands and kiss her lips, and her hot, moist mouth melts sweetly into mine.

  Kitty's Too Tight

  This is the worst night of my life.

  I mean, who the hell breaks up with somebody with a text message? Like, seriously, who does that?

  I’ll tell you. Ian Dornberger, that’s who. I’m lying on my bed looking at his stupid text message right now with tears brimming in my eyes.

  I want to break up.

  Just like that. Cold as ice. No apologies. No explanations. No it’s-not-you-it’s-mes. Not even a freaking frowny-face emoji. Just one short emotionless sentence telling me he wants to break up.

  Fuck him.

  Fuck Ian Dornberger.

  I flop over on my back and stare at the ceiling as the tears start to roll down my temples. That’s the problem. I didn’t fuck Ian Dornberger. Scratch that. I couldn’t fuck him. We tried to do it—God knows we tried, but it didn’t work. And that’s the reason he’s breaking up with me.

  Okay, if I’m going to be completely honest, the reason I’m such a wreck over this is not because I was ever madly in love with Ian. The problem is that I think there’s something wrong with me—something that will keep me from ever finding true love.

  I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack. The room is starting to close in on me. I’m getting claustrophobic. I’ve gotta get outside. Get some fresh air in my lungs.

  There’s no point in changing my clothes since I’m just going out back to the patio. I just keep what I’ve got on—my favorite tiny little PJ shorts and my tight top. I slip my feet into a pair of flip flops and head downstairs.

  As I go by the den, I see that mom is in there asleep on the couch. The TV is on, casting a minty glow through the room. It’s showing one of those stupid infomercials about a totally amazing new blender. It looks like it would be a perfect fit for my broken heart.

  I go through the kitchen, slide the glass door open, and step out into the night. It’s a warm summer night, and fireflies are dancing over the lawn. Cicadas are singing in the trees and somewhere in the distance, a dog is barking at nothing.

  I slide the patio door shut again and flop down into one of the plastic lounge chairs in the patio.

  Nineteen years old, and my life is already over.

  Seriously, there’s no other way to look at it. I mean, I’m not able to have sex. And if I’m not able to do that, then I’ll never have an intimate relationship with a man.

  I start sobbing uncontrollably.

  What am I going to do?

  It’s not like I wasn’t willing to have sex with Ian. Oh boy did we ever try. And it’s not like I wasn’t totally into it either. I mean, okay, if I’m being completely honest, Ian wasn’t exactly my type. But as far as all the other girls at college were concerned, he was a real catch. And honestly, I just wanted somebody—anybody—to finally pop my cherry.

  But when we tried to do it, it didn’t work.

  God, the reason is pretty embarrassing.

  I cry and cry in the darkness of the patio, just letting all of my emotions pour out of me into the night. I think I’m alone. I think nobody can hear me. I’m wrong.

  “Kitty?”

  The voice startles me at first, and I jolt upright in the chair.

  “Kitty, is that you?” the deep, gruff, masculine voice asks. “Is everything all right?”

  I let out a sobbing sigh of relief as I realize who it is. It’s our next-door neighbor, Dane.

  “Hi Dane,” I manage to choke out, trying to hide the ragged edge to my voice. “I’m fine.”

  I don’t know why I’m trying to hide it from him. He obviously just heard me crying my eyes out over here like a baby.

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re fine, Kitty,” Dane says.

  His voice is soft but deep, like strumming the low E string of a guitar.

  As my eyes adjust to the darkness and I wipe away the blur of teardrops, I can see Dane more clearly. He’s a big guy, really tall. He’s got his arms resting on the tall wooden fence that separates our yards, and he’s looking at me intently. Even in the night, I can see the deep concern in his eyes.

  “Want to talk about it, little one?” He asks. That deep voice of his sends a warm shiver tickling down my spine. Well, that’s totally not appropriate.

  Dane is more than just an ordinary neighbor. My Daddy passed away when I was really young, and ever since then, Dane has helped take care of Mom and me. He would fix things around the house, mow the lawn and trim the hedges. And he would even play with me when I was younger and let me come over to swim in his pool whenever I wanted.

  He is practically like a second Daddy to me, and I love him. He’s the most important man in my life.

  In fact, now that Ian dumped me, he’s the only man in my life.

  “You’re always welcome to bend my ear, Kitty,” he says over the fence.

  I really do want to talk to him about it. To get it off my chest. But my problem—my sex problem—it’s just too embarrassing to talk about.

  Plus, I kinda don’t want Dane to know about it because…well, because I have a huge freaking crush on him. There, I said it.

  Of course, I know that nothing like that could ever happen between us. Dane is big-time off-limits. But still, a girl can dream, right? And as long as he doesn’t know about my problem downstairs, I can keep that dream alive.

  “Who knows. Maybe I can help,” Dane adds.

  Well, it would be nice to talk to somebody. Especially someone like Dane who cares so much about me. Plus, he is a doctor, so maybe he could give me some advice. I just don’t know how I’m going to broach the subject.

  But I decide to go for it anyway.

  “Thanks, Dane. That would be nice.”

  He reaches down and unlatches the gate in the fence between our yards. He swings the gate open for me.

  “Sure thing, Kitty. Come on over and tell me what’s wrong.”

  I stand up and walk through the gate into Dane’s yard. It suddenly occurs to me that I’m not really wearing a lot of clothing. These skimpy shorts don’t completely cover my butt, and they’re super tight. They’re comfy for wearing at home, but not exactly for going out in public.

  Whatever. I’m not in public. I’m with Dane, and he’s seen a whole lot more of my body when I go swimming in his pool.

  “Come on,” Dane says, placing his hand on the small of my back. “Sit down over here and tell old Dane your troubles.”

  The shirt I’ve got on is pretty skimpy too, and there a strip of bare skin between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my shorts. When Dane puts his hand on my back, the touch of his warm fingertips on my bare skin sets off a soft warm throbbing between my legs.


  Actually, that’s been a big problem when I hang out with Dane lately. Sometimes I even get an unexpected wetness down below. If I’m in my swimsuit, I can hide that easy enough by hopping in the pool. But tonight I’ll have to keep that in check.

  I mean, just imagine if Dane saw me getting wet for him.

  But you know what they say—when you try not to think of an elephant, it just makes you think of one even more. The more I try not to think about how much Dane turns me on, the worse it gets.

  Inappropriate, Kitty. In-freaking-appropriate.

  I quickly sit my butt down on one of Dane’s patio chairs and keep my knees glued together to hide the moisture that’s blooming down there. On my back, the place where he was touching me smolders like an ember.

  Dane pulls up a chair beside me and lounges back, looking up at the stars in the summer sky.

  Okay, I should probably mention a few deets about Dane:

  1. He’s a successful surgeon.

  2. He’s a very single Daddy of two grown boys.

  3. He looks like a dang Greek god with silver hair.

  Seriously, I don’t know how he does it at his age and with his crazy schedule, but somehow he has managed to maintain an Adonis-like figure well into middle age. You should see him in swim trunks.

  And I should stop thinking like that if I don’t want to soak through my shorts.

  “So, what’s on your mind, kiddo?” Dane says, turning to look at me.

  I take a deep sigh, trying to figure out where to start. And how much to tell.

  “It’s this guy I’m dating,” I begin.

  In the darkness, I can sense Dane tense up a little. His big hands grip a little harder at the arms of his chair. Uh-oh. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. It seems like he’s not super comfortable discussing this with me. I guess he probably still thinks of me as a silly little girl.

  “Well, was dating, actually. Past tense.”

  Dane lets out an audible sigh, and his tense muscles relax. He’s still wearing his dress shirt, but his tie is undone and hanging around his neck. The collar is unbuttoned far enough to show off a bit of his muscular chest in the starlight. It occurs to me that he probably just got home from his job at the hospital. He’s probably super tired and stressed out, and I’m laying all of my BS on him.

  “So you broke up?”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “More specifically, he dumped me. With a text message nonetheless.”

  Dane snorts.

  “Shit, this guy sounds like a jerk, Kitty. You’re better off without him.”

  “I know, I know,” I say. “But I’m afraid I won’t find another boyfriend.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Dane chuckles. “Kitty, a gorgeous girl like you, well…

  We sit there quietly in the dark, listening to the crickets and cicadas. I’ve got to tell Dane. I have to get this off my chest. I take a big gulp of air and go for it.

  “Dane…I think there’s something wrong with my…” I point between my legs. “You know, down there.”

  Dane leans forward in his chair.

  “I-I see…”

  “Sorry!” I blurt, trying to walk it back. But it’s too late. The cat, so to speak, is already out of the bag. “I’m really sorry, Dane. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  I start to rise from my seat.

  “I’d better go,” I tell him.

  But Dane’s big hand seizes my arm—not roughly, but firmly enough to make me pause.

  “No. Stay,” he tells me in that deep, soft voice. He is at once soothing and commanding. I do as he tells me and I put my butt back in the chair.

  “It’s okay,” Dane goes on. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Kitty. Now, what exactly is the problem down there.”

  I’m grateful that it’s nighttime because I can feel my whole face flushing with shame. The tips of my ears are so hot they could catch my hair on fire.

  How in the world am I going to tell him?

  I can’t do it.

  But I have to.

  “It’s too tight,” I blurt out. I immediately clap my hands over my mouth, disbelieving that I actually just told Dane—the man who has practically raised me—about my pussy problem.

  “Too tight?” Dane asks, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “Do you mean that it’s painful to have sex?”

  God, I really shouldn’t be telling him about my love life—or lack thereof. Then again, if there’s anyone I can trust, it’s Dane. There’s no point in holding back now.

  “Actually, I’ve never done it,” I admit.

  There’s a change in Dane like an enormous weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

  “You’re still a virgin?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Then how do you know that it’s…y’know, too tight?”

  Okay, I didn’t want to get into all of the gory details with him, but I guess there’s no way around it now.

  “My boyfriend—I mean my ex-boyfriend—tried to have sex with me, but…It wouldn’t fit. He couldn’t even get it in.”

  “Was he hard?” Dane asks. “I mean, did he have an erection?”

  Wow, we’re really going there. Okay.

  “Yeah he was hard, that wasn’t the problem.”

  “And…how big is he? I mean, how big is his penis?”

  “Oh not huge. I’d say about average. Like…about the size of your finger.”

  Dane holds his index finger straight up in the moonlight.

  “You mean his erect penis is the same size as my index finger?”

  I nod. Actually, Ian’s cock is probably a tad smaller than Dane’s finger, but close enough.

  “Little one,” Dane chuckles. “That is not even close to average. That guy’s prick is tiny.”

  I clap my hands to my cheeks in dismay.

  “Oh no, Dane! That means it’s even worse than I thought! If I can’t even fit a tiny one inside then I must really be too tight.”

  Sobs tumble out of me again as I burst into tears.

  “I’m a freak, Dane,” I cry. “I’ll never get a boyfriend with such a tight little pussy!”

  I cover my face in shame as I cry. Dane scoots his chair closer to mine and puts his arm around my shoulders.

  “Shhh, don’t cry, Kitty,” he says. “You’re just jumping to conclusions. Look, the odds are that you’re perfectly healthy and normal, and that guy is just a dope who doesn’t know what he’s doing in bed. Most college guys have no clue what they’re doing. They’re totally inexperienced.”

  “Really?” I say through my tears.

  “Really. I’m sure of it.”

  “Dane,” I say, sniffing back my tears. “You’re a doctor. Maybe you could just look at it and tell me what you think?”

  Dane makes a sound like a cough.

  “Kitty, I’m not a gynecologist. I’m a heart surgeon. I—”

  “I know that, Dane,” I interrupt. “But still, I know you’re really smart and, y’know…experienced. Couldn’t you just take a quick peek to see if it’s okay?”

  Dane seems so tense that his body is almost vibrating. I can feel it through his hand resting on my shoulders.

  “Well,” he says after a moment. “If it will put your mind at ease.”

  “Oh thank you, Dane!” I say, hopping up from my chair. I feel better already. At least now I’ll know for sure if anything is wrong with me.

  Dane rises slowly from his seat. His movement is slow and deliberate, like it requires a conscious effort on his part.

  “Okay, follow me, little one.”

  I follow him into his house. Once we’re both inside, Dane slides the glass patio door shut and pulls the curtain across so nobody can see in. He pauses briefly before turning around. When his eyes meet mine they are so intense that I get goosebumps all over. I’m sure Dane can see, but I don’t care. I’m about to show him everything.

  “Sit down,” he says, pointing at the big leather couch. His voice is rough now. Commanding.

&
nbsp; I do as he says and plant my butt on the couch, still keeping my knees together to hide the wetness that is steadily increasing between my legs. I won’t be able to hide that for much longer.

  Keeping his intense eyes locked on me, Dane crosses the room. He kneels in front of me.

  “Okay, little one, just relax. Let’s get these shorts off of you.”

  His fingers curl under the elastic waistband of my shorts and he begins pulling them down my thighs. His pupils dilate when he sees I’m not wearing any panties underneath. My legs are still together so he can’t quite see my pussy yet, but he can definitely see the little tuft of hair.

  The shorts come all the way down my thighs, over my knees, and finally down my calves. I lift my feet just a little so he can pull the shorts off my toes. He sets the shorts neatly on the couch beside me.

  “Right,” Dane says, placing his hands firmly on my knees. “Let’s have a look.”

  He pushes my knees apart slowly with his hands. I resist just a little at first. I’m still nervous that there’s something wrong with me. I’m afraid he’ll laugh or think I’m gross. But I have to show him now. There’s no going back.

  He spreads my legs apart, and his eyes grow wider and wider. Finally, my thighs are stretched wide and my pussy is on full display for Dr. Dane to examine.

  “Kitty!” he exclaims breathlessly.

  Oh shit, I knew it. I just knew there was something wrong with me. Here it comes. The bad news…

  “Kitty, baby, you have the most gorgeous little pussy I’ve ever seen,” Dane breathes. He licks his lips and moves closer.

  “You mean…You mean there’s nothing wrong with me?” I ask.

  Dane looks up into my eyes and smiles. There’s a hint of irony in his expression.

  “Little one, there is nothing wrong with you. Your little pussy is perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  Perfect? Now I’ve got a whole flock of butterflies fluttering around my tummy. I love having Dane’s praise, and hearing him describe my most intimate parts as perfect makes me feel warm and tingly all over. But especially it makes me warm and tingly down there.