TABOO TALES(erotica)

“Of course not” I replied,” but the fact is, I’ve been wearing the same 3 outfits in rotation for the last 4 weeks, and I need some clothes, these weren’t new to begin with, and they’re starting to look threadbare. Plus, I want to spend money on my girl, I want to treat her to all the clothes, shoes, jewellery she wants, why is that so wrong?”

Lori walked over to me, her eyes a mystery.

“Say that again, Doctor Man.”

“What, my girl? But you are my girl, and you always will be. I want to spoil you a little before we’re married, because I know after we’re married you’ll want to watch every penny. You won’t need to though; I told you, my trust fund is bulging at the seams, we have enough money to be as extravagant as you like, once in a while, or as often as you like!”

She looked curiously at me.

“So just how much money is there in this fabled ‘Trust-Fund’, Rockefeller, really?”

“I told you, Darling Girl, last month, according to the statement from the fund managers, the fund currently totalled something approaching twenty-eight million pounds sterling — about forty-five million dollars or so. I understand from the managers and trustees that my father loaded all the capital and investments he made and inherited into the trust to stop his relatives getting their grubby mitts on it. The money’s there, we can spend it, or save it for our children, it’s your choice.”

Lori’s eyes were like saucers. “What do you do with all that money?”

“Me? Nothing; I didn’t earn it, so I don’t think of it as mine, more a sort of family legacy, to keep safe and pass along. I grew up without it, normal, well mostly, not like some pampered, socialite Trust-Fund Brat, so I really never had a need for it. It paid for my schooling, enabled me to catch-up with my peers at school and get into medical school, but that’s all I’ve ever spent. I love the things that feel real, corn-dogs and baked beans, County Fairs and roadside fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, Blockbuster and popcorn on Saturday night, not champagne and caviar. My salary is more than enough to live comfortably, my needs are minimal, everything I have I paid for myself, with money I earned, and I value it because of that. I have Charlie to thank for teaching me that.”

Lori persisted.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Why do you bother, is what I’m trying to get at; after all, you don’t have to work, ever, so why punish yourself with such a heavy workload?”

“Because that’s how Charlie taught me to do things, aren’t you listening? I may be English, but I’m also a corn-fed Iowa boy. The best thing Charlie ever did for me was to give me his Protestant work-ethic, and teach me not to accept money I didn’t earn; the easy way out didn’t come easy to him, and it doesn’t come easy to me. Lori, I didn’t pick cardio to show-off, and I don’t do the surgery to practice my skills or earn big bucks; I wanted to be a surgeon, just like my father, in the same specialised field. Operating on the Cardio-Thoracic rota is frightening; if you get it wrong, somebody may die, so you operate at the peak of terror, but watching and double-checking everything you do; Charlie taught me to be that way, to be just like him. If you get blase about it, you will make mistakes, possibly fatal errors. I do it to see them walk out and get their life back, that’s the reward, that’s what drove my father, and my grandfather, and I like to think that’s what keeps me going back in there. Is it stressful? Yes. Is it worth it? I think so.”

“Now git, you need a shower, I need a shower, and we’ve only got a couple of hours. Don’t forget to pack the documents we’ll need!

We were ready, washed, waxed, polished, and smelling slightly minty when the taxi arrived and whisked us off to the airport, mid-way between Bar Harbor and Ellsworth, a pleasant drive and a nice little airport. Our flight was a slightly suspicious-looking elderly twin-prop aircraft, but we were assured it was safe and fully certificated; I was still slightly nervous about lumbering into the sky in this antique, and spent the short journey trying not to think of Richie Valens, Buddy Holly, Jim Reeves, Patsy Cline, Otis Redding, Ricky Nelson, Jim Croce, John Denver…

The flight into Logan was uneventful, slower than I was used to, but, given the nature of the transportation, not bad, at least we actually arrived in one piece, and Lori didn’t have TOO much of a struggle to make me let go of the safety belt and quit reciting ‘Now I lay me down to sleep…”

We took a taxi into town to our hotel. Lori was impressed, to say the least, as was I, with the quality of the suite, and was more than interested in the super-king bed provided.

“Davey, how many people do they expect to fit in that thing?” she asked, “It’s gigantic!”

“It just means I’ll have to run harder to catch you, my dear!” I simpered at her, making her shriek and dodge around the other side of the bed. I caught her by leaping onto the bed and tackling her, bearing her down onto the bed for a victory kiss and a quick squeeze and grope.

“No! Bad Troll! Down! Heel, I say, Heel!” she squealed as I attempted a more serious grab at some goodies, “No, later! Down, Boy! N’Gawa, Cheetah! N’Gawa!”

She giggled as I continued to squeeze and tickle her.

“I need food, Moneybags, beef on a reef, ribs, chicken, anything, Feed Me, Seymour!”

I was more than slightly interested in locating more of Lori’s goodies, but deferred to my darling sister.

We had dinner reservations in the hotel restaurant, so went down and had a very good, varied selection of seafood and steaks, some excellent wine, and, a treat for me, an ice-cold Fuller’s IPA beer from England, malty, hoppy and creamy smooth, and talked softly about our plans over coffee and chocolates, before deciding to call it a night.

Back in our suite, Lori unpacked our toiletries and went off to have a shower, alone, as she’d taken pains to emphasise, so I flicked on the TV and tried to take an interest in the world, which was difficult, as my world was busy soaping up without me present! I had briefly considered sneaking in and ambushing her with a fully-loaded erection, but I knew that tone of voice-when she used it, she usually meant it.

Presently she reappeared, looking refreshed and very desirable in the voluminous courtesy bathrobe, her hair dried and smelling of peaches, brushed and tumbled down her back, very appealing!

“Your turn, Rockefeller, get fresh and do it quick, I have plans for you!” she grinned, and my heart leaped — she had been quiet, almost subdued, most of the evening, so it was nice to see her back on form.

“As my lady commands,” I mocked, “does my lady have any further instructions?”

Lori replied by kissing me, properly, with intent, a fact my best friend rapidly became fully aware of as she squeezed and manipulated my manly bits.

“Fuck showering, you can do that later,” she breathed, “I want slow time with your friend here!”

“As you command” I said, dropping my slacks to reveal my state of arousal. I was wearing trunk briefs, and my condition was plainly visible, a sight that made her eyes twinkle.

“You’ll do” she noted, an adorable pixie expression on her face, half serious, half humorous, “Now come over here please, I need your opinion on something.”

I obliged, and Lori stood up, letting her robe drop to the floor, placing her hands behind her head to pose for me. It was a breathtaking sight; she looked like Venus rising from the waves, her magnificent body sculpted by nature into a thing of incredible beauty, sexual attraction radiating from her in waves. My cock, already at half-mast, sprang to full stretch, constricted painfully by the waistband of my briefs.

She was wearing the tiniest, most indecent pair of panties I had ever seen, a mere V-shaped band at the front, the V swooping down to (just) cover her pudenda, then girdling her hips to disappear in two narrow, curved ribbons of material down and into the cleft of her shapely bum; a thing of beauty, the absolute epitome of the lingerie designers art, panties that made a woman look more naked than if she were actually naked! My hands itched to grab this vision, peel those heavenly panties off (but carefully, Oh! so carefully!), and subject her to an extended monkey-fuck!

“What do you think, Doctor Man, will I do?” she cooed, raising herself up on the balls of her feet and dropping down again, making her marvellously pneumatic body jiggle and quiver, a sight absolutely guaranteed to make any living male bite through steel bars and beat his chest.

“God, yes!” I breathed, “you’re incredible, come here, you!”

Lori stepped over to me, her pixie grin on her face, as I reached for her.

“Are you going to keep me, then?” she enquired winsomely.

For answer I ran my finger up her body, from her barely concealed pussy lips to her chin, before touching her on her perfect lips.

“Only if you kiss me” I said, and my beautiful sister’s arms enfolded me as she planted a 20-megaton kiss on my lips. I ran my hands down her flanks, and hooked my thumbs in the waistband of her almost non-existent panties, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Go ahead, you know you want to” she smiled at me, so I started to slide that wisp of material down her smooth flanks, cock lurching at the incredibly sexy sight of that tiny piece of lingerie sliding down her marvellous thighs, until they floated to the floor. Lori smiled at me, and turned sideways on to me, one of my favourite views of her, as it emphasised the jut of her breasts against the flatness of her stomach, and the firm round hillocks of her globular buttocks, the springiness of her taut young flesh, and the glowing whiteness of her skin against the raven tumble of her hair.

I turned her face to mine, and kissed her, deeply, longingly as my hands wandered down her body, front and back, one hand eventually lingering and caressing her tender pussy lips, the other hand rubbing fingertips up and down the cleft of her buttocks, lingering at her anal bud, index finger describing soft circles around her rear entrance while I caressed her pussy with the other. Lori was standing perfectly still, eyes closed and lips parted, a little flutter of her neck muscle as she swallowed the only sign that she was responding to my caresses.

I continued stroking and caressing her, I was in no rush, and I knew she loved the ‘softly, softly’, slow-burn approach, so I took my time, gradually increasing the pressure and frequency of my caresses, slipping in and out of her pussy, now, and pressing more insistently against her anal entrance.