23 Positions: Taboo Short Stories

~Melanie's POV~ I woke up gasping, my body slick with sweat, thighs clenched tight around nothing but the damp sheets tangled between my legs, like they'd been fighting me all night. The dream still clung to me like a lover's hands... rough, demanding, impossible to shake. In it, he had me bent over the back of the couch, that thick c**k of his stretching me open so wide I could barely breathe. His grip on my hips was bruising, fingers digging into my soft flesh as he slammed into me from behind, each thrust making my t**s bounce heavily, n*****s hard and aching. "That's it, Melanie," he growled, voice low and rough like gravel under tires. "Take every f*****g inch of Daddy's c**k. You've been starving for it, haven't you? Sucking on that little toy of yours while my son’s off playing big shot overseas." I moaned loud in the dream, pushing back against him, my ass rippling with every powerful snap of his hips. My voice broke as he reached around, thick fingers finding my swollen c**t, rubbing fast circles while his other hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make stars dance behind my eyes. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, my juices dripping down my thighs, soaking his balls as they smacked against me. He pulled out suddenly, spinning me around and shoving me to my knees. His cock... Jesus, that cock... hung heavy and glistening in front of my face, veined and thick as my wrist, the head purple and leaking. I didn't hesitate. I sucked him deep, throat relaxing as I took every inch, gagging wetly around the girth while tears pricked my eyes. He fisted my hair, f*****g my face with deep, deliberate strokes. "Fuck... you filthy slut. Swallow my c**k like the c**k-hungry w***e you are. Bet you've been fingering that married cunt thinking about this for weeks." I came hard in the dream, my p***y clenching around nothing as he flooded my throat. Then I woke up... panting, my hand already between my legs, fingers slick as I rubbed my swollen c**t, chasing the ghost of that orgasm. I came quickly, biting my lip to stifle the cry, but it wasn't enough. It never was. ************ My name is Melanie, and I'm thirty-two years old, married to a man who's been halfway across the world for the last eight months. David's job in tech consulting pays the bills... hell, it pays for this nice little two-bedroom apartment in the city, but it leaves me alone most nights, touching myself to memories that feel more distant every day. Our s*x life was never fireworks, but at least it was something. Now? Nothing. Just me and my increasingly vivid fantasies about the one man I shouldn't want. My father-in-law. Richard. He's forty-five, but you wouldn't know it looking at him. Broad shoulders from years of construction work before he retired into consulting, salt-and-pepper hair, strong jaw, and those intense dark eyes that always seem to see right through me. He'd started calling more after David left... checking in, bringing groceries, fixing that leaky faucet in the kitchen. Innocent stuff. Until the day I accidentally walked in on him changing after he'd helped move some heavy furniture. I saw it. His c**k. Soft but already massive, hanging heavy between his thick thighs, the kind of d**k that made my mouth water and my p***y throb instantly. I'd mumbled an apology and fled to the bathroom, locking the door and fingering myself to a quick, shameful orgasm while imagining that monster splitting me open. Ever since, the dreams came almost every night. Raw. Filthy. The kind that left me waking up humping my pillow like a desperate animal.This morning was no different. I lay there in the gray dawn light filtering through the blinds, heart still racing, my n*****s tight peaks under my thin tank top. My panties were ruined, the crotch soaked through. I slipped two fingers inside myself easily, biting my lip as I replayed the dream. The way he'd choked me lightly while pounding me, calling me his needy w***e. The way he'd made me sniff my own soaked panties before stuffing them in my mouth as he ate my p***y like a starving man. I came again quickly, whispering his name into the quiet room. "Richard... f**k me, please..." Afterward, I showered, letting the hot water cascade over my body. I took extra time shaving everything smooth, p***y lips puffy and sensitive, ass crack clean. I wanted to feel every single sensation if... no, when something happened. Because today I was done pretending. I chose my outfit carefully. A short, flowy sundress that hugged my full C-cup t**s and flared out just enough to show off my long legs and the curve of my ass. No bra. Thin white lace panties that barely covered anything, the kind that would leave little to the imagination if he looked. Light makeup, hair down in loose waves. I spritzed on the perfume he once complimented... something warm and vanilla with a hint of musk. The doorbell rang around 10 AM. My heart jumped into my throat. I opened the door, and there he was. Richard. In a simple button-down shirt that stretched across his chest and jeans that did nothing to hide the bulge I'd been obsessing over. His eyes swept over me slowly, lingering on my breasts, the hem of my dress, my bare legs. A flicker of something dark and hungry crossed his face before he smiled that warm, fatherly smile. "Morning, Melanie. You look... damn, you look good today. How you holding up?" We settled in the living room with coffee. Conversation flowed easily at first... how David was doing overseas (busy, as always), updates on Richard's golf game, the neighbor's noisy dog. But I kept catching him stealing glances. At the way my n*****s poked against the thin fabric when I leaned forward. At the smooth skin of my thighs when I crossed my legs. "You've been quiet lately," he said eventually, setting his mug down. His voice had that deep timbre that always made my stomach flutter. "Be honest with me. How are you really doing? No bullshit." I swallowed hard. This was it. My hands trembled slightly as I set my coffee aside. "I'm... lonely, Richard. Really lonely. David's gone so much, and when he does call it's quick, distracted. I haven't been touched in months. I feel like I'm going crazy. I crave it. The weight of a man on top of me. Hands gripping me. Being f****d so hard I forget my own name." My voice cracked, but I pushed on, eyes locked on his. "I need to feel desired. Needed. Filled up. I touch myself thinking about it every night, but it's not enough. I want the real thing." The air between us thickened. He didn't look away. Rather, those dark eyes burned into me. "Come here," he said softly, opening his arms. I went to him. The hug started comforting... his strong arms wrapping around me, one big hand stroking my back. But then I pressed closer, my breasts squishing against his chest, and I felt it. The growing hardness against my belly. I tilted my head up, heart pounding, and kissed him. It was soft at first. Tentative. Then he groaned low in his throat and took control, his mouth claiming mine hungrily. His tongue pushed past my lips, tasting me, dominating. One hand slid down to grip my ass possessively, squeezing the flesh as he pulled me flush against him. I moaned into his mouth, grinding against that thick bulge. "Richard... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." He cut me off with another fierce kiss, walking me backward until my ass hit the edge of the dining table. "Don't you dare apologize for this," he growled against my lips, voice rough with lust. "You've been teasing me for weeks in those little outfits. Parading that plump ass around while my son’s gone. You think I didn't notice how wet you got when you saw my c**k that day?" His hands were now everywhere. Hiking my dress up over my hips in one swift motion, exposing my lace panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and ripped them off with a sharp tear that made me gasp. Cool air hit my soaked p***y. He brought the ruined panties to his nose and inhaled deeply, eyes closing in pleasure. "f**k, you smell like pure need. This dripping cunt's been aching for Daddy's c**k, hasn't it?" I whimpered, nodding frantically as he shoved two thick fingers inside me without warning. I was so wet they slid in easily, curling to hit that spot that made my knees buckle. He pumped them fast, thumb circling my c**t while his other hand yanked the top of my dress down, freeing my t**s. His mouth latched onto one n****e, sucking hard, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as I cried out. "Oh God... yes, just like that." He added a third finger, stretching me, scissoring while he switched to the other n****e, biting down gently. My juices ran down his wrist. He pulled his fingers out and shoved them into my mouth. "Taste how f*****g horny you are for your father-in-law." I sucked them clean, moaning around his digits. He unbuckled his belt, the sound of his zipper like music. His c**k sprang free... thick, veined, even bigger than in my dreams, the head already glistening with precum. He stroked it slowly, watching me with dark, predatory eyes. "You really want this?" he asked, voice low and dangerous as he stepped between my spread thighs. "You want your husband's father to wreck this pretty p***y? To f**k you raw on this table like the desperate little slut you are?" "Yes," I breathed, reaching for him. "Please, Richard. I need it. f**k me. Make me yours." He grabbed my legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders in one smooth motion. The head of his c**k nudged my entrance, spreading my slick folds. With a deep grunt, he thrust forward, burying half his length in one powerful stroke. I cried out, the stretch burning so good, my walls fluttering around the massive intrusion. It wasn't a dream this time. This was real, his heavy c**k splitting me open, his hips pressing forward until he bottomed out, balls deep inside me. I could feel every vein, every ridge as he filled me completely. "Fuuuuck," he groaned, holding still for a moment, letting me adjust. "So goddamn tight. Gripping me like a vice. This is what you've been dreaming about, right? My fat c**k ruining this cunt." He started moving then... slow, deep thrusts that made the table creak. Each one dragged against my sweet spot, sending sparks through my body. My t**s bounced with every slam, and he leaned down to capture my mouth again, swallowing my moans as he picked up speed. This wasn't a dream. This was happening. And as he f****d me harder, one hand wrapping around my throat with just the right pressure, I knew there was no going back.