Daddy's Bedtime Taboo Sex Stories

by Kelly Fleming

  It touched me. Tentatively at first. The tip barely pierced my entrance. I could feel my inner muscles flexing, trying to draw it in further. He pulled back. Then prodded me with the tip again. Again and again I was subjected to this tiny bit. Then he let the head slide fully in, but nothing more. I clenched my muscles, trying to keep him in, but he pulled out again. Twice more, I got just the head. Then, he stopped....

  Slam. He thrust himself deep inside of me; grinding his hips into me. Fingers dug into my hip bones, pulling me back against him. Harder and harder, he slammed into me. Filling me, grinding me, then pulling out completely only to do it again. My mind swam. I grasped at the lounge chair, bracing myself against it. Slap! His hand smacked against my ass. He pulled my cheeks apart, spreading them almost painfully wide. I felt his thumb rub over my asshole, pressing in each time his cock plunged into me.

  Finally! This was what I needed. This was what I wanted earlier.

  I ground my pussy into him with each thrust. His balls slapped against my clit. Forcing me closer and closer. I could hear his breathing quicken.

  He pulled out, turned me around, and picked me up. Slamming me back onto his cock. He bounced me up and down his shaft, letting my tits slap him in the face. He caught a nipple in his teeth and bit down as he shoved my hips into his. Backing us up against the wall, he pounded my pussy. Over and over, harder, deeper. Each time he thrust, he pulled on my nipple.

  I felt his dick swell and knew he was about to erupt. I felt myself slipping off into my own. Thrust, pull, slam. It built to an agonizing crescendo. My muscles began to milk him, sucking on him, coaxing him closer. Tears streamed down my face. So close. My legs were shaking. One more thrust. Harder. Please! My back slammed against the wall. I felt the heat of his cum through the condom. My head fell back. Stars lit up my eyes. I screamed and held on, digging my nails into his back. He kept hammering away. I came crashing down only to lift back up again. He wouldn't stop. Wave after wave hit me. I gasped for air; unable to catch my breath.

  "Please. No more," I begged.

  Slam.

  "Are you sure?" he said as I twitched beneath him. " I want to make sure you are fully satisfied."

  Slam

  "Yes. Please. No more." I pleaded. I didn't think I had it in me to do or say more than that. I just wanted to stop. I needed to rest.

  I felt us moving. To where, I had no clue. Then I felt myself being laid back on the lounge. I began to panic. Couldn't he stop? He finally disentangled himself from me. Leaving me there, weak and exposed on my back. I reached for him, trying to find where he had gone. I grasped at air. Then I felt his lips on my forehead.

  "Thanks for the fun Love. I knew you'd be worth it."

  I heard his footsteps as they echoed across the deck and into the house. I snatched off the blindfold hoping to get a glance of him. I stood on trembling legs and tried to follow. By the time I reached the door to the house, he had made it to the front door. I saw him turn to me, but his face was in the shadows.

  "Unless you want an encore, I'd advise you to lock your door from now on. Especially if you intend on teasing people in traffic," he ordered.

  I gasped in horror as I realized just who he was. I couldn't believe my little escapade from earlier had caused this. I made my way to the front door as quickly as my Jello legs could get me there. Dust from his car was still hanging in the air. Neither he nor his car were anywhere around. I hurried to lock my door as he had said. Then I thought about it. Would an encore be so bad?

  I let go of the knob, turned around and headed for the shower. I was looking forward to getting stuck in traffic again.

  The End.

  Dream of Flight

  She's home. I can hear the garage door opener pulling the door up. She had spent the evening with her girlfriends having a girl's night out. Now she is home. I'm glad. I don't really want to wake up and meet her at the door as I'm laying in bed, floating in that luxurious space between not really being awake and not really being asleep, drifted off to another world. Not that I don't want to greet her, I just don't want to leave my dream world.

  In my dream world, I've been flying all night in an antique airplane making stops to visit exotic places all over the world. Now, I have the landing gear down and I'm coming in to land. I have performed the pre-landing checklists, set the throttles on the big twin engines and the airplane is set to land. I listen as the old plane slices through the air, making a whistling noise that defines part of its character. It sounds like it's talking to me. Guiding me. Whispering to me.

  She is in the room now. I hear her undress. I know she is there, but I'm still landing my plane. She slips into bed. I feel the cool air as she lifts the covers. My naked skin tingles in the breeze from the fan.

  I line up on the runway, making a small correction for a crosswind. The long nose of the airplane is a visual guide when lining up on the centerline of the landing strip. Getting close to the ground now.

  Hot breath. I can hear soft blowing noises as I feel myself starting to stir. Excitement. Arousal.

  Just before the airplane touches the ground, I gently pull back on the yoke, flaring the nose upward. This increases drag and slows the airplane, making for a perfectly soft landing.

  I feel her mouth on me, the hot wetness surrounding me. The texture of her tongue on me is like velvet. As she draws me in, I am fully engorged. Hard. Wanting.

  The wheels of the antique touch the ground and the tires make a "chirp" as they skid just a bit before starting to turn under the weight of the big old plane. Throttles at idle and I use my feet on the rudder pedals to guide that long nose straight down the runway, loosing speed.

  She has me all the way in her mouth, now. Pulling. Sucking. Rhythmically going up and down, matching the bounce of my plane as it rolls along the old grass runway.

  The plane is down now. As I approach the taxiway leading back to the hangar, I turn off of the runway and apply just a little bit of throttle to keep it moving through the grass. I can see the outline of the hangar against the night sky. It rises out of the ground like the head of a great creature. Beautiful. Majestic.

  She speeds her pace. I can feel something familiar building inside of me. I can't say just what, but it feels wonderful. I want to just stay right here forever. No worries. No cares. No problems. Just the most wonderful feelings. All of them.

  I taxi the plane to the hangar. It has been a wonderful flight. I have been places, seen sights, smelled smells and tasted flavors from a time long ago. And now, the overwhelming feeling of needing to park this plane for the night is about to consume me.

  The pressure is building. She can tell. She has been here before and knows me. She reacts by squeezing and pulling me. Enticing me.

  At the edge of the hangar is a small mound of dirt that keeps rain water from running in. As the wheels of the plane reach this small obstacle, I increase engine power to pull the plane over the hump. The machine climbs up and over, and straight into the hangar in one smooth motion.

  I loose myself into her. She has taken me, without waking me. I feel the wet softness as she consumes what's left of my excitement. I'm drifting off....

  As the big plane crosses the threshold of the hangar door I pull the power from the engines and apply the brakes, bringing it to a stop. All of the excitement and joy and wonder of the flight comes together in this very special moment. The flight is over. Safe in the hangar, the plane rests. The doors close and the night grows dark and quiet.

  The End.

  Skin Deep

  "It's okay," she said, looking him right in the eye, "you can touch them if you want. I mean, you're so freaking obvious, y'know? You've been staring at my tits for the last ten minutes. So go ahead, touch them. I won't mind."

  Brian shook his head. Had she really said that? Or were his ears playing tricks on him? Perhaps he'd misunderstood her words, muffled by the constant hum of the train's engine, the rickety thump, thump of the wheels speeding along the tracks.

&n
bsp; She shook her head. "I knew it."

  She knew what? What was her problem?

  "Guys like you are all alike," she said. She wasn't looking at him now, though. She had the window seat, and was taking full advantage of it before night came and inked out the view. They were passing through the farm belt of western Illinois, not far from the Mississippi River. Fields of corn swayed languorously in the hot August breeze. "You're all just a bunch of cowards. Fakes."

  Fakes? Who was she calling a fake?

  "You," she said, and now she did swivel her head around to look at him again. There was something penetrating about her eyes, as if they somehow could see through him, into him, his inner secrets and weaknesses and regrets and failings all revealed. He felt naked in the face of her stare.

  "You don't know the first thing about me," he shot back. His voice had a whiny tinge to it. It always did when someone got him riled. He hated that.

  "Don't I?" she said. "I know you want to touch my tits, but are too chicken to try it, how's that for starters?"

  Swell. Just swell, for starters.

  "Pathetic, if you ask me," she said. So, who asked her? "You know, I bet you feel afraid when you're around people, am I right? Especially women. Especially hot women, women you want to fuck. Am I right? Or am I right?"

  He moved further away from her in his seat, edging his ass toward the aisle. He gained another two, maybe three inches of separation. Not nearly enough.

  The train lurched, and he nearly fell over, into the aisle. Fuck. A fat, bald man shuffled past, toward the small restroom at the front of the car.

  "So I ask you again, do you want to touch my tits? Lick them? Pinch my nipples, make them good and stiff and erect for you? Hmm? Tell me what you want."

  Before he could answer, she surprised him. She grabbed his right hand, which had been resting primly on his lap, and brought it to her left breast. He tried to pull away, but she had a firm grip on him.

  "Feel me up . . ." Here, she paused. "What's your name, anyway?"

  His name? This woman, this total stranger, whom he'd just nodded hello to for the first time in his life twenty minutes ago when he boarded the train, had kidnapped his hand and was making him fondle her tit. And she was asking him his name? Acting like this was normal? Like this was what total strangers did upon meeting?

  And yet, all he said was, "Brian."

  She smiled. He tried to free himself from her grasp, but couldn't, or wouldn't—he wasn't sure which. The fat man who had gone to the restroom came back down the aisle, heading for his seat, and threw Brian and the woman a "what the hell do you think you're doing" look. But he said nothing.

  She reached over to shake his free hand with her free hand. "Hey, Brian. I'm Susan. And it is Susan, okay? None of this Sue crap."

  She let go of his free hand, but continued to pin the hand that was on her breast firmly in place.

  "Pinch my nipple," she said then. He just stared at her, open-mouthed. "Do it, Brian." He did it. "Harder. I'm not a fucking china doll. I won't break." He pinched her harder. She smiled. He swallowed. This was fucked up, Totally fucked up. But her tit felt great. Her nipple felt perky and hard.

  Then, as unexpectedly as when she had grabbed his hand and placed it onto her breast, she pushed it away. Instinctively he resisted—for a second. His fingers were getting used to the feel of her full, round tit beneath the thin fabric of her summer blouse. But of course he let her push his hand away. Of course he did.

  "Why'd you do that, Brian?"

  "Do what?"

  "Let me push your hand off my tit. You liked playing with my tit. Didn't you?" Again she was looking at him, looking into him, her blue eyes probing, prodding, like laser beams, like twin scalpels cutting into him, opening him up to her. . . . "Didn't you, Brian?"

  "Well, I . . . yes. I mean, how could I not?"

  She smirked at him, flicked her head back. Her light-blonde hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid gold. "Then why'd you let me push you away, if you liked it so much?"

  "Well I didn't want to touch you if you didn't want me to . . ."

  "I told you before, you can touch my tits. Didn't I?" She shook her head. "See? Just like I said. You're a coward. A people-pleaser. You do what everyone expects of you. Don't want to step on any toes, or pinch any nipples, as the case may be. Doesn't that fucking get you down after a while, Brian? I mean, really. Don't you sometimes just want to be a fucking man every once in a while?"

  He shook his head. She didn't know what she was talking about.

  "Don't I? When was the last time you actually asserted yourself, Brian? Stood up for something you believe in? Or don't you even have any strong beliefs?"

  What the hell was she doing? Just a minute ago she had him touching her tit. Now she was rambling about strong beliefs? Damn. Why did she have to be the one he sat next to? Why couldn't he sit next to some nice, quiet old woman with her nose in a book, or some hairy fat dude with a fantasy football magazine. Anyone would have been better than this wacko.

  "What's your take on abortion?" she asked then.

  Abortion? None of her business!

  "I bet you don't have one. You can see both sides of the argument, right?"

  He didn't answer. He wasn't going to be lured.

  "How about the death penalty?" she pursued. "Should the murderers fry? Or just be put away?"

  "Well . . ."

  "Or the health-care crisis. You think there should be universal health care for everyone, Brian?"

  "Well, that depends. I mean . ."

  "See? Told you. You haven't got any firm convictions. You're fucking softer than cheese, Brian. I bet, when you go out to dinner with a date, you let her pick off the menu, for both of you. Am I right?"

  Well . . . but what was wrong with being considerate? If his date didn't like what she ordered, she could always try what he had. And if she ordered for both of them, chances were she'd like at least one of the selections.

  She shook her head again, peered out the window. Dusk was descending like a veil. Looking past her, out the window, Brian saw the glow of a farmhouse porch light as it flickered on, a beacon in a sea of prairie grass and cornfields.

  "Pathetic," she said. "You're even worse than I thought. You probably don't even know who you are, Brian."

  "Fuck you," he shot back.

  "Mmmm, I'd love to," she said. "Where are you headed?"

  That did it. Either this chick was high on something or a full-blown schizo. How else to explain it?

  "Denver," he said. Why had he shared that? Why? Maybe she was right. Maybe he just went along with what other people wanted of him, expected of him. Maybe he'd been that way all his life, and just never really thought about it.

  "How about that," she said. "So am I." Perfect. Just fucking beautiful. "Taking a vacation. A little R & R. Much deserved, if I do say so myself. How about you, Brian? You on a trip? Or is Denver home?"

  "No. I'm going on business." Yes. Business. His boss told him he wanted Brian to attend a seminar. The company would pay for it. Brian couldn't believe the extravagance. In this economy? "It'll give you a deeper perspective and appreciation of what we're trying to accomplish," his boss said. "It'll be worth its weight in gold." Brian doubted this very much—thought the idea was stupid. He wondered if by going on this company-provided field trip, he was forfeiting his raise for this year. After all, there was only so much money to go around. . . .

  But he didn't protest. If this is what the boss wanted him to do . . .

  "Good," Susan said. "We can stay at the same hotel, then. I didn't make any reservations. Where are you staying?"

  There was no way he'd tell her, no way he'd spend one minute with her after they disembarked from the train.

  He told her.

  She smiled, licked her lips. "We'll have fun," she said.

  What was she talking about? Fun? She'd just told him he was pathetic.

  "That doesn't mean I don't like you," she said. "It doesn't mean I don'
t think you're extremely fuckable. It doesn't even mean I think you're hopeless. I think I just might be able to help you, Brian."

  He didn't want her damn help. He just wanted to be left alone. But he didn't say anything more about it. They still had a long night of travel ahead of them. Hopefully he'd fall asleep, and she'd fall asleep, and she'd forget the whole thing. When they woke up in the morning, they'd ride in silence, get off at Denver, and go their separate ways.

  ¦

  "So, where's our hotel?" she said when they got off the train. It was morning, and a strong Rocky mountain sun was shining down on LoDo from a deep blue, cloudless sky. It was the kind of morning that might cheer you up, refresh you, instill you with optimism. But the circumstances being what they were, he felt anything but optimistic.

  "Look, I . . ."

  She touched his lips with her finger. He noticed how long and perfect her nails were. He'd noticed on the train, too. And he'd noticed other things. Her tits, of course. He'd been up close and personal with those. She was a knockout. Tall, slim, shapely, with full, sensuous lips and a thin, long nose that looked sharp enough to cut glass. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to her. But still, this was crazy.

  "It's okay," she said. "I won't get in your way, Brian. I know you're here on business. So you do what you have to do. But we can still share a room. I'll find things to entertain myself, don't worry. But when you get back from your day, when I get back from my day . . . we can laugh and play and fuck each other's brains out all night long. Now. How does that sound?"

  A wave of unreality crashed over him. This sort of thing never happened to guys like him. He didn't know if he should feel scared, bitter, ambivalent, or downright lucky. He looked her over again—the full breasts, the hour-glass figure, the long blonde hair. What the hell. When would he ever get another chance like this?

  "That's the spirit," she said.

  ¦

  He barely listened to the presentation at the seminar later that day. His mind kept wandering to Susan. He wondered what she would look like, unwrapped, naked, standing before him in their hotel room overlooking downtown Denver, with lust in those penetrating blue eyes. Without even being aware of it, he was getting a hard-on. But then he thought about the train ride, the way she had analyzed him, insulted him.