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Taboo Tales of Wives, Sluts, & Their Steamy Stories 2 (Traci Wilde)

Taboo Tales of Wives, Sluts, & Their Steamy Stories 2 by Traci Wilde


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They're off-limits, their lives taken up by their families, devotion saved for their hubbies, spare time filled with community events, women's club meetings, and PTA activities.

But sometimes, those dutiful wives – whether they be 21 or 41 (or even older) – find they have a burning desire to experience something new, something different, something wild and sensual that is more instinct than emotional, an encounter so mind-blowing it keeps them hot and excited on those long boring nights at home, well after the encounter is over.

Wives who, at least for one night (or one afternoon), become total sluts, BDSM submissive, giving themselves to a stranger, or multiple strangers – to men, women, and both – in a decadent drive to know true sexual fulfillment in a way their friends and relatives will never understand.

And every once in a while, they get caught – and some even discover their hubbies want to see, want to watch, maybe even want to share them with still more strangers…

Those are the tales you find here, in Taboo Tales of Wives, Sluts, & Their Steamy Stories 2!

Product type: EBook    Published by: author - self-published    Published: 11 / 2017

No. words: 45000

Style: Bondage/BDSM and Romance, Bondage/BDSM Anthologies

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


My body shook, violently, the most intense, adrenaline-fueled wave of pleasure rocketing through me. I arched my back, tried sitting up, which served only to pull on my arms, the rope biting into my skin. Even that sensation, of the rope pressing hard against my wrists, was delicious, enjoyable, drawing a low, long moan from deep inside me.
Trey straddled me, his hands running up and down my body as he kissed my breasts, sucked hard on my nipple, pulling as he did.
I groaned, body shaking even harder if that's possible.
I was lying on the back deck, arms stretched overhead, wrists bound to the railing of the rough deck, a blindfold over my eyes as Trey kissed and touched and teased, driving me insane.
He yanked away from my nipple, sending fresh shards of wonderful, erotic agony washing through me. I felt him shift, moving down, his weight on my thighs now and then, oh my god, I felt his breath, hot, as he blew right onto my slit.
I trembled, and lost it, crying out, orgasm rising fast, too fast, unable to control myself and then…I heard some sort of clinking sound, followed by the feel of fresh ice right there, between my legs. I screamed, tried drawing my legs up – he was on them, holding them down – and the sense of orgasm, that freight train headed toward climax, made a sudden turnabout and disappeared deep inside me.
Trey laughed. The ice moved away, and then I felt his lips on my left thigh as he kissed, gently, his hands caressing my hips.
This was the most intense, awesome love-making I'd ever experienced, and we were nowhere near finished, I was quite certain. We were on the back deck, outdoors, the warm humid air of late afternoon giving way to the cooler evening. This wasn't our house, we'd just sold it that day, signing the final contract on our biggest-ever flip, the one that put us in a different level.
Trey and I flip houses. We buy them, older, run-down ones, remodel them then sell. We started two years ago when Trey lost his job – he got a severance package that we combined with all of our savings and we bought a small house, renovated and sold the thing in about two months. This isn't like those television shows you see, where flipping makes $50,000, sometimes more. This is real life, and we live in a somewhat rural area, so the chance to make a lot of money is limited. We only made $15,000 on that first house,, but it was a start. and we've flipped 15 houses since then, always making enough money to live on, to buy another one and do it again, but never really hitting the big one.
Until now. We bought this one with everything we had – we even borrowed money this time, and we were only two days from having to pay it back so it was quite a relief this morning when we signed the final papers, bringing home a cool profit of $160,000 – enough to pay the loan and buy two more smaller houses at the same time, contracting out some of the work. That's where the real money is –getting two or three homes going at once, even if you have to pay someone else for some of the work.
We have a little tradition, too. Whenever we make the final closing on a home, when all is said and done, that night we go back to the house and have wild, passionate sex. Sometimes in the living room, sometimes the kitchen. Tonight we decided to do it outside, and because it's such a big deal, Trey brought out the ropes and blindfold and now, for the next who knows how long, I'm his little sexy servant.
I whimper – yes, an honest-to-god whimper – as he slips his hands around under me, squeezing my ass while he kisses back-and-forth now, my right thigh, then my left, moving higher each time he goes from one side to another.
Then I hear it. A voice, calling out. I can't tell where it's coming from – I'm blindfolded, remember – but I shudder again, this time from panic.
Trey doesn’t hear it, apparently, because he keeps squeezing, kissing his way higher, his lips pressing the very top of my thigh
"Trey," I whisper.
He kisses harder, opening his mouth, sucking just a bit – normally I'd be afraid he was leaving a hickey, but that's suddenly the least of my worries.
"Trey, somebody's here."
The voice is louder now, and it's calling us – "Trey, Chrissy?"
Jesus, it's Paul!
Just then I hear the sliding glass door, then Trey is gone, scrambling up.
"What the hell?"
"Listen, Paul, it's not…" I hear Trey's voice trailing off to nothing.
"Trey?" I call out. He ignores me.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Paul does not sound amused. He's financed a few of our other projects, short-term small loans to tide us over, but we pay dearly – usually ten percent interest, on a 30-day loan. He is a no-nonsense kind of guy, and you give him what you owe, when you owe, or there's hell to pay. We owe him sixty grand, and while the money won't be transferred in the sale in the next two days, we can get a legitimate short-term bank loan based on the contract to pay him off.
"Listen, Paul, I…it's…well…" Trey's stuttering, meanwhile I'm lying here, blindfolded and tied to the deck, nude, Paul no doubt looking me up and down. I feel panic deep inside me, my heart pounding, heat radiating from my face.
"Put some pants on, Trey, I can't look at ya like this."
I hear him rustling around, no doubt searching for a shirt or pants. I hear him moving, the deck creaking under him.
"Damn it," I cry out. "Cover me, let me go."
"No, not quite yet," Paul says, and I hear leering in his voice, if there is such a sound.
Nothing. No sound, no move to cover me, free me.
"Trey?" I say, my voice quavering a bit.
Another pause.
"Maybe I'll take my pay in another form this time 'round," he said...

Author Information

Traci Wilde is a member of the After Midnight Press cooperative, penning hot, steaming, erotic shorts stories and novels deep into the night.

Here's what her colleagues at After Midnight Press have to say about her: "The name seems to fit, as our self-described wild-child sometimes draws from her own real-life experiences for her tales."

That's not to say every story she writes happened, but quite a few of them have a basis in real-life events. She's single (and says she will always remain so), lives in North Carolina at present (though she moves around every so often), and counts among her hobbies running, watching the stars at night, and...well, having sex. Often.


Publisher Information

This story has been self-published by the author

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