Real Taboo Stories Novels & Stories

The flight back was a descent into a special kind of hell, a pressurized tube of recycled air and unspoken dread. The silence was not the comfortable, shared quiet of two people who knew each other well. It was the heavy, suffocating silence of a battlefield after the fighting has stopped, a silence filled with the ghosts of what had transpired. Emma sat in her business class seat, staring out the window at the endless expanse of clouds, but she wasn’t seeing the sky. She was seeing Mr. Dubois’s face, feeling his hands on her, tasting his cock in her mouth. She was feeling Mr. Carter’s brutal thrusts from behind, hearing his possessive growls, the sound of his voice as he commanded her to co

Then he discovered her fanfictions: wild, smutty, and detailed enough to keep him hard for days. Finding her suddenly in his private spa had been surreal. He'd stepped in just wanting to give her an unforgettable experience as thanks… but things escalated fast. She was bold, naughty, and shockingly still a virgin. The moment his fingers entered her walls, she was so tight... so wet. He wanted to take her right there and then, but the stakes were too high. At the peak of his career, one scandal with a fan, especially his biggest fanfic writer could destroy everything. Still… he couldn’t resist giving her that orgasm.

I moaned, trembling, my body slick, my pussy still throbbing around him. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, whispering filthy commands as he gripped us both in his hands. “This is the unholiest thing you’ll ever feel… and you’re going to crave every second of it.” My body quaked at the thought. This wasn’t just sex… this was taboo, raw, and filthy, and I wanted every second. Every rough thrust, every cruel touch, every filthy word from him.

And he was addicted to his little girl’s tight pussy. This was only the first story in the book of our sins. There were ninety-nine more ways to damn ourselves still waiting. And I could not wait to fall even deeper.

It was a perfect balance. Tony’s story was ridiculous…a ghostly keeper searching for his lost love, doors slamming on their own, cold spots that followed you up the spiral stairs. Halfway through, one of the girls shrieked on cue when he yelled “And then she TURNED AROUND!” We all cracked up, the tension dissolving into laughter that left my sides aching. When it ended, someone suggested truth or dare. Bottles got spun, secrets spilled (mostly harmless…who hooked up with whose ex in high school, worst surf fails, that kind of thing). When the bottle landed on me, Andrew’s friend Nila grinned wickedly.

Ethan behind her, jeans barely past his hips, fucking her with long, punishing strokes. The girl’s moans had been muffled in the comforter. Maya had stood there, frozen in the hallway, clit throbbing so hard she almost came just from watching his ass flex with each thrust. She’d fled before they finished. Never told anyone. Jerked off to the memory at least twice a week ever since. Now he was right there. Closer than he’d ever been.

He still found a way to get his hand over my mouth and he slams into me. Something about this feels so taboo, so forbidden and it makes me even wetter. “You’re going to shut up and take my cock,” he grits into my ear. “You don’t want Daddy hearing how his baby girl gets ruined by his boss in the guest bathroom.” The filth of it makes me gush around him. He’s so big it hurts, but I take it. I want all of it, every fucking inch of his cock and every filthy word he has for me, I'm going to take it all.

What started as innocent encounters and not-so-innocent daydreams morph into real sex-packed action neither of them could resist. Tiana's POV High school is by far the best case study for "The wild". The only difference this place had from the actual wild was that the animals here were fucking. Everyone was fucking everything. Yes, folks. We had gotten to that line and crossed it running extra laps on the goddamn tracks. Just last week, I stumbled upon Rebecca giving multiple blow jobs to two seniors in the music room. In my defense, I wasn't aware they made lessons available for that particular instrument. The way she was going at it simultaneously; pro!

But no one knows about the other side of me. At night, when the house is quiet, I hide under my covers with my phone and read the kind of stories that would make my mother faint. Dark. Filthy. Full of dominant men who take what they want. Girls who beg for it. Degradation that makes my thighs press together and my heart race. I touch myself to those stories, whispering things I would never say out loud, and then feel crushing guilt the next morning. I’m supposed to be pure. Innocent. The perfect daughter.

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.