TABOO TALES(erotica)

I slipped her panties down past her hips, and she let go of me to pull them all the way off, and sat up briefly to tug her t-shirt over her head, before hooking my shorts and yanking them down far enough for me to kick them off. I gathered her into me, and she smiled and gently pushed me back down onto my back, sliding a slim leg over me to pull herself on top of me. My hands slid down her soft, smooth back to once again cup and fondle her taut buttocks, and Nia smiled at me as she reached behind and found me, pointing my hardness at her and sliding down to slowly impale herself on me.

The feel of her moist heat engulfing my head was incredible, as always, the tight warmth slowly enveloping my length as she slid down me until I was balls-deep inside her. Now she began to undulate, sliding herself up and down on me, gripping and squeezing my length as she did so, while simultaneously rubbing her clitoris on the wiry hair at the base of my penis. Neither one of us could stand this long, and I watched as the flush spread down her throat and across her upper chest as her arousal built. Her movements against me became more and more definite as she ground and slid above me, the squeezing and clenching of her pussy walls becoming harder as she moved faster against me.

The end came for her with a loud, hissing groan, and she collapsed on top of me, holding me tight as she shuddered and quivered on top of me, her head buried in my shoulder and her teeth not quite breaking the skin of my shoulder as she clamped down on me. The pulsing and squeezing of her vaginal walls and the sudden sharp thrill of pain from her teeth clamped on my shoulder was too much to bear. I came with a loud groan, filling my darling sister-fiancee’s pussy with my sperm as my balls tightened and delivered their tribute into her.

At last, my convulsing penis was stilled, the torrent of spunk reduced to a trickle, and I lay back, satisfied, the afterglow feeling hazy and warm, my Nia sprawled on top of me with my hands still holding her tight to me by her delightful bum.

All good things have to come to an end, and even though I would have preferred to lie there all day with my girl held tightly against me, I knew we had places to go and people to see. I smacked her on her bum, lightly, of course, just enough to make her grin.

“Come on, you, we have to go and see Sergeant Happy Hands, I bet you’re looking forward with bated-breath to even more of his blue-chinned leering, aren’t you?”

Nia grinned cheekily at me. “But of course! I live for middle-aged Lothario’s pawing at me; you’re just a distraction until the right combination of middle-aged spread and hair-loss comes along!”

We showered in turns, Nia went first then she ordered breakfast while I showered, then we took a cab to the Metropolitan Toronto Police HQ on College Street to meet the sergeant again. After the usual amenities, enquiries if we slept well, that sort of thing, but this time without the leering innuendo, we went to the office he shared with the Special Victims Unit to talk about his progress, if any, with the San Francisco District Attorney.

The upshot of the discussion was that various state and federal agencies had been informed and were assisting in California, and we should go back to our hotel and wait. Louis assured us that the various people involved would work out a way for us to meet with the woman we supposed to be Hu’e. He gave us a fairly detailed run-down on how it would work, but to be honest, I soon got lost in the maze of legal and federal rules and regulations governing these situations, but as this apparently had happened before, legal precedent existed. He was hopeful that we should hear very soon, and advised us to sight-see and enjoy Toronto for a couple of days. He ended the meeting with a promise to call us or leave a message as soon as he heard.

We left in good spirits; Louis was confident that all would be well. He explained that this wasn’t unusual, and he expressed his hope that we’d soon be on our way. Nia hugged and thanked him, which brought a delighted smile to his rumpled face. I saw his hands twitch to go around her; however, he also saw me watching him, and he’d obviously taken my quiet word with him the previous night to heart, as his hands stayed firmly by his sides…

We spent the next two days sightseeing in Toronto, as suggested, and lazing in our room, feeling useless but waiting for that word that meant we could finally go and see if this was over, at last. It had taken three years of our lives, and to be honest, it was starting to become wearisome and depressing; a resolution one way or the other would have been welcome, whatever the outcome.

I was really starting to feel like we’d come as far as we ever would; perhaps she really was gone forever, and we’d followed a dud clue to the wrong person? The fact is, I’d lost hope, and I’d lost faith in Nia’s certainty that her sister as somehow still alive, happy, healthy and rarin’ to find her real family; supposing she was happy in her family here; had Nia considered that? I didn’t think so…

++++

Wednesday, 12th May, 2012

10th & Anza, San Francisco

Bethany and Cory were sitting in the kitchen, chatting about work and drinking a coffee while they waited for the lasagne to finish, when there came a ring at the doorbell. Bethany looked accusingly at Corey.

“If that’s your mother again, I swear, I’m driving her up to Marin Headlands and kicking her off! Every time one of her ‘relationships’ implodes, she comes here, loaded, and then I have to explain to the kids, again, why Gramma’s crying. And she won’t leave! She drives me batshit and she won’t go home, and that drives me even more batshit!”

Corey grinned ruefully as he headed for the door.

“She doesn’t mean anything by it; she’s just trying to be part of the family!”

Bethany snorted. “Why can’t she be part of Jo and Eric’s family, or Carl and Lena’s family? I’ll tell you why; it’s because Eric and Lena both put their foot down, that’s why. Visits I don’t mind, turning up unannounced and loaded is becoming a regular thing, like it’s some kind of right. Your family saw me coming, that’s the problem; your sister and your brother don’t have any problem keeping her and her drinking away, why don’t you?”

Bethany turned and went back into the kitchen to check on the lasagne; despite her objections, she knew she wouldn’t turn Corey’s mother away, she never had, no matter how scary drunk she’d been in the past, so she contented herself with muttering darkly about the family members who lived inconveniently far away and so had a perfect excuse not to take on Maureen Warren and her relationship issues. Bethany heard the sound of voices, male voices, not Maureen’s slurred tones, Corey speaking with however it was, and the sound of the door closing, and him asking someone to take a seat.

Corey appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Babe, turn that off, someone’s here to see you.”

His tone and the expression on his face told her something was up, so, setting the oven timer for another 20 minutes, she wiped her hands and followed him into the living room.

There were two men standing up as she came into the room, and they introduced themselves as Detective Harry Regan, of the SFPD Special Victims Unit, and FBI Special Agent John Davison.

Bethany moved closer to Corey, unnerved by having the police and the FBI in her home.

“Corey, what’s this about, why have…?” she began, but Regan was quick to ease her fears.

“Mrs. Warren, we belong to a Task Force that’s been investigating child trafficking and babies for cash dealers, both here in the continental United States, and in conjunction with other National, federal and local police and law-enforcement bodies worldwide. One of the items that came up was the matter of your own adoption. The Agency that arranged the adoption with your parents was a front for an international criminal enterprise selling babies on the black-market for legitimate adoption. We believe you yourself were obtained in this way, from an agency in Vancouver, smuggled into the US, and passed off as another child, with falsified birth records. Special Agent Davison has been in contact with a team in Canada investigating the same organisation in Canada and worldwide.”

Special Agent Davison spoke up now.

“Mrs. Warren, the team in Canada were able to track you across Asia and into Canada, thence to California due to the cooperation of several dedicated and motivated teams in various countries. A female child closely matching your description, including the birthmark on the left side of your neck, was stolen from a subdivision of Da Nang known as Hoa Hiep.”

“That child subsequently surfaced in Vancouver less than a month later, and promptly disappeared, the child that was listed under that name and adopted in Vancouver was the wrong gender and age, and then a child closely matching the original description from Vancouver was adopted by John and Phyllis Keyes of Pleasanton. I understand your adoptive parents have passed away, please accept my condolences. I want you to understand, they did nothing wrong; all the paperwork was correctly filed and notarized, and they took delivery of what they had every reason to believe was an orphan legitimately placed for adoption.”

He stirred, looking closely at Bethany.

“Mrs. Warren, your real family have never stopped hoping for news of you. They have been searching for you, and it was them who alerted us to your case through their own investigations conducted in Vietnam, in Hong Kong, Thailand, Laos and Singapore. I was asked to show you this.”

He took out a photograph and passed it over to Bethany who looked at her own face, her hair, even her birthmark, but it wasn’t her, it was an older woman. She wordlessly passed the photograph to Corey, who whistled at the resemblance.

“Special Agent Davison, who is this woman?” she asked, her voice low and steady.

Davison looked at her steadily. “This is Anh Thienh Lo, your birth mother,” he said, gauging her reaction.

“I see. Will you excuse me please?” said Bethany in that same low monotone, rising and walking away into the kitchen, mechanically checking the lasagne and getting the plates and glasses out of the cabinet.

Corey apologised with his eyes and slipped into the kitchen.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“Babe, don’t you want to know more, anything else they might have to tell you?

Bethany looked at him steadily, and slowly shook her head.

“I had a mom, and a dad, they’re gone, but they were my mom and dad, not some face in a photograph!”

Corey tried a different approach.

“Don’t you want to know about the rest of your family, who and where they are?” and again Bethany shook her head.