Desire for Incest: Taboo Erotica E-Book

Scarlett Letterman

• Herausgeber: Palimpsest Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Warning: Very taboo. Not for the faint of heart. May include BDSM, incest, and other taboo and forbidden elements. This is a vintage **full length** (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel.

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As his surging cock burrowed in up to the final depths of her widely stretching pussy, Sally shifted so that her buttocks were upturned, the full plane of her nakedly impaled loins exposed to his driving cock. She began to moan wildly, as he fucked in and out with long, quick strokes, his penis sinking in to the hilt, his semen-swollen balls slapping rhythmically against the nudely grinding cheeks of her ass. He gasped "Oh God! Oh, my God!" and Sally knew that already the white hot juice was churning inside the smooth swollen sacs, that his pumping balls would spurt it forth soon, and so she began to gasp wildly into his ear, "Aaaaaagh! AAAAAAAGH! I'm cumming, darling ... I'M CUMMING!" as the hot, sticky sperm was forced in convulsive spasms up the full length of his rigidly pulsing cock to shoot wildly from the jerking tip into the forbidden recesses of her soft, quivering belly.
When at last Mike withdrew his limp, deflated penis from her cum-flooded vagina and rolled, exhausted, to Sally's side, she took his hand and held it to her lips. "That was sooooo good!" she whispered huskily.
But Mike knew that the image of her father had been in her mind and that she had only felt disgust for his efforts to fuck her and make her feel it. That idea made him feel disgusted, too.
 

Leseprobe

Desire for Incest

Scarlett Letterman

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

Still, she sighed. There was so much work involved in keeping up a house like this, filled as it was with the luxuries which were almost necessities to Sally and her friends in Woodland Hills. White wall-to-wall carpeting was wonderful, but it had to be vacuumed everyday. Prints and paintings had to be dusted, furniture polished. And someone had to cook dinner, and wash the dishes later-or a least stack them in the dishwasher-and then put them away. And that someone was herself.

Not that she resented doing that, or anything else she did for Mike. Who else, she asked herself, had such a wonderful husband, one who'd given his wife so much?

She put down the duster and curled up on one of the twin modern sofas flanking the fireplace. Leaning back, she stared out the window at the blue water sparkling in the white-tiled swimming pool, at the sun-bathed patio alongside it, sheltered by broad-leafed trees. She had a wonderful husband, she thought, and a wonderful home, too.

And two wonderful children. They were grown, now, with Vern-Mike, Jr.-off at college, writing home, at least to ask for money, regularly. But neither she nor Mike begrudged him that. Mike, Sally thought, indulged the children almost as much as he indulged her.

Her mind wandered to Jean, married now, and with a home of her own out in Michigan. It was Jean, not Vern, who was the apple of her father's eye. Sally remembered the little tot trailing along behind Mike, Teddy bear clutched in her arms, remembering the way Mike swooped her up, perched her on his shoulders, trotted around the yard while Jean squealed "Play horsie! Play horsie!"

She remembered a few less pleasant moments, too, like the time the three had been having dinner in a posh restaurant. Suddenly Jean stood up on her chair, pointing at Mike's plate, screaming, stamping her foot, demanding something. But what? No one could make out what the child was saying, and Sally had turned the color of the boiled lobster on her plate, as she ordered Jean to be quiet. She'd had an almost uncontrollable urge to smack the child-and to hell with Dr. Spock, she had thought-but Mike had kept his cool, had calmed the infant and cajoled her into a semblance of coherence. "What is it you want, darling?" he asked.