Tangled Taboo:
Waylen and Holly's Forbidden Love
Indulge in the forbidden with In Tangled Taboo,
An interracial love triangle that'll leave you panting.
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
© Copyright 2023 by Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman
This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote a lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.
Tangled Taboo:
Waylen and Holly's Forbidden Love
Love is a marvelous, elusive thing. My name is Holly Golightly Sanders. My mother was, at the time of my birth, quite the romantic. She and Father were deeply in love for many years. But as I said, love is elusive.
My Father, Edward Sanders, was a bitter man who failed to give Mother, or me, attention. Working in a high-pressure job, consumed with advancement, we became afterthoughts. I don't remember when he stopped giving me hugs. And to be truthful, I can't remember if he ever kissed or hugged me.
Part of my father's resentment stemmed from old-fashioned views of the world. In 1980, when he lost out on a promotion to a black man, his bitterness turned into bile-filled hate. Not that he was ever a fan of any minority. He considered anyone not white as subhuman.
He resented black people for taking his future away from him. His soured disposition affected his relationship with Mother and me. Mommy's friendship with some black folks angered him. When I defended her, his hate turned to me.
Mother's deceptions lasted for months. Sneaking around, having an affair with a black man. When Father discovered their treachery, he left us heartbroken. Nevertheless, he was my father, and despite his cold indifference to me through the years, I loved him. It took more months, and they divorced. Father, feeling she'd humiliated him, moved away, leaving me as devastated as he.
Not that he left. He'd left me much earlier if he'd ever cared for me at all. The devastation came from living in a house so empty of love. My mother's heart held no love for anyone but Waylen, and I was an outcast in my home.
Father moved from Denver to Miami, Florida. A few months later, Father moved to New York City for some reason known only to him. After that, dear ole Dad tried LA. The problem was there were minorities wherever he went.
As soon as Father was gone, Waylen moved in.
My mother, being with Waylen, took getting used to. Waylen was a handsome man with incredibly dark skin. Younger than mother by some five or six years. I held a grudge against him. He'd driven a wedge between my mother, the only person who'd ever shown me love, and me.
How does one live without some small comfort given them out of love?
At night, the two of them cuddled and cooed on the couch. Whispering secrets, they didn't wish me to hear. Later in the wee hours of the morning, they made love. They weren't discrete but loud and boisterous. The headboard banged against the wall separating my room from theirs. As they made love, my mother cursed like a sailor, screeching in ecstasy.
Often, Waylen sounded like a rutting pig. Then again, they were rutting. It wasn't so much making love as fucking. Loud, nasty fucking. If I'm honest, I have no notion what a rutting pig sounded like.
Once my mother's belly swelled, I realized I, too, would find myself displaced.
After all, I'm nineteen, have a job, and am out of school. If I stayed in their home, I'd be a babysitter and nothing more. One night, while I lay in bed contemplating my fate, Waylen tapped on my door.
"Yes," I said.
"May I come in?"
"Sure."
The door opened, and Waylen walked into the room. Pulling my sheets and spread to cover me to my neck, I gazed at him. Fully expecting him to order me out of 'his' house as soon as possible. Barring that, he'd lay down the law regarding my duties to my mother and baby half-sibling.
Waylen shifted from one foot to the next. Tension hung in the air, thick, palpable. Eyes dark as coal gazed at me with an intensity I'd never seen. A tingling in my toes and fingers and a prickling on my neck pestered me.
He frightened me. Without speaking a word, he scared the shit out of me.
Sitting on my bed beside me, he turned his intense gaze into my eyes. He placed his hand on my leg and squeezed my thigh slightly. The glower softened, and his face lost all the severe manifestation that terrified me.
"Your mother and I want you to know you can live in this, her house, for as long as you want." Waylen's voice was deep and raspy but spoke calmly and gently. "We were married a few weeks ago. You're my stepdaughter now, and I'll try to be a good father for you."
"And I'll be your excellent babysitter," I said. My voice was harsh and sarcastic.
"No, Holly, you won't. The baby is your mother and my responsibility. We want you to concentrate on yourself, work, or better still, I'd love for you to attend college. Also, I'd consider it a privilege if you let me pay for your schooling."
"What?" I said, confused.
"If you let me, I will pay your tuition, books, and room and board if you want to move on campus. But I'd rather you live here, so we can get to know each other."
"Truthfully, I'm not sure I want to go to college."
"Well, Miss Golightly, you don't have to decide one way or the other anytime soon. CU, CSU, and DU aren't going anywhere, anytime, in the foreseeable future."
"Stupid middle name, right?"
"Nothing about you is stupid, Holly. I've wanted to get to know you from the moment we met. You're a beautiful young woman." He moved his large hand from my thigh to my face, turned my gaze up, a touch, and kissed me on my cheek. His lips grazed mine in the softest peck as a shiver ran up my spine, and fire erupted on my lips.
The fire found its way to my crotch, and turned away, my cheeks blushing.
"I'm sorry, was that inappropriate?"
"No, not on your part." I twisted further away, giving him a view of my back.
"Not on your part, either," he said. Putting his mighty hands on my bare shoulders, he kneeded my spine, neck, and back. Rubbing his thumbs in circles, unknotting the tension. "We're not related by blood." He dug his magical thumbs and fingers into my muscles, and warmth radiated from his callused flesh into my skin.
He interrupted the rub down and pulled me gently to his chest, caressing me lovingly.
"If you tell your Mom I said this, I'll call you a little liar. But you're much more lovely than she." Kissing the lobe of my ear, he hugged my body into his. "Let this be our secret."
He left the room, and I sat there, my body on fire. Only when the door closed did I turn toward where he'd been. Reaching out, I touched the pillow he'd pressed against. Pulling it between my breasts, I hugged it as if I hugged him.
Laying down, putting the pillow between my legs, I masturbated. Eventually, I fell asleep, wondering what lovemaking felt like. I dreamed of Waylen. Hot, torturous, wet dreams of kissing, fondling, and hugging, never reaching the point of making love.
Until that night, I never thought of Waylen in that way. I'd never dreamed of anyone like I dreamed of him. In truth, I'd thought I was a lesbian until his lips touched mine, and his hands warmed me. I'd only flirted with girls, only kissed them.
No one ever sent a fire into me.
For days, I was happy. So happy that I was nicer to the diners at the restaurant where I waited tables. I made more tips, enjoyed my work, and walked with some zing. One customer, a lovely older lady, told me I must be in love. She said she saw it in the sparkle in my eyes.
After a week, on one of my days off, I fixed Mom breakfast, and we sat drinking coffee and chatting about nothing.
"Oh, Waylen and a friend will move you to the bedroom downstairs. Actually, you're getting a whole new bedroom. Waylen and Jon are painting it, getting you new furniture, and will move your clothes and other things while you're at work tomorrow. I'll move your delicates. We don't want the boys in your drawers, do we?" she laughed.
"I guess not, but Mommy, why are you moving me downstairs?"
"Well, two reasons. You shouldn't've been listening to all the, you know. I swear, I'm so in love my brain has been in neutral. I'm sorry if it upset you hearing us carry on so much. And the second reason we want to turn that room into the nursery for the little one."
Somewhat disappointed, I agreed. Disappointed because I'd grown accustomed to Waylen's and Mother's sexual noises. And I masturbated while they fucked and imagined I was her.
I was cautious when I frigged myself. Never allowing my fingers much egress inside. In order to preserve my cherry for someone to take who loved me. I often plotted, only partially seriously, how to take Waylen from Mother.
When moving day came, it passed slowly, and I couldn't wait for the end of my shift. Althea promised to keep the last table, and I hurried home. Waylen's truck sat in our drive, and a new burgundy Buick sat in the driveway beside the pickup.
Running into the house, I found the men in my bedroom unloading bedding and boxes. "So, this is gonna be your room, right, Missy?"
"This is your stepfather's friend."
I blushed and offered my hand to Jon. "Yes, this is my room, and you're Waylen's best friend."
"Yes, ma'am. Jon Hebert."
"Welcome to the family." I reached out to touch his arm. His strong jawline, thick, dark hair, and hands bulging with muscles some women would die to know. "Please call me Holly."
"And you may call me Jon," he said.
"Well, Holly, give us a hand. There's a carton of food, and we still have lots to move," Waylen said.
