Irresistible Taboo

This story is based partially on real people and events, partially on complete fantasy, and somewhat on what just possibly might have really happened had I acted differently at certain moments of opportunity.

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It has been 14 years since it happened, and only now do I feel ready to tell the story. It's not like I have ever forgotten about it— no, not a week will go by without replaying the scene in my head at least a few times. And sometimes those recollections still compel me to go into the bathroom to jerk off to the vivid memory. After all these years, now that I am in my later middle age, I still cum readily to the memory of what happened. To this day I think of the long chain of flirtatious and suggestive events, building an escalating sexual tension between me and my step-daughter and leading to a single mind-blowing culminating incident, as the most thrillingly erotic events of my life. And yet, none of it included our actually having sex, as least by the strict definition of having sex once used by Bill Clinton. But as far as I am concerned, it was sexier and hotter than just plain fucking—most especially because of the taboos against incest, even with a step-daughter. So let me tell the story and you, the reader, can judge if you would feel the same way.

I: Background and sexual tension

To tell the story, I have to go back almost 20 years ago, when my current wife Joan and I, both divorced for several years, first met. We were both devastated by the ends of our previous marriages, but we instantly hit it off in many ways: intellectually, senses of humor, common interests, political and philosophical viewpoints, etc. And one similarity that made us both laugh is that both of our previous spouses were not white, and we both were. I—my name is Peter— had been married to a dark-complexioned Latino woman, while Joan's ex-husband had been of a mixed ancestry, part African-American, part Native American, and part Asian. But the main difference between my previous marriage and Joan's was that hers produced a female child, while I was not a parent. When Joan and I first started dating her daughter, named Victoria, was had just turned eighteen and was in her senior year of high school.

I met Victoria on the evening of my third date with Joan, although she had already been well described to me, and probably I to her. Victoria was extremely bright, funny, personable, observant, did not seem to be self-conscious or self-censoring, and seemed very comfortable in her own skin and with the fact that her mother had started dating again. And I could not help noticing that she was extraordinarily attractive, sexy in a natural, unaffected way. She was slightly above average female height, maybe 5'8", with a trim, athletic build—which was not surprising, because she apparently excelled in sports as well as her academic studies. Because of her mixed ethnic background, her skin had a beautiful color, like light coffee, and she seemed to have a flawless complexion with not a single teenage pimple on her face. She had a captivating smile, with perfect white teeth, and full luscious lips. Her eyes were large and dark and with a hint of an Asian almond shape. She wore no makeup, and did not need it. Her hair was braided, something I have always liked in women of color.

Victoria was wearing cut off jeans shorts that time I first met her, and I saw that her legs were long, shapely, and muscular, and smooth as if they had very recently been shaved. And—in contradiction to all those story tellers out there who make up fantasies of teenage girls with triple D breast sizes—she was on the smallish size in the bust department, probably a small B cup, and definitely perky. As I was having my very first introductory conversation with her, I noticed that she might have been braless: the top two buttons below her collar were unbuttoned, and the top of the shirt had pushed out away from her shoulder and upper chest. Taking a quick peek from my close proximity (even at that first meet, I really couldn't help myself, despite the risk of being caught) I could only see skin with no discernible bra strap or top to a cup. I didn't dare look down long enough to see if I could actually catch a glimpse of her breasts, but it was an auspicious and exciting introduction, indeed! To put it succinctly, I liked Joan very much from our first date, but I was instantly smitten with her daughter Victoria.

Joan and I became seriously involved very quickly. But she made it very clear to me that there would be no sleepovers for me while Victoria was still in high school and living at home. Occasionally when Victoria stayed with her dad on alternate weekends, I got to stay the night, but most of our sex happened at my place. Things were going well in my relationship with Joan, and Victoria and I gradually became increasingly fond of and relaxed with each other. And as the comfort level between me and Victoria increased, there started emerging hints of playful flirtation. I think I hid my attraction to her pretty well, at least as far as Joan was concerned, but when given an opportunity, my fantasies about Victoria broke free and compelled me to certain kinky activities.

For instance, on those occasions when Victoria was staying with her dad or a friend's house and I could sleep over, if Joan needed to go out for a while I would often wander into Victoria's room—the door was always invitingly open. As with so many teenagers, the floor was covered with clothes she had worn. And invariably, there would be several pairs of panties that had been worn. Sometimes they were plain cotton panties, sometimes lace, sometimes smooth and silky, and sometimes they were a very sexy thong, but whatever they were the sight of them made me very aroused. I would pick them up and hold them to my nose so I could breathe deeply of the smell of her pussy. She had the smell of a virginal young girl—clean and fresh, almost floral, but at the same time a slight hint of muskiness from those sexual pheromones that both indicate arousal and bring arousal to those who smell them.

Often there would be vaginal secretions in the crotch area, and if I happened to get there soon enough, fresh and still moist. I would love to look at the shape of those stains. especially when it looked like the crotch of the panties had worked its way up in between her labia, to trace the outlines of her pussy. Sometimes, if she had secreted heavily and the panties had ridden up, it looked like an erotic Rorschach test and I could make out the whole shape of her genitalia, from the vaginal canal opening all the way up to the clitoral hood. And I didn't just look. Gingerly sticking out my tongue, I would lick the crotch of her panties to taste that salty ambrosia. How I savored it! I would have taken it completely into my mouth so all her juice would dissolve onto my tongue and I could get the full taste, but I was afraid that would make the crotch noticeably wetter when Victoria got around to putting her underwear in the laundry, and she might notice.

As Victoria's high school year continued I was at Joan's house regularly, and though I still never slept over when Victoria was home for the night, Joan seemed to trust me implicitly and didn't seem to notice an increasingly charged atmosphere with her daughter. There were many incidents which got me very excited. One weekend I came over early in the morning to fix something in the house, and Joan was still upstairs when I let myself in (by now I had a key). Victoria was alone in the kitchen and though she knew I was coming over, was still in her sleeping attire, which consisted of boxer shorts and a white tee shirt. There was definitely no bra on under the tee, because her nipples were very erect and jutting out. And because the tee was a thin light fabric, I could clearly see the dark outline of her aureoles. This was the first time I really got such a graphic view of the shape of those beautiful perky breasts, and the size and color of her nips. I became very hard, and since I was still standing, could not hide it. And then something very thrilling happened: I caught Victoria's eyes glancing down at my crotch for a moment. She looked back up quickly, but I knew she had taken in the sight of my erection, and she undoubtedly knew what had caused it.

After Victoria graduated high school, with honors in academics, sports, and the arts, she began college (she made Harvard! I told you she was bright!) and left home. Finally I was able to sell my apartment and I moved in to Joan's house. (It wasn't until years later that we finally officially got married.) The relationship with Joan was very good, our sex life was also quite good, and Joan still did not seem to have a clue about my secret desires for her daughter. But the intensity of what had started happening between Victoria and me while she was still in high school only increased, and incidents of barely disguised sex play occurred with more frequency and less subtlety on those occasions when she came back home from college and was staying in her old room. The flirtation always had enough deniability that she could act like she was just kidding around, or nothing had really happened. She was sending a message, and it was thrilling, but I still didn't quite know what to make of it. Was it just a tease, showing me she could wrap me around her little finger if she wanted, or was it more?

Here are just a few examples of these flirty incidents, so the reader will be able to put the story of what happens at the end of these events—I will get to that soon enough—into the context of a long slow escalation of sexual hints, references, and jokes. By themselves, each one can seem fairly innocent, but taken as a whole, it appeared to me that she was consciously putting out a signal, albeit one that I couldn't interpret with any confidence yet. For instance, one day we happened to run into each other on the subway, both headed for the house. When we walked in together so unexpectedly, Joan was in the kitchen. Victoria lightly took my arm, walked with me over to her mother, and said with a straight face, "Mom, we're having an affair." It was obviously a joke, and maybe a way of tweaking her mother a bit, but I couldn't think of a single older man—certainly not her biological father, and not male friends of ours who are our same age—who would have provoked such a risqué comment.

Another time when Victoria drifted over the line of quasi-incestuous taboo happened when she was home for the weekend in her freshman year. I had been exercising in our bedroom, and I was wearing shorts with loose legs, and no underwear. I knew it would be easy for anyone walking in to look right past my wide shorts legs and see my cock as I was doing my pushups, but I had the doors closed. The bathroom on the bedroom floor is connected to both our bedroom and Victoria's bedroom, with separate doors leading into each. We never had bothered to put locks on the doors, figuring the "honor system" would suffice. So there I was on the ground exercising, knowing that my cock was pretty much on public display if someone happened to look in, and with my head faced away from the bathroom door so I couldn't see anyone entering.

Suddenly I heard the slight creak of a door opening, the sound of someone walking very softly just behind me, and then I had the strongest instinctive sense that someone was staring at me, her eyes riveted on my exposed crotch area. I was afraid to turn around and acknowledge this presence— it could not have been anyone but Victoria, because Joan would have no reason to be quiet about her entrance. This went on, this sense of being closely examined, for a few minutes, with me frozen and unable to decide what to do. My erection grew larger until it was tenting up the crotch of my shorts, but I could not touch it to adjust it. This silent meeting lasted another several minutes, and then the "mystery person" seemed to have waited long enough and slowly tiptoed out of the room, closing the bathroom door behind her. For months I was kicking myself and wondering what would have happened if I had turned around and acknowledged her presence; would she have made some excuse for being there, or would the situation, wrought with sexual tension, have led to something? And what could it have led to... how far might it have gone???

One summer between her sophomore and junior college years Victoria returned home for almost two months. During that time I noticed more and more the things she did in a casual, off-handed way, that created an electrically sexually charged atmosphere and inevitably had a powerful erotic effect on me. One time on a very hot day she wore shorts that were old tattered jeans that had been cut off so high up towards her crotch that there was barely a thin strip of ragged denim between her legs. When she was standing, just seeing those long tan legs with the insides of the pockets coming down well below the bottom of the leg holes, and the waist of the shorts starting well below her navel, made me as hard as a rock.

But as if that weren't enough, when I sat down on a couch, she immediately sat down on the other couch facing me, and while talking about this and that, slowly began to open her legs. That tiny strip of thread-bare denim did not provide any coverage for her panties, and I could see the exact shape of her mons as her blue bikini-cut panties fit tightly against her pussy. I was utterly hypnotized by the sight, my pulse racing, but she then "upped the ante" and began to slowly close and reopen her legs, repeatedly, and seemingly innocently, while we were talking about I don't remember what (as if I cared!). This slow scissors action of her legs began to cause the panties to creep up and between her labia, so after several minutes I was treated to some beautiful camel-toe. From her perfect ass to the top of her labia majora, those panties had thoroughly wedged themselves into the crack. Much as I tried not to, I could not help staring directly at her crotch. She had to know what I was seeing, but she made no effort to shift position or try to cover up. When she finally left about a half hour later, I immediately had to run to the bathroom to relieve myself, or I would have had blue balls all day.

One thing that aroused me a great deal—in fact, drove me almost crazy with horniness— occurred while Victoria was still in college during the Christmas break of her senior year. She was staying in her old room, which, as I mentioned earlier, shared a bathroom with ours. One morning I got out of bed to shower (Joan, an early riser, was already downstairs having breakfast), and as I normally did, I knocked on the door on our side which led into the bathroom to see if it was empty. Victoria called out, "Oh, Peter, I'm about to shower, but you can still come in." I walked in, and there she was, wrapped only in a bath towel which reached down to barely cover her upper thighs. I marveled again at the long shapeliness of her tan, smooth legs. The towel was also wrapped low enough that the jiggly tops of her small breasts were exposed.

She smiled and looked at me, and only then did I realize there was nothing I could do while she was there— I couldn't take a shower myself, couldn't pee, and felt awkward about brushing my teeth or shaving in front of her. Although she seemed perfectly calm, I felt this incredible sexual tension, and I started becoming erect. I was wearing sweat pants with no underwear, and I knew my hard on would become obvious. Sure enough I caught her eyes as she glanced down directly towards my crotch. This time, unlike the high school incident years earlier, she let her gaze linger a good two or three seconds. Probably sensing my embarrassment and my feeling of awkwardness she said, "don't worry, I am wearing a bra and panties under this towel." Of course, that only served to make me more turned on and more embarrassed. Just referring to her underwear in such a casual way—just saying the words "my panties"— seemed unbelievably suggestive and seductive.

Almost out of desperation I said, "I just wanted a drink of water and to wash up a little," and quickly took a sip from a glass, threw some soap and water on my face, and dried myself. While I was doing this she was standing very close behind me, her breasts maybe two or three inches from my back, and was looking right at me the whole time in the mirror we were facing. I became extremely excited by this, and I'm sure my face was blushing bright red to go along with my raging hard on, which was reflecting clearly in the mirror.

Finally I exited the bathroom, trying—mostly unsuccessfully—to keep my erection out of Victoria's visual range, but I decided to stay close to the bathroom door with my ear against it. I heard the sound of water running while she took a long shower. After the water was off, I did not hear the door leading to her room open, but after a while I heard what sounded like lowering and sitting down on the toilet seat. followed soon after by a steady sound of— I didn't know what at first. Kind of a steady, rhythmic, rustling of fabric and rubbing movement. Not ready to surrender to my most extreme erotic fantasies, I told myself that maybe she was just moving around and getting dressed. But after a few minutes I began to faintly hear the sound of increasingly rapid breathing, which a minute later developed into very audible panting, punctuated by several of what sounded like low groans. By then what was going on was undeniable. My cock was as hard as a rock, and I unconsciously pulled it out. In case there was still any lingering doubt about what she was doing, I soon detected an in-and-out slurpy sound added to the rapid breathing. The slurping suction sound and the panting accelerated steadily, faster and faster, until it reach a peak and I heard a long "ohhhhhh-nnnng—AAHHH." The sound was repressed, as if her hand were placed over her mouth, but it was unmistakable. Then the room became quiet again. I had been rubbing my cock this whole time, and I was about a half stroke away from cumming my brains out.

I moved away from the door, and then I heard Victoria's voice calling out in a sweet lilt, "Peter, I'm done, you can come in now if you need to." Were the words "I'm done" a deliberate double-entendre? Did she know that I was right at the door and heard everything? Had it all been a performance for my benefit? I opened the door, and she was just leaving through the other door leading to her room, dressed again in the towel (without bra and panties now, because I immediately noticed them on the floor in front of the shower) Before she exited, though, she took a look behind her and gave me a last look with a sweet smile. Her face and body were noticeably flushed, but she seemed utterly unembarrassed. And one other thing I noticed: as she reach for the door knob to open the door to her room, I very definitely saw a gleaming sheen covering her middle and index fingers.

I brushed my teeth, shaved, and started to undress for my shower when I heard her walk down the stairs to join her mother for breakfast. I realized I was all alone up there, and looked down at the worn bra and panties that she had left. It felt like they were not left there by accident. I picked up the bra and held it and examined it, thinking about her beautiful pert breasts having just been inside of those cups. The bra was very sheer, practically transparent, and I wished I had gotten a peek of her wearing it because her nipples would have been in clear view. But that was just the appetizer: I picked up the panties, which were pink silk bikinis and immediately saw that the entire crotch area was absolutely soaking wet. Not with normal vaginal discharge that women often have in their panties over a day's wearing, but with that lubricating cream that some women produce copiously from having sex with a partner, from self-stimulation, or from just being turned on. The front looked like it had been pushed up into her, and I realized that she must have masturbated through her panties, without ever taking them off, all the way to the point of orgasm. She had ejaculated an opaque thick slippery fluid into the crotch area of the panties. A single pubic hair sticking out of her cum juice only added to the erotic impact. The vision of those wet panties drove me about crazy with lust.