Little Brats: Taboo A-Z Volume 1: (Forbidden Taboo Erotica) (Little Brats Boxed Sets) (5 page)

So she decided to show him. 

Upstairs, it was quiet.  She stopped in the bathroom to pee and noticed her clothes were all gone. 
He’d probably taken them to burn them
, she thought with a little giggle.  She left her sweats on the floor, walking barefoot in just her t-shirt and panties across the hall to her parents’ room.  The door was closed and she stood on the other side of it, considering knocking, for a long time.  The light was on, a slit under the door.  What was he doing?

“Ohhhh yeah.”  The faint sound of his voice.  She pressed her ear to the door, holding her breath.  “Oh, Becca, suck it! Suck that hard fucking dick!”

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as she pressed closer, trying to hear him, wishing she could see.  Did she dare? Becca’s hand tightened on the doorknob and she turned it carefully, quietly, pushing the door open and praying it didn’t squeak.  She left it that way, just open a crack, catching a glimpse of her stepfather on the bed. 

“Mmm that’s such a good girl,”  he murmured—she could hear him clearly now—gripping his hard cock in his fist.  Becca was so excited she couldn’t breathe.  “Suck it nice and slow.  Yeah.  Deeper… ohhhh yeah.” 

Was he really imagining her? Becca’s pussy clenched at the thought, taking in the sight of him, completely nude, masturbating on the bed.  When her gaze moved up to his face, her jaw dropped and she nearly gasped aloud.  He had her panties—the black thong she’d left in the bathroom—up to his face and nose.  No wonder he hadn’t seen her open the door!

“Show me your pussy,”  he whispered, breathing deep into her panties.  He looked different with his glasses off, like her stepfather, but not like him too.  “I want to taste you.  Oh God, I want to fuck you.”

Becca bit her lip to keep from crying out at his words. 
I want you too. 

What would happen if she went in? What would happen if she climbed up onto the bed with him and took that gorgeous cock into her mouth? Would he recoil in shock and horror? Would he push her away?

Would he spank her again?

Would that be so bad?

Becca pushed the door open further, getting a clearer view of him, cock rising up toward the ceiling, his hand pumping up and down the length.  The sight of it made her mouth water.  She pulled her panties off and left them on the floor, following quickly with her t-shirt and bra, and then slipping as quietly into the room as she could.  The floor had thick, dark shag carpet and she was in bare feet, so she made it to the bed almost silently. 

“Ohhh fuck, sweetheart, yes, like that, rub that hot little pussy for me.”  He was lost in his fantasy, eyes closed, the head of his cock glistening with pre-cum.  Becca did as he asked, reaching down and parting her soft, dark, wet pubic hair, fingers searching for the aching nub of her clit and rubbing as she watched him. 

“Yes! Suck it! Suck my fucking cock!”  He moaned, hips thrusting up as he imagined her mouth and tongue, and Becca couldn’t resist.  She leaned down and took him between her lips, groaning at the taste of his pre-cum on her tongue as she followed his fist down to the base of his dick. 

“Holy hell!”  Duncan’s eyes flew open as he looked down at his stepdaughter, completely nude, sucking deeply and happily at his cock.  He threw her panties aside as if they were on fire.  “Oh! Fuck! Becca!” 

“Don’t make me stop,”  she begged, pushing his hand away and replacing it with her own.  He was thick and throbbing and sticky with pre-cum.  “Please.  Let me suck it like you want me to.  I
know
you want me to.”

She rolled her tongue around the velvety soft head of his cock before working her mouth up and down, supplementing the sensation with her hand.  Duncan moaned and shook his head, moving a hand to her hair, gripping hard—but he didn’t stop her.  And she wasn’t stopping.  She sucked him hard and long, breathing in his scent—he smelled cinnamony, like Dentyne, even there—as she worked his cock in and out of her hungry little mouth. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,”  he murmured, and Becca gasped when his hand found her breast, squeezing and kneading her flesh.  “Oh honey, wait, wait, that’s so fucking good…”

Duncan pulled his cock out of her mouth and she whimpered, trying to capture him again between her lips.  He shook his head, grabbing onto her hips and pulling her toward him, onto the bed.  Smiling, Becca accepted the unspoken invitation, straddling him, anticipating his cock inside of her, but her stepfather had other ideas.

“Ohhhh!”  Becca moaned when Duncan settled her not over his cock, but over his face, fastening his mouth on her mound.  Sliding his hands up around her hips, he rocked her on his tongue, teasing the little head of her clit so delightfully she had to grab onto the headboard to keep from falling over. 

Her stepfather made soft, low noises in his throat as he licked her, sounding almost like he was enjoying it more than she was—almost.  Becca’s fantasy about her stepfather was coming true and she couldn’t quite believe it.  Was she dreaming? Could this possibly be happening?

She found herself lost in some surreal place, half-fantasy, half-reality, until sensation finally took over and she gave into it.  Her pussy responded to his attention, her juices flowing down his chin, his cheeks, her labia swelling, and her clit pulsed deliciously against his flickering tongue.  He was taking her places she had only fantasized about.

“Oh I’m gonna come,”  she whispered, slipping a hand through his hair.  “Make me come, Daddy.  Make me come all over your face!” 

Her words made him moan against her mound and the sensation brought her climax to the surface like sudden the swell of a geyser.  She flooded his mouth with her juices, crying out as she rocked her hips so hard the headboard banged against the wall over and over.  He grabbed onto her, trying to hold her still, but she was like a landed fish in his arms, finally flopping sideways with a little scream, collapsing beside him on the bed in a sweaty, quivering heap. 

“Holy hell,”  Duncan whispered, kissing his way up her calf, her thigh, parting her legs with his palms.  She tried to resist—her pussy was still spasming with her orgasm, so sensitive she could barely stand it—but she couldn’t resist him.  She just couldn’t.  He was on top of her, kissing her deeply, and she could taste her pussy in his mouth. 

“Fuck me,”  she whispered into his neck as he nudged against her with his cock, seeking entry.  “Do it.  Put it in.  I want you.” 

Duncan hesitated, seeming to understand this was the moment of no return.  She knew it too.  “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Please.”  Becca’s hips shifted up for him, seeking the perfect angle.  “I can’t think about anything else.  I did it all for you.  I wanted you to see me, to look at me… like that.  I only ever wanted you.”

He groaned softly, raining kissed down on her cheeks, her chin, her jaw line, her lips.  “Oh Becca, you have no idea…”

She gasped, feeling the shift of his weight, the slow slide of his cock, spreading her open.  “Oh!” 

“I couldn’t let you see,”  he whispered, buried, finally, deep inside of her.  “How much I wanted you.  I fought it every day.  Every minute.”

She tilted her head at him, eyes wide.  “You did?” 

“I can’t fight it anymore.”  He began to move, making her whimper and shiver beneath him.  He was so very hard for her. 

“You don’t have to fight it.”  She wrapped her arms and legs around him as they rocked.  “I’m all yours.”

“I love you, Becca,”  he whispered into her ear as he filled her, again, again, the slick slide of his cock sending shockwaves through her, his words filling her heart to bursting.  She let him take her, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, driving her across the bed, and she clung to him with sweet desperation. 

“More,”  she begged, moaning as his tongue bathed her nipples, first one, then the other, her pussy clamping down around his cock in response.  “Oh God! Suck them! Lick them!” 

He buried his face in them, still fucking her deeply, his cock battering her pussy, such sweet torture, making her pelvis buzz with heat.  Becca gave him everything with complete abandon.  Her body had no reservations about it, had always known what it wanted, and she wanted it too. 

“Make me come,”  she cried, heels digging into the small of his back as he pounded her into the mattress.  “Oh yes, Daddy, make me come all over your hard cock!” 

And he did, his final thrust into her slick velvet sending them both over the edge.  Duncan cried out against her neck, hips rolling, his pelvis grinding against her throbbing clit, her pussy snapping like a velvet glove around his pulsing cock.  He shuddered and exploded into her, both of them clinging together.  Duncan gave her everything she had ever wanted and more in that moment. 

“Oh I love you,”  she whispered, kissing his cheek, seeking his mouth, finding it, sealing her words with a soft, wet cinnamon tasting kiss. 

“What are we doing?”  he asked softly when their mouths parted, although they were still joined together, inseparable as they has always been, doing this dance all along.  “This is so… wrong.”

“It’s not wrong.”  She pulled him close, remembering how ashamed she’d felt for wanting him, knowing he must have felt the same.  It wasn’t perverted, or sick, or twisted.  It was… “It’s right.  It’s perfect.” 

He sighed, but it wasn’t a sad sigh.  It was full of relief—of
rightness. 
“I’m so yours.”

She knew it, somehow had always known it, but hearing him say it, seeing him finally, finally looking at her with all the love and desire in his eyes, filled her completely.  This wasn’t a dream, or if it was, she never wanted to wake up. 

It was a dream come true, and it was all she’d ever wanted. 

Spoiled Christa has never wanted for anything in her life.  She drives a brand new Mustang, is head cheerleader, and will graduate valedictorian of her high school class this year.  All the boys want to date her and every girl wants to be her—but Christa has been keeping a secret. 

Her parents divorced over a year ago and her mother re-married over the summer.  No one knows that her new stepfather watches her practice her cheers in the yard from the bathroom window, and steals her panties out of the laundry, and watches her get undressed at night—because Christa leaves her door wide open. 

No one knows how much Christa wants to get back at her parents—or how much she desperately wants to steal her new stepfather right out from her mother’s nose. 

And spoiled Christa always gets what she wants. 

His wife had her period panties and her regular ones—and then there were those tucked in the way back of the drawer.  Those were the ones Jim was hunting for. 

He found a pair he thought she might consider wearing—white satin with a red lace trim, the tag still dangling from the edge.  He ripped off the plastic tab, tucking the tag into his pants pocket, wondering if these were the pair he had bought for her last Valentine’s Day.  They looked like something he would buy her, sexy but tasteful.  Rachel hated anything slutty.

He put them on the bed, along with the dress and the card, jumping when he heard the door slam downstairs.  “Dad?” 

“I’ll be down in a minute!”  he called.  It was just his stepdaughter home from the Ashley’s—he heard her defiant tread on the stairs, coming to find him anyway. 
Note to self: tell the eighteen-year-old the opposite of whatever you want them to do. 
Jim edged out of the bedroom, shutting the door and meeting Christa at the top of the stairs.  She was carrying her backpack over one shoulder, and she blew a wisp of long blond hair out of her eye as she smiled up at him.

“Hey, Dad.”  Christa gave him a one-armed hug as she slipped by him.  “Can I sleep over at Ashley’s tonight?”

Jim startled.  He was going to ask her that very question! “Sure,”  he replied, surprised at how well that had worked out, although he shouldn’t have been.  It was the weekend, after all, and she seemed to spend every waking moment attached at the hip with her best friend.  “Your mother and I are going out tonight.”

“Ewwwwww, then I’m definitely going to Ashley’s.”  Christa wrinkled her freckled nose, and Jim smiled.  She looked exactly like her mother when she did that. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Jim asked, heading down the stairs.

“You know!”  Christa called back, making squeaking sounds.  “Ee-eee-eee-eee-eee!” 

Jim flushed, looking back over his shoulder, recognizing her attempt at the imitation of the sounds of the mattress he shared with her mother, but Christa was already in her room.  “You can hear us?”  he asked, thinking it had been so long, he couldn’t really remember the last time he and Rachel had made love. 

“Well, only the bed, actually,”  she replied, peeking her head around the corner.  “Which is good, really, because Ashley’s mom sounds like Lassie, you should hear her! Owwww-owwwww-owwwwwwwwoooo!”  Christa howled and then giggled. 

“Christa!”  Jim tried to make sure he intoned the right amount of disapproval. 

“Oh, Dad, you should hear the words she uses!”  Christa said, her eyes widening.  “I can’t even repeat them to you!”

“You shouldn’t,”  he agreed, turning fully toward her on the stairs now, his hand gripping the rail.  “What does she say?”

“Dad!”  Christa’s complexion pinked, but her blue eyes were dancing, as if delighted with his question. 

“Okay.”  He shrugged, moving to go.  “Just curious.  You can tell me if you want.”

“Wait!”  Christa lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone.  She came and plopped herself down on the top stair, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking past him as if she were afraid someone might hear her.  “Dad, she says the naughtiest things, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you!”

“Try me,”  Jim replied, shifting his weight on the stairs.  He was wearing dress slacks that didn’t hide an erection very well, and he could feel himself beginning to stiffen at the thought of dirty talk.  Standing here looking at Christa’s milk-white thighs splayed open to show the crease of her sex in red jogging shorts wasn’t helping the situation much either, he mused. 

Christa was really blushing now, and her voice rose an octave as she repeated, “Oh David, fuck me harder! Oooo yeah, I can take it all! That’s it, baby, slam your prick into my hot cunt!”

Jim’s eyes widened as he listened to her, breath caught in his throat, his cock straining against his underwear.  “Okay, Christa.”  He turned his back to her, not willing to risk her seeing how hard she had just made him.  “Enough.”

“You said you wanted to hear.”  She pouted, flouncing up the stairs and going back to her room. 

“Thanks for sharing,”  he called back over his shoulder as he turned the corner toward the kitchen.  Jim leaned against the counter, cheeks flushed, cock throbbing.  Jesus, all those nasty words out of Christa’s mouth! He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine Rachel saying anything like it, and simply couldn’t. 

Maybe tonight,
he thought, shifting the bulge in his pants and getting the bottle of wine from the counter.  He set up two glasses and sat down at the table, willing his heart to stop beating so fast.  From here, he could see the Parker house, which was parallel to the Stevens’ on the next block, where Ashley and her apparently raunchy mother lived.  Jim had seen her on many occasions over the years, but he never would have guessed that Linda Stevens could open up her mouth and say anything close to the string of words Christa had put together upstairs.  He wondered if she had just been putting him on.

He saw the headlights of Rachel’s Intrepid appear on the garage door, and he smiled, imagining her gathering up her purse, her bag with all her lesson plans.  It was such a sweet moment of anticipation, the time between knowing she was home and waiting for her to appear.  The side door opened and she swept in carrying a hamster cage, complete with hamster.

Jim stood, his eyebrows raised as he moved instinctively to help her.  “Uh, what’s this?”

She let him take the cage and he looked around for the best place to put it, deciding on the counter.  Jim peered in at a little sleeping ball nearly the color of peach fuzz curled into one corner. 

“Taffy, remember?”  She began unslinging purses and bags from her shoulder, hanging them over a kitchen chair.  “Classroom hamster.  Jody Cornwell was supposed to take him home over spring break, but he has the chicken pox, and I couldn’t get anyone else’s parents’ permission in time.  Poor little guy had to wait in the car while I was visiting with Kathy after work—uh, and what’s this?”

Rachel stood staring at the glasses and the wine and looked up at him, pushing her dishwater blond hair out of her face and frowning.  Jim had used the corkscrew when he got home, careful to avoid an unmasculine display, just in case.  He uncorked the bottle and began to pour them each a glass. 

“We’re celebrating.”  He offered her a glass of wine. 

She smiled, her eyes questioning, and shook her head.  “You know I don’t like this stuff.”

“Try it,”  he said, clinking his glass with hers. 

“What are we celebrating?”  She lifted the glass to her nose, wrinkling it at the smell.  Jim smiled, seeing again the resemblance between Rachel and his stepdaughter. 

He waited, watching her sip it, her eyes surprised as she took her first taste.  “It’s good, isn’t it? We are going out to dinner, just the two of us.”

“But what’s the occasion?”  She took another sip.  “This isn’t bad.  Fruitier than most of the wine you’ve made me drink.”  She winked at him.  “But it still tastes like alcohol.” 

Rachel sat at the kitchen table, kicking off her heels.  As often as she complained about them, she still wore them, and Jim liked imagining her standing in front of a classroom of kindergarteners in those heels.  She looked up at him, waiting.

Jim took a gulp of his wine.  “We’re going to see my play.”

“Your… play?”  Rachel set her glass on the table and stared at him. 

Jim began talking fast.  “It’s a long story, really, but I wrote it just after our honeymoon, and it was sitting up there gathering dust, and I took it out in January, when I made that New Year’s resolution to start writing again, remember?”

Rachel nodded, and inclined her head at him to continue.

Jim took another gulp of wine.  “Well, it’s kind of funny how it all fell into place.  I mentioned I was writing more than just copy to John, and he told me he was doing his photography again, and he’d entered his photos into some contest.” 

Rachel stood, taking her glass to the sink. 

Jim continued.  “And he won something, actually.  Anyway, I mentioned the play, and he told me about a woman he met who was starting a sort of dinner theater and she was looking for original plays.”

Rachel poured the rest of her wine down the sink, rinsing the glass and setting it on the counter next to the hamster cage.  “So what’s this have to do with you?’”

“Well, she liked my play and she said she wanted to direct it,”  he replied, pouring himself another glass of wine. 

Rachel turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest.  “And you want to do this?”

“Well, I kind of already did.”  He avoided her eyes and took another gulp from his glass. 

“Jim,”  she sighed.  “Is this, you know… one of
those
kinds of plays?”

“Well, yeah.”  He stood and put his arms around her waist.  “It’s an erotic kind of thing.”

Rachel rested her head on his chest with a sigh, holding completely still.  “Well, I guess that tells me what you think of my opinion.”

“Come on, Rach.  I was hoping you’d be excited, even a little proud...”  Jim hugged her, kissing the creamy part in the middle of her platinum hair. 

“Of what? You writing dirty stories?”  She sniffed, shaking her head.