TABOO TALES(erotica)

I held my hips still, savouring the cloying grasp of the young pussy in which I was embedded. Not one millimeter of my cock was outside – it was all in.

For long moments we were both still, aside from the twitching of my cock inside her. I longed to withdraw and plunge, withdraw and plunge, to fuck this hot body beneath me, but somehow I held still. Presently she moved her hips, tentatively at first then with growing confidence as she adjusted to my length and width. I responded, drawing my cock out so that just the head was engaged, then pushing – a long delicious stroke into her, feeling her pelvis thrust back to accept me, so that I was completely buried, the root of my cock mashed against her mound.

I don’t know how long I fucked her… perhaps twenty or thirty minutes. I wanted more than anything to stay inside her all night, but my senses were swamped by her gasps, her low squeals of pleasure, the intensity of how she held me, and the incredible tightness of her cunt with its velvet walls and clutching, rhythmic movements.

However much I wanted to continue, I knew I was lost. Deep inside me I felt my own pressure building, an unstoppable juggernaut that swirled upwards and outwards through my whole being like an explosion of colored light. In a single, white-hot moment where time stood still I released the first scalding jet of sperm into the young body wriggling beneath me. We cried out together as six or seven other jets followed, ribbons of sperm, rivers of it, filling the clutching cunt, splattering its walls with its heat, bathing her cervix and bursting outwards from where we joined, so that it was immediately churned to a white froth by the intensity of our movement.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

After a long time she released the grip of her legs and I felt the grip of her cunt relax as I softened inside her. I slid off her and we lay side by side, breathing ragged gasps, sweat cooling on our skin. My heart was beating like a drum.

“God” She whispered. “God damn, that was….”

“… incredible.” I finished the sentence.

She turned her face towards me, voice so soft that I could hardly hear the words. “I didn’t know…. I never knew it could be like that.”

I reached over and touched her lips lightly with my fingertips, and I smoothed the wild tangle of her hair on the pillow. She lay still, watching me, her eyes shining behind the mask.

“What’s your name?’ I asked her.

She shook her head lightly, her voice soft. “No. We can’t do this again. No names, no faces.” Her voice was filled with regret.

I didn’t ask why. I knew nothing of this girl, who she was, her hopes and dreams or where or how she lived. In a moment of clarity I understood that part of the magic of the night had been not knowing – meeting another kindred soul who wanted only to share a night of passion but nothing more. Every detail I found out about her, I thought, would add a layer of complexity to the relationship, to seek to complicate what was very simple. I understood that she didn’t want that, and I thought I was content not to want it either.

I stroked her hair and by and by, we fell asleep.

I thought I heard her crying during the night, and I felt the touch of her hand on my face, but then I sank back into sleep and, when I woke, she had left. She had covered me with a bedspread and every trace of her was gone, except for the fragrance of her hair on the pillow. The morning light had taken away the anonymity of the night, and I felt alone. I wondered how I could have let her go without finding out her name, or looking at her face.

*****

The following Monday morning I sat at breakfast, munching cereal and flicking though a magazine I had found on the table. I had to leave for work in a few moments.

My mother shouted from the kitchen, “David, bring the dishes in before you go, please.”

“Yes Mum.”

“… and is your room tidy?”

I rolled my eyes at my little sister sitting opposite me, blond hair in disarray and still sleepy. She’d been away at the weekend and looked as if she had had a good time, too.

“Yes Mum.”

“Is Beth there?”

“Yes Mum!”

My mother appeared with another bowl and a plate of toast. “Here you go, Beth.”

I looked at her. Dad had died a few years before of a heart attack at the age of forty two, leaving her with a meager living so she had to work. I wondered why she didn’t find another guy. She was still attractive and kept herself trim.

“Have to go, Mum,” I said. She smiled and gave me a brief hug and a peck on the cheek.

“What time are you home tonight?”

“Usual. I’ll give you a ring if it changes. See ya, Beth!”

Beth grunted. She had pinched my magazine and was reading the agony column. I wondered why she didn’t have a stream of boyfriends bashing at the front door as she was very attractive, even first thing in the morning. Like me, she was a bit of a loner, although I had just started dating a girl called Susan a week before. It was too early to tell if it would develop into anything, though. I was suddenly struck with a picture of my mysterious friend over the weekend, head thrown back, knuckles pressed to her mouth to suppress a scream of ecstasy. I couldn’t envisage Susan in that position.

I closed the door behind me and went to work.

And so life went on for the next few days, much as it had before that weekend. The only difference was that I thought about HER a lot. The little mannerisms I noticed in our brief acquaintance: the way she held her head on one side, as if asking a question; her sense of stillness; the way she pressed her hand to her mouth to silence her pleasure. That was all I knew of her, other than she had brown hair, wore a little black dress and plain shoes, owned a blue eagle mask and gave me the most stunning sex I had ever had. Each time I thought of her, the sense of loss grew greater. How can you feel you’ve lost something that you really never had? How can you fall in love with a dream?

On the Thursday after the weekend I phoned the host of the party to thank him.

“Damien…. its David.”

“Hi David. What gives?” He was always cheerful.

“Not much, mate. Just calling to thank you for the amazing party.”

“Amazing is right” he grumbled. “Looked like a fucking brothel next day…. knickers and condoms all over the house, beds wrecked. Looks like someone deflowered a chick in the main bedroom…. still trying to wash the sheets clean before the oldies come home.” He chuckled. “Was a great party though, wasn’t it!”

I thought of HER, thrusting her pelvis forward and crying out. Had I used the main bedroom?

“Er, yes” I said. How lame. “Well, anyway, thanks a lot…”

“You’re welcome.”

“… and I wondered if you could do me a favor.”

“Maybe.” A note of caution in his voice.

I pressed on bravely. “I met a chick there I really liked.” I said. “Could you give me a list of who you invited?”

There was a moment of silence, and then I listened to his reasons for not helping me. Confidentiality… the right to privacy. He asked me what she was wearing, what she looked like.

“The blue eagle mask. Brunette, shortish. Black dress.”

I could hear his mind working. “Nah. Don’t know her.”, he said. “Might have been a gate crasher. We had a couple. Sorry mate. Perhaps next time.”

The dialing tone was loud in my ear as the only way I could think to find her rang out.

*****

Friday evening, almost a week since the night. Beth and Mum were out somewhere, and I arrived home alone, thinking of her. I collected the mail at the front door, flicking through the usual collection of bills and junk mail. I had been hoping that somehow she had found out who I was, and there would be a little note asking if we could meet. There was little chance of that, I knew. The ache was there, bright and sharp in my gut. I longed to see her again, but part of me dreaded that if I did it would be a disappointment. She was a predator and she didn’t need me.

I thought of the jobs that Mum had given me to do. She worked hard and we helped out, and it was my turn to do the laundry. I collected the basket and went into my room, picking up the week’s collection of dirty clothes; then to Mum’s room, where they were all neatly kept in a basket in the corner.

I moved down the corridor to Beth’s room, scooting around, collecting socks, her work blouses, a couple of pairs of red knickers about the size of dental floss. Nothing else that I could see at first, but on impulse I bent to look under the bed and just behind the fold of the duvet I could see a bunched up scrap of black lace. It was a black bra and a pair of skimpy black knickers, and as I retrieved them I saw that they were concealing something else. Curious, I reached under the fold of material and pulled it out.

The room seemed to tilt, and I could hear a roaring in my ears.