Strength Taboo Latest Sex stories
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Latest stories Taboo Strength
Crystal blue eyes.
The type that on another girl could look dramatic or vulnerable.
Even soul piercing.
But squinted by a smile too small for her boxy face and caked with a thick rim of black makeup, she appeared exactly how she really was: trying too hard.
“Just this once.
” Giggling, Blake’s blonde girlfriend rounded the desk countertop.
Craned her neck to look up at him as she pulled the white drawstring of his swim shorts.
But Blake felt his dick warm and thicken.
He glanced out the office window into the pool deck.
Watched the arcs and gentle splashes of the woman streaming the pool freestyle.
In the months she’d been coming here, she never talked to anyone else.
Never missed a workout.
Never gave up.
Just got stronger.
“Don’t worry,” Hailey squeaked through heavy breathing.
“She won’t see.
” Her nails scraped his hips.
Fingers cinched his waistband.
Blake turned his attention to her as she tugged his swim shorts down with her.
He rested his palm on the top of the desk, just above her head as she smiled up at him.
“Want me to be your bad girl?” Between consonants, her breath blew across his cock like musical notes.
If I hadn’t already fucked every orifice you own, only for you to throw yourself at everyone like the attention whore you are, I might buy that good girl gone bad bullshit.
God, I gotta break it off with this chick soon.
But her tongue was hot and slick as it slid down his shaft.
And fuck if he didn’t look up at his classmate’s mother as she took a break at the end of the swim lane and kicked backward, her taut, tattooed ass breaking through the ripples of aqua.
suck my cock, you dirty whore.
” Blake slid his fingers over Hailey’s temples and gripped her fine blonde hair at the roots, compelling her to gasp and giggle.
“Make me proud.
” *** Everything came down to seconds.
For her present.
For her future.
Meg held onto the rough edge of the pool.
Kicked her feet behind her along with the rhythm of the clock until the red secondhand hit four.
Flipping around, she took a deep breath, submerged below the cool water, and propelled herself from the pool wall.
Water broke at her body, flanked her sides as she wavered her torso and legs until her lungs demanded sustenance.
She came up for air, head turning to the side as her opposite arm immediately crested and sliced through the water.
Then her face was in again, her goggles fogging as she struggled to maintain a straight line.
Don’t be a pussy, she chanted to herself as her body protested.
She repeated the mantra every time she felt like giving up, until her 1500 yards were over and she propped her forearms up on the rough pool deck.
Pushing her goggles over her forehead, she panted and stared at the clock.
A creak screeched through the enclosed pool room, the familiar sound of the office door.
The lifeguard’s petite blonde girlfriend darted out, a grin on her face.
Thick black eye makeup dusted half moons under her stunning blue eyes.
She wiped at the corner of her thin lips.
Tight, tanned ass cheeks peeked under her white cut off shorts, stretching and jiggling as she beelined to the parking lot.
To be young and have no cellulite again.
The office door squawked again as the blonde disappeared outside.
Meg looked up.
Six feet of ripped muscle stood before her, tying the drawstring of his red lifeguard shorts.
“Miss Hickman?” Blake cast a rich, white smile down at her.
“Finished?” The little blonde girlfriend popped in her mind.
How she’d wiped her mouth as she’d left.
I doubt I’m the only one who finished.
She hoisted herself out of the water, stumbling as she stood.
Huge, warm hands gripped her waist, fingers wrapped around to graze the top of her ass.
Glancing up, she leveled a stare into his emerald eyes.
Her abdominal muscles contracted as she sucked a breath between her teeth, making her lower abdomen brush against her wet suit and her kegels tighten.
It felt like her body melted her swimsuit off and she stood naked in front of him.
It’d been a long time since she let a man touch her.
His bowed lips curled up, driving dimples into the cherub cheeks of his unlined skin, the cocky face of a bad boy jock used to charming teenage girls out of their panties.
Not an athlete with an agenda to climb higher in life like her son Graham, but one who used his looks and charisma to get pussy and his brawn to bully.
Someone who cared about nothing but himself.
One of those guys she used to hate in high school.
With a laugh, she raised her eyebrows at him and put her hands over his.
Withdrew them and extended her arms to push his wrists against his stomach.
Heat surged between her legs as the soft curls of hair trailing south from his belly button brushed her fingers.
He’s as young as my son.
And he’s not my type.
“Thank you for staying late for me, Blake.
I appreciate it.
” *** Blake’s girlfriend’s bedroom was years younger than she was.
Cream walls with Pepto Bismal colored borders.
Three stuffed animals on the pillow.
But furry handcuffs peeked out from beneath them and a joint burned in a glass ashtray on the sill in front of the cracked window.
From the past, he knew a bottle of Fireball lived in her bottom desk drawer.
“Hailey, it’s not gonna work out.
I’m trying to get away from partying and all that shit.
It’s just not where you are.
You know that.
” The blonde scoffed.
“I’m so much more than that.
“Right now, that’s the phase you’re in.
There’s nothing wrong with exploring.
I’m just looking at the future.
I can’t have distractions.
” “Oh?” She grinned, her smile testing the boundaries of her cheeks.
“Like last year, before we were serious?” Serious.
It took everything in him not to laugh.
He’d just needed her to be available to him and at least attempt to remain faithful.
What was serious when you were eighteen and going into college states away? But yeah.
Like her in that sky blue bikini earlier on the beach, flirting with every guy and girl that walked by.
Not to mention trying to resist partying with her instead of being responsible.
God, he hated being responsible.
Hailey hooked her finger under his belt and pulled him backward with her until she sat on the bed.
Her fingers flanked his cock, moving up and down until he hardened.
Biting her pale, glossed lip, she wrestled his belt open.
“I thought you liked distractions.
” “That’s the problem.
” His voice was husky as he looked down on her.
“As you’re aware.
” Running her tongue across her lips, she unhooked the button to his khaki shorts.
Let her hand drift down his fly, making his cock surge.
Remember when I took your coke when the cops came? I kept you out of jail.
It’s why you love me, because you know I’ll always take care of my baby.
” He grated his teeth, barely able to stand her idiocy.
But she stroked his dick again, looking up at him with those slutty made up eyes, and lowered his zipper.
Opened his fly and shoved his pants down.
“You love me.
” She grinned, her tiny teeth sparkling in the dim light.
She looked so trashy-cute from this angle, sitting on the very edge of the bed.
Bent over to show her cleavage in the skimpy white tank as she tugged his boxer briefs down.
Plunging his hand into her silky hair, he tightened his fist and yanked backward.
Eyes widening, she gasped.
Blake grabbed his thick, hard cock with his free hand and slapped her face with it, then rubbed his oozing cock across her mouth.
One last time.
I’m gonna fuck your pretty face.
” *** Meg’s past was a cannonball dragging behind her ankle.
The torch she carried inside burned for the present, the future.
Music blasted through her earbuds, legs pounding the pavement in time with the bass.
She checked her watch.
Ten minutes per mile.
Straightening her shoulders and neck, she powered up her pace.
Sweat streamed past her temples, soaked her lower back and chest.
Long ago she’d embraced heat like this differently, sweating under stage lights, humidity, and cigarette smoke.
Worked the stage with her voice and guitar until her throat was raw.
And loved a man who loved cocaine enough to die for it.
Blake reminded her of him.
I’m not a statistic.
Mind over body.
Fury blazed her guts, drove her faster.
The world distorted like a fishbowl with the rapid fire of her sneakers against pavement.
Her lungs screamed, legs like lead, begging for a break.
For her to give up even as she spotted the end of the run.
Too soon and not soon enough, she powered down the sloped driveway into a parking lot and slowed.
Legs gelatin, she jogged the perimeter of the square lot until she could slow to a walk.
Stopped at the outer edge, shaded her eyes from the falling sun to see the navy blue water shimmer in its serpentine twine between beds of green reeds.
Meg felt the tension inside her release.
Moments baked by in the Florida sun until cold sweat trickled along the inside of her ankle.
She found her chest no longer heaved for breath.
Smiling and exhausted, she wiped the sweat from her temples and headed for her car.
Walking into her quiet apartment ten minutes later, she dropped her keys on the kitchen counter and stripped her tank off.
Mopped her face with it as she made her way to the hallway.
The bathroom door opened, light spilling out, and Blake Haas stepped into the hall, scrubbing his wet brown hair with a hand towel.
A white towel slung low at his waist.
Water slicked his chiseled body, rivulets sliding down each crevice.
The dips of his hips.
Balanced on the precarious slope of his nipple.
” His brows rose, eyes widening in a half second before returning to composure.
“Downey,” she corrected automatically.
Blake draped his hand over his middle, the hand towel hiding his sculpted abs.
“Ma’am?” Ma’am? Meg felt her neck tense.
“What are you doing here?” “Oh.
” He lifted an arm, the movement outing the definition of his muscles, and pointed over her head toward the front door.
“Graham and I just went for a run.
He’ll be right back.
Audrey needed a ride home.
” The fuck was he thinking, leaving Blake here? The air conditioning kicked on, icing her sweaty pores and making her nipples tight.
She folded her arms over her chest.
Willed herself to keep a stern expression.
To not look him over any more than she had already.
Well, move along.
You’re not the only one who needs a shower.
” *** Let her go.
Blake’s lungs begged for even the smallest toke of weed.
He could almost taste it.
His back against the cold dresser, he looked around Graham’s small room.
A twin sized bed, made.
Dirty clothes in a laundry hamper.
A few actual books on the nightstand.
Silver laptop underneath them.
Nothing on the walls.
It was like the room was just a space.
Like no one really lived here.
As if the guy thought he was above this place.
Blake heard the faucet handles squeak in the bathroom across the hall and froze.
Thousands of beads of hard water pelted the bathtub in unison.
The shower door rumbled.
Then rumbled back, surely enclosing her body inside.
All the possibilities of how she might look ran through his mind.
He covered his semi-hard cock with his hand and closed his eyes.
His cell chirped.
Jarred him back, all his nerves on edge.
Letting out a breath, Blake crouched to his dirty clothes on the floor.
Retrieved his phone from his shorts’ pocket and let his towel fall.
“Hey man, Audrey needs me to run her around a couple places.
I’ll be back soon, but my mom will probably be home any minute.
Let me know if you have to go.
I’ll text you when I drop her off.
God, even his text messages were grammatically correct.
Did the kid have any flaws? Ever even struggle? Soccer star, longtime girlfriend.
Never did drugs.
As responsible as an old man.
A parent’s dream.
Dropping the phone on his pile of clothes, Blake stood and leaned his shoulders against the dresser again.
Palmed his rising dick.
He needed Graham, needed the good influence.
But the guy’s mom… Blake gripped his emboldening cock.
Thought of her in the hallway, the kitchen light behind her making the sweat on her body twinkle.
The ink wrapping her arms and legs, he finally saw, climbed the sides of her torso like ivy.
Left her abs free, defined only in muscular blocks of tanned flesh.
Small lines stretched across her neon yellow sports bra to accommodate her tits.
The hem of her billowy jogging shorts whispered at the crux of her powerful thighs.
His heart pounded, fist matching its pulse.
Straining to hear the static of the shower, he turned toward the dresser.
Propped himself up with his free hand and closed his eyes as he pumped his dick.
Pre-cum wet his shaft with each stroke.
He thought of her face as he’d lay her back and penetrate her.
Her guard down, dark brown eyes looking into his.
Perfect mouth open wide.
Not like that.
Her guard never dropped.
She’d stare at him with the same ferocity she used in her workouts.
Meet every thrust, every kiss, every grasp.
Clench her pussy around his shaft and use him for everything he was made of, pouring heat from her body to his.
” Blake felt his balls tighten.
Holding the base of his shaft, he straightened.
Snatched a shirt from the top of the dresser.
Covered his cockhead just as white hot cum exploded through him.
He ground back a groan deep into his chest and fought for breath as his hips drove into the cloth.
Seconds passed before the room came into focus.
Twisting around, he sagged against the cold dresser and stared at the window, at the way sunlight forced through the frames and eyelets of the blinds.
Slowly mopping his cock, he shook his head.
Balled up his shirt and glanced down to fastball it into his open gym bag before looking back at the window again.
She doesn’t take me seriously.
He thought back to all the teams he and Graham had been on, never remembering a man accompanying her to a game.
But there was one he could never forget.
Everyone in long sleeves, her tattoos were hidden.
It was the one game Blake’s dad picked him up from.
He’d seen his father approach her with his usual rich-guy swagger, flash her a smile.
She smiled back, said a few words, and turned.
Licking his lips, his father leered at her ass as she walked away.
But Blake had seen her face as she left him behind, rolling her eyes.
She wasn’t the type to be won over by money or privilege.
As he saw minutes earlier, not swayed by his physique itself.
It made him want her even more.
*** This is ridiculous.
Meg hated changing in the bathroom.
Hated the condensation, the steam choking her lungs.
Yet here she was, her shorts tangling in the cling of water and sweat on her skin.
By the time she was dressed and had her gnarled long hair up in.