TABOO TALES(erotica)

Graduation Night

Her son’s high school graduation was fabulous, although Janice barely heard a word. She was lost in a reverie about that afternoon’s pool party with him. Matt had had no compunctions about goading her into removing her bikini top. He’d shown no leniency when he drove her sweating tits into the hot sun block. He’d savored the sight of her rubbing greasy lotion all over her tits like a wanton slut. If he’d informed her beforehand, she would have never acquiesced to him binding her nude breasts or stuffing her pussy slit.

Finally, she’d gotten her hands on Matthew’s thick prick and given him the release that any healthy teenager deserved. How could she know he would shoot his huge load all over his mother’s face? As for the metal tube dildo he left, it was only fair that, since he’d cum, she should be able to satisfy herself as well.

It wasn’t her fault that Matt had broken up with his girlfriend a month ago and, as gorgeous as he was, had not started up with anybody new. Perhaps that was because he was leaving soon for college?

After the ceremony, the students partied at the gym while Janice went to the country club, where a large group of friends and teachers celebrated. After 1:00 am, Matt received a call on his cell phone from Janice’s cell, so drunk that he had difficulty understanding her. She asked him to pick her up right away at the club; she was too drunk to drive. “I was on my way home anyway, so I’ll be right over,” he said.

When he drove into the parking lot, he saw her outside the clubhouse in the shadows, wiping off her face with a wad of tissues. He thought she looked hot in her short skirt and low-cut blouse, leaning against the wall beneath a 3/4 moon. Then he realized with alarm that her hair was disheveled and infested with clumps of creamy goo, her lipstick smeared, her blouse had been pulled halfway out of her skirt, most of the buttons undone, and the knees of her stockings were ripped.

Oddly, she was hastily applying perfume as he walked to her. The bottle, from a famous designer, was several inches long with a bullet-shaped head. There was no pretense in the design; it was obviously phallic.

She was drunk enough that he half-carried her to his truck and had to help her in. She was too loaded to talk much. As soon as he turned the wheel and drove off, she fell to the side across the bench seat, twisting around so she faced the rear, her head not on his thigh but actually resting on the seat between his thighs, facing his groin. When he accelerated away from the first red light, her face actually pressed against his summer pants, giving him an instant erection. At the next red light, noting that there was not a single car in sight, he raised her skirt so that he could see the lovely skin above her ripped stockings. His cock grew harder. She did not respond. The third light was a lengthy wait. He placed his fingertips on her naked thigh and stroked the smooth flesh. His cock stayed hard all the way home, wondering if he should make her blow him.

At their house, he helped her stumble inside and took her to the den, where she’d be more comfortable than in the kitchen. She collapsed back on the sofa, her legs spread wide. He returned with some coffee. “Mother!” he said loudly. “I’ve got coffee and aspirin. Drink this.” She shook her head, eyes closed. Carefully, he slapped her cheek very lightly. It was the first time he’d done so. Instantly her eyes opened half way. From lidded eyes, she looked at him with an expression he’d never seen before, as if daring to hit her again.

She took the aspirin and drank some coffee. He took the mug from her. “What happened tonight?”

“None of your goddamn business!” she snapped, filled with shame about the lurid scene they’d had at poolside yesterday, when he’d manipulated her into revealing her bare tits and then immersing them in the bowls of scalding sun block. She knew she was provoking him but couldn’t stop herself.

Without thinking, he slapped her other cheek. Was she deliberately prodding him with her insolent tone? Once again she looked up at him with that strange expression. “Do not speak to me that way! Do you understand?” She nodded contritely. “I want to know what happened.” She sat motionless. “I need to know if you got in trouble, or if you embarrassed yourself.”

“Leave me alone!” she shouted angrily, remembering how she’d acquiesced when he’d instructed her to jerk off his big cock, aware that her intransigence would not go unheeded.

Matt saw that he could not accept this rude, obnoxious behavior. “You’re going to tell me and you’re going to speak to me respectfully.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her up. Placing his hands under her arms, he dragged her to the rear of the sofa and pushed her face down over the back. “Don’t move.” She remembered how he’d humiliated her by brazenly shooting his big load all over her face.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

Matt knew it was time to discipline her with her first beating. He went to the kitchen and found a large, fifteen-inch metal spatula with a wooden handle, used for the barbecue, lying on the counter. Back in the den, she’d rested her head and shoulders so far down on the sofa that her short skirt had ridden up her thighs, leaving the skin between stockings and panties exposed. He kicked her legs apart and pushed up her skirt until her panties were fully exposed. “Who was the guy?” Taking careful aim, he swung the spatula against her bottom. Instead of yelling or kicking as he’d expected, she moaned. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded like “Mmmm.” She said, “He was a lot younger than me.” She started stroking and squeezing her breasts, reliving the sight of her dripping, constricted breasts after Matt had tied them with shoelaces.

“What does he look like?” She began fingering her slit, daydreaming about her swollen labia, exposed outside her bikini and glistening in the hot sun. When she remained silent due to her reverie, he struck her ass even harder, amazed that she did not kick, struggle, or move to protect herself with her hands.

“Handsome. Young. Curly hair. Tanned.”

“What did he do to you?” He paused for her answer, but all she could think of was the pleasure of stuffing the dripping 7-inch cigar tube into herself. When she did not reply, he struck the bare flesh above the stockings.

She grunted from the blow. “We went outside.”

Frustrated with the meager information she was parceling out to him, he grabbed her tiny panties and pulled them down so they hung halfway between her stocking tops and her ass. In the dim light of the den, he stared for a moment at her firm globes, reddened by the beating, and the dusky rose opening, beckoning from between them. He struck the bare skin of her cheeks, the metal spatula head making a crack, a sound much louder than it had made on the panties.

“Ooohhh!” She paused. “He was very rough for such a young guy. He ripped my blouse out of my skirt.” He hit her inner thigh. Red spots had begun to appear on her ass and thighs.