TABOO TALES(erotica)

I moved my hand away reluctantly, exposing the shape of my erection pushing against the fabric of my swimmers. The head of my cock was straining upwards against the elastic, trying to break free. I could sense her eyes on it and I waited for her rejection, her shrill words telling me to stop being disgusting. The silence stretched out, long seconds measured by the frantic beat of my heart. Finally I could stand it no longer and I turned my head and looked at her.

She was staring at my groin, a slight look of surprise on her face, and I could detect the faint flush of colour in her cheeks.

“Wow. Did I really do that?”

I nodded, saying nothing, watching her eyes as they looked at the evidence of my excitement. There was no revulsion there… just interest. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips and I realised with surprise that she was nervous. She struggled for words, trying to be lighthearted.

“So it wasn’t just my costume, then.”

I shook my head, watching her face. She dragged her eyes off my groin and looked at me, and I saw her expression change as she read what my eyes were telling her.

“Ben…. this is what I was talking about this morning. I don’t -”

I leaned over and put my mouth on hers, gently, cutting off the denial of her words, feeling the incredible softness of her lips under mine. I could taste the tang of salt and the flavour of her mouth and I could feel the butterfly flutter of her breath as it left her body in a woosh of surprise. For a moment I could feel the muscles in her arms tense as she went to push me off, and then the resistance went out of her, and I felt her lips open a little and she tilted her face to meet mine. That first kiss was probably only for a few seconds, but my senses were seduced by her taste and smell, and time seemed to slow down. I could hear a roaring in my ears and I felt her hand come up behind me and hold my head, fingers in my hair. Her mouth opened a little and the tip of her tongue ventured out and brushed against my lips.

At length I pulled away and looked down at her face and her eyes were on mine. “You kiss with your eyes open,” I said softly.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling. “So do you.”

I brushed her lips with mine again, little butterfly kisses as sweet as warm honey. “You OK with this?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all. We shouldn’t be -”

I put my mouth over hers again, feeling her respond, her body rolling over towards me so that I could feel the press of her breasts against my chest. Her arms came up around my neck and her mouth opened like a flower, her lips crushing against mine. I moved my hand between us, slipping it under the fabric of her top and cupping one breast, feeling the firmness of her flesh and the nipple like a hot pebble against my fingers. She moaned into my mouth and leaned harder into me, one thigh moving forward to push against my crotch. I moved my hand to her left buttock and dipped my fingers downwards, brushing them lightly over the thin strip of material between her legs.

She pulled her face away. “Ben, we can’t – people will see.”

I looked around. We were alone, shielded by a low outcrop of rock on one side and the curve of a sand dune on the other. “No one can see us here, Chelsea.”

She pulled my head down, her lips closing over mine, her tongue thrusting into my mouth, and she rolled a little more towards me, one leg lifting up, hooking over my waist to give my fingers better access. I pulled aside the thin gusset of her pants and my fingers dipped under it, feeling her heat, touching her. She was slippery, the lips of her sex open, and I slipped one finger into her.

Her body convulsed and she moaned deep into my mouth. She was grinding herself against me, my fingers trapped inside her, and I could feel the hard little nub of her clitoris against the ball of my thumb.

She pulled her mouth away from mine and her voice was gusty with desire. “God, Ben. Stop. No! Oh God, stop -”

And then suddenly she was coming, her back arching, head thrown back and eyes tightly closed, a guttural moan of pleasure bursting from her lips as she spasmed. I could feel her pussy clenching around my fingers, gripping me tightly as it contracted, and a flood of moisture spurted over my hand.

My cock was bursting, pushing out above the elastic of my shorts, desperate to be inside her. I jerked the material of her costume down, feeling it slide a few inches down her thighs and I rolled on top of her, pulling my own trunks aside so that my member bobbed free. For a few seconds I could feel the air on its exposed head and then the satin touch of her skin as it engaged against the wet, open lips of her pussy, ready to be thrust into her hot and willing body.

With a convulsive heave she pushed me off, and I fell sideways onto the sand. She rolled away, her hands scrabbling with her pants to pull them back up.

“No, Ben, no. No. Stop.” Her voice was frantic.

I rolled towards her to try and kiss her again and she pushed me back, harder, and sat up, one hand holding the top of her bikini where my groping had dislodged the strap. She looked at me, gasping for breath, then she spoke.

“Jesus, Ben. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you do that. But you can’t -”

“Christ, Chelsea! You wanted it. It felt right.”

“We can’t -”

“But I feel something…. different. You know… we’re not the same as we were.” I looked up at her. “I need you, Chelsea.”

She spoke quickly, her voice like shards of glass. “Need, or want? Either way, you shouldn’t – not in that way. It has to be both of us.” She stood up and deftly fastened the strap to her bra. “Both of us,” she repeated, emphasizing the words. “And if that isn’t true it doesn’t matter what you feel. Remember that.”

She glared at me, her little face set hard, but something in my expression must have touched her and she relented a little, her words softer. “Ben – you don’t want to know me that way… I’ve been – things happened that you don’t know about. Don’t go there.”

And before I could respond she turned and walked away. Her shoulders were straight and her head was held high, and although I watched her until she disappeared from sight, she never looked back.

*******

When I think back on that time I often wonder why I didn’t just shrug my shoulders and get on with the holiday without giving her further thought – after all, it wasn’t that I was in love with her or anything. How could I be? Sure, she was button cute – but I knew that there would be a dozen other girls on holiday there who were just as attractive, and no doubt some would be happy to go a lot further than she had. It certainly would have been the smart thing for me to do, but I could not. I was mesmerized by her, intrigued the mystery of what had happened, and drawn by the magic she was weaving.

Whatever magic it was, she had it in spades. The warmer weather meant that each day she would be dressed in something skimpy – her little red bikini, or perhaps a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top. The sun burnished her skin a rich mahogany brown and bleached her hair to the colour of ripe wheat, and she looked wonderful. But it wasn’t just the way she looked – it was her. It was her presence, the way that she lit up the room when she walked in. It was the way she smiled, the sound of her laughter and the way that she held her head to one side when she was listening, as if you were the only person in the world. It was the deep crystal well of those inscrutable grey eyes that radiated her soul – hints of love and laughter and moments of inexplicable vulnerability.

And so I was hooked, and I followed her around like a love-sick pooch. After the beach episode I thought that she would be cool towards me, but she was not. She sought my company to the exclusion of everyone else, and she retained that impulsive happiness that made her such good fun to be with. Every day we swam and lay on the beach, wondered though the little shops in the town together, sipped coffee in the cafes, drank beer in the pubs and ate together in the restaurants. A casual observer might have mistaken us for two lovers, except that there was no intimacy. She had established an unspoken set of rules that took me a while to figure out: for example, touching her briefly to draw her attention to something was apparently acceptable, but holding hands was most definitely not. If I tested the boundaries she didn’t rebuff me, but she would simply stop whatever it was that she was doing, look at me with mild reproach until I ceased, and then continue as if nothing at all had happened.

And so I lived those four duplicitous days, playing the game because the alternative was not to spend time with her, and I could not bear the thought of that. I enjoyed our time together, but like a man on death row I was aware that each day gone brought me closer to the end of the holiday, when we would almost certainly return to the way that we were before. On the one hand I was happy to share every waking moment with her, but at the same time I longed for more.

In my mind the time on the beach when she rejected me became the defining moment of the change between us, and I re-lived it a hundred times. I yearned to have that chance again, to do things differently, so that we could still be together that way… and then with a slide of despair I realised that it wasn’t anything to do with me, or what I had done – it was because I was her brother and she couldn’t move past that.

The hardest time was in our cottage, just before sleep. Each night she would wait until I had turned in, and then in the darkness of the room I would hear her creep into her little bed in the corner. Although I know she was uncomfortable she never complained – and she certainly made no effort to join me. I would lie in bed listening to the creaking of her bedsprings as she struggled to get comfortable, and then, after a while, the sound of her soft breathing as she slept; and I would ache for her until I finally fall into an exhausted sleep in the still, silent hours of the night.

On the fourth night I waited until she had climbed into bed and I called her in the darkness.

“Chelsea?”

“Yes.”

“You can move over here if you want.”

“You know I can’t.”

“I won’t try anything.”

She was silent for a while and I wondered if she had heard me. “Its not just you, Ben. It’s me, too.” Her words were soft. “Don’t you think – ”NôvelDrama.Org © content.

I waited, the silence drawing out, and eventually she spoke again, her voice stronger. “Don’t think that I don’t want to, Ben. It would be so easy, but we both know what might happen.”

“We wouldn’t let it.”