Taboo Fantasy Stories Novels & Stories

I clicked on the link and it brought up a very professional looking site, which, for some reason, actually surprised me bit. I saw a link called “Learn more,” so I clicked on it and kept going. I was getting more and more interested as I read the page, which said, “Are you a heterosexual man who’s looking for new experiences? Do you have bisexual thoughts and fantasies that you can’t get out of your head? Do you want to act-out those fantasies with another man in a safe and confidential way? If this sounds like you, we will match you with someone who shares your desires.”

It turns me on tremendously to imagine her in these situations and encounters. I admit to feeling ashamed about it. I guess because of the taboos, the upbringings in which whites and blacks were kept apart - especially sexually - and also the racial exploitation aspect. These were the reasons why this side of my imagination always was kept apart from our real-life marriage. But the urges, the desires, just kept building and building. Sometimes it was just intoxicating, I mean thinking about her and being part of these fantasies. And by that I mean seeing her being pleasured like never before by dark-skinned men with large penises, with huge staying power, with tremendous semen loads.

And once the line is crossed, there will be no turning back. But Gracie’s story is only the beginning. This book unlocks a collection of raw, taboo-driven erotic tales—each one more daring, more dangerous, and more intoxicating than the last. For readers who crave the forbidden, who ache for the edge where desire blurs with darkness, this is your invitation. Enjoy reading.. *************

Taboo | Age-gap | Obsession | Billionaire Romance |Mother ex-boyfriend Trigger Warnings: Power imbalance, obsession, emotional manipulation . . . The elevator whispered its way to the top floor, silent and smooth like a predator stalking prey. Joy Knox shifted from one leg to the other, leather duffel bag pressed against her hip, trying not to breathe too hard. She hated the way the mirrored walls caught her reflection, tired eyes rimmed in smudged eyeliner, cherry-stained lips parted like she was already halfway to begging.

He reached for a toilet paper on his desk and gently wiped his chest and abdomen. The thought made my nipples, still exposed in the cool air, tighten again. I hadn’t had dirty thoughts about a man other than Nathan. I certainly hadn’t ever had phone sex with anyone besides him. I felt both aroused and ashamed.

“Sophie let me explain everything…he’s real here okay?. These books you see are fantasies that make things happen. Whatever sex you read from this erotic series, you would feel it. You want to feel it too?” Sophie nodded eagerly, already breathing faster. “Yes. God, yes I do.” Lucian looked at me. His eyes were still furious, he must think i’m stupid. Unfortunately, this was the only way out. Trapping another soul would protect me from being caught. I picked up the most forbidden book. “Shadows of Three” : a story about one powerful man claiming two willing women. As soon as I started reading aloud, the magic surged. Lucian’s melted into dark hunger. “Then let’s give her what she wants.”

With the door to talking about sex cracked open, she added, "I enjoy a good sexual fantasy as much as the next woman, I guess. Which genres of stories do you like most?" "Normally it would be the hot-wife stories," Cheryl answered, "But I was reading a really hot incest/taboo story there the other day where the characters happened to be named Darlene, James, and Shannon." She looked Darlene in her surprised eyes and with a suggestive grin she added, "It's hard for me to imagine that's just coincidence. Did you write that story? Is that your taboo fantasy I was reading?" Darlene was a bit taken aback by her friend's blunt question, but her tone and the look on her face were certainly not judg

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.

“I didn’t kill your father, Laila. I know grief makes people desperate for someone to blame, but I’m not the villain here. It was an accident. I was simply at the scene. The police would have arrested me if I was guilty.” He moved even closer until his thighs brushed the edge of my bed. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Laila…” My pussy suddenly clenched hard at the way he said my name—low, rough, almost reverent. Since Dad died, I’d fallen headfirst into the darkest taboo p**n I could find. And now the fantasy was standing right in front of me, hard and conflicted and trying so damn hard to be the good guy. I could imagine how nice it would be to have him trapped in here with me and Mom walk

He made me ride him, his hands on my hips guiding me as I bounced on his thick cock, my sore ass slapping against his thighs. “Imagine it,” he whispered as I neared another orgasm. “Your belly starting to swell in a few weeks, tits getting fuller, everyone wondering who knocked up the good girl. Only we’ll know it was your stepfather breeding you right under this roof.” The fantasy pushed me over the edge again. I came with a broken moan, collapsing onto his chest as he filled me for the third time that evening. I laid lumped against him, tangled together with him, his hand resting possessively over my lower belly.