Little Brats Paula: Forbidden Taboo Erotica Read online

  “Phillip? It’s me, Paula. Are you available?” She knocked on his office door, wiggling her hips, still enjoying the tingles of pleasure as she attempted to gather herself for the task at hand.

  “Paula? Yes, come in. How’d classes go today?”

  “Fine. Boring. You know. School. Just hoops to jump through.”

  “Sounds familiar. Self-confidence and knowing what one wants can be a potent cocktail, especially with a dash of anti-authoritarian rebelliousness. Sit. What’s up?” He tossed out a wad of tissues that Paula realized he’d just been wiping the couch with and motioned for Paula to sit. She did, tugging her plaid skirt up a notch just before positioning herself on the newly cleaned sofa, making sure her knees were slightly parted. Phillip sat in his chair.

  Paula knew she was a striking, if understated beauty—long, dark hair, big brown eyes, a petite figure, but with curves, including a little, round ass and right perky breasts. She used them all to great advantage whenever she could.

  But she knew she was smart, too—too smart for her own good, too smart for most people’s good. Her father had always said she was her own worst enemy, always cutting her nose off to spite her face, a nose that she thought her father would have rolled his eyes to see was pierced with a little silver stud. He would have rolled his eyes, but he also would have smiled. She’d never known anyone like her father, and no man had ever been able to hold her attention like her father—except, she noted, Phillip, her relatively new stepfather, who was proving to hold her attention in ways that, in truth, surprised her.

  Although maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her, after all.

  He was her match in the brains and perceptiveness department, the only one she would allow to read her psych papers, although she let him believe it was because he was a psychologist. She had learned from years of therapy, her own and her mother’s, that most psychologists, psychiatrists and psychotherapists were just as mediocre as the majority of people in any field.

  She had also learned that once you get your therapist to fuck you, whether it was a man or a woman, whether they said they were straight or not, they were no longer in control. Phillip seemed not only immune to those sexual potencies of hers that others fell prey to like lambs called to slaughter, but, strangely, Paula felt no need or desire to lead him to slaughter, no need to keep him on the defensive, no need to control him.

  It was too bad, she told herself, that he had to be sacrificed as a pawn in her payback plan against her mother. I mean, sex with him, it wouldn’t be all bad—he was hot, with his rebellious, academic round glasses and Heathcliffian scruff, his barely tamed too-long hair, and his dress slacks, shirts and ties hiding that body he honed with some obscure martial arts training or another. And those abs!

  Not to mention his cock, and those delicious balls. She wasn’t able to fully erase images from her mind of his cock as he stroked it, of the copious amounts of semen that shot from the tip, wave after wave. I mean, she had never really tried to seduce him at home, just her usual tease and flirtation.

  So what if she had watched him fuck her mother a few times, and masturbated herself to completion imagining him fucking her more than a few times?

  So what if she let him see her dressing, or undressing, or nude, on certain specifically chosen, yet spontaneously-seeming occasions?

  Particularly the time she let him see her shaving her pussy down to the little fuzzy landing strip that she had overheard him tell her mother he found so erotic.

  That was normal, she knew that from her own psychology courses—girls fantasizing about and teasing their father figures, especially in order to test out and practice their growing powers of sexual maturity. Freud called it the Electra complex, which was like the Oedipus complex, but for chicks.

  And so what that she was staring at the untucked front edge of his shirt, out and disheveled from his cock-stroking session only moments earlier?

  And so what that she was immersed in the scent of sex surrounding her on the black leather couch, the wild, acidic scent of all the semen that the man sitting in front of her had so recently pumped out of his balls through the heated length of his rock hard cock?

  Jesus, she had to focus, come back to the task at hand. So to speak.

  He was a casualty of war.

  “Paula, you seem quite lost in deep thought there. What’s on your mind?” Phillip’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

  “Oh, um, sorry. Just distracted. Don’t know where to start.” Paula crossed her legs, pushing her skirt up further and giving her stepfather a clear view of her white cotton panties.

  “Sounds like you just found a place to start.”

  “Yeah,” Paula shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Why don’t you take a minute to find the place in your body right now that’s blocking you, blocking your words. You know the drill.” It wasn’t quite a question and it wasn’t quite a command.

  “How would I...”

  “Just the first image that comes to your mind.”

  “My mind.”

  “Say that again.”

  “My mind.”

  “So, if I hear you right, you’re saying that whatever you were paying attention to, your mind is trying to keep you from it.” Again, not quite a question.

  “Um... yes...?”

  “Are you asking or telling?”

  “Ok... yes. I’m saying yes. My mind is trying to keep me from what I was paying attention to.” Paula felt like she was dancing to her stepfather’s tune, but she knew how this worked, how to eventually lead the dance.

  “Good... that’s good info for you to have about yourself. So, now, if you had to say where in your body you were keeping what you were paying attention to, what would your response be?”

  “My vagina,” Paula lied.

  “Can you describe what it is?”

  “Phillip, I’m pretty sure you know what a pussy is.”

  “That was a quick deflection. You’re good.”

  “Thank you.” Paula beamed, and actually smiled, a sincere smile of pride, before she caught herself.

  “So, can you describe what’s in your pussy that’s distracting you?”

  “It’s more what’s not in my pussy that’s distracting me.” Paula wiggled a bit as she spoke and unselfconsciously slid a hand over her thigh, running her fingertips lightly over the damp, white cotton stretched over her pussy, making sure her stepfather could clearly see.

  “Mm-hm. Say more.”

  “I can. You know I’m dating, but not being exclusive. That’s because I can’t seem to meet my sexual needs with only one person. It’s not enough for me.”

  Paula squirmed some more and slid her skirt up higher on her hips, above her pussy, putting a hand back down between her thighs. She saw Phillip making an effort not to look at her pussy—and failing. Miserably.

  It also occurred to her that she was getting the attention she wanted because it was of questionable professional ethics for her stepfather to allow her to continue exposing and touching herself in this setting.

  “Yes. I know you’re not in a monogamous relationship. And you’re saying that you have sexual needs that feel unmet?”

  “Yes. Definitely.” Damn, her pussy was swollen, but it was becoming aroused much more quickly—and intensely—than she was used to, especially after such a recent, hard climax.

  “I can make phone calls and meet with a girlfriend or a boyfriend to fuck me and get me off, every hour, all day and all night, and I’m still not satisfied.”

  She uncrossed her legs, putting the heels of her tall, soft boots on the edge of the black leather couch and spreading her knees low to access her pussy more easily—and give her stepfather a better view. She was a little surprised he hadn’t broken yet. The last man she did this to had gotten down on his hands and knees begging her to let him just smell her pussy as she played with it in front of him.

  “So… no matter how much sexual stimulation you give your pussy, you still feel uns
atisfied, empty?”

  When her stepfather spoke the word, “pussy,” he looked down at her hand. Her fingers stroked her outer pussy lips in a circular rhythm over the top of her panties. The crotch was damp, her lips swollen, fat.

  When he spoke the word, “pussy,” Paula flushed at the pleasure it gave her, just to hear it. She bit her lower lip and hid her face from him, surprised by her very real feelings and very real arousal. She had to recover.

  “Yes,” she started “...I mean, no.” She kept rubbing. God, it was hot in here. “There are some times when I feel sexually satisfied.”

  Paula saw her stepfather was now watching unabashedly, his gaze between her legs, but he gave no indication of arousal. Maddening.

  “What satisfies and fills you sexually, Paula?”

  “It might surprise you… or maybe it won’t, Phillip.” She sighed and shuddered slightly as she said his name, for effect, she told herself, but the flutter building inside her belly told a different story. “It’s older men. Father figures. Just fantasizing about them and masturbating to orgasm is more satisfying to me, Phillip, than, say… a cock shoved in my mouth… or a cock stuck up my pussy while a tongue fucks my tight asshole. Would you like to see that, Phillip?”

  “Would you like me to see that, Paula?”

  Damn, he was good.

  Paula swallowed as she tugged her panties aside and plunged her fingers down through her swollen lips, running them back up again to rub and strum her clit. Her breath quickened with arousal as she played with herself, no longer concerned as much about her plot to hurt her mother by fucking her stepfather as she was with getting a reaction from him—and even more than that, if she was being deeply honest with herself, wanting to please him.

  “No, Phillip...” Paula murmured, continuing to play with herself as he watched. “No, I don’t want you to see me get fucked. Isn’t it obvious, considering Freud… and my dead father... and don’t forget my utter disdain for my mother… isn’t it obvious that I want you to fuck me, Phillip? That I want you… to want to fuck me. I want you to want me, Phillip.”

  Paula licked her lips, her breath becoming progressively more ragged. She parted her pussy, bean-flicking and rubbing her clit with one hand while she slid two more fingers inside her tight little hole. Through half-lidded eyes, she saw that Phillip had parted his thighs slightly, readjusting lower in his chair to accommodate a nicely growing erection.

  Winning!

  She couldn’t contain her excitement. It bubbled out of her mouth as she continued to finger herself on his office couch.

  “Don’t you want to fuck me, Phillip? Look at my pussy, so ready to be fucked. Don’t you want to put your face right here between my thighs and smell my sex—like I smell the sex in this room.” She saw his eyes flicker at that. Good. “Don’t you want to put your mouth on this hot cunt? Oooo, right here, don’t you want to put your tongue on my clit, bury your face between these soft thighs? Do you think you could make me jump and squeal when you run your tongue all the way down to my tight, puckered little asshole?”

  She pressed a finger there, pulling her panties aside so he could see just where she was talking about. In case he was wondering. He swallowed, an audible click.

  “Is that what you want me to do to you, Paula?”

  With one finger pressing her asshole, another rubbing her clit, she looked over at the cock straining at his slacks, knowing she was getting to him. That was good. Very good. It really turned her on. She rubbed herself fast and furious, pushing just the tip of her finger into her ass. She felt her lower lip quivering, something that happened when she was nearing orgasm. An especially hard orgasm.

  “Paula?” he prompted, raising an eyebrow at her. “Is that what you want me to do to you?”

  Fuck, just the sound of his voice was going to make her come!

  That feeling of bewilderment and panic overtook her again—why did things that should be off-limits feel so deeply good and satisfying?— taking her body where her mind didn’t want it to go.

  “No, Phillip,” she snapped, fucking herself faster, harder, the wet squelch of her pussy filling the little office. She was out of control now, and she knew it. And couldn’t stop it, even if she tried. “I want you to take out that big, hard cock and shove it in me. I want you to bury that cock in me, Daddy. I want you to cum deep inside my hot pussy, Daddy. Oh, Daddy, please, fuck me! Please, Daddy, put your big hard cock in me so I can come all over it. Please, Daddy, I want to feel you shoot your cum inside me. Oh, Daddy, don’t you want to cum in my dirty little pussy? Don’t you want to love me like that, Daddy?”

  Paula began to shudder, hips bucking up as her orgasm began deep inside, contracting and releasing in waves until a gush of girl-cum flooded out of her pussy over her fingers, pooling between her thighs on the black leather couch.

  “Oh, Daddy... oh, Daddy... oh, Daddy...” she cried as she came, the spasms finally slowing as she attempted to hold back silent rising sobs.

  Finally, her breathing began to become regular, and her eyes cleared, losing their blur, and that’s when Paula saw that her stepfather hadn’t moved much—but he had climaxed. She saw a slowly growing wet stain on the pants stretched over his still semi-hard cock.

  “Was that satisfying sexually for you, Paula?”

  “Mmmm... was what satisfying for me, Phillip, letting you watch me get myself off...?”

  “No, Paula, was calling me ‘Daddy’ satisfying for you sexually?”

  Paula’s eyes widened. “What? Are you crazy? I didn’t call you, ‘Daddy!’ Maybe in your mind, or your fantasy, I call you, ‘Daddy,’ but I did no such thing! You can’t play those head games and pull that kind of psychobabble with me...”

  She stood, grabbing tissue and wiping her wet pussy and thighs for the second time in the last thirty minutes. Then she adjusted her panties and pulled down her skirt before she threw the tissues at her stepfather. It was no vibrator, but it would do.

  “Asshole!” With that, she turned, stomped out of the office, and ran to her Mazda.

  Paula had done little since yesterday besides obsessively analyze her plan to seduce her stepfather—why it had failed so badly, why it had gone so wrong.

  It was dinner time and one of her stepfather’s late nights seeing clients. She didn’t expect him home, and that was good, because she didn’t want to see him. She didn’t!

  That’s when she received his text:

  Meet me at my office. 9 p.m. Last client gone at 8:50. We need to talk.

  She stared at her phone, literally growling at the screen.

  Asshole. He actually thinks I’ll come to that place ever again. Not. Asshole. Actually believes I called him, “Daddy.”

  She texted back: Asshole.

  At 8:58 p.m. Paula revved her Mazda through the yellow light as it turned red and whipped into the lot, parking in front of the door leading to her stepfather’s office. Her text books were still on the floor from yesterday, so they did not fly off the seat. She quickstepped into the building, not caring that her heels clacked on the pavement.

  Her fists were balled and she had a half-snarl on her face, eyes narrowed like a gunfighter looking for a target. All tempest, no teacup. She entered her stepfather’s office. She didn’t knock.

  “You came.” He stood in front of his desk, back to her. “Thank you. Sit.”

  “What?” She was already sitting

  “I said, thank you for coming.”

  “Don’t be an asshole. You know what I mean. What do you want?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  “You expect me to answer your questions? You think I’m here for more therapy? You’re so full of yourself, I can’t even...!”

  “You can’t even what, Paula?” He sat down in his chair, facing her.

  “I can’t even believe you called me here... to talk...? What the hell do we have to talk about?”

  “About you and I.”

  “You and I? There is no
you and I! Not after that stunt you pulled yesterday, tricking me into acting out like that!”

  “Is that what happened?”

  “Of course that’s what happened! What do you think happened?”

  “I think the script got flipped on your plan.”

  “Plan? I didn’t have any plan! I wanted to talk to you because I thought I could trust you!”

  “What did you think you could trust me to do that I didn’t?”

  “Not to take advantage of me when I was vulnerable! You know exactly what I’m talking about, so stop playing therapist!”

  “All I did was listen when you asked me to listen. Is that taking advantage of you?”

  “You know what you did!”

  “Are you my client?”

  “No, of course not!

  “Am I your therapist?”

  “No, not in your wildest dreams!”

  “So, who am I to you, Paula?”

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  “How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are?”

  That was it. Everyone had a big red button or two, and Paula, even though she knew her stepfather had just pushed hers, lost control. She knew it. She found herself shoved out the door of her rational mind, kicked to the curb. It was like she was watching herself from outside of her body. Instinct took over, like something coiled and wild in her gut, at the base of her spine.

  Something in the deepest chamber of her heart had been awakened and was ready to strike, something dripping poison.

  “Who am I to you, Paula?”

  She was paralyzed, trying to keep the dark snake inside from taking over her body like it had her mind.

  “The truth is painful.” His voice was soft. “It hurts, but it will also free you, Paula.”

  Paula’s stepfather ran his hand down between his legs and gripped his cock and balls through his pants. Paula could see how hard he was, how much his cock strained against the crotch of his pants, and she gasped and swallowed.

  “Is this what you want, Paula?”

  “No...” she mouthed.

  “You know this is why you came here tonight, don’t you?”

  “No,” she said, suddenly calmed, unable to deny the truth any longer.