TABOO TALES(erotica)

‘Well, you know -‘ Jason looked uncomfortable.

‘No I don’t, Jason. Tell me what it was that you remember that gave you a boner at the precise moment I was sitting on your lap.’

‘The other afternoon. When I saw you,’ he said at length.

‘Really? You promised you wouldn’t mention that again.’

‘No I didn’t. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I haven’t. That doesn’t stop me thinking about it.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘So let me get this right. You got a boner because you were thinking about me naked.

‘I guess.’

‘Then my point remains, Jason. I’m your sister. You shouldn’t be thinking like that.’

Jason looked trapped. ‘I can’t help it.’ He looked her in the face. ‘It was – well, I mean, you looked, like, really hot, and I’m a guy… how could I not think about it?’

‘I don’t think about you playing with yourself.’

‘What makes you think I do?’

‘You practically said as much yesterday – besides, I’ve read that every guy does.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

Ellie laughed. ‘They say that those who deny it are liars.’ She studied her brother’s face for a moment. ‘Let’s not be coy, Jason. I know you were doing it after you saw me, and I get it, right? You saw your sister’s pussy and it turned you on, however wrong that might be. But don’t think that gives you the right to go any further.’

Jason stared at his sister. ‘I’d never think that.’

‘So poking your erection into my lap isn’t going further?’

‘That wasn’t me – it was my dick.’Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

Ellie smiled. ‘They’re the same thing, Jason, and I haven’t forgotten you owe me ten favours, either – although it should be twenty after today.’ She drained the last of her coffee and picked up her handbag. ‘Well, we’d better get started or I’ll be late for Sassie. So what did you have in mind to buy Mum for her birthday?’

*****

Ellen Elizabeth Paige had kept her virginity until her eighteenth birthday. The fact that she’d lasted that long had been something of a miracle as she was a pretty girl and was not shy – but she had a strong sense of self-worth and heeded her mother’s advice on sexual promiscuity, and so she’d managed to fend off a small army of high school hopefuls by judicious use of blow jobs and promises of fraternal violence if they tried too much.

The event finally happened two months after starting her first job. Henry Soames was a partner in the business and much older than her, and presented a degree of sophistication and affluence far above her experience. It had started with casual flirting, and then an occasional coffee and finally an expensive lunch in one of the better restaurants of the district. By dessert Ellie was head over heels in love and by coffee and liquors she had decided to sleep with him.

The motel he chose wasn’t the best, but it was convenient. He parked his car carefully around the back and they used the side entrance to access reception. The middle-aged receptionist produced the keys before they reached the counter: she’d seen him before, of course, and knew what he wanted.

‘That will be sixty pounds, Mr. Soames.’ Her eyes were hard.

Ellie watched as he paid in cash, the small stack of wilted banknotes introducing a taint of sordidness into what she had thought would be a romantic event. He picked up the key without speaking and led her back along the corridor.

‘How did she know your name?’ Ellie asked.

‘I do a little legal work for them,’ he lied. ‘You know, a bit of litigation, advice on liability and things like that. Not much – I’m surprised she remembered me.’

As a clerk she’d never seen the motel on any company bills, but she let it pass. They arrived at the room and she waited whilst he fumbled with the key, her heart beating in anticipation.

‘Here we are’ he said, and swung open the door. The room was simple: a double bed, a dressing table and a tall wardrobe in the corner. A sliding door to one side revealed a small ensuite. She took a few steps into the room and stopped, not really knowing what to do, and he saw her uncertainty. ‘I’ll draw the curtains and you can undress in the dark, if you want,’ he whispered.

Ellie nodded, grateful that she had chosen someone who was kind and sensitive. She watched as he drew the heavy drapes and shed her outer clothes quickly in the gloom before slipping into bed with her undies on.

‘You’re not going to take those off?’

‘I thought you might.’

‘Ah, right.’ He looked down at the girl for a few moments, her hair spread over the pillow. The top of her bra was peeping above the sheets and he saw it was small and lacy. His taste normally ran to bigger women but for some reason he was powerfully attracted to her petiteness. It was evident that she was inexperienced too, and he felt his prick harden rapidly at the thought of how she would feel compared to the larger, slacker girls he had had. He tore at his clothes and in a few moments was naked before her.

Ellie’s eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom and she gasped slightly at the sight. She had seen cocks, for sure, but they were generally poking through clothing. This one seemed bigger, somehow – perhaps because she could see all of it. For a few moments they stared at one another, and then he climbed into bed beside her.

Thinking back, Ellie only remembered fleeting snapshots of the next thirty minutes for they were to be overshadowed by another, more traumatic event. She remembered his smell: a mixture of musk and tobacco; and the taste of wine on his mouth, and the touch of his lips on her breasts leaving a silvery sheen where he licked them: and she remembered the roughness of his hands as he touched her, almost as if he were a labourer rather than an office worker. She recalled too a feeling of detachment, almost as if she were watching and listening from a corner of the room: the sheets pulled back, the lacy undergarments gone. His skin a shade darker than hers, his fingers touching, touching. She saw how her nipples were stiff with desire and the gleam of wetness in her crack, and she heard the soft sighs and the sound of their kisses, wet and snuffling.

And she remembered the pressure when he started: a thrusting, irresistible force at her vulva that grew rapidly as she resisted. She recalled his eyes above her, staring down at her face with an expression of triumph; her hands clasping his arms and her whimpers as the pressure grew – and then, suddenly, there was lancing pain as sharp as a butcher’s knife as he broke the fragile membrane at her sex.

Ellie squealed as he sank deeply into her body and her legs contracted, opening wide and waving like slender reeds above his back to try and relieve the pain. It came in waves like breakers on a reef and she seized his hips with desperate hands to arrest his thrust. For long moments they were frozen, her body rigid and her breath sawing in her throat, and then the pain gradually subsided and there was only a dull ache and a feeling of fullness and she released his hips.

He had meant to be gentle because it was her first time, but his resolve vanished as his cock slid back and forth. She was so small, like a china doll beneath him; her eyes wide and glinting in the dim light as she stared at the ceiling. The cunt that surrounded his rampant cock was tighter than any he had known: it gripped him like an iron fist, squeezing and kneading his shaft as he forced himself into her supine form. He could feel his foreskin stretched and the exposed head rubbing, rubbing, buried somewhere in the delicious little body spread-eagled beneath him. He could hear her breath too, panting as she weathered the storm and punctuated by little gasps and grunts. Her fingers clasped his back, the nails as sharp as daggers, and the pain spurred him on – thrusting, thrusting, ever deeper, until he felt he might split her asunder.

‘Christ, you’re tight,’ he murmured. It was the first words he had uttered since they started.

She could not reply, for her brain was bursting with a myriad of conflicting sensations: the slippery rush of his cock, pumping back and forth; her cunt bursting with fullness, and his oppressive weight pressing her into the mattress. Her nostrils were filled with the pungent smell of their coupling and the sound of her whimpers filled the little room. Beneath her hands she could feel his muscles tensing and relaxing, and his unshaven cheek rubbed against hers.

She lifted her legs higher and the sensations changed: the angle of his thrusts stirring a different part of her sex, somehow a fraction better.

‘You’re so fucking tight,’ he repeated, and it was true. Her sex grasped his cock like a velvet fist. ‘I love it, Ellie. What about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. At least the sensation of pain had gone, and she felt herself moving with him, but there was none of the tenderness she had expected. Beneath her hands the tempo of his movements became faster, more frenetic, and she braced to meet every thrust and her moans grew louder. She grasped him harder, hearing his promises to fill her deeper; riding the storm of his lust as he plunged harder into her tiny, thrumming body with long, deep thrusts.

A red mist descended over his eyes and his senses were filled by tightness of her cunt and the feeling of his shaft embedded in it. ‘I’m going to cum,’ he gasped, ‘ah… ah… its too quick.’ The bubble was growing in his brain, expanding like a great silver balloon to swamp every other sensation. His cock seemed to swell, the head distending as his orgasm rushed down upon him until, in an infinitesimal moment of unbearable pleasure, he felt it would burst. ‘Oh, Jesus, fuck – here it comes…’

And in the moment of his climax Ellie was seized by a sudden sense of wonder. Throughout that desperate, silent coupling he had been dominant – his cock an instrument to cleave her virginity and his strength and weight pinning her to the bed like a sparrow transfixed by an arrow. She had ridden the waves of his lust, tossed and plundered like a rag doll, powerless to do anything but endure – but suddenly it was he who was helpless – like a trembling, mewling child at his mother’s breast. She worked her cunt like a hungry mouth to consume his strength in long, silky jets of translucent seed, and with a song in her heart she heard his little cries and groans of helpless pleasure as she took control. Five… six… seven tight contractions, until he collapsed above her, drained and empty.