Taboo Sex with an Ex Read online




  Taboo Sex with an Ex: 6 Explicit Erotica Stories

  © January 2019 by Lexi Wood

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

  Cover design © 2019 Giselle Renarde

  First Edition 2019

  Sign up to find out about sales and new releases:

  https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/e8r7l6

  Taboo Sex with an Ex

  6 Explicit Erotica Stories

  by

  Lexi Wood

  What’s Inside?

  Brat Wants Him Back

  Student Teacher Ex Sex

  Disowned

  Taboo Summer

  Taboo Femdom Hate Sex

  College Girl Comes Home

  Brat Wants Him Back

  She showed up at his door one night, desperate, barely dressed.

  “Let me in, Daddy! Please let me in!”

  Greg shut the lid on the laptop and tossed the lube in a drawer. Concealing his hard-on wasn’t quite so easy as hiding the rest of the evidence. Despite everything they’d been through together, he didn’t want his stepdaughter knowing he’d just sat down to masturbate.

  “I know you’re in there,” Alicia shouted through the apartment door. “Where else would you be on a Friday night? At a singles bar? Speed dating?”

  He tugged the door open and Alicia fell inside. “Quiet down, will you?”

  “That’s not what you used to say.” She looked up at him from the floor, a silly smile plastered to her lips. “You used to say, ‘Louder, louder! Scream my name, baby!’ Remember that? Remember those days?”

  How could he forget?

  Those days had ruined his life.

  To think, six months ago he was a married man with a beautiful wife, a home anyone would be proud to own, a great job, and three beautiful kids—plus one step-daughter, Alicia. His downfall. The great lust of his life.

  He hadn’t taken much notice of her until she came of age. Before then, she spent most of her teenage years hopping around between two grandmothers, three aunts, and every so often her father. The girl never liked rules. That’s why her mother wouldn’t have her at home. Alicia set a bad example for the younger children.

  Alicia was a bad seed.

  A bad seed that blew into town like a pollen spore, getting up Greg’s nose. Obsessing him.

  The girl was impossible to resist. Greg couldn’t blame any man who’d fallen into her trap. She came at you like a bulldozer, destroying everything in sight. Walk up to you, grab you by the balls, ask if you wanted to fuck. If you said, no, her response would be: “Who do you think you’re kidding, Daddy? Not me—that’s for sure.” Then she’d reach inside your pants and start toying with your dick.

  That was Alicia.

  Giving you that first handjob in the kitchen when your wife was out with the kids, well, that just opened the floodgates, didn’t it? After that, what use was there in resisting? You’d cheated once. With your wife’s eighteen-year-old daughter. Why not do it again?

  Why not enjoy yourself?

  So when she showed up at your office wearing that leather skirt and no panties, of course you bent her over your desk. Of course you fucked her wet little pussy and pretended you were the first to get inside that hot snatch.

  You practically cream yourself just thinking about it, now.

  But you know what you really should have done that day? The day you fucked your stepdaughter on the desk in your office?

  You really should have locked the door.

  Maybe then you’d still have a job, still have a wife. You wouldn’t be living in this shitty apartment, spending Friday nights with your fist wrapped around your dick and trying desperately not to cry into a bowl of ramen.

  Greg helped Alicia to her feet, and she immediately collapsed on the couch. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “What am I doing here?” she practically screamed. “You’ve been begging me to come over, begging me, voicemails and emails and texts and everything! So I finally come and you ask why I’m here?”

  A bad seed if ever there was one, but he couldn’t get enough.

  After his wife booted him from the family home, Greg took all the comfort he could in Alicia’s svelte young body. He hated her hair—that shiny, unnatural bleach blonde look with dark roots and split ends—but the rest was top-notch. She was slim without being bony. Breasts a perfect handful, with puffy pink nipples. The kind of pussy that would do well in porn, neatly waxed so no man would ever realize cuffs and collar didn’t match.

  A real treat to fuck.

  An enthusiastic lover who wasn’t afraid of anything.

  In fact, she’d taught him a thing or two.

  Before taking off without a word of warning.

  Not that she lived with him or anything. Who in her right mind would want to live in a hovel like this?

  But she sure stopped by often enough.

  For sex.

  Almost every day.

  And when she showed up, he dropped everything—not that he had anything to drop at that point. No job, no family. He made Alicia’s pussy his top priority, and she seemed to appreciate the attention it received.

  “What happened to you?” Greg asked.

  “When, tonight?”

  “Not tonight. You’ve obviously been drinking tonight. I mean before now. Why did you take off like that? We had a good thing going, and then you were just… gone!”

  She seemed confused by this accusation. “I was?”

  “Yes!”

  “I thought I was just here.”

  “Two months ago.”

  Her eyes bugged. “It’s been that long? Wow. Well, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you. I was just out with some friends and I started thinking, you know, I really need to get my pussy licked. Then I thought, you know who’s the actual best at eating pussy? My Daddy!”

  Greg’s cock pulsed. It always did when she called him Daddy. He wasn’t her Daddy any more than she was his daughter, but the taboo nature of their shared desire pumped him up good.

  Raising both legs over her head in a sculptural V, she showed him that her pussy was bare. No panties for Alicia. Short skirt, as always. Sheer top so her black bra showed through. Tacky jewellery. She was nothing like her mother. Maybe that’s what he liked about her. She was such a little slut. Such a wild little slut.

  “You gonna eat me, Daddy? You’re real good at it.”

  His mouth watered just looking at those hairless lips, that tight pink snatch.

  Still, he asked her, “Where have you been all this time?”

  She shrugged, then laughed explosively, like a champagne bottle popping its cork. “Why, were you worried about me?”

  Of course he wasn’t worried. Alicia could take care of herself. He wasn’t about to pretend.

  “You wanted me,” she said. It wasn’t a question this time. “You wanted my wet snatch and I wasn’t around. You were desperate for a fuck—s
o desperate, so desperate—and you don’t know how to find pussy in the wild.”

  “Insulting, but accurate.”

  She let her legs fall from the sky and leaned forward. Pressing her knees to his awful oak coffee table, she crawled across it, knocking papers to the floor, not caring about anything but getting closer to his body.

  He loved that about her.

  With her skirt around her hips and her bare ass exposed, she unbuckled his belt and pushed his boxers to the floor. His hard-on flew at her face and she took it cleanly in her mouth. His length disappeared into her throat while her red lipstick coated his girth.

  His shirt came off quick, and then he dug his fingers into her awful straw-like hair, gripping it tight enough to bring tears to her eyes.

  Or maybe the dick down her throat had done that job.

  Didn’t matter.

  All he cared about now was the hot, wet receptacle of fluids encircling his cock.

  Alicia gave the best blowjobs he’d ever had.

  What was so great about them?

  Her enthusiasm, plain and simple. It helped that her lips were bee-stung and red, but anyone can paint their lips red. The real kicker was the hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and the other one cradling his balls. She worked him every way possible, all the while sucking urgently on the top half of his shaft.

  Every so often, she buried his whole damn dick down her throat, but that only lasted a few seconds before her gag reflex set in. Still, it meant a lot to him that she gave it a shot.

  It was great to watch his big cock disappearing inside her mouth.

  “I’ve got to eat your pussy,” he said, though this was, in great part, just an excuse to get off his feet. His knees weren’t going to hold him up much longer, so he forced her back to the couch and laid her flat without letting her remove his dick from her throat.

  With her skirt up around her waist, there was no prep work to do. He just plunged his face between her legs and tasted her sweet pussy for the first time in two months.

  God, how he’d dreamed of this moment.

  She moaned around his dick, and he struggled not to thrust the entire length down her throat. He did want to fuck her, but he didn’t want to choke her. So he focused his strength on tonguing her clit. She loved it when he flicked it and flitted in swift repetition. Did a number on his jaw, but the reaction was worth the effort.

  Even with his cock filling her throat, she managed to make her enjoyment known—in part by sucking his dick with a frenzied sort of zeal.

  Alicia really knew her way around a man’s body. She held him off by cupping his balls and keeping a tight grasp on the root of his cock. That way he couldn’t slam his dick too hard down her throat.

  She knew what she was doing.

  But so did he, and he loved that she loved it.

  You’d think that just about any woman would open her legs eagerly to an expert tongue, but that wasn’t the case. Not in Greg’s experience. Even his wife—ex-wife now—would let him go down on her only for brief spurts. She never really reacted in a way that indicated she got off on what he was doing.

  Alicia was a horse of a different colour.

  That girl offered her pussy up to his face as often as possible—that is, when she was actually around. He loved kneeling on the ground when she was on the couch or the coffee table. That way he got a good view of the dip of her belly and the swell of her breasts.

  But this position certainly wasn’t objectionable. With him on top, he got to thrust at her face—though she was always in control of how deep he could go—and he also got to savour her sweet pussy. It was the best of every world.

  “Yeah!” Alicia hollered.

  Greg felt the word resonating around his dick while she lifted her hips, bucking urgently, feeding her pussy to him.

  “Eat me, Daddy! I’m gonna come in your mouth!”

  So was he, if she kept talking like that. Amazing that she could make herself understood while sucking his dick, but that was one of her many talents in bed.

  He ate her harder, when he could latch on, which was increasingly difficult, considering she kept bucking and writhing and slamming her clit against his face. He had to grip her thighs, hold her still, and wrap his mouth around her sweet pink centre. When he sucked her clit, she screamed like an animal in pain. He knew that noise, and he knew not to stop.

  She turned her face to one side, and Greg’s dick popped out, along with a steady string of curses. “Fuck, Daddy! Fuck, yeah! Eat my fucking pussy, Daddy-baby! Eat me haaard!”

  When Alicia came, it was never quiet. It was never quick. Her orgasms ebbed and flowed until she really couldn’t stand any more.

  Lucky for Greg, it was only her clit that got exhausted.

  Her pussy could go all night.

  He managed to get out of that sixty-nine position they were in without kneeing her in the face, which was quite a feat, considering the state his muscles were in. “Baby, I’m gonna fuck you into the middle of next week.”

  “Good,” she groaned. “I hate Mondays. And Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Drop me off Thursday, okay?”

  “Only if you come right back to me on Friday.”

  He made the mistake of meeting her gaze, in that moment, and he saw her irrational fear. Her fear of commitment in any form. Even just the promise of coming back to him in one week’s time. Even that was too much for her.

  But she surprised him by saying, “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I will. Next Friday. I’ll come back. For sure.”

  Greg didn’t know how to respond. It was so out of character.

  “Unless you don’t really want me to come,” she said.

  “No I do, I do!”

  He looked at her and she looked and him, and then he did something he’d never done before. He scooped her into his arms like the guy in that movie. Scooped her up and carried her across the room, praying his knees wouldn’t betray him. Negotiating the space so as to avoid whacking Alicia’s head against any hard surfaces, he turned to side-step her into the darkened bedroom.

  He threw her on the bed.

  She landed with a bounce.

  “How do you want it?” he asked.

  She sat up in bed and quickly peeled off her skirt, tore out of her shirt and her bra. Her jewellery landed on the night table with a plastic plinking sound. When his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the room, he felt a little odd about what they were doing.

  The one difference?

  She was naked.

  That was so… unlike her.

  Alicia never got naked. She always kept on most, if not all, of her clothes while they fucked.

  Something had shifted.

  It made him nervous.

  Alicia kicked down the covers and laid herself out on the sheet. “Can we do it like this?” she asked. “We never have before.”

  Missionary position? No, that’s true. They never had.

  But his knees could sure use the break, so he crawled naked into bed and got on top of his skinny little stepdaughter. The moment he was on top of her, she wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him slowly.

  Slowly on the mouth.

  At first, he was too shocked to kiss her back. She stopped and asked, “What’s wrong, Daddy? Don’t I kiss good?”

  His cock whacked her naked thigh. “How’s that for an answer?”

  She reached down to slide his dick into her slick, wet pussy, and his mind went blank. When she pulled him into another kiss, his body took the reins. He started thrusting, gently at first, building up steam. Her tongue felt so good in his mouth. His cock felt so good in her pussy.

  Everything had always felt good, with her, but this felt right.

  He was fucking his ex-wife’s drunk teen daughter, and that felt right? What was he, some kind of sexual psychopath? Sex like this was never supposed to feel right. It was wrong, would always be wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he was, and he liked it. Her pussy pulse
d around his swollen girth, and her kisses warmed up a part of him that had long gone cold.

  He needed her. And that scared him.

  “Oh baby,” he said, ploughing her pussy a little harder while he moved one hand to her breast.

  When he squeezed it, she said, “Oh Daddy, that’s good.”

  He thumbed her pink nipple, letting the softness of that skin ramp up his arousal. She wasn’t hard all over. She still had a couple soft spots left. He hugged her with his other arm, getting their bodies as close as humanly possible. She kissed him again, while he planted his dick deep down in her snatch. She had the juiciest pussy, so soft and tight and perfectly sweet. He could fuck this pussy forever.