Filthy Taboo Novels & Stories

He pulled off his shirt last, and even though his body was older, it was thick with power, defined in a way that made it hard to look away. Dennis’ voice brought me back. “Stewart, are you going to give us an answer?” My eyes drifted over them, shameless and greedy. I didn’t even try to hide it. I blamed the alcohol and the heat and the fact that these men looked like sin and temptation rolled into one. I thought about how professional I was supposed to be, how nothing about this was in the rulebook. But then again, this wasn’t a rulebook moment. I didn’t even get the chance to answer.

“It might be a taboo, but who cares? For someone like me, I can desire for that thing.” “You what now?” “Nothing, I am just glad that you are threating me as your friend.” From those seemingly innocent smiles, hides his growing lust. The sin that is a casual thing to begin with and especially towards him who is an embodiment of one. The taboo that everyone might call it is something that is natural to the ones like him. A desire and a shift of emotion that he wanted and fast. “One day and another, I shall have what I desire the most.” “DON’T you get it, Tucker?”

he commanded. I did, toes curling around his shaft, sliding through the pre-cum, feeling him throb hot and hard against my sole. It was depraved—footjob while he finger-fucked me, tongue buried in my pussy. He moaned into me, vibrations pushing me higher. “Gonna make you squirt,” he growled. “Drench my face like the slut you are.” His fingers pistoned faster, thumb circling my clit now as his tongue probed lower—lapping at my asshole, wet and insistent, rimming me with filthy swirls. The taboo shock sent me over.

I bite my lip, typing fast. “Just a T-shirt, riding up. Black lace panties, super tight. You will definitely like it and it will drive you crazy.” His reply pops up quickly, making my stomach flip. “Fuck, I can picture you on that bed. Should I tell you something nasty?” “Go for it,” I type, my heart picking up. “If I were with you, I would grab your boobs, slow at first, feeling you up. Then I will slide my hand down, beneath your panties, rubbing your clits and fingering your pussy till you’re shaking.”

My heart was pounding hard but I pushed myself up onto shaky arms and moved on my knees, until I was positioned in the V of his spread thighs. The bulge in his trousers was right at my eye level. I could see the detailed outline of it now and the dark patch of moisture seeping through the fabric at the tip. “The sacred art of fellatio is a profound act of contrition,” he began, his voice taking on that holy cadence again, though his eyes were blazing with a purely human fire. “It is the willing submission of one’s own body to channel and pacify the divine fire that purges sin. You will take my cock into your mouth, Alice and learn to worship it with your lips, your tongue, and your throat.”

Filthy. We cleaned up as best we could with tissues, but there was no hiding what we’d done. My legs felt weak, my pussy tender and full. When I stood up, my steps were unsteady — a slow, awkward waddle that made Caleb smirk. “Walk normal,” he muttered, pulling on his sweatpants. “Easy for you to say,” I hissed back. “You didn’t just get fucked by your cousin.” His eyes darkened with fresh heat, but he didn’t reply.

She did not try to erase anything. She washed herself the way someone might clean an altar. With reverence. With precision. With the understanding that some things are not meant to be erased. Some things are meant to stay. When she stepped out, the steam clung to her skin. She wrapped herself in a towel and walked back to the mirror. The bruise had darkened. It was no longer just a mark. It had begun to deepen into something closer to ink. It was writing. A kind of language only she could read.

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.

“Please fuck me deep and slow at first, Daddy. I surrender completely to you. I need your cock more than I need my old life. Ruin me one last time before your son comes home.” He started thrusting with long, powerful strokes. The sex felt intense and full of real emotion. Every movement made me feel claimed in the deepest way. “You are my dirty little secret,” he groaned while holding me close. “My son’s ex-girlfriend begging for her stepfather’s cock. Does knowing how wrong this is make you wetter?” I dug my nails into his back and cried out. “Yes, it does, Daddy. It makes me so wet. Please do not stop. I need this taboo relationship. I am addicted to the way you make me feel.”

“Please stop? Or please fuck you like the traitor that you are?” I couldn't answer, I just stayed with my forehead pressed against the cool wood, my eyes shut, and my breath ragged. But I knew I should have fought or maybe even run but my body was trembling with something that felt like…want? He pulled my panties down my thighs and I heard the rustle of his zipper then the wet sound of him stroking himself once, twice, and then the blunt pressure of his cock was at my entrance. “This is a breach of trust”, he murmured in a rough voice as he tapped his cock on my entrance then rubbed it. “Mmm…”.