Filthy Taboo.com Novels & Stories

“Caleb… your father is right upstairs… we can’t do this…” “Shut up and spread your legs wider for me,” I snarled, using the word like dirty filth. I shoved two thick fingers deep into her soaked cunt, pumping them hard and fast. The wet squelching sounds were loud in the quiet kitchen. “Fuck, you’re absolutely dripping. Your married pussy is begging for stepson cock.” Her head fell back, massive tits bouncing as I finger-fucked her roughly on the table. She was fighting so hard to stay quiet, her face flushed red with shame and overwhelming pleasure.

They’re weak and feel like jelly. He fishes out some paper towels and cleans himself up with them. When I extend my hand to him for some, he shakes his head. “You’re going to walk out of here with my cum running down your thighs.” Fuck. Who knew professor Kade was a dirty talker? When my brain can function again, I tug my panties up my thighs and wear my leggings, ignoring the lines of cum that trickle down my thighs. It’s dirty but it’s so fucking hot.

“But it wasn’t clean. You said it, and I felt it. I felt it everywhere. And you can’t take that back.” His voice was low. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” “But you did.” Silence again. I looked at him and saw the fear abd conflict he was carrying. “I’m not a kid,” I said quietly. “I never thought you were.” “But that’s what this is about, isn’t it?” I asked. “My age. My mom. The fact that it looks bad. That it feels... taboo.” “It’s not about how it looks,” he said, lifting his eyes to mine. “It’s about what it costs. It is a taboo. She’s my wife.”

Intimate. His hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit. Rubbing in time with his hips. "Come again for me. Squeeze this cock like the good girl you are." Pressure built fast. His dirty talk pushed me higher: "Lila has no idea her sweet best friend is such a slut for my dick. Moaning under me, begging to be fucked." The taboo words tipped me over. Second orgasm ripped through — tighter, hotter. Walls fluttering around him, milking.

I saw the tips trickle in, I told myself it was just for money but when the first tip hit—it was fifty dollars from someone named Regular47. Then he typed—“show us how wet you’re getting, beautiful.” My breath hitched. I slipped the strap down my shoulders, then the other, letting the lace slip away until my breasts spilled free. I rolled my nipples between my fingers until they ached. The first night I came quietly with two fingers buried deep inside me while the camera caught only my mouth parted and my thighs trembling. I whispered things I’d never said out loud to Mark. “I need to be filled… I need my pussy to be stretched until I couldn't think.” The shame hit right after orgasm but the

Harper had given me. What I found made my mouth widen.. The search history and bandwidth logs were… insane. Hentai. Tons of it. VR p**n. Taboo roleplay videos. “Step-sister”, “Best friend’s little brother”, “Secret creampie”, “Corrupting the virgin gamer” -+ the titles went on and on. He had been downloading and streaming massive files every single night. My thighs pressed together instinctively. I should have been disgusted but instead, I felt heat pooling between my legs. The thought of quiet, shy Max jerking off furiously to all this filthy p**n while the rest of the family slept upstairs did something filthy to me.

The slap of our bodies filled the room—wet, obscene sounds mixing with the thunder. I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his chest, and began to ride him harder. Faster. My ass bounced on his thighs, my pussy gripping him like a vice with every downward stroke. “That’s it, son,” I gasped, the word dripping with filth. “Fuck Mommy’s tight pussy. Fill me up like you’ve always wanted.” The taboo talk poured out of me effortlessly, heightening everything. Each time I called myself Mommy, his cock twitched inside me, growing even harder.

In my pursuit of excitement, I lay on the bed with my legs open, frantically pleasuring myself in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. Through the dark glass, I could see a strong man on the balcony opposite staring at my body intently. This extreme taboo made my scalp numb, and I grew increasingly depraved. I tried my best to arch my back as I became a shameless, irrational, and thrill-seeking tart. My name was Layla Terra, and I was a dance student.

I thought the sessions with the psychologist would be more difficult. The topics we address are heavy, yet I find it easy to open up to her. Like Jane, I’m a very reserved person, and it embarrasses me to admit that I endured severe psychological abuse from my husband. I'm also ashamed of having had a lover. According to the values I was raised with, that was immoral—no different than being a prostitute. And on top of all that, I danced in a nightclub where illegal dealings took place.