She Has a Sex Secret: Taboo Erotica - Noemi Bascom - ebook
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Excerpt: "I've always dreamed about that," Jessica continued. Then she giggled. "Erotic dreams. Not just one guy, either. Three or four of them, taking turns, while the others hold me down. Ummm. Yummy. Just the thought of getting gang raped makes my pussy cream! The trouble is, I've always been too goddamn willing. Nobody ever had to rape me, because the minute a guy touches me my legs open automatically. It's a damn shame."

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She Has a Sex Secret

Noemi Bascom

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

His wife winced distastefully, but she was standing at the sink, looking out the window and Harvey wasn't aware of her expression. Not that he would have cared very much. Delicacy was not one of his strong points. He was a large, beefy man with thick shoulders and a barrel chest; big, gnarled hands hung from hairy forearms, he had a square head on a thick neck, tight, curly hair and heavy, blunt features. He wasn't bad looking, in a loutish way, but he was not nearly as handsome as he imagined himself to be. He had had a degree of success with women. He was fond of boasting of his conquests, along with bragging about his enormous capacity for beer and his ability as an arm wrestler. He wasn't too bright, and was frustrated by indecision as to whether he was a man's man or a lady's man, and searched for a term which would encompass both qualities. He was a plumber by trade, and quite successful. He was recently married. He lived, with his wife, in a suburb of Albany, New York. It was called Oak Hill, and it had just begun to be developed. Harvey had bought a house there, believing that the property value would soon increase. He considered himself an astute investor.

Anne Harvey was pretending to be washing the dishes, but she was really looking out the window and waiting for her husband to leave. She tried to avoid his gaze as much as possible. She felt vaguely guilty about this, but she couldn't help it. It had been a mistake to marry him, but it was too late now and she was trying to be a good and dutiful wife. It wasn't easy. If only, she thought, he wasn't so frightfully coarse. Dear God, he was coarse! Sometimes her flesh actually crawled, thinking about his habits and, most of all, his lovemaking. That was the worst part, the sex. Harvey was a man of enormous appetites, constantly demanding sex, but his frequency of need was not matched by the duration of each period of lust. Sex, to him, was a quick, hard urge, a thing to be taken as rapidly as possible. He fucked, as the saying goes, like a rabbit, frantically driving himself to orgasm and then flopping over in a post-coital stupor.

He'd never brought Anne to a climax.

He'd never aroused her more than the first faint stirrings before he was finished, leaving her suffering the void of unfulfillment.

Anne was passionate by nature, but she found it impossible to be satisfied by a frenzied moment. She was too shy to tell her husband about that and, anyway, felt it would do no good. She suffered in silence and Harvey supposed he was satisfying her completely.

He rubbed his belly and grinned, squinting at his wife's slender form. She had a willowy body with long, graceful legs and high, firm breasts. Her ass was pert, her belly gently rounded. Most of Harvey's premarital experience had been with heavy-breasted floozies, and he was fascinated by his wife's slim figure. He was amazed that there was actually room to fit his gigantic prick inside her slender loins.

He looked at his wristwatch.

"Hey, I'm early," he said.

Anne bit her lip.

"I got ten minutes to kill," he said. "More coffee?" she asked hopefully. "Naw. Guess again."

She shrugged, not turning around. From the window she saw her neighbor, Jessica Landers, come out on the porch to fetch the morning newspaper. She noticed the way Jessica's ample curves filled her silk robe. Jessica, she thought idly, would probably make Mike a better wife than I do. Just looking at Jessica, one could tell that she was a passionate woman.

"Hey, guess again, I said."

Anne sighed and turned around. She had long dark hair and fine features, high cheekbones and wide eyes.

Harvey grinned and gestured.

Anne looked uncertain.

"C'mon, baby. You know what I want."

"Oh, Mike. There isn't time."

"Time, hell!" he snorted. "Don't take but a minute to give me some pussy."

"God, you're romantic," she said. Mike chuckled.

"Guy don't have to be romantic if he's got a cock as big as mine, hey."

"It might help," she told him. But he only laughed again.

He opened his trousers and let them drop; he pushed his shorts down and stepped out of them. His organ was semi-erect and growing all the while, jerking upwards in a series of jolts.

Anne regarded his prick with mingled emotions. Her eyes seemed to be drawn and held to the meaty root and she was fascinated and repelled at the same time. Mike did indeed have an enormous cock. It wasn't quite as huge as he claimed, but it was certainly larger than the ordinary prick. The member described an arc, until it was standing upright before his belly, sprouting from the hairy platform of his loins in a broad, flat wedge. The thick shaft was seamed with dark veins and the tip was a bloated, purple triangle.

Mike wrapped his hand around it and pumped.

The knob flared.

"You like that, hey, baby?"

Anne didn't answer.

"Come and get it," he said.

"We'd better ... go in the bedroom."

"Aw, don't be so stuffy. C'mon. We ain't never had a fuck in the kitchen." He grinned, lewdly and hugely. "That's what them marriage manuals recommend," he said. "What they call spontaneous sex. Supposed to keep some excitement in a marriage. So get excited."

"Aren't you even going to take your shoes off."

"Naw. That ain't spontaneous." Anne sighed.

Well, she thought, I guess the best thing is to get it over with. At least it never takes him long. Or is that the whole trouble?

She advanced across the room.

Anne stood there, beside the kitchen table, her hands at her sides. Mike didn't even notice that she was completely passive. A self-centered sort, he seldom took note of the reactions of others; he demanded little more from his wife than that she spread her legs and let him beat out his desire.

He pulled her dressing gown from her shoulders, standing close so that his cock was nuzzling against her belly. The gown fluttered to the floor at her feet. Grinning with anticipation, he lifted her nightie. Holding the flimsy garment up, he gazed at her body. Then he clamped one big hand over her firm, up-thrust tit. His blunt fingers dug into the mound and his calloused palm rubbed over the nipple. Anne winced at the first rough contact. But then her nipple began to stiffen. She closed her eyes and arched her back. She was thinking how nice it would be if he spent a little time arousing her, preparing her. Her breasts were very sensitive. Even his rough, inexpert caress caused them to tingle deliciously.

"That's nice," she whispered.

"Like that, huh? You're a hot one, all right."

He started to slide his hand down. Anne knew what that meant. His lovemaking was always the same. First he felt her tit for a few seconds, then he stuck his middle finger up her vagina, too fast and too quickly, and then he supposed she was ready and shoved his dick into her and used his ass like a battering ram and, with a dozen lightning strokes, blew his wad. That was it. Damn it!

Struggling with shyness, she said, "Don't go so fast, Mike. Please."

"Huh?"

"You know. Play with me a little."

He pursed his lips. He was surprised. Shrugging, he moved his hand back to her breasts and Anne began wriggling about, shifting her willowy torso and rubbing her tits against his hand.

"I didn't know you liked that preliminary stuff," he said, tilting his head. Anne didn't reply. Instead she pulled her nightie over her head and let it drop to the floor. Maybe it's been my fault, she was thinking. Maybe it will be better if I try harder-if I let Mike know what I want, what I need. Maybe I've acted too cold and shy. Maybe Mike thinks I don't enjoy it, and deliberately tries to get it over with as fast as possible.

Panting now, she curled her hand behind his neck and drew his face to her breasts. Mike's eyes gleamed. He clamped his lips around her stiff nipple and sucked hard.

"Easy, honey. Go easy," she whispered.

But Mike wasn't capable of that. He thought that being gentle and slow implied lack of manliness. He continued to suck hard at her burning nugget. His wire-haired head bobbed up and down as he switched from nipple to nipple, greedily nursing. His lips made loud, wet sounds. His rough hands slid down her back and cupped her taut ass, drawing her belly toward him so that the iron bar of his cock pressed into her rounded tummy. His hips began humping.

Any moment, she knew, he was going to get carried away and shove that bloated crowbar up her twat. It would be too soon. Desperately seeking to prolong the preliminaries, Anne reached down and folded her hand around his cock. It surprised her to realize that this was the first time she'd ever held his organ in her hand. It wasn't that she'd been reluctant to caress him-far from it. Fascinated by his cock, she would have loved to play with it. But he never waited that long. This time she was determined to experiment with lovemaking.

"Hey!" he croaked, his voice muffled against her breasts. "Take it easy. You don't want to jerk me off, or there won't be nothing left for your cunt."

"Doesn't it feel good, Mike?"

"Well ... yeah, sure."

"Can't I play with you for a while?"

"Hey, what's got into you today?"

Her hand slid along his stout rod. She loved the way the shaft expanded and bulged, until it was almost too wide to be spanned. Her fingers moved to the knob, tingling with the thrill of caressing him. His swollen tip felt like a steel wedge sheathed in velvet. The cleft gaped open and a trickle of slippery fluid oozed out. She ran her fingertip over the snout, thrilling at the feel of his cum.

Mike began bucking his hips, driving his dick through her fist.

"Slow, Mike. Make it last."

"Christ, Anne. How can I? You know how I am when I'm hot."

"Should I jerk you off?" she asked, surprised at her courage in voicing such words and fascinated at the thought of having his hot cream spill onto her naked belly.

"You nuts? That stuff belongs up your pussy, honey. Why do you want to waste it?"

Anne shifted. When he drew his head back, she pulled him to her breasts again. Her crotch was on fire. She had never been this excited before. Shyness and delicacy no longer had any control over her. She held his bulging cockhead against her belly and moved her hand slowly up and down his broad shaft. Her other hand slid down and cupped his swollen balls. Christ, she thought. This is wonderful. There are so many wonderful things we could do!

Mike slipped his hand between her legs.

Her burning cunt opened instantly. Her slim thighs were slick with love juice.

He started to shove his finger up her.

"Just rub it first, Mike," she murmured.

It confused him. He didn't know that a woman enjoyed being rubbed on the outside. In keeping with his own frenzied lust, he supposed they liked to be fingerfucked vigorously. He began moving his hand over her vulva and felt her clit harden against his palm. He thought, vaguely, that it wasn't right to play with each other this way. It was like two adolescents masturbating each other, sordid and faintly perverted. The proper thing for a man and wife to do was fuck. Variations were for degenerates and sluts. But when he bent his knees, trying to "wedge his prick into her crotch, her hand tightened, gripping him firmly and preventing him from entering her.

"Let's fuck!" he croaked.

"Not yet, Mike. Please. Not yet."

"Damn it! What you trying to do?"

"Why don't we do it this way ... for a change?"

He stared at her.

"You know, Mike ... something different?"

"You must be nuts!" he snapped.

Mike was disturbed. A wife wasn't supposed to act this way. Tramps and trollops might have depraved tastes, but wives shouldn't.

He groaned.

It did feel good.

Her hand felt good on his dick and-her burning twat felt good in his hand. He'd never realized that her cunt was so hot and juicy. He'd never known that she was so passionate, either. She was panting and whimpering and her whole body was squirming about. Maybe she's just starting to be really passionate, he thought. She was a "virgin when they married. At least, he thought so. But virgin brides didn't get this hot this soon, did they?

She twisted down so that she could watch his cock while she rubbed it.

Her tongue slid across her lower lip.

"I love your cock, Mike," she whispered.

He snorted.

"I like to play with it, honey. Don't you like me to? Doesn't it feel good?" He grunted.

"Wouldn't you like to put it in my mouth?" she asked, and then she bit her lip, appalled at what she'd said. She hadn't meant to say that. She hadn't even realized she was thinking about such a thing. But the words had just suddenly slipped out of her, as easily and as fluidly as the cunt juice was slipping from her crotch.

Mike's body stiffened and his cock ballooned.

He stared at her.

Anne blushed.

"What in hell's wrong with you?" he asked. "Are you turning into a whore?"

"Why, no. I mean ... you are my husband. It isn't wrong to do things like that."

"Jesus Christ! You don't think a guy would marry a cocksucker, do you?"

"I'm sorry," she said.

Her passion ebbed. She felt the lust drain from her loins and his cock became nothing more than a lump of meat in her hand.

He squinted at her.

"Listen, where'd you get such an idea? You ain't never sucked a cock, have you?"

"No, Mike," she sighed. "I never have."

"Well, Christ. What a thing to say! I mean, it's all right for tramps to do that, but Christ, Anne. You must have been reading some dirty books or something."

"No. It was ... just an idea. I'm sorry. I didn't really mean it."

"I should think not!"

Anne turned her face to the side. Her blush slowly faded away but she stared at the wall. Mike was still jamming his finger up her cunt, grunting on every stroke, as if it were a job of work he had to finish.

"You ready for it?" he croaked.

Not looking at him, Anne said, "Yes, Mike," and she thought, Yes, get it over with, you son of a bitch!

Mike pawed at her, positioning her before him.

Anne was passive and pliable. He pushed her back against the edge of the kitchen table and, seeing how he wanted her placed, she complied. She rested her taut ass on the table and leaned back on her hands. Her legs, trailing to the floor, parted.

Mike stepped between her thighs and wrapped one hand around his hard cock. He lowered his knees slightly, bringing his meaty weapon to bear on her juicy target. He was grinning idiotically at the prospect before him, happy as a pig now that he was on familiar ground once again, with all that perverted nonsense finished. Funny how women, even wives, got such peculiar ideas, he thought. For a moment it had scared him, almost, but now he realized that it had all been a mistake, that his dutiful wife would never actually suck a cock. Unless he commanded her to, maybe. Then, being dutiful, she might but she surely would be disgusted by it all. Not that Mike would ever ask such a thing of his wife.

No, proper, straight-forward fucking was the only thing to do.

He leveled his muzzle at her hairy bull's-eye, pushing the rigid shaft down until it was at right angles to his torso. It hurt slightly. His prick strained to remain upright. But Harvey knew a man had to make sacrifices for his wife's happiness, and he valiantly forced the hard rod down as he shuffled in between her knees.

Anne closed her eyes.

Mike knew that must signify that she was in ecstasy.

He placed the rubbery tip of his cock against her hairy slot.

He noticed that her crotch was no longer as juicy as it had been while he was rubbing it, and that the pink lips had closed up slightly, but Mike never troubled himself about such things.

He pushed his hips forwards.

The triangular knob slipped into her cunt.

As her warm sheath closed like damp velvet over his purple cockhead, Mike began panting with urgency. He rammed his ass forwards like a jackhammer, driving the full length of his weapon into her. He jammed in to the hilt with the first mighty lunge. His sperm-laden balls crammed against he tilted ass and his hairy belly slapped against her mound of Venus.

Anne clutched at his hips.

She wanted him to stay there for a moment, enjoying the fullest penetration, while her pussy accustomed itself, adjusting to his breadth, appreciating the wonderful thrill of being stuffed full.

But such a mild beginning was alien to Mike.

When her hands grasped his hips, he supposed it signified her absolute readiness and, in a panic, afraid she would have an orgasm before he did-which would somehow make him feel less manly. Mike began wildly pumping his hips back and forth. His fat dick ran in and out of her tight hole with lightning strokes.

Anne tried to steady him. For a moment her fingers dug into his hipbones. But she had no hope of slowing his frantic thrusts and, after a moment, she sighed. Her hands dropped away and hung, lifeless, beside the table. Her lips parted as she sought words; she tried to ask him to please go slower. But she found the message impossible. Still affected by her unfortunate admission that she would like to take his prick in her mouth, she found it impossible to tell him what she wanted.'

She sighed with frustration.

Mike misinterpreted that sigh.

When her hands fell away and her body went slack and she sighed, he assumed that she had already reached a climax. This mistaken belief drove him to a frenzy. He wondered what was wrong with him. Should his wife reach an orgasm before he did? Was he losing his potency? Good Lord! his tormented mind cried. I'm only thirty-seven years old! I can't be getting impotent. Oh Lord, what would the guys at the club say, if they ever found out my wife got her rocks off before I did?! !

With great determination, Mike Harvey set his square jaw and rammed his prick home with all the speed and violence that he could. His hairy ass fairly flew, becoming a pink blur. His thick thighs knotted as he used them for leverage. The force of his thrusts pushed Anne back on the table. Her ass slid past the edge and she was vaguely aware of sliding over a piece of buttered toast. She scrabbled for balance, leaning back and clutching the edge of the table. Mike's breakfast plate bumped her hip and slid off the table. It bounced when it hit the floor. It was plastic.

Mike howled with frustration as he felt her crotch being pushed out of range.

His balls, swinging in hard, banged painfully against the edge of the table.

He grabbed her thighs and hauled her back, ramming his hips forward at the same time, so that he was pulling her cunt onto his cock like a glove.

Unbalanced, Anne fell backwards.

Mike, supposing she had collapsed with the thrill of a second orgasm, groaned with frustration and proceeded to lace his dick into her frantically. His ass swirled in like a corkscrew. His blunt fingers dug painfully into her slender thighs. She whimpered with the pain, and he thought she was whimpering because she had come so much. Gritting his teeth, he stuffed his dork into her with mighty lurches. He was banging so hard that her cunt lips were crammed inwards, along with his prick; her love bud was stuffed up the hot sheath, like a seam inside the finger of a glove. She felt little sensation. It was simply too fast, too hard, and she didn't have time to work herself into the sensation. His dick ran over a film of lubrication so fluidly that she scarcely felt his mad plunging advances.

But, because he was worried about his delayed orgasm, Mike didn't come as.fast as he normally did.

Slowly and gradually, Anne began to experience a growing thrill. Her loins began to warm again, then to heat. Her clit, tucked into her twat, was being rubbed by every stroke, jammed tight between cock and cunt wall, where it tingled with friction and began to glow and stiffen. Her hands clenched. She tossed her head from side to side, unmindful of the buttered toast which was sticking to her hair.

She began to fuck with him.

Her smooth belly pumped and her lean hips jolted, meeting his wild thrusts. She moaned.

Mike was wild-eyed and drooling. Again, and this time correctly, he saw that his wife was approaching a climax. Terrible fears deluged his mind. What would she think of him, if she came still another time, while he was still working towards his initial ejaculation? Surely she would think him an inadequate lover! A failure!

He summoned all his strength.

He slammed his cock home with all his physical power and all his will power and, as the flaring knob banged against the neck of Anne's womb, he came.

"Arghhh!" he cried, so there would be no mistake, so that Anne would know for certain that he'd come.

His hot spunk rushed from his balls, hurtling up his shaft and spilling out like bubbling lava into the innermost recesses of her hole.

Anne felt the boiling geyser fill her cunt.

Her loins heaved as she desperately tried to match her climax to his.

He howled again, as a second great wad of cream spurted from his thundering cock.

Then, instantly, his cock began to diminish.

Mike's penis was a functional tool. The moment its task was completed, it shrank to an inert, latent force. He stood on wobbly knees, waiting as his organ receded. Anne continued to writhe and wriggle, but it was useless. Already his member had grown soft and useless for her purposes. When he shifted back the soft knob popped from her like a cork and flopped down between his thighs.

She stopped moving.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip.

Mike looked at his watch.

"Christ!" he said. 'I'll be late. I got to hurry."

Anne remained seated on the table.

She had a piece of toast in her hair, a smear of butter on her flank. Mike's semen was running sluggishly from her pink slit, seeping down into the crack of her ass and trickling in creamy ribbons down her thighs. It was just semen. She had failed to reach an orgasm, and there was no female juice to mingle with his spunk.

He rushed to the sink, splashed cold water on his dick, and dried it on a paper towel. Then he hurriedly pulled his trousers on. Anne remained on the table. "Got to go," he called. He rushed towards the door, then paused. He glanced back.

"Er. ... sorry I took so long, honey," he said. He grinned sheepishly.

"Don't know what was wrong with me today. But don't you worry. I'll be okay the next time." Then he left. Anne stared at the door. Then she shook her head.

The shard of toast broke free and dropped, turning over, to the floor.

Anne began to sob, silently, with unbearable frustration.