Daddy's Bedtime Taboo Sex Stories

by Kelly Fleming

  Looking up at him through lashes, with looks of naughty nymphs at the generous treasure before them, they both brought their mouths closer to him. While each rubbed him with their hands. Together, they touched his aching cock with tongues. Licking, nipping, sucking, and biting him as they went. Occasionally allowing their lips and tongues to meet and kiss each other. Alternately one would suck on him. Taking the head in her mouth. Then pull him deep in her throat. Tugging on his ass to pull closer. Then she'd pull away, and the other would repeat the motion. Over and over this went on. Hands, tongues, teeth, and mouths lighting a fire within him.

  Both girls then stood and laid down on the bed. Amy laid on her back. Spreading her legs so he could see the bare skin of her pussy and the wetness gathered there. Jennifer was at her head and torso rubbing Amy's nipples. Pinching, sucking, and playing. Adam sank to his knees on the plush carpet. As he came closer to her core, he smelled the delicious arousal coming up to meet him. He began by giving a slow, long, hot lick up her slit. Teasing. Then fixated on her pulsing clit. He tongued it. First with tip, then with the broadness of it his tongue. Licking circles. Then up the sides. Flicking underneath. Sucking her in. Biting her gently. Pulling it into his mouth. She was writhing on the bed. Jennifer's pussy was now on Amy's face. Jennifer was riding Amy's mouth and squeezing her tits. Moaning and crying out.

  Adam took his tongue and decided to see how far he could push Amy. She was his favorite. She didn't know it, but it was true. He preferred curvy women. It made them a woman. He slid his tongue inside her deeply without notice. Her hips came up off the bed. Meeting his mouth driving him deeper. He stabbed in and out of her over and over again. Sometimes slow, causing an aching need, a fire to build. Then at times quickly fluttering, making her shudder. He lapped at her. All the while watching Amy hold Jennifer's hips and do the same thing to her. The long pink tongue snaking out and entering Jennifer's pussy. Tasting her. Devouring her.

  Jennifer's moans and screams started to heighten as she became more excited. She bucked her hips, grinding her pussy against the mouth underneath her. Amy moaned and thrashed from Adam's tongue. And he was getting so close just from watching both of them. He entered two fingers into Amy and she screamed. Causing a vibration to enter Jennifer's pussy. Which brought a new flow of curses from Jennifer's mouth.

  It was clear that Amy was ready and wanted penetration. He stopped torturing her clit, and stood up. Amy stopped licking Jennifer. He told both girls to come to the bottom of the bed and get on hands and knees facing the headboard. Their desire made them comply without question. Both ready for whatever he was going to give them.

  Both girls simultaneously felt a warm hand cup and begin to rub circles on their ass cheeks. He was kneading them. Massaging them. He took two fingers on each hand and penetrated both of them at the same time. Moving the fingers in and out in the same rhythm and speed for both. They moaned, pushed back against his fingers, and begged for more. He added a third finger. Repeating and switching up the motions. Then added a fourth. They were so ready for him.

  The girls couldn't see because of their position. So he used that to his advantage. All of a sudden he shoved his cock inside of Amy. Sinking deep into her heat. Her wetness drenching him. He pushed hard. Then he pulled out. Then he moved to Jennifer. He pushed himself into her pussy, pushing deep and hard. Then out again. Then into Amy. Pushing in hard and fast, pulling out slowly. Then back into Jennifer. Then back into Amy. Then back into Jennifer. Each getting a turn with him. Then he speeded up and the penetration lasted longer with each girl. While he fucked one with his cock. He fingered the other. Occasionally smacking the pussies in front of him.

  Both women were crying out. Making little mewling sounds. Panting and cursing. Begging to be finished. He decided he wanted to fuck Amy into a climax first. He took her and flipped her over onto her back. Pulled her to the edge of the bed. And filled her in a quick stroke. He began to pump her. Hard. Fast. Short strokes. Long strokes. Varying them alternately. He looked into her eyes and leaned over taking her peach nipple in his mouth and sucked deeply. Speeding up he fucked her. Holding nothing back. She came around him. Cursing, pulsating, and quivering. He was soaked with her wetness.

  Then he looked over at Jennifer who had been watching and touching herself. He turned her back onto her stomach. Her ass in the air, but her breasts and torso flat on the bed. He stabbed at her. Thrusting fast. Deep. Giving no quarter. He continued this thrusting. Stopping and holding still within her when he came too close to spilling. He knew she was close by all the sounds and movements of her body. With one last plunge he drove home and she came crashing around his cock.

  He too was ready to cum. Pulling out he ordered the girls on their knees in front of him. They obliged. He stroked his thick long cock until he began to feel that tingle. That feeling that it was about to happen. He unleashed the flow of cum in spurts on the girls faces below. The liquid ran down their faces, necks, and dripped onto nipples.. Trailed down stomachs. Then he almost came on the spot again when the girls turned to one another and started kissing deeply. Licking his juice off their faces.. And following the trail wherever it went, lapping and licking it all up. They looked at him when they were finished. And pulled him to the floor. Then all three began to kiss. And he tasted pussy and his cum. It was the most erotic experience of his life.

  Adam asked if he could shower before leaving the apartment. Jennifer agreed and showed him to the bathroom, explaining where towels and such were kept. While he showered she returned to Amy in the bedroom and they lay on the bed. Laughing and talking about what had just happened. About how now their bond seemed to be strong again. Mischief and fun lighting up in their eyes.

  Adam returned looking freshly showered and thanked the women for the experience. Then he left. The girls waited a while and then decided to shower themselves. To clean up. Both were sticky messes. They went into the bathroom and Jennifer adjusted the hot spray of the dual head two person shower to the right temperature and set the shower heads to a pulsating massaging speed. Then both got in. Soaping each other up. Washing each other's hair and bodies. Cleaning the traces of cum. Sweet smelling soap filled the air. Soon, unable to resist, the girls began to explore one another. Kissing, licking, and teasing with mouths, tongues, fingers, and hands. Taking their time as the hot steam filled the room and water cascaded and sluiced down their bodies. They pleasured each other once again. Bringing themselves to newer heights. Higher climaxes. Oh yes. The friendship was definitely back to being intact. And all of a sudden Amy started to think that maybe she could do photography in the city...

  The End.

  The Diffident Muse

  Paula Tate sits reclined on the navy blue chaise lounge. Her legs are stretched out together in front of her, the left ankle just resting on the right, her hands loosely clasped across her stomach. Remaining perfectly still, only her hazel eyes move from time to time, scanning the room she has sat in so often before.

  It is a large, double-height space, with windowless cream-coloured walls. Yet there is no need for artificial light. The gradually weakening rays from a mid-May sun, now getting low in the sky, still pour in through angled glass panes that run the length of the ceiling.

  The silence is almost total, broken only by the occasional mumble from Nathan as he gives one of his evening-class students guidance on how their depiction of Paula's naked form could be improved.

  She enjoys these weekly sessions, because they are a couple of hours spent in total relaxation. That she is unclothed does not faze Paula at all, although that had definitely not been the case when she had begun her life class modelling career almost a year ago.

  Then, fresh out of university and fresh in to a dead-end telesales job that barely covered the rent, she had answered an advertisement placed by the local art college. Paula needed extra money but, as she usually arrived home from work near-exhausted, she did not relish the prospect of trying to hold down a second job.

  So it seemed
very appealing, perhaps almost too good to be true, that she could supplement her income by just sitting around. It would also get Paula out of the dingy apartment she shared, reluctantly, with another girl from her office. But a scant knowledge of the art world meant she failed to appreciate that nudity would be a fundamental requirement of the role. That necessity, however, quickly became apparent upon her first meeting with Nathan.

  It was during that interview that she could have - maybe should have - declared her mistake and quickly left. But a desire not to appear stupid, plus a nagging urge to want to do something faintly daring for once, to shock herself even, made her remain.

  Also, completely irrationally given that she could have escaped and never crossed paths with him ever again, Paula did not want Nathan to think any less of her. Despite his slightly affected wannabe-bohemian look of unkempt dark shoulder length hair, goatee beard and too vivid purple paisley shirt, she found herself instantly warming to him, his anecdotes about some of the hopeless models he had used before reducing her to giggles.

  But a reluctance to expose her ignorance of what being a life model entailed meant that she would, in time, have to literally expose herself. And that was something Paula was not used to doing. It was not that she considered herself a prude, it was just that she had been brought up by strict parents who instilled in her the belief that revealing too much bare skin was unnecessary.

  Only during her university years did the realisation hit that maybe she was somewhat repressed when it came to her fashion choices. Indeed, especially during the increasingly warm months that lead up to summer break, her girl friends seemed content to wander around campus in tiny skirts and skimpy vest tops, while Paula remained in her jeans and loose fitting t-shirts.

  In time, and away from the influences of her family, her wardrobe did become more relaxed, although most of these new clothes stayed firmly hidden in the suitcase during visits back home. She even managed to wear a bikini for the first time, rather than the usual swimsuit, when she and five others went on a post-graduation holiday to Crete. Even so, it had taken all of the first week for Paula to feel comfortable wearing so little on the beach, and she could barely conceal her astonishment when two of her friends decided to sun-bathe topless.

  So it was with almost overwhelming trepidation that Paula had turned up to her very first class. Nathan was there to greet her, his kind words of reassurance no match for her nervousness. At one stage, as he lead her to a small, partitioned area in the corner of the studio, she was tempted to confess her fears and run out. Something however kept Paula there: perhaps a fear of wasting everyone's time and looking stupid, or maybe a feeling that doing this could help combat her imposed hang-ups.

  There was no door to what Nathan, without irony, described as the dressing room. Just a tatty curtain across the opening where a door should have been isolated her from the main studio space beyond. Paula undressed as slowly as possible, although the task was difficult to prolong too much, as beneath her un-seasonal overcoat she wore only a thick black pinafore dress over a pale blue blouse.

  It had been Nathan's request that she should not wear any underwear for at least a few hours before her sitting. The impressions that would be left on her skin by an overly tight bra strap or the waistband of her panties were, apparently, details his artists did not need to see.

  So earlier at work, around mid afternoon, she had slunk from her desk to the ladies' room to remove the offending garments. Walking back into the main office, she unsuccessfully fought off a blush as she sensed - incorrectly - that every set of eyes were trained on her. Surely all of her colleagues had instantly sussed out she was now wearing less than had been the case ten minutes previously?

  In the dressing room, she had been thankful there was no mirror. To have seen herself naked that first time would merely have panicked her. Instead, she reached into her bag to retrieve a thick towelling robe and put it on, also as per Nathan's briefing. Securing it tightly around her waist, Paula allowed herself a wry smile as she remembered it had been a gift from her mother last Christmas; it was doubtful this was ever an intended use.

  Remaining in the dressing room until summoned, Paula could feel her heart begin to pound, and her palms getting clammy. As she was wishing there was a slug of brandy to hand, she heard voices. The exchange of muted pleasantries signalled the students' entry into the studio. Then came the clatter of chairs and easels being dragged across the parquet floor as the budding artists prepared themselves.

  After what seemed like ages, Nathan appeared, poking his head around the curtain.

  'OK, ready to face them Paula?' he asked, smiling.

  'Um... sure, I think,' was all she could say.

  'It'll be fine, just make sure you get comfortable so you don't have to move too much. Oh, and a tip I was given: if you're ever nervous in a roomful of people, just imagine them all naked.'

  Paula's brow just tightened in bewilderment.

  'Sorry Paula,' Nathan continued, 'that was supposed to be a joke to help relax you... I guess it didn't really work. Anyway, come on, time to go.'

  Without another word, Nathan turned around and began to walk, Paula following obediently behind.

  She could only stare at his back for the short journey towards the centre of the studio. Then Nathan peeled off to help one of the students complete their setting up, leaving nothing between Paula and what would be her perch for the next couple of hours.

  It was a simple arrangement, comprising of a wooden dining chair with a generously upholstered base and back rest, concealed by a white cotton sheet which had been casually draped over it. There was no stage or dais because, as Nathan had explained, raising the model up above the artists would give their work an odd perspective.

  Paula approached the chair, her heart now thudding against her chest, desperately trying to suppress the trembling she could feel starting in her limbs. Looking straight ahead to the far wall, she fumbled at the belt around her waist, eventually managing to untie it.

  After letting the robe hang loose around her for a few seconds, Paula wriggled her shoulders a little. She felt the heavy material slipping over her shoulders. Then down it went, over her arms and hips, before dropping to the floor in a heap around her feet.

  She was expecting a reaction from the people around her: perhaps a gasp, or a snigger, or at least a grunt of admiration. But there was nothing. A quick scan of the room revealed that her newly-nude state had gone largely unnoticed, with most of the class still arranging themselves in preparation for the session about to begin. Not even Nathan had turned to look at her.

  So, forcing her brain to accept that this group found nothing remarkable in a naked body, Paula concentrated on arranging herself on the chair. Getting into a comfortable, simple pose, she sat upright but tried to be as relaxed as it was possible to feel at that moment. She ensured her thighs, knees and ankles were firmly together and kept her hands resting on her lap.

  Then, seemingly without prompting or instruction, the activity began. Paula became aware that she was being studied, but purely as an inanimate object. From keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of her, she glanced surreptitiously at the people who were sketching and painting her. Well those within her field of vision, at least; her head had to remain as still as possible.

  The surprise was the variation in ages and sexes of the assembled group. One of her many anxieties had been that Nathan's class would attract mainly archetypal dirty old men, keen on seeing a bit of naked flesh. He however had been swift to emphasise at their first meeting, even before she had a chance to raise the issue, that his sessions only attracted serious artists.

  Nobody was permitted to attend the life class until a lengthy foundation course had been completed, part of his strategy to weed out the perverts. Nevertheless, very occasionally one or two people would be asked to leave if, as Nathan euphemistically put it, they did not share his artistic vision.

  Perhaps the only thing common to all th
e participants was the absorbed expressions on their faces. It occurred to Paula that it was actually irrelevant who she was or what she looked like, she was just a form to be studied and transferred onto paper or canvas.

  It was during that very first session that, possibly for the first time, Paula thought she might one day feel moderately comfortable about her body. Or slightly less uncomfortable, at least.

  That is not to say there were any reasons why she should have been ill at ease with it before. Indeed, the boyfriends (three, all while at university) that had seen it had always paid her what seemed like genuine compliments. Nevertheless, she had always maintained an aversion to undressing in front of them, always insisting that the lights be off before she took a rapid dive beneath the bedclothes.

  Even now, reclining on the chaise lounge nearly a year later, she can still be overly-critical about her figure. Paula allows her eyes to peer down, once again convincing herself that her breasts could do with being a little larger. She concedes that she likes her nipples though, which are fairly wide in diameter without protruding too much, and sit atop pale pink areolae that almost blend into the surrounding skin.

  Definitely too big, however, are her stomach and hips - at least according to Paula. Most impartial observers would simply describe the gentle bulge of her belly and the curve of her hips as being femininely attractive. After all, she is not overweight, but neither is she a size zero. She is just normal, average, but not plain.

  Her gaze wanders further, over her hands resting on that stomach, until it fixes on the patch of dark, almost black hair that begins below her abdomen and continues down between the very tops of her thighs. Apart from a little topiary at the edges, Paula prefers to leave things natural down there. Perhaps it is a remaining throwback to her upbringing, but she has simply never considered giving it a severe trim, let alone taking a razor or - heaven forbid - wax to it.