Taboo is Just Another Word For I Want You
This week’s confession is hard to write. I have to leave out certain details to protect the anonymity of someone else. The problem is that the details are what makes this particular story so damn interesting. If it were up to me, I would divulge it all for your pervy little ears, but I can’t. Truly, I can’t.
What I can tell you is that it’s a perverse story of a taboo relationship that never should have happened for several reasons. Reasons I can’t mention. It’s a secret. A steamy secret. Let me try to tell you as much as I can and I’ll let you use your imagination to fill in the details of who, what, where, and when.
For starters, there are three reasons why the events I’m about to tell you should never have happened in the first place and let’s just say that the time and place where always inappropriate. Unfortunately those are the details I cannot tell you, but, oh yes there is a but, I can tell you about the steamy parts. Sit down, get comfy and follow me down memory lane.
A long time ago, a dozen years ago, I met someone for the first time. Nothing physical happened that night and nothing physical would happen for a number of years, but the seeds had been planted. A barrier of sorts broke in me that night and would open me up to possibilities I had never before considered. It was the way he looked at me. I was young and although nothing was spoken aloud, I knew exactly what that look meant. For the first time maybe, I knew and suddenly I was turned on by the perversity of it all.
It wasn’t until quite a few years had passed that I would run into him for the second time and the whole process started over again. Still, we refrained from saying anything aloud, but the language we used was dripping with ulterior motives. An intent and meaning invisible to everyone but us. The three reasons why we couldn’t do anything about it continued to be valid and they only spurred us on, feeding off the tension that passed between us. I watched him dance with someone else when I knew he’d rather be holding me against him and I went home alone. I dreamt of him that night, like I would dream of him several times as the years passed. In the exact same way he would dream of me.
Again, a few years passed without a word. Then three events would throw us together in a short span of time. The first event, we shared an elevator in silence. I leaned against the wall and he told me to stop doing that, swearing at me under his breath. Suddenly, he decided to give in after all these years and pressed his body against mine right where I was standing. With his entire body pressed – hard – against mine he starred at me for a long time and then leaned in to kiss me. I pulled away before he had a chance. My heart was racing a mile a minute and although I had always been the one to nudge the line we couldn’t cross, I didn’t know if I could go through with it.
We walked together aimlessly for a long time, openly discussing our feelings and desires for the first time. Telling each other why we couldn’t do this and finding that those were the exact reasons why we wanted to do it. I pulled him into the woman’s bathroom with me. The lights were dim and although anyone could have walked through that door, he pressed his body against mine again. He didn’t try to kiss me, but he placed his hands on either side of my body, lightly touching my thighs, my hips, the exterior curve of my breast, but always avoiding the spots that would suddenly change the meaning of it all. There was still a line we couldn’t yet cross.
We stood so close to each other, yet barely touching as if the lighter the touch the easier it would be to pretend it had never actually happened. I couldn’t think of anything else but his hot breath on my neck and our lips gently hovering over one another without actually diving in. I slowly raised my skirt and slid my hand between us. My fingers pressed against my clit, over my panties, the back of my hand rubbing his hard cock as I stroked myself. I eventually pulled away, before it could go any further, and left the deserted bathroom to rejoin civilization.
The second event, we stood alone in a parking lot in the middle of the night. Leaning against a car, I listened to him as he enumerated all the reasons why we shouldn’t do this. I told him, “I agree, but I can’t help but want you to slide your hand up my thigh right now”. “Fuck it”, he said and he did just that. He placed his hand in between my thighs, I was wearing tights and he gently stroked the material until he reached my cunt. Inches apart from each other, I placed my hands on his arms to brace myself as he so very lightly stroked my clit over my tights. It seemed to last for an eternity, yet not long enough. He tried to kiss me again and I pulled away.
Kissing him was a line I was not ready to cross, it would make it all too intimate, too real. Stepping away from me he said, “this is all a game to you, isn’t it?” Yes, “yes” I said as I turned around and placed his arms around me and his hands on my tits, “it’s the only way I can handle it.” With my back turned to him and his arms tightly wrapped around me, we discussed the possible consequences of our actions. He asked me to stay, I grabbed his hand and smelt his fingers, I told him he would go to bed smelling like me and I left.
The third event, changed things. Clearly, every time we ran into each other we pushed the line further and further. The question was how far were we willing to go. Again, we found ourselves sharing the same elevator. I leaned against the wall and looked at him. The first thing he said to me was “don’t even think about it.” I told him the night was still young. He got drunk, very very drunk and suddenly the tables turned. I was always the one playing and inciting us to go further, but this time it’s as if he all of a sudden let go and completely gave in. The reasons why he shouldn’t have even thought about doing what he would do didn’t seem to exist anymore.
The way he looked at me was much too intense. I worried that it would be immediately recognizable by everyone surrounding us. I was nervous, I didn’t know where this would go. I went into the girls bathroom to take a piss and he followed me right into the stall. He wouldn’t leave and I peed with him standing right in front of me. When I stood up to wipe myself and pull up my panties, he took a step towards me and I found myself backed against the bathroom stall wall with the toilet bowl in between my legs. He just stood there staring at me, daring me to finally go through with it.
I chickened out and pushed him out of my way. Leaning over the sink to wash my hands, he stood behind me, his crotch pressed against my ass, watching me in the mirror daring me to do something, anything. I walked out of the bathroom and went outside to have a smoke. He sat beside me on the bench and leaned over my legs to kiss my thigh. One kiss that was all. I stood up and he followed me to my car. I opened my car door and he pressed me against it. This time I couldn’t find the will to pull away and he kissed me. We kissed. I stood legs apart, one foot on the edge of my car and the other firmly planted on the ground. His hands found their way inside my underwear and with a little guidance he gave in and slid a finger inside of me.
I needed to think. I needed to process this. I sat inside my car, the door open, my legs outside the car and took a breath. He kneeled in front of me, placed his hands on my knees and proceeded to spread them apart. I wouldn’t let him. This was all too much, I thought I would explode after all these years of restraint. I didn’t know how to completely let go and turn the fantasy into something tangible and much more fragile and subsequently much more damaging. He wanted to taste me and I avoided committing one way or another. I stood up again, knees weak, kissing him again, his hands searching deeper.
Unable to say no and unwilling to go all in, I let my body decide for me. I climbed back into my car and invited him to join me. I wanted to feel his entire body pressed against mine. I wanted to feel the weight of him on top of me. He had other things in mind. Hiking up my skirt, he pushed my underwear aside and placed his tongue where I had previously denied him access. It was good. It felt great. There was no way I would come. Not now. My mind was much too busy dealing with the fact that this was actually happening and that any second someone would discover him with his head buried in between my legs. Those three reasons didn’t disappear. They were all too present and I never let go. The question is, how far will I let it go next time?
***
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.-= Olga Wolstenholme´s last blog ..The Cuntfessional =-.
Whoa! Naughty girl you are! Even without the three reasons why, this is an incredible story, all written in vivid detail.
Ok… Here’s mine. I had sex with a complete stranger in a dark alley one night right downtown after leaving a bar. I was half-way drunk, sitting, smoking a cigarette on the stoop of a building and this silent dark stranger approached me for a light. He didn’t really say anything, but as I lit his cigarette our eyes locked and we both knew right then and there we were going to fuck. Crazy. No words, I lead him into the dark alley, hiked up my mini-skirt and ripped a hole in my fishnets. His cock was out, throbbing before I finished. He kissed me deep, desperately and pushed me up against the wall of the building. I was so intoxicated, by lust that I could not catch my breath. He fucked me raw and hard against the wall and my skull kept slamming back into the brick with the force of his thrust… My mind was swimming, I felt like I may pass out from the ecstasy I felt from the danger of the situation… totally crazy, but I couldn’t stop… He came. I pulled down my skirt and quickly left before he could follow me. To this day, I still don’t remember his face… But, the memory of the raw sex still makes me hot…
Ooooh, hot!!!!! It gave me an idea for what to write next.
Obviously from my login, I have a thing for interracial love. I should have known at six, when I thought Michael Jackson was cuter than Donny Osmond. But being raised in the Deep South during the 1970’s, my family were actually stereotypical racists. So I kept quiet. It became the biggest taboo of my life for over three decades.
Until the summer after my divorce, over a decade as the wife of a non-denominational preacher, I was making up for lost time and trying my wings sexually. It was through one of my fuck-buddies that this taboo was to be shattered. Jay-Jay had always wanted to try swinging, but most swinging clubs are not open to single men. So we agreed to try this too.
When it came time for the bondage show, I volunteered, wanting to taste every forbidden fruit. I was strapped to the wall with my arms stretched above my head and my legs secured with cuffs about the ankles. Then I noticed him walk in.
It would be hard not to notice him. Not only because of his size, but some indefinable quality of power clung to this young man. He began to slowly stroke an impressive black cock. As the show continued his eyes never left me.
When the Dom released me, he stepped forward. Like a knight addressing his queen in some medieval court, he took my hand and bowed at the waist. Bringing my fingers sweetly to his full, dark lips, he whispered; ‘Jay-Jay sent me.’
He practically threw me onto the mattress in the corner. Within seconds I felt my first black cock entering me as his tongue mimicked the same mating rhythm in my mouth. For the next forty-five minutes or so, he fucked me. It was all that I had imagined sex with a black man would be.
As he towered over me, pushing my legs back towards my chest, I was fascinated and awestruck with the image of his dark cock as it would withdraw almost completely from the folds of my white cunt lips. He kept asking me over and over again, ‘if I liked his hard black cock.’ My answers ranged from another wild orgasm, to screams.
But all good things must cum to an end. Jay-Jay and his partner appeared in the door way. She had a decidedly unhappy look on her face, despite the fact that I know from personal experience that my friend was a pretty good fuck himself. She just about drug him off.
But as we left the house, he came running after us. Taking me in his arms, he gave me another of those deep, soulful kisses that had been the perfect compliment to his cock in my wet pussy. He passed me a slip of paper with his name and number quickly scrawled upon it. He said, ‘I need that sweet white ass of yours.’
I never called him.
Pretty hot first experience. I grew up in an area that was racially mixed, so had lots of black lovers, so for me this wasn’t unusual. Although, there is something a bit exotic about being with someone sexually from another race. Sounds like your was an experience I’d want to try a few times. Too bad you never did call him back. Who knows where that might have lead! But, then again, it may not have been so special! 🙂
Internet social networking has brought a lot of people together some that should be and some that shouldn’t. Mitch and I were ones that shouldn’t. He had been my first boyfriend and nearly twenty years later he reappeared into my life thanks to the internet. Our reason for reconnecting was strictly professional. I was breaking into a new field and he was already in it. We had become “friends” online through another old friend and started instant messaging first about professional things, but then we began to jab at each other as we did when we were kids. This time it was full of innuendos.
About an hour into our conversation he mentioned that he played baseball with a local league not that far from my home, which was unusual as he lived an hour away from me. It happened that two days later he would be playing. I went to see him play, telling my family that it was strictly professional, that he may have a connection to a job.
It happened that it rained that night and the games were cancelled so instead of playing, Mitch came into the bar. He ordered a soda and sat down beside me. We didn’t say much as his other buddies took seats at our table. He remained quiet most of the night, only making a comment every now and then. I spoke with his friends, many of them sharing stories about what he had been up to. None of them spoke of a girlfriend but his status online was taken. Not that it should have mattered because mine was the same.
Unlike him, I had been pouring drinks for myself from the group pitcher of beer and was feeling very nostalgic. I caught myself touching him and leaning closer to him more frequently as the night wore on and by the time I had to leave (I had a sitter at home) I wanted badly to kiss him. I think he knew and was troubled by his own thoughts on the subject because when I got up to leave he didn’t stand until one of his buddies gave him a hard time about not walking me out. He was very careful not to touch me as he guided me out the door and through the parking lot. We stood at my car for a few minutes in silence and him avoiding eye contact. I finally reached up and grabbed his chin forcing him to look at me.
“I know its wrong and I know we shouldn’t, so I’m just going to give you a kiss on the cheek and a hug and be gone,” I told him.
I did as I said I would and forced myself to pull away, despite the fact that his scent had elicited a reaction my body hadn’t felt in years. I stepped back and slid into my car and have gone out of my way since to avoid him in the fear that next time it won’t be possible to stop.
Sometimes relishing in that moment where you are so close to a line you shouldn’t cross is just as hot as going through with it. All the bottled up desire, tension, and resistance makes for an interesting mix of feelings.
You have a lot of will-power. But, most likely for the best, as it is terrible to do something that you might later regret, especially if other people (partners) can be hurt. Very hard to resist a situation like that though, so you should be proud of yourself. Way to go.
For years she was my friend – we were very very close, best friends, actually. She was out as bisexual, and I was bisexual but not out in the least (let’s just say I had a few hang-ups). We would talk about all kinds of things, sexual encounters and the like, and change clothes in front of each other and everything that our comfort around each other would allow. She admitted, a few times, that she was very attracted to me, but I just giggled and teased her about it (like stupid straight girls always do with their dyke friends). One morning, after she had spent the night, we were talking about various things and she started telling me how much men liked it when you sucked on and licked their ears.
“I don’t think I’d be very good at that,” I told her.
“Well, why don’t I teach you how?” she asked me. I decided to view it as a “scientific experiment.” Riiiight.
At any rate, she went first, sliding her tongue across all the crevices and curves of my ear, and I stuffed down my reaction to what she was doing, ignoring the fact that it was turning me on, ignoring the fact that we could have done so much more.
Then it was my turn. I tongued her ear, sucked on her earlobe, and she laughed while I did it. When I stopped, she told me I was really quite good at it.
I just listed that experience as an “experiment.” Not like a “sexual” experiment, but just a “test” or something like that – a failed test, apparently. We never did anything sexual again, despite my stuffed down attraction to her, and her obvious attraction to me. Eventually we stopped being friends, and while I don’t exactly regret nothing happening, I do wonder what would have happened if something had. Would I have enjoyed it? Would feeling her tongue explore other parts of my body have actually gotten a rise out of me, or would I have chalked it up to another “experiment”?
Interesting. That’s kind of a great experiment if you wanted to see how good someone was at licking pussy. Note to Self: Try this with my girlfriends! Yes, I wonder what would have happened. Perhaps, you were just not ready for that at that time. Experiments are great, and don’t always have to mean something. Sometimes, that is all there is to it. Thanks for sharing!
Hmm, that’s nice. I wish I had a friend like that who could have shown me how to do things.
The only good memory I have of my affair with a married man is the first time we gave in to the desires that had been building steadily. He was many years older than me, as well as being my senior at work, and I got off on the feeling of subordination I experienced in his presence. When he told me to do something, my pussy instantly jolted and I couldn’t resist. I’m ashamed to say the first fuck was the most dangerous.
He had invited me to a dinner party at his, their, home. While his wife entertained the other guests, he entertained me. When he kissed me on the cheek in greeting his hand snaked down to caress my ass, when he leant over to talk to someone else he brushed against my chest, when no-one was looking he bit my neck and I struggled not to moan. Our eyes furtively made contact, each daring the other to either put an end to it or to go further. Eventually, after everyone had drunk a lot of wine, he whispered to me to go and wait like a good girl in the bathroom.
I wish I could say I hesitated, that I didn’t want to, that I tried to say no. But I didn’t, I wanted him too much. I made my excuses from the table and went upstairs to the bathroom. I left the light off, not wanting to see myself in the mirror, and waited with my heart and pussy pounding. When he came in he locked the door behind him and pressed me up against the wall. The feel of his body finally on mine was electric; it was like a switch had been flicked and suddenly we were allowing our bodies what they wanted. We ripped at each other’s clothes, greedily groping the newfound flesh with our hands and mouths. I think we both knew that if we slowed down we might stop.
We fell to the floor, rolling around. While he was on top he sucked at my breasts, taking my nipples between his teeth and squeezing hard. On top of him, I yanked his trousers and boxers completely off and wriggled down so that I could see the cock that had teased me for months. I sucked on it, gagging, and licked up his salty pre-come. Then he pushed me away and fumbled in a drawer for a condom; he rolled it on while using one hand to finger-fuck my cunt. We still hadn’t said a word, the whole scene was like a frantic, silent movie. When he lifted my legs up to his shoulders, and finally fucked me, I bit my lip. We both came fast, soundlessly.
The rest of our fucking was so fraught with guilt and fear of getting caught that it never felt so good as that first time. It ended badly, as I suppose it was always going to, but thinking of that night is still a guilty pleasure.
Guilty pleasure indeed! I was thinking of the movie Secretary for some reason while reading this. Very hot. I like that you added the use of the condom as well. Smart!
Lol I’m a bit of a condom nazi, I think you should always mention them when you can. And Secretary is a pretty hot movie, I’m glad I made you think of it!
Wow, that first time sure sounded HOT no matter what happened next.
This is based on a friends actual account:
*Ring Ring*
I picked up my phone with baited breath. “Hello?”
“Hi, Misha what are you up to?”
Right then, I smiled because I knew I it was on.
***
At seven pm, my much younger lover picked me up from my place. On the way to his apartment, we made small talk. When we arrived there, I was so anxious that I stopped talking.
“Oh no don’t clam up on me now, remember I like my women older and vocal.”
Wryly, I smiled following him inside. Once we got to his door, he stopped to look at me.
“Baby, you pulled all the stops out tonight. Sexy!” He caressed the side of my face while turning the key.
Once we were in, I looked at the décor but just as I was about to look around he grabbed me, kissing my lips passionately. My mind went numb the moment he put his hand on my thighs, caressing, groping then…
“Misha before we go further are you comfortable? I know we’ve had phone sex but I wanna…”
“Yes Jake, I’m fine. I want this however, there’s something I need to tell you?” I lightly bit my lip.
That moment, our eyes met. “What’s that gorgeous?” He had his hands inside the band of my skirt tickling my sides.
“I…I’m a virgin.” I turned away from him.
His facial expression was wicked. Raising an eyebrow he said, “Are you serious? I thought when we discussed ages I assumed you…”
Nervously, I shook my head. “Yeah, most women my age have fucked many but not me. For the first time I really feel that this is right.”
Grinning like the chestier cat, “Damn, I would’ve never guessed.”
Ready, I wrapped my arms around his neck, “I’m sure…I thought by telling you it would inspire you to turn up the heat.
Since you’re my first, make it memorable; I mean really memorable.” This time, I enveloped his lips with mine. The folds of my pussy ached to be filled; right then I needed him inside of me.
As he placed my legs on his shoulders, he softly tapped my clit. That alone sent shivers up my spine making me want more. “Yes, Jake now.”
Amused at my impatience, he laughed proceeding to push inside me. “Oh God, damn!” I gritted my teeth, grabbing on to the couch while he thrust himself into me.
“Oh baby…” he said. “Damn I have never felt anything so good.” He breathed.
As he continued to penetrate, my brain shutdown. Repeatedly, he hit my spot that was no longer sore. Instead, it felt like heaven and here was an attractive man giving me a big slice of it. That moment, I felt the buildup in my groin. Although I wanted to hold on, I couldn’t any longer.
“Jake…ah…fuck!” My wails excited him as he feverishly pounded me.
“Ahh…” With one last gasp, the floodgates opened for the first time, with his assistance.
“Shit…,” he yelled as his body writhed uncontrollably. I felt the condom expand inside me causing me to inhale again.
Breathing hard with a smile, Jake looked into my eyes while touching the sensitive nub between my legs. “Are you ok Misha?”
Satisfied and fully drained, “Yes Jake…”
When I attempted to rise, he lies on top of me. After lightly nibbling on my breast he said, “Did I do my job Misha?”
While I combed his curls with my fingers, “Oh yes Jake, you made the forty one year wait worthy!”
Whoa! Very creative! I like the older woman as a virgin POV. Very interesting!
BTW, the above is a confessional entry for the contest, sorry I didn’t include that.
I broke the gender barrier in a gay/voyeur’s men club with one of their dancers.
I was, I’m proud to say, the woman that broke the dam, since a month after I did it and got a membership, they offered memberships for women, and then they started incorporating women dancers and women in their photo shoots and videos.
But yeah. I was the only biologically female person in the club. I felt completely unwanted, until this one dancer started chatting me up ( i was with a friend of mine who was welcome, being a gay man) and following me around on his breaks.
The sex in the dim red curtained red-upholstered booths was not the best, but it was kinda hot knowing that he was absolutely not supposed to be doing this. Ah, Mitch. We did it a few more times in the most unusual and dirty places, and it was good, just because it was hard and dirty.
Hard and dirty, it’s been a while but I think I remember thee.