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The Dirty Daddy Bundle

4 Tales of Erotic Taboo
Boruma Publishing, LLCerschienen am01.07.2017
The Dirty Daddy Bundle collects four previously published books by Veronica Sloan, each one focusing on horny girls who just can't get enough of their daddies!In 'Daddy's Forbidden Desire,' a father struggles to stay faithful to his wife when his daughter returns from college with seduction on her mind. In 'Dad's Big Secret,' Brittany confesses that she's obsessed with finding a man with a few extra inches down below - even if it's her father! In 'Step-Daughter Needs His Seed,' Jane is desperate to have a baby but her husband doesn't have what it takes. That's when her mother convinces her to take her step-father for a ride... Finally, things get supernaturally sexy in 'Daddy's Wish...' when Tim switches bodies with his daughter's husband for one wild afternoon of roleplay!


 ----- Excerpt -----


 'It's okay,' she said. 'Warm me.' She molded her body against him and Bill lowered his arms over her shoulders. God, she feels good, he thought. Clothed only in her wet bikini, she burrowed her nose into his chest, rubbing her wet forehead into his neck, her hands tucked behind his hips. 'Mm, sorry,' she purred. 'I was just so cold.'


'Hop in the shower,' he said. 'Your mom might be back by the time you're done.'


'I can barely move,' said Jane. 'And she's not going to be back for a while...'


'Did she talk to you?' said Bill. 'I didn't see her-'


'She's not going to be back for a while,' Jane said again. This time it sounded different. The words were low and lingered. She'd spoken into his chest, into his body. He felt her lips move on his shirt.


'Oh, um,' said Bill. 'Well you shouldn't stay in those wet clothes.'


'They're hardly clothes,' said Jane. 'I'm barely wearing anything at all.'


'Uh,' said Bill, trying to focus on what she was saying and not the fact that she was absolutely right. 'But look, hop in the shower and I'll see if I can hunt down some more towels.'


'If mom's not back for hours I don't just want to be sitting in towels for hours,' said Jane.


'Well, honey,' said Bill, exasperated. He couldn't bear holding her like this. It was driving him crazy. 'I'll see if they have some clothes at the gift shop.'


'I'm not going to make you go down and buy some stupid souvenir t-shirt and shorts when I'd rather be naked anyway,' said Jane.


'Well then maybe you should just do that,' said Bill. He said it without thinking, just wanted to get her off of him, stop her arguing with him about things he couldn't change.


'Okay,' said Jane quietly. She pulled her chin off his wet chest and looked up at him shyly. 'Can you help me?'


'Wha, um. Hm?' said Bill.


She grinned, and raised her arms up to point behind her head. 'The knot's stuck. Can you help me?'


'Oh,' said Bill. 'Yeah. Of course. What are you going to do, though? Do you want me to use the sheet?'


'Just help me,' said Jane. She pivoted against him. Not for the first time did he marvel at the flexible springiness of her body and the fine, swelling curve of her bottom. The girl was in excellent shape, and her behind had been honed by many hours at the gym. That it was tucked into the flimsy white bikini (rather, that the bikini was tucked into the crack of her damp buttocks) tortured him with all the firm flesh he could not grab.


He promised himself he'd be good as he slowly raised his fingers and - as if in a slow, incomprehensible dream - loosened the tight little knot on Jane's top.


It came undone faster than he expected. The strings fell off the girl's shoulder blades and she quickly scooped herself into her hands. She pulled her hair away from the strings and tossed the top over the chair at the nearby desk. All innocence, she looked over her shoulder at him, her dark hair sticking to her skin, her hands cupping her chest. 'Could you hold me while I get this off, daddy?'


She wiggled her bottom.


Jane seldom called him dad and had not, to his recollection, ever called him 'daddy.' He wasn't sure if he said yes, but Jane backed up into him anyway. She took his big palms in her hands and wrapped them around her body. Suddenly, he had two handfuls of clammy flesh.mehr

Produkt

KlappentextThe Dirty Daddy Bundle collects four previously published books by Veronica Sloan, each one focusing on horny girls who just can't get enough of their daddies!In 'Daddy's Forbidden Desire,' a father struggles to stay faithful to his wife when his daughter returns from college with seduction on her mind. In 'Dad's Big Secret,' Brittany confesses that she's obsessed with finding a man with a few extra inches down below - even if it's her father! In 'Step-Daughter Needs His Seed,' Jane is desperate to have a baby but her husband doesn't have what it takes. That's when her mother convinces her to take her step-father for a ride... Finally, things get supernaturally sexy in 'Daddy's Wish...' when Tim switches bodies with his daughter's husband for one wild afternoon of roleplay!


 ----- Excerpt -----


 'It's okay,' she said. 'Warm me.' She molded her body against him and Bill lowered his arms over her shoulders. God, she feels good, he thought. Clothed only in her wet bikini, she burrowed her nose into his chest, rubbing her wet forehead into his neck, her hands tucked behind his hips. 'Mm, sorry,' she purred. 'I was just so cold.'


'Hop in the shower,' he said. 'Your mom might be back by the time you're done.'


'I can barely move,' said Jane. 'And she's not going to be back for a while...'


'Did she talk to you?' said Bill. 'I didn't see her-'


'She's not going to be back for a while,' Jane said again. This time it sounded different. The words were low and lingered. She'd spoken into his chest, into his body. He felt her lips move on his shirt.


'Oh, um,' said Bill. 'Well you shouldn't stay in those wet clothes.'


'They're hardly clothes,' said Jane. 'I'm barely wearing anything at all.'


'Uh,' said Bill, trying to focus on what she was saying and not the fact that she was absolutely right. 'But look, hop in the shower and I'll see if I can hunt down some more towels.'


'If mom's not back for hours I don't just want to be sitting in towels for hours,' said Jane.


'Well, honey,' said Bill, exasperated. He couldn't bear holding her like this. It was driving him crazy. 'I'll see if they have some clothes at the gift shop.'


'I'm not going to make you go down and buy some stupid souvenir t-shirt and shorts when I'd rather be naked anyway,' said Jane.


'Well then maybe you should just do that,' said Bill. He said it without thinking, just wanted to get her off of him, stop her arguing with him about things he couldn't change.


'Okay,' said Jane quietly. She pulled her chin off his wet chest and looked up at him shyly. 'Can you help me?'


'Wha, um. Hm?' said Bill.


She grinned, and raised her arms up to point behind her head. 'The knot's stuck. Can you help me?'


'Oh,' said Bill. 'Yeah. Of course. What are you going to do, though? Do you want me to use the sheet?'


'Just help me,' said Jane. She pivoted against him. Not for the first time did he marvel at the flexible springiness of her body and the fine, swelling curve of her bottom. The girl was in excellent shape, and her behind had been honed by many hours at the gym. That it was tucked into the flimsy white bikini (rather, that the bikini was tucked into the crack of her damp buttocks) tortured him with all the firm flesh he could not grab.


He promised himself he'd be good as he slowly raised his fingers and - as if in a slow, incomprehensible dream - loosened the tight little knot on Jane's top.


It came undone faster than he expected. The strings fell off the girl's shoulder blades and she quickly scooped herself into her hands. She pulled her hair away from the strings and tossed the top over the chair at the nearby desk. All innocence, she looked over her shoulder at him, her dark hair sticking to her skin, her hands cupping her chest. 'Could you hold me while I get this off, daddy?'


She wiggled her bottom.


Jane seldom called him dad and had not, to his recollection, ever called him 'daddy.' He wasn't sure if he said yes, but Jane backed up into him anyway. She took his big palms in her hands and wrapped them around her body. Suddenly, he had two handfuls of clammy flesh.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9781310571329
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Erscheinungsjahr2017
Erscheinungsdatum01.07.2017
Seiten177 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigrösse323
Artikel-Nr.3403594
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

 

For a long time Dale thought there was something wrong with him. He thought about girls a lot when he was a kid. And then, no sooner did he hit puberty than he began to masturbate. His problem was his imagination. It was vast, and got him into all kinds of trouble. But what it never failed to deliver was an endless permutation of sexy situations and beautiful vixens sprung fresh from his fantasies, his mother's and later sister's lingerie catalogues, actresses, billboard models, classmates.

For a long time he thought there was something wrong with him. He masturbated a lot for a kid but slowly (painfully slowly), as he entered his teenage years and started working jobs and driving cars and dating girls, his masturbatory proclivities dimmed some. But then, of course, once he'd started working jobs and driving cars, the dating became much more involved. And the explosiveness of his sexual fantasies collided with his new, dripping reality.

He liked to imagine that it was simply the hormones in the turbulent air of his high school days that made the sex so glorious in the back of his car (or her father's bed, or the neighborhood pool, or broom closet). Surely women like that didn't exist anymore at his age. But he often looked back fondly on those later years of high school, and then college, despite his fear, that those women were the sultry hellcats he should have married.

What this boils down to is that Dale had sex on the brain at a near perpetual clip from the time he was about eleven onward. There was the rub, if you'll excuse the phrase. When the urge came over him and boiled in his stomach, his chest hot, his fingers tingling and his cock swallowing all the blood in his brain, he just couldn't think of anything else.

When Dale met his wife he thought she was the same. Or, rather, he wanted to believe she was the same, in their hurried romance as the girl of his best friend. His guilt over their stolen trysts fueled the fire of his passion for more time, more fun, more daring feats of affairs of the heart and whatnot. But many years later when they were married and Mary started putting on weight with their sex life secluded to a pleasant but all too comfortable once a week, Dale realized - too late - that his life had acquired stability at the cost of his libido. Not that his libido went anywhere, mind you.

For the first months of the later years of their marriage he was catching himself masturbating at every spare moment. At long last, in his late twenties, he finally decided to quit jerking off altogether. It wasn't easy. A week or two would go by without incident and then all of a sudden, Mary out at the gym (infrequently) or shopping, he'd happen upon a scintillating advertisement on the internet or think of his dashing young secretary, Margaret, who was all of twenty-years-old and didn't seem to know how to buy a bra that fit her. And he'd be at it again.

Things went on this way for a long time. But one year, finally, his dick really exhausted of options, Dale managed to stop touching himself for two months. It was worse than quitting coffee and cigarettes. He still fantasized daily but finally, somehow, with so much progress behind him, he resigned himself to a more controlled existence.

Control. That was the problem. Dale yearned for the days of his youth that popped with the erotic antithesis of control. What he learned how to do with the brash, sexy (no matter how beautiful or ungainly) girls he'd known in the past was useless to him. Maybe he'd never been that upstart Lothario. He started off his marriage resentful of that. But as the years went by and Mary and he began to raise children he understood that it wasn't her fault. Mary didn't have his sex drive. Maybe no one else did. Maybe there had been something wrong with him all along. But he had a job, an office, a beautiful house and a beautiful family, three kids and a dog. And he hardly ever masturbated anymore.

The problem raised its swollen head again when Dale and Mary's eldest, Katie, began to flower into her own womanhood. Even before then Dale would catch her having kisses stolen from her lips by well-intentioned but still trespassing young men. Well-intentioned or not, Katie was too young to be sneaking boys into her room to play doctor. He raised hell and asked where she learned that kind of behavior but she always burst into tears before he could get too angry, and that was that.

Katie began dating boys in middle school. Because she was an early bloomer there was no end to the slavering grunts that pursued her. But Dale was at least a good enough father to ensure that her mind developed along with her body, and even when he had to drive her to a private tutor to make damn sure she was getting the education her public school couldn't provide he was quizzing her on mathematics, history, English, the whole bit. What he didn't realize he was doing was raising a little girl that would be too clever by half for the boys she would date later in life. But Katie, ever adaptable, ever maturing, was able to put aside her more rational notions when it came to getting what she wanted. She became very good at that.

The problem arose late in Katie's Junior year. She was seventeen, she was beautiful. She had breasts that defied gravity unlike her mother's ever had. Of course Dale didn't know, but to make an educated guess on a light day she might have been a generous C cup, and during that time of the month she edged farther into D territory. When she matriculated to college her bosom hovered between those two measurements but her breasts never lost their round, fruitful shape. Not that Dale noticed. At first.

The problem did not arise till one very boring game of high school football, Dale sitting in the stands next to his wife. Katie was on the Varsity cheer squad, having just turned 18 and shaking her pom-poms beside the other girls and screaming all of the rah-rah nonsense that came with it. Dale was there to support his daughter and not, despite the proud fathers of the jocks on the field who earnestly quizzed him on how he thought they were doing that year (I gave up masturbation for this? Dale thought to himself). His mind was wandering. He was sleepy. The economy was shit and there had been several lay-offs at the office that Dale had had to perform himself. And he hated it. His superiors had had their fun screwing over everyone at the bottom by outsourcing all but their most important positions (positions) to countries that did it cheaper and faster (faster) and now they were paying the price.

As he sat, disgruntled and feeling old (he was in his late thirties), his eyes drifted over the lithe body of one of the girls on the field. They all had their backs to the audience. They were cheering to the boys on the field. One of the girls bent over. Dale saw the elegant swell of her calf, the glistening tan of her skin rising up to the back of her knee and then to the impressive and fleshy tone of her upper thighs. That ass was something else, he thought. He appreciated it. It was the kind of ass a man, if he was so lucky, held on to, tenderly smacked, lovingly kneaded and squeezed.

He was hard. He watched the slope of the girl's back rise as she raised her arms. Her delicate shoulders lifted her arms up over her blonde head...

Dale quickly shielded his hard on with his newspaper, not to hide it from the crowd (it was not going anywhere) but from his wife. He suddenly realized, staring at the back of the girl's curly blonde head, that there were only three natural blondes on the cheer squad. And two of them were twins and a good foot shorter than his Katie.

He had, unwittingly, been fantasizing about the back of his daughter's young body. He was embarrassed, guilty. Horribly depressed, really. But that was the problem. He was still turned on.

After that it became difficult to unsee what he had seen. In the morning, boiling up a pot of necessary coffee, Dale caught glimpses of his daughter just awake. They were both early risers. Her brothers slept until the afternoon if they could and her mother until eight. But Katie was up not long after him, wiping the sleep from her eyes and padding into the kitchen in her bare feet, a long shirt drawn over her body that now, Dale was sad to see, was too small to shield anything below her upper thighs from his curious eyes. He hadn't really appreciated those long, toned legs until that night on the field. Now she was striding towards him, smiling her sleepy smile, upper lip so delicately upturned and slightly smaller than her full, pouted lower lip. She had an upturned, rounded nose like her mother and winter blue eyes like her grandmother. And golden curls that shimmered in any kind of light, dirty or freshly shampooed.

"Morning, Daddy," she'd say, and peck him on the cheek, and steal his coffee. Until this morning, he swore, he'd never felt the heavy caress of her breasts underneath her loose cotton top. It was the heavy softness of full breasts freed from a bra, the way a girl sleeps when she is alone and doesn't realize how soft the skin around her ribs and nipples are, and how they titillate any man, anywhere, any time.

That first morning after Dale saw Katie and could not unsee the woman she had become, that first morning, in lieu of coffee, he went quietly to the downstairs bathroom and masturbated. It would be inaccurate to say he knew just what he was fantasizing. It had been so long since he'd jerked off that it didn't take much at all really. But it is with...
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