TALES
OF
THE
FORBIDDEN
* * *
SEX FOR PROFFITS
AN
EROTIC
NOVEL
BY
ROBIN GREENE
* * *
A
DARK SENSATIONS
PRODUCTION
Tales of the Forbidden: Sex for Proffits
Copyright © 2011 by Robin Greene
Cover design by Eden Skye
Published on Smashwords by Dark Sensations
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
The material found in this eBook contains sexually explicit situations and is intended for a mature audience only.
All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.
Table of Contents
Thursday
Desiree Proffit awoke that morning with the singular awareness that she missed her boyfriend. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. It wasn’t so much the boyfriend that she missed as it was the hot sex he threw her way. Desiree had dumped him when she finally came to the conclusion (the same conclusion that everyone else on the planet had already come to) that the guy was a jerk. He was a creep who was turned on by Desiree’s beauty, but what he really loved was her wealth—which he spent lavishly and always on himself. And as far as sex went, the only person he really and truly loved was himself, and selfish people are rarely really good in bed.
She kicked her bare feet over the edge of her king-sized bed and tossed the silk sheets aside. Desiree Proffit, wealthy and beautiful, was a teenager without a boyfriend…and she was feeling horny.
She wasn’t just feeling a little neglected. She was dull, empty-ache horny. Ravenously horny.
She stood up and smoothed her silk nightgown over her legs. The nightgown was from Victoria’s Secret. Just wearing the ankle-length nightgown was to be endlessly caressed with silk. Although there was nothing wrong with being caressed by silk, what Desiree needed was a boyfriend’s firm, commanding caress. Or maybe even a woman’s gentle, knowing caress. Though lesbianism wasn’t a form of pleasure she had experienced yet, the thought of tasting another girl’s kisses, and even her pussy, had crossed her inquisitive mind on more than one occasion, but so far she had resisted temptation. Right now she didn’t much care what gender caressed her so long as somebody caressed her soon!
Desiree turned and was about to pull the nightgown over her head and then walk into the spacious bathroom off her bedroom, but when she saw her own reflection in the mirror. The image of herself caught her off-guard. It was almost as though she could look at herself with complete objectivity for the very first time in her life.
What did she see? She saw a teenage girl possessing a mass of shimmering auburn hair that came down to her nipples. She saw a girl with full lips, a wide and generous mouth, a high forehead, and lovely eyes of such a startling shade of jade green that almost everyone commented glowingly about their color.
Desiree ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing the silken strands back away from her forehead. As she did this, she watched the movement of her heavy breasts inside the sheer bodice of her nightgown. She was proud of the size and shape of her breasts. Her brassiere was a D-cup, and she always purchased the prettiest, most expensive undergarments available.
She grabbed her nightgown at the hips and slowly pulled the garment over her head. She dropped the nightgown at her feet, and then looked at herself once again in the mirror. Her breasts were rounded mounds of feminine flesh that had always been very sensitive, with light brown areolas, and nipples that became erect with just a single kiss.
Below her breasts, her waist narrowed dramatically before her hips curved outward, leading to full thighs that tapered down towards her knees. At the juncture of her thighs, she had been shaven clean of pubic hair. Desiree had only recently done that herself. She had intended to trim the pubic hair into a nice, sexy heart shape, but then she got carried away, and before she really was aware of it, she’d shaved her pussy smooth and clean.
It’s more sensitive this way, Desiree thought, looking at the pink lips of her cunt.
It dawned on Desiree that since taking the razor to herself, she hadn’t shown herself to anyone. It didn’t seem fair that getting adventurous enough to shave herself clean as a baby should give her bad luck.
Such a waste of time to make myself pretty, to act a little naughty, and not have a boyfriend to share that naughtiness with, Desiree thought angrily.
Desiree touched her cunt, her fingertips pressing lightly against the sensitive pussylips. Instantly, her clitoris, a small button of very excitable flesh, began to tingle, slightly hidden between the pussylips. And almost as quickly, Desiree took her hand away from herself. This wasn’t the time—not an hour before she had to go to class—to indulge in a little self-induced pleasure. She enjoyed masturbating, fingering herself into one climax after another, but this was not the time to let the hungers of her cunt dictate her actions.
Thirty minutes later Desiree had showered, dried her luxurious mane of auburn hair, and was standing inside her spacious walk-in closet, trying to find something to wear. It wasn’t that she didn’t have many choices—the problem was that she had so many magnificent outfits to wear that she couldn’t make up her mind.
She selected a black garter belt, which she put around her shapely hips, then rolled two black silk stockings up her legs, attaching the garter clasps to the tops of the stockings. Next, she took a black brassiere out of a drawer and slipped her arms into the straps, then eased her heavy breasts into the cups. The clasp of the brassiere was between the cups, and when she hooked the garment properly, she had to adjust her breasts several times before she was completely comfortable.
Lastly, the teenager stepped into a pair of black bikini panties. When the panties were pulled up her legs until the fabric touched the shaven lips of her cut, Desiree sighed. Neglect had made her extremely sensitive to the slightest touch, she now realized.
She eventually selected a navy blue skirt and jacket, with a navy blue and robin’s egg blue striped blouse. She carried the garments back into the main area of her bedroom, and laid the clothes on her bed.
Once again, drawn by forces stronger than her willpower, Desiree turned and faced the full-length mirror. Her hands moved slowly up her sides, and the teenager stared at the mirror as though watching a movie of someone other than herself behaving lewdly. Desiree cupped her breasts in her hands, squeezing her fingers into the firm mounds. She watched as pale feminine flesh billowed erotically up over the embroidered upper surface of the brassiere’s cups.
Desiree’s nipples immediately tightened and elongated when she pinched them through the brassiere. The soft, warbling sigh that escaped her mouth drifted to her ears, and she listened to it as though it was the impassioned moan of a stranger.
Desires too strong to deny forced her to push her panties down to the tops of her thighs, and ease a single finger between the pink lips of her cunt. She was already quite wet, her juices flowing free, and her finger slipped between her cuntlips easily. Somewhere in the back of Desiree’s mind it registered that something was wrong. Not terribly wrong, but wrong enough for her to be of concern.
It was the startled gasp that drew Desiree’s passion-fogged attention away from her own reflection in the mirror, and to her bedroom doorway. Her oldest brother, Nick, was standing in the doorway. He wore one of his innumerable immaculately tailored suits, this one a charcoal gray pinstriped number accented with a red silk necktie from his tailor in London. The Chief Executive Officer of Proffit International was obviously ready for work.
Desiree’s first reaction was to stop caressing herself. Her next reaction was to hide her clean-shaven pussy with one hand as she attempted to hide her breasts with the other. The teenager’s D-cup bosom was much too large to hide with one of her dainty hands, and though she had her panties on, they had been pushed partially down her thighs.
“Sorry,” Nick said, standing in the doorway.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot as though not quite being certain whether he should take a step backward, into the hallway, or a step forward, to move completely into his younger sister’s bedroom. Desiree could tell that he was obviously a man in conflict with himself and his unanticipated desires.
“Nick?” Desiree said the single word as though in a daze. The lust ran thick through her veins. “What are you doing here?”
She placed both hands down between her legs, hiding her pussy. She could feel the heat of her older brother’s lusty gaze upon her body, touching her, caressing her, visually removing the lovely undergarments that she took so much pride in wearing.
Nick took a step into his sister’s room. He slowly and quietly closed the door. Alone now with Desiree, he put his hands on his trim hips and let his eyes trail more leisurely up and down over her curvaceous form.
“There’s an executive meeting today,” he said. The timbre of his voice was deeply seductive. Desiree felt her clit tighten, and fresh cream made the lips of her cunt even more slick and ready for penetration. “I wanted to make sure you would be there. I’ll want your input.”
“Yes…yes…of course.”
Desiree knew Nick was making up something to say just so that he could stay in the room. Though she did, in fact, work at Proffit International, she wasn’t actually one of the movers and shakers of the company. Not yet, anyway. The time would come when she would be a force to reckon with in the family business, but that was several years away. Nothing would really happen until she finished college.
Desiree took her right hand out from between her legs. She ran her fingers through her auburn hair that reflected light so well. Her hair was a wild profusion of silken waves that made men dream of fondling it. The teenager took a step to her left and sat at the edge of her bed. Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest she thought for certain the sound of it could be heard throughout the Proffit mansion. Looking at her oldest brother, she was reminded once again of how handsome he was, with his broad, muscular chest and his narrow hips. Everyone in Key Lazlo considered Nick Proffit to be the most eligible bachelor on any islands of the Florida Keys, and for that matter, in all of Florida. He was one of those men who always looked spectacular in a tuxedo, as though he was born to wear nothing but the finest clothes money could buy.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked softly, taking a step closer to his younger sister. She was more than a decade younger than he. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
What could Desiree say? Her handsome and debonair older brother had just caught her masturbating, and now neither one of them knew what to say to the other. Part of Desiree wanted to curse Nick for being thoughtless enough to stick his head into her bedroom without knocking first, but another part of the girl was thrilled at being in a room with the most handsome and wealthy bachelor in Key Lazlo while she wore only her garter belt, silk stockings, and panties and brassiere.
“It’s nothing, really,” Desiree said in a breathy whisper. “It’s just that I miss not having a boyfriend.”
“He was a creep. He was only after your body, only after your money.” Nick took a step closer to Desiree. In the front of his immaculately tailored trousers was a prominent bulge running down the left leg. “He was just like Rosalynn. She was only after my money.”
The pink tip of Desiree’s tongue made a slow circuit around her mouth to moisten her lips. Her young heart was still pounding madly, and now the tingling in her clit was getting stronger and more demanding, even though she was no longer caressing herself.
“Funny, isn’t it,” Desiree said softly.
“What’s funny?”
“How our looks and our money isolate us from most people in Key Lazlo?”
Nick grinned, turning away for a moment. He knew how lucky he was to have been borne the eldest son of an extraordinarily wealthy family, and he knew how lucky he was to have the face and physique that he possessed. He was proud of himself without being boastful about it.
“It’s true,” Desiree continued. “Our money gives us comfort, but it also isolates us. We never really can be sure whether the people who flatter us mean it, or whether they just want something from us.”
Desiree’s eyes went from her brother’s face down to his bulging crotch. She had heard the rumors, of course, about how magnificently endowed the eldest sibling of the Proffit family was. Everyone in Key Lazlo had heard about Nick’s indefatigable cock, it seemed. Desiree had heard the stories from too many different sources to have any doubts about the whispered rumors. Sometimes she even giggled about it with her girlfriends.
While continuing to look at his bulging crotch, mentally gauging the length and thickness of the hardening cock that was trapped inside his trousers, Desiree wet her lips again with her tongue. It had been a long time since she’d given a blowjob.
“I was…touching myself…when you came in,” the teenager whispered, her words coming slowly, forced out by the need to reveal some secret about herself to her virile, seductive older brother. “That’s not such a bad thing, is it? To touch yourself and give yourself pleasure?”
“No. It’s not such a bad thing at all.”
The timbre of Nick’s voice was deep, husky, and it touched his little sister with the impact of a physical caress.
“Do you ever touch yourself?”
Nick shrugged his broad shoulders.
“You don’t,” Desiree said, answering her own question. “You don’t have to because there’s always someone more than willing to do it for you, some beautiful socialite, debutante, or lady executive who is just dying to take your clothes off. That’s the truth of it, isn’t it?”
Desiree looked into her brother’s eyes and knew that she had come upon the truth. She let her gaze take in the broad expanse of his chest, and she liked very much what she saw. Though it had been a long time since she’d seen him in a swimsuit, she could remember how muscular his shoulders, chest, and legs were. He was no teenage boy still developing. He was a man in his absolute prime physically and intellectually.
“I need relief,” Desiree whispered. The fingers of her right hand eased inside the waistband of her panties. “That’s not such a terrible thing, is it?”
“It’s not such a terrible thing at all,” Nick replied.
He moved forward slowly but confidently, his dark eyes darting from Desiree’s lovely face, down to the swells of her breasts which pressed against the lacy cups of her Victoria’s Secret brassiere, then down farther to her panties. His sister’s fingers were hidden inside the garment, preventing him from seeing the caresses she was bestowing upon her most private and sensitive area.
“Take your panties off,” Nick said. It was the voice of a man accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. He had lived his entire life arranging other people’s lives to suit his own tastes, and most of the time, those other people didn’t mind letting him take the lead. “Don’t hide from me.”
Desiree waited until her brother was standing an arm’s length away, looking down at her as she remained seated on the edge of her bed. Finally, slowly, she hooked her thumbs into her panties and, rocking back and forth, eased the stretchy garment down past her hips, just to the tops of her thighs, at the uppermost area of her silk stockings. Desiree saw her brother’s eyes widen when he realized that she had taken a razor to herself. Her eyes trailed down to his crotch. Now there could be no doubting the rumor that Nick Proffit was hung like the proverbial stallion because the lump his hard cock created was incredibly long and thick, running down the left leg of his trousers.
“I…don’t want to do this…” Desiree began. For a frozen second in time, the brother and sister stared into each other’s eyes. Desiree moistened her lips yet again—it was an incredibly erotic thing to see, though she was unaware of this—and then finished the thought, whispering the single word that signaled the end of any hopes of temperance she might have maintained. She said, “… alone.”
It took a bit of wrestling and tugging, but Nick soon had his own excited cock jutting out through the gaping fly of his trousers. He had, Desiree decided, a beautiful cock. She had never before thought of that part of a man as being beautiful. Sometimes she craved what men possessed, and sometimes she was repulsed by their cocks, but she never had thought of a man’s cock as beautiful…until now. Nick’s was extremely long, but even more impressive than its length was its thickness. The shaft was nearly perfectly round, and all it took was one look at it in a fully aroused state for Desiree to begin mentally calculating the pleasures that would be hers by taking such a mammoth cock into her pussy. The teenager had only known only a couple lovers in her life, so it wasn’t as though she had extensive knowledge regarding the size and shape of a man’s erection…but still, Nick did seem incredible.
“Oh…oh…my,” she whispered, her right hand now sliding back and forth slowly, easing a single finger in and out of her cunt as she stared hungrily at her older brother’s long, throbbing flesh. “You’re beautiful.”
Nick chuckled softly. He had been told such things before, though he never expected to hear such flattering sentiments from his own kid sister. He stepped a little closer, his left foot beside her right one. By continuing to stand, the conical crown of his cock hovered twelve inches from Desiree’s face.
After several seconds of simply watching Desiree caressing her pussy, Nick wrapped his fingers around his shaft and began masturbating slowly. He brought his hand back and forth along the meaty shaft, occasionally twisting his fist around the cock to add a different sensation to the self-indulgence.
Desiree uttered a soft whimper of pleasure as she watched the big hand with the professional manicure sliding back and forth over the long, perfectly shaped erection. The excitement was building by the second, and she was soon no longer content to simply slip the middle finger of her right hand between the lips of her cunt. She needed to pleasure herself in precisely the fashion that gave her the maximum amount of stimulation. Sliding her left hand down, she eased it beneath her right palm, so that in this manner she could manipulate her clitoris with the pads of her left fingertips, while her right hand pumped back and forth, working fingers between the pink, tingling pussylips.
Fresh pleasure exploded like a narcotic in Desiree’s brain. She stared at the masculine flesh that was so very close to her face. She wanted it buried deep in her mouth, deep in her cunt. She even considered what it would be like to feel it thrust up between her buns so that it filled her tight, virgin ass.
That’s my brother, Desiree thought as she stared unblinkingly at the cock that was pointed straight at her face. It’s taboo for me to want to taste it, but that’s what I want to do. It’s taboo for me to take him the Greek way, but I think I’d like to do that, too. With him. Only with him.
The thought of taking her brother’s cock into her ass made a shiver slither up her spine.
Another sigh worked its way out of the girl’s throat. She was pleasuring herself faster, her right hand pumping fingers back and forth between her cuntlips, while her left hand, rubbing higher, worked on her clit in a circular motion.
“Your bra,” Nick whispered. He took a half step closer to his sister. His cockhead was less than six inches from her mouth. Her lips glistened invitingly with a light coating of lipstick. “I want to look at you.”
Desiree forced her gaze to go from Nick’s cockhead up to the handsome face. She could see the strain of excitement in his classic features, and this pleased her. So often he seemed so cool, so thoroughly self-assured in every situation. It pleased her that her beauty and behavior could strip away some of that famous Nick Proffit self-control.
Taking her fingers away from her pussy, Desiree unclasped the hook-and-eye closure between the cups of her brassiere. She peeled the cups away from her breasts slowly, as though she was revealing some infinitely valuable work of art. She watched as her handsome brother’s pupils dilated when her breasts were at last naked and revealed to him.
Nick’s hand moved faster on his cock when he was able to see his sister’s D-cup breasts. The erotic feminine mounds jiggled, the nipples hard and distended, when she resumed caressing her cunt with both hands.
“You’re beautiful,” Nick said, unintentionally using precisely the same words as Desiree had used to describe his cock. “So incredibly beautiful.”
He took another half-step closer to his sister, and now the crest of his cock was less than two inches from her mouth. Nick ached for the pleasures that would be his upon feeling his kid sister’s sweet lips surrounding the shaft of his prick. He wanted to experience the forbidden thrill of getting a blowjob from his own sister, though as yet he was unwilling to put to words exactly what his desires were.
Desiree saw a single drop of pre-cum, glistening in the early morning light like a pearl, forming at the tip of Nick’s cockhead. Her tongue eased out between her lips, as though to catch the droplet of moisture should it fall. Seconds ticked by.
Nick’s hand whipped with greater urgency back and forth over his pulsating shaft.
Desiree, with both hands, caressed her cunt frantically. Her tongue remained one inch away from the tip of Nick’s cockhead.
But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t cross that one-inch chasm.
Desiree fell backward onto her bed, her firm breasts bouncing then spreading toward the sides of her body. Her knees were at the edge of the mattress, her panties lowered to the tops of her thighs. Both hands were between her legs as she worked her pussy into an ever-heightening state of excitement.
Nick remained standing at the foot of the bed, his cock protruding out through the unzipped fly of his trousers, his hand moving back and forth over rock-solid flesh. He had never seen any girl look quite so tempting to all the senses as his own sister did just then. On her back, the lace-trimmed cups of her brassiere laid over her biceps, her big, round tits quivering as she moved her hands between her thighs. The darkness of her undergarments was in contrast to her pale flesh. Black silk stockings encased shapely legs. She was the embodiment of youthful carnality. A groan of desire worked its way out of Nick’s thick chest.
Desiree moistened her lips and whispered, “I’m going to…I mean, what I’m trying to say is...I can’t do this much longer… without...”
It was a soft, almost plaintive tone that she had used, as though the orgasm that she hungered for with wild desperation was also something unfortunate. Its arrival would surely bring reality flooding back into her bedroom, chasing away the taboo fantasy that she was engaging in with her brother.
Nick moved closer to Desiree. He watched the middle finger of her right hand sliding between the pink lips of her pussy. Then, slowly, he got onto the bed, putting his right knee on the mattress, then the left, straddling the auburn-haired beauty’s voluptuous body.
Their eyes met once again, holding each other magnetically. Nick crawled forward on his knees, using his left hand for support as his right hand continued its relentless travel on the awesome column of hard cock that stretched the fly of his trousers and filled his hand to overflowing. He moved upward on the bed until his cock was directly over the pale, twin mounds of Desiree’s breasts. But still his gaze did not leave his sister’s. The tip of his cock was an inch from her velvety flesh, and Nick could feel the burning in his balls that warned him that he, too, could not continue without erupting—and soon.
It was Desiree who broke the visual lock first. Her jade green eyes went down to Nick’s cock. The moment he noticed her looking at his cockhead instead of into his eyes, he moved higher on the bed so that the tip of his crown was now just above her chin. Nick leaned back, his knees near Desiree’s naked shoulders, his thighs pressing against his sister’s breasts. His right hand moved over the awesome, thickly-veined cock that quivered in his fist.
On her back, Desiree felt the muscles in her pelvis suddenly begin clenching in orgasmic spasms. Her eyes opened wide, her lips parting as she unconsciously held her breath. She felt trapped on the bed, captive and vulnerable with her brother towering over her, his thighs surrounding her as he pounded on the huge column of hard meat that was pointed straight at her face.
“Oh! Oh, no!” she gasped as her orgasm began.
The lusty teenager was shivering through her climax, her eyes wide open, when she watched the first long, thick stream of cum shoot from her brother’s cockhead. She closed her eyes just in time as the creamy fluid hit her in the hair, then left a long, gooey line down over her forehead, left eyelid, and cheek. She was still caressing her cuntlips and clit frantically, her entire body shivering beneath Nick’s, as a second river of sperm splattered her lovely face, this time hitting the girl squarely in the forehead and leaving a line directly between her eyes, along the side of her nose, then over her lips. Some of the cum entered between her parted lips, and she tasted her own brother’s salty essence on her tongue. A third and fourth huge eruption of cum followed quickly, hitting Desiree on the side of the face to trickle down into her ear. More of the slick eruption hit her in the left eye to pool in the hollow near her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut as a fifth eruption, much weaker than the previous ones, hit her on the upper lip and dribbled into her mouth.
Nick wanted to feel Desiree’s mouth engulfing his satisfied cock. He wanted to feel her lips and tongue upon him…but he did not cross the narrow chasm that separated his sister from himself. Seconds passed, but Desiree made no move to taste him, and Nick would not force the issue. He finally pushed himself off the mattress, standing at the foot of the bed. Desiree remained on her back, her legs over the edge, and her hands now at her hips so that Nick could see the shaven lips of her cunt which glistened with her pussyjuice. He looked at her face, streaked and splattered with his cum.
There were words to be spoken, but Nick couldn’t think of what they might possibly be. He finally tucked his cock back into his trousers, zipped up, and checked his appearance in the mirror, then after allowing himself one final look at Desiree and her cum-splattered face before he left the bedroom.
Desiree waited until she heard the bedroom door close before she pushed herself to a sitting position. She was careful in opening her eyes because she could feel the liquid heat of her brother’s cum sticking to her eyelashes.
When she looked into the mirror, the vision that greeted her was shocking in its lewdness. Desiree Proffit, a beautiful teenage heiress with money to burn…had allowed taboo passion to take control of her better judgment and caused her to behave like an actress in an adult movie. Her face had lewd rivers of milky cum dribbling down it. Watching herself carefully, trying to decide just exactly what her opinions should be regarding what had just happened, the girl ran her tongue around her lips, licking off the pungent-tasting sperm that was there. The salty taste of cum—and Desiree had never before been a real fan of allowing a lover to release in her mouth—pleased her on an emotional level.
She looked again into the mirror. Never before had she allowed a lover to cum on her face. It seemed a lewd, tawdry thing to do, but it had aroused her enormously.
On weak legs, Desiree headed toward her bathroom. She needed another shower before going to class.
Thursday
Billie Jo Wolfe awoke slowly, stretching her arms over her head, loosening the muscles in her neck and shoulders.
Sitting up in bed, she looked around her tiny bedroom, asking herself once again how she had come to live in a small, crowded cabin up in the hills of the Key Lazlo. Due to circumstances beyond her control, the teenager was forced to live with her uncle and his four loutish sons, and hardly a day went by when at least one of them didn’t try to get into her panties.
Pushing negative thoughts out of her head, Billie Jo kicked her bare feet over the edge of the bed and combed her fingers through the chestnut brown hair that flowed over her shoulders to a level just above her breasts. She crossed the small bedroom and sat down on the wooden stool in front of the battered chest of drawers, upon which was a round mirror. In the mirror, the reflection that looked back at her was pleasing to the eyes, and even though Billie Jo knew that it wasn’t good to be overly confident about one’s looks, she was secretly quite pleased with her appearance.
Her eyes were the color of rich, dark chocolate, and more than just a few co-eds on campus said she had pretty eyes. Her breasts, though not particularly large, were shapely mounds that jiggled and swayed whenever she walked. She seldom wore a brassiere—her uncle said they were too expensive, though Billie Jo always figured he just liked seeing her go braless—but the few she owned were B-cups. The teenager’s waist narrowed nicely, and though her hips weren’t as shapely and rounded as they would be when she reached her mid-twenties or thirties, her curves still drew masculine attention.
But good looks weren’t enough to get Billie Jo the fine silk lingerie that she longed for. Instead of wearing chic nightgowns to bed, Billie Jo wore oversized, inexpensive men’s cotton T-shirts. Uncle Walter, who had taken Billie Jo in when she was just a child after the unfortunate death of her parents, said that T-shirts worked just as well as any fancy nightgown. Besides, he worked hard for his money (a fact which he never tired of telling Billie Jo) and he simply couldn’t afford to throw his money away on frilly foolishness like nightgowns.
For a moment, Billie Jo closed her eyes and let her imagination drift. Just as she had done the previous evening when she was falling asleep, she saw the face of Michael Proffit in her mind’s eye. He was a handsome teenager, and he was from the richest and most powerful family in all Key Lazlo. Slowly, her mind turning toward erotic images, Billie Jo’s right hand touched her stomach. The warmth of her palm seeped through the much-washed strap-sleeved cotton T-shirt and into her blood. Then, after several seconds, Billie Jo’s right hand began pulling the T-shirt up to expose her naked, flat stomach. She sighed when she placed both hands upon her stomach. Then, moved by mental images and carnal desires, her right hand eased lower, the fingertips sliding inside the waistband of her panties, while her left hand traveled upward, beneath the T-shirt until her fingers curled around the firm orb of her left breast.
The teenager sighed as honey lubricated the lips of her cunt. Her passion, it seemed, was always just beneath the surface, needing very little stimulation to blossom to full life.
Billie Jo’s middle finger eased over the delicate lips of her cunt for several seconds. Then, once the fingertip was dewy with her pussyjuice, the finger eased between the cuntlips. As her right hand did this, her left hand was busy with her breasts, pinching and tantalizing both nipples until the brown buds of feminine flesh were erect and tingling madly.
She worked her right hand up and down inside her panties, rubbing her clitoris as her finger slipped back and forth between the passion-swollen cuntlips. In her mind’s eye, the teenager pictured Michael’s face, and though it was her own finger that was providing the pleasure, she was pretending it was his finger that was turning her on and making her juices flow from her rapidly overheating body.
It was the growling voice from just outside her bedroom door—an angry voice she had heard too often and that belonged to her Uncle Walter—that shattered the lustful teenager’s reverie, and made her pull her hands guiltily from inside her panties and beneath her T-shirt.
“You up yet? I’m hungry for breakfast, damn it!” Uncle Walter bellowed. To emphasize his point, he pounded his fist on the door.
Billie Jo stood silently, one arm crossed over her quivering breasts, the opposite hand cupping her pussy, touching herself through her cotton panties. The fist banged on the door again, and Billie Jo knew that if she said nothing at all, he’d open the door. There wasn’t a lock on the door. She thought herself lucky that he had banged on the door with his fist—often; he simply opened the door without saying a word of warning.
“I’ll b-be right there, Uncle Walter,” Billie Jo called out finally, stammering her words slightly. It was disorienting to go from self-applied pleasuring one second to talking to her hated uncle in the next.
“You’d better!” Walter replied.
She heard his heavy footsteps just outside her door, and the teenager closed her eyes for a moment.
It won’t always be like this, Billie Jo thought as she forced herself to think about the present and cast aside the wanton, erotic visions she’d had dancing through her libido. Someday I’ll be far from Uncle Walter and all his lusty, dirty sons, and then everything will be perfect! I’ll find a Prince Charming, that’s what I’ll do! I’ll find my own prince and I’ll live in a castle!
Billie Jo moved quickly after that. First she pulled off the T-shirt and cast it aside, and shimmied out of her panties. She pulled on a white T-shirt next. She stepped into clean white panties and jumped into a pair of paper-thin denim bib overalls that at one time had been blue but were now nearly white from being washed so many times. Lastly, she brushed her luxurious brown hair, parted it down the middle, and then put her hair into two thick, silky braids, which she secured with pieces of red ribbon.
The teenager had just finished tying her braids with ribbons when the door opened wide and Uncle Walter stepped halfway into the bedroom, a fierce look in his eyes.
“I ain’t had my coffee yet,” he hissed angrily, “and I ain’t smellin’ any eggs nor bacon. Now what’s that tell you, girl?”
“It tells me, Uncle Walter, that I’ve got to hop to it!” Billie Jo replied dutifully, knowing what it was her uncle expected of her.
She jumped to her bare feet, unconscious of how the swift movement caused her breasts to wiggle seductively inside the T-shirt. She started for the kitchen of the small, cramped cabin that she shared with her uncle and four male cousins.
When Billie Jo tried to squeeze past him through the bedroom door, Walter moved just enough so that when she turned sideways to ease by, her breasts rubbed against his arm. Bobbi Jo knew the contact between them wasn’t an accident.
“I’ll get the coffee going first,” Billie Jo said quickly, feeling her uncle’s eyes burning into her. “Then I’ll get your breakfast going.” She flashed him a smile over her shoulder, hoping to mollify his mood. “I know how you need coffee to get your heart started in the morning. That’s what you always say, isn’t it?”
Walter crossed the room, his eyes never leaving Billie Jo’s backside. The denim overalls she wore were molded to her bottom like a second skin.
For a moment, Walter looked around the crowded cabin. It wasn’t much of a place. Just four small rooms, a single bathroom that contained a tub but no shower, and an open loft overhead. There was also the added-on area in front, where the cash register was. The service station he ran up in the hills of Key Lazlo didn’t see all that many customers, so money was tight. It had always been tight.
Tight, Walter thought, like a virgin.
He sat down at the rectangular kitchen table. The wood was old and scarred. Walter’s bathrobe opened slightly, but he made no effort to close it. Unable or unwilling to turn his eyes away from Billie Jo’s backside was making his slumbering cock awaken.
The stove was ancient. Billie Jo had to light a match to get the gas burner lit. Then she put the white-speckled blue enamel coffee pot filled with fresh cool water on the stove and began scooping in coffee grounds.
“I’ll make it nice and strong, just the way you like it,” Billie Jo said, her back to her uncle.
“Yeah,” Walter replied quietly, the timbre of his voice changing slightly now that the lust was turning all of his thoughts upside down and making his heart pound in his thick, muscular, hairy chest. “Just the way I like it. You know everything I like, don’t you, Billie Jo?”
Billie Jo cringed. She hated it whenever Uncle Walter used that tone of voice with her. It always meant he was angry with her. Angry…or feeling horny. Either way, she tended to not be happy about his mood. But his lust was worse than his anger.
She started for the refrigerator, intent upon taking out the eggs, but after she had taken a single step, she stopped and looked at Walter. He was sitting there in his sturdy kitchen chair, his powerful legs kicked out in front and spread wide, his robe open. And there, standing up through the fly of his boxer shorts, was that part of Uncle Walter that dominated all of his thoughts—his cock. It was long and hard, dusky in color, not yet fully formed into a complete erection, though already impressive in stature.
“Yes, I know what you like,” Billie Jo said after a moment. She was going to say more, to speak the insults that played with her tongue, but words failed her. She knew it was best that she say nothing insulting. Her uncle never forgot her insults, and he always made her pay.
“It ain’t just coffee that gets my heart started.”
Billie Jo didn’t look at her uncle’s face. She hated looking at his face, and especially hated looking into his eyes. But his cock was another matter. With that one part of him, she could fantasize that he was someone else. Her creepy uncle just happened to be the person attached to that magnificent, fleshy sword that could fill her sheath so completely…and when she was able to close her eyes and let her mind wander, then her taboo times with Uncle Walter weren’t quite as horrific as they might otherwise be.
Billie Jo turned her eyes away from Walter. She quickly looked around the crowded cabin. Walter had a room to himself. The four boys—three of them now full grown men—shared two of the bedrooms. That left Billie Jo the smallest of the rooms.
With Walter’s cock sticking out of his boxers and growing longer by the second, Billie Jo was relieved to see that the bedroom doors were all closed.
“Come on, girl,” Walter urged, his voice a husky whisper tinged with potential violence. “You know what’s expected of you.” He chuckled softly, malevolently. His voice sounded nasty, even when he didn’t mean it to. “And show me what you’re hidin’. Be quick about it! I’m an impatient man.”
Billie Jo did as she was told, but she wasn’t quick and the expression on her face said she wasn’t happy. She slowly unfastened the two brass clasps attached to the shoulder straps that held up the front panel of the bib overalls. With a shrug of her shoulders she let the front panel fall forward. She tugged the short-sleeved T-shirt up enough to expose the mounds of her breasts to Walter’s hungry gaze. Her areolas were light brown in color, their circumference neither overly large nor very small. Her nipples were already hard and erect. The tan buds of flesh had not softened from the time that she had caressed herself in her bedroom.
If I hadn’t turned myself on earlier, I wouldn’t be such a push-over now, Billie Jo thought as she unfastened the brass snaps at the hips of her overalls. Sometimes I wish my body wasn’t so capable of feeling pleasure.
This wish to not feel pleasure did not last long for the teenager. A moment later, in the small kitchen area in front of Walter, Billie Jo sank to her knees and, as she used her left hand to guide his cock to her open mouth, she thrust her right hand inside her now-loosened overalls and resumed caressing her pussy the way she wished a mysterious knight in shining armor would. Billie Jo hesitated a moment, the fingers of her left hand curled around Uncle Walter’s thick, throbbing shaft, her right hand pushing inside her panties and overalls. She inhaled deeply, and then sighed. She smelled the musky aroma of manly flesh.
At least he’s got good hygiene and takes baths, Billie Jo thought as she closed her eyes and brought her moist lips to her uncle’s prick. She kissed the crown several times, and as she did, she stroked the shaft. She could feel the shaft throb hotly, stretching and growing. Finally, after several seconds, she let the pink tip of her tongue slide gingerly out from between her lips. She tasted Walter’s cockhead, and when she did, her soft sigh of pleasure was drowned out by his much louder one.
“Deeper, girl,” Walter hissed, the two words having to be forced out through vocal cords constricted with the lust that held him in its grip like a steel vice. “You know how to suck my cock, don’t you? Don’t you?”
The teenager didn’t have to be told another time. Not following her uncle’s orders had consequences to be avoided. She pushed her moist lips over the conical cockhead. Uncle Walter’s plump knob wedged her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. For several seconds Billie Jo simply held the cockhead in her mouth, tantalizing the underside of it with her frisking tongue. Then, slowly at first but with increasing speed, she began bobbing up and down, initially taking just the crest into her oral embrace, but soon chewing down the meaty shaft so that she took more and more of the lust-hardened cock into the wet confines of her mouth.
Walter groaned softly as he watched the cute girl’s lovely face nodding slowly up and down over his cock
“This wakes a man up better than coffee in the mornin’,” he whispered, his voice husky with the escalating lust going through his system. “It damn sure does.”
Billie Jo did not look up into the old man’s face. Her eyes were closed as she feasted on the bounty that filled her mouth. She was imagining that it was Michael Proffit that she was giving a blowjob. Michael Proffit was the youngest of the wealthy and handsome Proffit men, and in her imagination he was whispering endearments to her as she nibbling erotically on his delicious cock. Between her wide-spread thighs, Billie Jo’s right hand was moving smoothly, heightening her satisfaction, providing just the right amount of friction against the lips of her cunt and her clit to give her the maximum pleasure. Her breasts jiggled tautly, the nipples hard buds of lusty flesh that literally ached to be shown some attention.
Billie Jo heard the sound of water boiling, and she knew she should turn the flame off from beneath the stove, but she ignored the sound. She was torn between wanting to satisfy her uncle’s lust as quickly as possible (only so that he would leave then her alone), and wanting to prolong the fantasy she was creating by imagining that she was actually with her would-be boyfriend (if Michael Proffit would ever give her the chance to be his girlfriend!).
“Get me some coffee, girl,” Walter said, leaning back just a little more in his chair, his powerful legs surrounding the kneeling teenager.
Billie Jo tilted her head back on her shoulders to look up at Walter. He was cruel and overbearing, dominating and selfish, and these were things she sometimes forgot when she was letting her imagination run wild. Seeing his face destroyed the delicate fantasy that she had created in her mind. She wasn’t with Michael, and never had been.
Billie Jo rose to her feet, holding the loose overalls at the hip to prevent them from falling down past her hips. She poured the strong, scalding hot coffee into a white cup that had been stained from having been used so often over the years. She set the steaming cup down on the table by Walter and was about to kneel once again, but he made a motion with his hand.
“Sit on it, girl,” he growled. Walter picked up his coffee and carefully took a sip. He smiled and sighed. “You know how to make a good cup. Now drop those overalls, girl, and hop on board. I want to feel that tight, young pussy.”
Billie Jo looked at Walter, hating him with every fiber in her body and soul. She let her overalls fall down around her ankles. A moment later she pushed her panties down to her ankles, too. Then, slowly, she turned her back to Walter and took mincing steps backward, her overalls and panties around her ankles, her cuntlips slick and slightly puffy from self-administered pleasuring.
“Easy, girl,” Walter said, his throbbing cock literally quivering with lustful tension.
Billie Jo was standing between Walter’s thighs, her feet very close together as she bent her knees. A moment later she felt Walter’s round, spongy crown pressing against her pink lips. With her eyes closed, Billie Jo imagined a vision of what she looked like, with her overalls and panties around her ankles, her T-shirt pushed up over the trembling mounds of her breasts. But in her mind’s eye, rather than having her back toward her cruel uncle, she had her back to Michael Proffit, and it was his young but experienced hands that were upon her hips, pulling her down. These images made Billie Jo’s libido burn even hotter. She bent her knees more, and then felt the pink lips of her cunt spread apart. The hard cock forced its way upward into her slick channel. Allowing the strong hands to pull her down, Billie Jo rolled her head back on her shoulders as she felt rigid cock being driven up into her.
“You love it, girl,” Walter groaned, his excitement already beginning to overheat. “You love my cock in you.”
Billie Jo mentally blocked her uncle’s voice from her consciousness. She was with Michael, and he was whispering love words to her as his cock slipped deeper and deeper into her pussy, spreading the delicate cuntlips, filling her completely.
Billie Jo was soon bouncing on Walter’s lap, withdrawing him from her cunt’s silken embrace until only the tip of his cockhead was still inside her before dropping down so that her pink lips were encircling the base. Holding every inch of her uncle’s erection inside her pussy, Billie Jo jerked her hips back and forth several times, and then straightened her knees, allowing the pulsating shaft to rub against her seething clit.
Billie Jo placed her hands on her knees and pumped her hips up and down faster, impaling cunt on her uncle’s solid cock. Occasionally, when her thighs were against his and she held all of cock in her pussy, she shook her hips back and forth or from side to side, causing the sweetest sensations to slither through her veins like some tantalizing but forbidden and all-too-addictive narcotic. In her mind, it was Michael she was pleasuring so ardently.
She felt the relentless tightening within herself, in the pit of her stomach. Each time she dropped upon Walter and his long, thick erection powered up into her cunt, Billie Jo’s clitoris burned just a little hotter, and her lustful feelings were pushed that much closer to the brink of ecstasy’s abyss. Her movements became faster, more frantic. When she landed upon her uncle’s lap, her succulent breasts bounced firmly, the areolas a slightly darker hue now that passion flowed so liberally through her veins. Her nipples were standing up, blunt and hard and tingling madly.
“Wait,” Walter croaked. “Wait just a second.”
Billie Jo dropped down until she had engulfed every inch of Walter’s erection inside the tight sheath of her cunt, and her thighs were resting upon his. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and for a moment she simply shook her head as though to shake off an evil thought or a bad dream. Finally, after several weighty seconds, she asked, “What? What’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing,” Walter stammered. The strain of holding his orgasm back while pretending to be unaffected by the things that were being done to him were showing in his expression despite his best efforts to the contrary. “Nothin’ wrong at all. I just…just...”
Billie Jo smiled. It was perhaps a strange reaction coming from a teenager who, at the precise moment of that smile, could feel every solid inch of her uncle’s erection as it pulsed with virility deep within feminine temple. But Billie Jo was pleased to know that her charms were so powerful that not even her cruel uncle, who could so often be demeaning and demanding, was immune to them.
“You’re going to shoot, aren’t you?” Billie Jo asked. And then, tauntingly, she added, “You’re going to shoot so soon, aren’t you?”
“Bitch!” Uncle Walter bellowed.
With his hands on the girl’s naked asscheeks, he threw her off himself, disengaging his cock from her sweetly massaging pussy. Billie Jo landed heavily on her knees, her overalls around her ankles, her T-shirt up above her breasts to expose their rounded loveliness. It was all quite too much for Walter to take. He leaped out of his chair, grabbing his overheated cock and jerking frantically on it as he aimed the red-hued crown at Billie Jo’s face.
Billie Jo was not simply more intelligent than her uncle, her reflexes were also faster. When she, while still on her knees, watched her uncle approach, she pulled her T-shirt high up above her breasts and protectively over her face.
“Bitch!” Uncle Walter groaned as the thick streams of cum exploded from his overheated jewels.
He had wanted to come on Billie Jo’s face, but instead, his sperm merely landed on the white T-shirt. As the last of his cum dribbled out of his cockhead, Walter had the vague, scornful notion that Billie Jo had played him for a fool, and that he had been outwitted by her in every facet of the game.
Standing on wobbly legs, Walter watched as the girl pulled the T-shirt away from her face. She was smiling—a triumphant smile, Walter noted with self-lacerating awareness—as he looked up at him. He would have beaten Billie Jo at that moment had he not heard the sound of automobile tires crunching on the gravel just outside the cabin. The twin gasoline pumps were the source of much of the family’s income, and Walter was always aware of this.
“I’ll deal with you later, you little hoyden!” Uncle Walter hissed, falling heavily back into his kitchen chair. “We got a customer now, so you just get your little backside out there quick and see to it!”
An overpowering sense of triumph pervaded every pore of Billie Jo’s youthful body. She had defeated her cruel uncle in every manner and measure that meant anything to her. She was now given her chance to escape, and she was smart enough to take it. For a second she looked down at her T-shirt, stained with the evidence of the cum that her uncle had hoped to deposit upon her face. She made her decision quickly. She pulled the T-shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, then pulled up the front panel of her bib overalls and quickly fastened the brass buckles at her chest. From in front her breasts were well concealed…but from the sides, they were mostly revealed.
“I’ll go help the customer, Uncle Walter,” Billie Jo said, making no effort keep the self-satisfied smile from her lips. “You just drink your coffee and relax.”
The only thing that bothered Billie Jo as she left the house and stepped outside was that she had not yet experienced the orgasm that would free her of her erotic turmoil, and once again bring back the rational thoughtfulness that she possessed when she wasn’t sexually frustrated.
Thursday
“We know that bastard’s up to something,” Tony Proffit said. His eyes were dark and fierce. Hovering around him was a strange, almost animalistic vitality that was either frightening or fascinating, depending upon one’s point of view. “We just have to figure out what it is.”
Nick looked at his younger brother, and then looked over at Desiree. In the hierarchy of Proffit International, Nick was the Chief Executive Officer; Tony held the number two position of Senior Vice President. When Desiree finished her education, she would immediately slide into the company hierarchy at the then-to-be-created position of Executive Vice President.
Nick didn’t always trust Tony’s judgment, though he always listened to his younger brother’s opinion on business matters. Tony tended to be an impulsive hothead, but his instincts for preservation were unimpeachable, and his cunning for knowing just exactly when to move in for the kill with a business enemy was without peer.
“Mayor Gregg Huff has been a thorn in our side for years,” Nick said quietly, addressing the entire room. He never liked to raise his voice to be heard, having learned from his father that a person forces his listeners to pay careful attention if he speaks quietly. “He hasn’t given Proffit International any trouble in four or five months so, yes, I do believe he’s up to something. Knowing we can’t trust Mayor Huff is the easy part; knowing what scheme he’s cooking up is the hard part of the equation.”
Nick looked around the room. Aside from his brother and sister, there was also Tia Kim, his personal secretary, in attendance. She was taking confidential notes which she would shred upon the conclusion of the closed-door meeting. He had always liked Tia. A divorcee in her early thirties, she was attractive, intelligent, incredibly dedicated to both Proffit International and to Nick personally. Nick trusted Tia Kim as much as he could trust anyone outside the family.
“We’ve got to get someone inside the mayor’s office,” Tony continued heatedly. “We need a mole. Isn’t that what they call an insider in the spy business? It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to effectively defend ourselves from him.”
“You’re probably right,” Nick said wearily. “I’ve got some propositions I’m going to be kicking over with the mayor and a few other heavy hitters in town. It’s a venture capital deal. We’ll all make money. Maybe if the mayor can make money legitimately, with us as his partner, he won’t be such a pain in the butt to Proffit International.”
Even by the local standards of political fidelity, the mayor of Key Lazlo, Gregg Huff, was an easily corruptible politician. And since the Proffits were the wealthiest family on the island, and in all of the Florida Keys, he was continually trying to extort money from them, though he never came right out and admitted to extortion. His intrinsic dishonesty and corruptibility were the reasons the Proffits didn’t trust the highest elected official of their sleepy Florida Keys community.
“But who are we going to get to infiltrate the mayor’s office?” Desiree asked. “He doesn’t trust anyone. He’s got Tami MacGregor working as his secretary and she handles all his social engagements for him, but that’s not going to do us any good. Besides, she only works part-time.”
“Figure he tells her his secrets?” Nick asked. He knew that Tami and Desiree, both bright co-eds at campus, were friends. It was difficult for Nick to look at his sister and not remember how, hours earlier, he had watched his cum spatter the exquisitely beautiful features of face. He never dreamed he’d give her a baptism in cum. “Maybe a little pillow talk? She’s very attractive.”