TABOO TALES(erotica)

Monday 0700

Chelsea Rogers held the envelope in her slim fingers and glanced again at the handwriting on the front. It was a feminine hand – the neat characters marching across the paper, not at all like the academic scrawl her father would have used, but she knew that it was from him. She also knew that it was an invitation to his wedding.

She slipped her finger under the flap and tore open the envelope, her eyes scanning over the script on the card inside.

Mr James Rogers and Ms Melanie Phillips request the pleasure of the company of Ms Chelsea Rogers on the occasion of their marriage at the Church of St Joseph and Mary at 1600 on Saturday 23 November 2010, and afterwards at Seven Hills RSL, 15 Showground Road, Seven Hills…

Chelsea propped the invitation on the kitchen worktop and picked up her coffee, thinking about how much things had changed. It was almost exactly three years ago since her mother had died, lying in the hospital bed whilst her father held her hand, praying for her to get better. Chelsea liked to think that her mother was at peace as she finally gave up the struggle and reached out for the tranquility of death. Poor Dad. She remembered the grief he had worn like a shabby coat for so long – and guilt too, because he had not been able to protect her. He had virtually given up after that, and everyone had thought that he might not last long – but now, just three years later, he was marrying again – a testimony to the healing capacity of the human spirit.

She looked down at the invitation again, the heavy linen card and the flowing silver script. A message of celebration, of happiness and hope for his future. God knows, she thought, he deserves that, and she should be with him on his special day. The words burned into her brain. Request the pleasure of the company of Ms Chelsea Rogers… Every fibre in her being longed to go, to help make it a special day for him – but her heart quailed at the thought. How could her company be a pleasure, she reflected, when Ben will be there?

Benjamin Philip Rogers – her brother, her friend, her lover… and her nemesis. Ben, whom she had sworn she would never set eyes on again.

*****

Two hundred miles away the subject of her thoughts shuffled through that morning’s mail, discarding the junk, setting aside the bills and picking out those of interest. The white linen envelope with its distinctive handwriting now lay on the top of the pile and he picked it up and deftly opened it with the silver letter -opener from his desk.

Mr James Rogers and Ms Melanie Phillips request the pleasure of the company of Mr Benjamin Rogers and partner….

He turned as Sophie came into the room, still in her nightie. Her blonde hair was in disarray and there was a sleep crease on the side of her face from the pillow.

“Hi Hon. Anything interesting?” Despite her age her voice was pitched like a little girl’s, lacking the timbre of maturity. It was one of the things that had turned him on when they first met… a little girl’s voice, to match the little girl look.

“Not much – bills, mostly, and an invitation to Dad’s wedding next month.”

She moved to his side and straddled him, climbing onto his lap with her back to the desk. The fabric of her nightgown settled higher, clinging to her hips, and he could see the swell of her mound pushing against the bikini panties, a wisp of hair peeping from the elastic line. He felt the warmth of her body radiating down through his tracksuit, and he could smell her – a warm, musky odour, a mixture of cinnamon and milk and warm puppy. She wriggled a little bit and the nightie shifted, pulling tighter over her pert breasts so that the nipples pressed against the sheer fabric.

“You gonna go, Ben?”

“Sure. You’re invited too.”

“Gee. That’s nice.” She took the card from his fingers and read it slowly, her lips forming the words. “Benjamin Rogers and partner.” She looked down at him, a sudden thought in her mind. “I’ve got nothing to wear!”

“What about that brown dress with the white spots? You look sensational in that.”

She regarded him with her big blue eyes. “That’s last year’s fashion, Hon. “It’s different now.” She ran the tip of her finger down the side of her face, the nail rasping against his unshaven skin, and she pouted down at him, her voice soft and wheedling. “Can I buy another outfit for the wedding, honey? Just a teeny -weeny one?”

“Sure.” His heart sank – he’d learned from experience that Sophie’s tastes were not cheap.

She squealed in excitement, wriggling on his lap, and leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth – her soft, moist lips lingering there.

Ben felt his body responding, a tightness in his chest and his cock thickening rapidly. She was irresistible – her little girl face and slender body promised an innocence that was in delicious contrast to the raw animal sexuality she unleashed on him whenever they made love. The face of an angel and the morals of an alley cat, he thought, a potent mixture. He reached up and rubbed her breasts through the thin fabric, feeling the nipples harden under his palms like hard pebbles, and she moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock pressing against her.

He leaned forward and lifted her, feeling her long legs wrap around him, her mouth still fastened to his as he carried her through to the bedroom. Her pudenda pressed against him, rubbing against the material of his shirt with each step, and her arms were around his neck. She broke free of his mouth and whispered to him as he carried her.

“Are you going to fuck me again, Ben? Take your little girl and fuck me until I bleed?” She arched her back and her hair swept forward, brushing over his face like a golden cloud, and he felt her nipples drilling into his chest like two little spears. “Fuck me until my eyes pop out?”

His voice was a low growl, husky with desire. “God yes, Sophie. I’ll fuck you until you scream.”

She giggled, and he felt one of her hands reach down and grasp the material of his jeans over the thick protuberance of his cock. She giggled again. “Oooh! Who’s a naughty boy then!” She leaned closer into him and her voice thickened, oozing into his ear like warm honey. “Fuck me all day, Ben! I’m empty now… can you fill my tight little pussy?”

He reached the bed and flung her down onto the sheets still disheveled from last night’s session. She scrabbled to her knees and her fingers went to his belt, working the buckle, opening his jeans and drawing him out, the shaft pink and engorged and the bell -end swollen and purple. She grasped the base of his cock in one hand, thick against her wrist, and she looked up at him with her baby blue eyes as she placed the glans against her lips and took him into her mouth.

Ben stared down at her. He would never tire of this, he thought – the juxtaposition of innocence and sluttishness. Her eyes were on his, watching the nuances of pleasure on his face to best judge how to satisfy him – adjusting the soft, slow strokes, drawing him into the back of her throat, turning her head slightly so the angle of penetration changed; tightening her lips to grip him better. She slipped her free hand into his fly and cupped his balls lightly, one finger easing behind them to gently massage his anus, and she smiled around his shaft as he moaned with pleasure. His hands went to her head and he held her, their eyes locked on each other as he thrust his hips back and forth, fucking her face, watching her lips glide over the thick wet shaft with just the right cadence. He wondered again where she had learned to fuck so well – she always knew just how to bring him to the edge and to hold him there, teetering on the brink of ecstasy whilst she played with him like a toy dog until he begged to spurt into her hot, tight little body. She always took the initiative, too, and he wondered which of her orifices she had chosen this morning to feel the blast of his cum.

He felt the first tingle of his impending climax – a pressure behind his eyes, taking root somewhere in the cortex of his brain. It spiraled rapidly, his muscles tensing in anticipation – but she sensed it and pulled free, staring up at him with those wide innocent eyes, her mouth still slightly open and her lips wet with his discharge.

She was gasping slightly, shaking her head. “No… not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

“Then lie down – let me fuck you.”

She shook her head again and slipped off her nightie and pants, flinging them aside in a whisper of silk. Her body was perfect, the skin golden in the soft light of the morning, smooth and taut, her breasts small but perfectly formed with the nipples stiff and dark. For a moment she looked up at him with a flare of triumph in her eyes, and then she spun around, crouching on the edge of the mattress with her face pressed against the rumpled sheets. Her buttocks were thrust upwards and she opened her thighs, her legs splayed so that she looked like a young animal with long, awkward limbs. He could see her sex, pushed back with the lips slightly open and inviting, its fringe of soft gold hair shining with moisture. She reached up and cupped each buttock, her fingers long and slender against the firm golden skin, and she drew them apart so that her vulva was thrust back even further and the tight, crinkled eye of her anus was open to his gaze.NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and her voice was soft and girlish. “Fuck me deep, Ben.”