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Welcome to another jolly ride.


Taboo


Frankie


(C) 2021


Cover picture courtesy Pexels



Love is a wonderful experience. For Prince, he is ready to go for what he desires and loves to have. Even if the society considers it to be a taboo.






It is said that I was a special child. I guess it was true. Certainly my upbringing was unusually open and my erotic evolution broad-minded.

I'm sure that many will say that the way I grew up was wrong; that my step Mom was wrong in her outlook, her view of life, and her guidance of me as a child. I myself would say none of those things. I look back on a rich and varied education and development. Every aspect of my young life seemed to guide me in the direction of being a useful, thoughtful, feeling adult.

Still, I was aware even at an early age that it was different from other children. Somehow I knew that it was something to be protected, perhaps even sheltered from the eyes of others. I have no idea why that should be, since nothing was ever said about it, I just knew.

My father died when I was nine years old. Most of us grow up thinking our step Moms are nearly perfect; so it was with me. She was intelligent and beautiful and perfect. After my father died, there were lots of tears and I was lonely.

But, after a time, my step Mom's resolve and intelligence took over and we became an avowed "team" dedicated to making each other's lives happy and rich with art, sport, play, everything that made life a pleasure.

She loved the opera and the ballet. I came to love them too, and it seemed natural to be taken to each performance with her. The lights, the people, the music enthralled me, even then. I took piano lessons, but they didn't seem to take with me. On the other hand, step Mom seemed to love the things I loved as well. She hardly ever missed a baseball game or tennis match, and encouraged me in all outdoor activities.

I sensed that she really missed Dad and it became natural for me to watch for the signs and try to behave a little better when I saw them. I felt especially tender toward her when I saw the sadness creep over her from time to time.

She had a very good job as an executive assistant to the Chief Executive Officer of one of the larger companies in Lagos and it appears that she was very good at the job. Smart and willing to do whatever had to be done, logical and protective of the Chief Executive Officer and of the company's interests.

I'm sure you have known the sort of person who succeeds in that world. That was my step Mom. Always immaculately and stylishly dressed, she went off to work each day and returned at night, usually with work to be done at home.

She always wore a business suit or tailored dress to work, never pant suits like I saw other moms wearing. Everything about her was feminine, the perfume, the swishing sound of her nylons as she walked or crossed her legs, the lovely drape of the white silk blouse.

She seemed to know something about everything. If she didn't know, she was willing to do the research to help me find the answer. Her guidance over the years made me more and more eager for knowledge and for variety. We learned about astronomy, photography, sailing, painting, hiking and even a little bit of fishing, though she didn't much like worms and other squirming things.

She dated occasionally but none of them ever really caught on as a regular thing. Perhaps she never really got over her first love, my father. I don't think I stood in the way of her romance, at least I hope not.

But as it turned out, she never re-married. On the other hand, she had many friends and had an active social life, mostly centered around the arts. And she was a wonderful grandstep Mom to my two children.

Taboo: "Taboo by Frankie | OkadaBooks" https://okadabooks.com/book/about/taboo/43472

Tent pitched

At the first roll sit

In spite of the loss of a father and husband, we had, I think I speak for both of us, a happy family life. We two.

I stopped just inside the front door and looked around the silent great room and the memories of childhood flooded over me. Here after Dad's funeral I had heard all that advice starting with "you'll have to be the man around here now, Prince. I'm sure you can handle it! You're a big boy now! Watch after your step Mom."

All those sad faces of well-intentioned relatives. And then they were gone. And then it was just the two of us.

I wandered aimlessly around the house at first, touching long remembered furniture, small sculptures, picture frames, then started a cup of coffee, I found myself in her bedroom and tears came to my eyes for a few fleeting moments as the memories flowed over me, clutching at my gut.

All these things to be disposed of. I slid drawers open at random, then closed them. The familiar scent of long remembered perfumes found me.

I recalled with mixed emotions the day at about age ten that her panty drawer had interested me. I slid the deep drawer open and let my fingers slide over the silken treasures. She had really loved pretty things. Pretty underwear, lovely nightgowns, luxurious stockings; and I had loved them too, I remembered.

"Still do!" I said sardonically to the vacant house.

Another drawer held mostly brassieres and garter belts and I smiled at the fact that she had sometimes worn old-fashioned stockings and garter belts long after pantyhose had supplanted them.

"You're still a sexy lady in my book, Ma!" I don't know who I was talking to, just entertaining myself, I guess.

I held up a brassiere and recalled how her breasts had looked in these pretty things. Her breasts were rather large, not big and floppy, just full and firm. The bra looked like a second skin holding their soft treasures, and even constrained by the material, they would sway slightly when she moved.

At age nine, I had only just noticed how attractive they looked when her blouse gaped open and I glanced down to see the cleavage and the lovely swell captured under nylon cups. I was attracted and curious, but it wasn't quite sexual, just the first stirrings of sex raising its head, perhaps. They looked warm and the fabric clung as if it was slightly damp. She had a beauty mark on her left breast just above the lace trim.

I dropped the bra back in the drawer and started to turn away. Then I recalled that there had been a diary. I rummaged a little. Nothing. I re-opened the deep, fragrant panty drawer and slipped my hands down through the lace and nylon.

At the bottom, my fingers found a thick volume, then another. I didn't recall there being two. A little further and my fingers started a vibrating Love Machine running. I pulled it out and switched it off.

The fact the batteries were still live amused me. Even at age grand, step Mom had retained a healthy sexuality. As I returned the Love Machine to its proper place, I found yet another diary buried beneath the heaps of panties.




Taboo: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/taboo/43472

FOLLOWING

MORE

...

Carry on.

The fact the batteries were still live amused me. Even at age grand, step Mom had retained a healthy sexuality. As I returned the Love Machine to its proper place, I found yet another diary buried beneath the heaps of panties.

I thumbed through the first book which held many relatively short entries interspersed with longer, more detailed personal entries back over the years.

As I read a few passages about my father and step Mom's courting days, I felt as if I were prying, and closed the book. The second volume began shortly after the funeral and I was more comfortable reading it.

Brief notes about finding the job, feelings expressed loneliness. There were comments about me. The fun we had at an amusement park. I won second in a tennis tournament at camp, growing up fast. I smiled at the prideful comments of a step Mom.

Then I stopped short.

"Maybe we have to stop baths together ... soon ... But not yet." A cryptic comment full of electricity. I would have been eleven, I noticed by the date on the entry. I lay back on the bed and thought about it.

"Come on, big boy, let's take our shower!"

We raced upstairs, laughing and stumbling.

At the bathroom door, I threw off my clothes and turned to watch her stepping out of high heels at the door of her closet. She hung up the blue suit jacket and the light behind her silhouetted her breasts through a plain white silk blouse.

The snap at her hip was loosened and the skirt fell to the floor and I watched as she retrieved it and hung it in the closet.

The blouse followed and she was standing in a full white slip with lace at the top and bottom. I think it was that step Mummy when I fell completely in love with my step Mom. I mean not like step Momly love. I mean full blown love.

I just adored the creamy softness that she had standing in that pretty slip with dark bands of stockings barely visible. She unsnapped the garters through the slip and the perfection of her legs was spoiled by the slumping nylons as they slithered part way down her legs.

"Do you mind?" she giggled, turning to me. "Can I have a little privacy, here?" she laughed and shooed me into the bathroom. "Get the water ready, young man!"

I dragged my eyes away and soon the steam was rolling from the shower stall. I waited in the rising steam, writing my name on the glass over and over until the door opened and the lower half of my step Mom appeared.




Taboo: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/taboo/43472

Nice update.

Cool

Cool

More

I dragged my eyes away and soon the steam was rolling from the shower stall. I waited in the rising steam, writing my name on the glass over and over until the door opened and the lower half of my step Mom appeared.

The triangle of hair was dark and curly and I could see the split between her legs through the soft curls.

This was the ritual when we were going to an opera or another event together. We were loud in the echoing shower room, laughing and playing together.

"You scrub my back and I'll scrub yours!"

She turned to me and I filled the cloth with soap suds and reached up to her shoulder blades and began making large swirls over the marks left by her bra straps. She felt gorgeous, or sensuous, or delicious, I can't remember what word I would have used, but she was soft and smooth and wonderful.

I washed over her generous hips and then watched the suds cascade over the cheeks of her bottom. I drizzled some on the split between her buns and made her laugh.

"Now cut that out!" she said softly, with a smile.

I knelt on the floor and scrubbed up and down her legs, my hands coming up to just touch between her legs.

"Mmmhhh!" she said, indecisively, then parted her legs just a tiny bit and I pressed the length of my hand between the warmth of her buns.

"Good. That's wonderful. I can do the rest!" She parted her legs and took the cloth from me. "God, but you are good at that!" she laughed.

I wasn't sure why, but I knew that I had enjoyed the feeling of her flesh warm around my hand as she stood for that brief step Mummy with my small hand exploring her secrets.

"Your turn."

And did he have a mirror?" my step Mom asked.

"Well, I don't really know. We didn't find one. But Mercy told her step Mom that..."

"But, Mrs. Buraimoh, how can you punish him on the basis of an accusation without proof?"

"I know, but Mrs. Balogun is quite upset, you can understand..."

"I'll have a talk with him, of course, but..."

All this I heard with my ears ringing and my face a cherry red color. step Mom had been called to school because Mercy Balogun overheard me bragging that I had looked up her skirt with a mirror.

I was actually only bragging to a friend, I hadn't really done it. Though it had been on my mind since an younger boy had claimed to have done the deed.

I expected the worst when we got home but step Mom was calm when we sat down across the kitchen table to have our talk.

"Now, I'm not condoning you looking up little girls' skirts. And you mustn't do that, by the way. I don't know if you did or not, of course," she agonized. "Did you?"

I shook my head.

"Well ... I know boys are curious ... you know, at your age... " She stared out the window a step Mummy.

"Try to not ... get me called down to school anymore, O.K?" She tousled my hair and pulled me close and I knew the lecture was over. She wasn't sure I had done it and wasn't sure what to do with me if I had.

"So when you have curiosities ... ask me? O.K? I'm a girl, you know! And I will answer anything for you; you know that! Right?"

Then she giggled. "Have you been looking up my skirt? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she screamed! Then we were both laughing. I rolled my eyes at her, which prompted a feigned slap on my hands and then another laugh into her clasped hands.

"Really, Prince, promise me, no more episodes with Mercy!"

"O.K."





Taboo:https://okadabooks.com/book/about/taboo/43472

Nice update

Step mum, nice update

Interesting

nice work

Next please

Then she giggled.

"Have you been looking up my skirt? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she screamed! Then we were both laughing.

I rolled my eyes at her, which prompted a feigned slap on my hands and then another laugh into her clasped hands.

"Really, Prince, promise me, no more episodes with Mercy!"

"O.K."

But my curiosity about the secrets hidden under their skirts remains to this day. What is that urge in us? A woman crosses her legs and our eyes fly to their thighs, hoping for the glimpse of what?

A triangle of white, or some pastel shade, perhaps a floral pattern in silk softly covering a rounded pudendum. But it is completely irresistible to all men who are still alive.

And I WAS looking up my step Mom's skirt, to answer the question accurately. Probably more assiduously that any other. And I had more opportunities with her, too.

I remember lying on the floor watching television or reading, for example. step Mom would come along vacuuming and I would glance up, seeking that flash of the white kite-shape high up in the shadow of her thighs.

Becoming younger, I would lie on my back and pretend to read, and perhaps get a view of her round nylon-clad thighs and the round, full shape of her bottom captured in taut pantyhose and pink panties trapped under the stockings.

She wasn't really my Auntie Deborah. That's just what step Mom called her younger sister, Amarachi. They looked quite a bit alike but Amarachi was definitely a bit wilder and showier compared to my step Mom.

She visited often and it was always a lot of fun. Amarachi showed up more often after Dad died, and I knew it was her way of helping step Mom.

I was still young enough to get by with pretended innocence when sex came up. Aunt Amarachi loved to tease me about things that were a little beyond the sexuality level they thought I was in. It was delicious. I was in love with her, too. But only second to step Mom.

I must have been eleven or twelve by then.

They were lying on the lounges by the pool when I slammed the gate.

"Prince, sweetie, don't you think your step Mom should have a date once in awhile? Come on, honey agree with me!"

Her lipstick was a bright cheerful slash across a pretty, wide face all peering at me above the cushion of breasts and cleavage that made everything in me vibrate. I didn't know what it was all about, but I knew what I liked.

"Uh, I don't know, Aunt Amarachi. I guess so. If she wants to."

"Now Amarachi, leave Prince alone, I'll start dating when I'm ready. Prince and I get along just fine. He's my date when I need one! Right, honey?"

"Sure."

"Be a dear and go get some more sun lotion for us?"

"I'll let you rub it all over me, Prince dear. What do you think of that?'

"Amarachi!" my step Mom chided. A giggle escaped her lips and she looked at me with her usual step Momly pride.

I turned red and also turned to go get the lotion.

"He may be a pervert, but he's OUR little pervert!" Aunt Amarachi's laugh followed me into the house.

When I came back, they did let me put the oil on their sleek backs and with the tops of their suits untied, my fingertips found the way to the soft sides of Aunt Amarachi's breast.

"Ohhhhh, Prince. You are so good at this. Are you sure he's not legal age?" she murmured to my step Mom.

Since I was a kid and part of the family they were fairly relaxed about the whole thing. When I worked the oil into her legs, Amarachi spread her legs wide and I even saw a few hairs between her legs where they had escaped the bikini bottoms.

I rubbed higher and higher until I could feel the hear radiating from that great secret place.

Amarachi rolled over and for a step Mummy lost control of her top, giving me a fairly long glance at her right breast. I think I saw her smiling as she caught my long appreciative stare at her dark nipple.





Taboo: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/taboo/43472

Hmmm, I’m waiting for the taboo part of the story. Thanks

next

Interesting

Next

Amarachi rolled over and for a step Mummy lost control of her top, giving me a fairly long glance at her right breast. I think I saw her smiling as she caught my long appreciative stare at her dark nipple.

"Now this side." she smiled, snuggling the breast back into its cup and tugging both into place.

I did her legs but she took over before I got a shot at those luscious boobs.

"Thanks, sweetheart." I knew I was dismissed. "Your step Mom will kill me if I don't do the rest myself."

I dutifully rubbed the oil into my step Mom's back while they exchanged the lively form of sisterly banter that I heard so much of I could almost repeat it like a script. But I was comfortable enough to sit astride step Mom's bottom and legs while I worked. Being in contact with her deliciously soft bottom for this long with a good excuse was exquisite pleasure.

I worked my way down her legs and they finally turned their jokes to slightly off-color references to me which they thought I was too young to catch onto. I finally drifted off and took a swim.

Amarachi left in the middle of the afternoon and step Mom and I were in the pool.

"Are you going to start having dates, step Mom? Like Aunt Amarachi said?"

"I don't think so. What do you think? Not that anyone is beating down my door to ask me," she smiled and rubbed my head.

"I guess it's OK." I looked away. I wasn't sure how that would actually make me feel.

"Well, let's not worry about it. I'm happy having you as my date anyway."

"Why don't we, have a date, I mean?" I said. "I mean, like you and Dad used to have dinner together in the dining room and send me off to bed? You know, you still have that blue dress."

She looked at me intensely and a smile broke out. "What do you know about my old blue dress?"

"I remember that Dad liked it!"

"Whaaaaat?"

I was caught. I'm sure I looked sheepish.

"Yeah. I used to sneak back downstairs and watch."

"Oh my God!" she said. "Good Grief! Peeping tom! What did you watch?"

"Kissin' and stuff."

"Oh. We did enjoy that." she smiled and looked sad for a step Mummy and then brightened.

"O.K. Let's do it. What shall we have to eat? I accept your invitation!"

"Plantains." I offered. "And wine."

"Done. I have to see if I have that old blue dress. Or will another one do?"

"Blue."

"Let's go get dressed then, date."

I put on my Sunday best spots coat and came into her room. She was fresh out of the shower, in lacy white panties and bra.

She was stepping into a half slip and I frowned as the panties were covered from my prying eyes. She noticed and pulled it all the way up to cover her bra too. She gave me a look full of love and amusement.

Dark brown tops of nylon stockings were pulled taut and fastened to a white garter belt and she slipped into high heel shoes.

"I'll bet I can't wear this bra with that dress." she muttered.

She slipped the dress over her head and then reached up under it to pull the half slip down to her waist. She turned and looked back at me.

"Does it show? Can you see my bra strap?"

I nodded self consciously.





Taboo: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/taboo/43472

Continue pls

NEXT

next

She slipped the dress over her head and then reached up under it to pull the half slip down to her waist. She turned and looked back at me.

"Does it show? Can you see my bra strap?"

I nodded self consciously.

In fascinated astonishment I watched as she unsnapped the bra and whisked it out from under the dress. Her breasts blossomed into the silky blue fabric and she bustled to the dresser to find another.

"What on earth did I wear with this?" The dress was low cut in the back and had a slash in front from the neck band almost to the waist.

"Oh, I know. I don't have that bra anymore. I'll have to go without. Is that OK? You will have to be a gentleman and not look!" she laughed.

"You look beautiful, Mom!"

"Thank you, Prince!" she said. "Now let's get those plantains fixed and that wine poured."

We sat side by side and the candles cast dazzling shadows and glistening shards of light against the walls. step Mom sat there in the slinky dress Dad liked so much. She crossed her legs and the dark bands of her stockings showed the clasps of her garter belt through the long slit in the skirt.

My eyes kept straying to the gaping opening which was like a puppet stage for step Mom's swaying breasts. She kept up a lively conversation with her adoring son. In the background Mozart was what she wanted.


I turned to another page in the diary.

Diary: "Oh dear. It gets more complicated. It seems that Mercy and Prince have made up since the looking up skirt episode a couple years ago.

I came home early and found them playing strip poker in the garden house. I just passed the window and glanced in. Prince was in his underwear and the little girl just slipping out of her panties and tossing them across the table.

Cute, really, but of course it raises all sorts of issues for me. How do I keep them from actually experimenting sexually? And what if her step Mom finds out? She'll go bananas again. Good grief! As a first step, I bought some condoms and gave brief instructions. I hope I am doing the right things. It is all very normal, but complicated, like everything about sex, I guess. And I am finding the panties in my panty drawer tossed about when I come home. Must be Prince ... my normal teenager, with all those hormones. Wonder if he thinks of me when he does it?"

The memory of that day came back clear as a bell:

It was shattering. Mercy had slipped her hands under the short skirt and pulled a pretty pair of yellow panties down her legs.

Her eyes watched me continuously as she slowly slipped them down her legs and tossed them to me.

Just as I caught them with a grin and had them half way to my nose, step Mom walked in. I wanted to fall through the floor.

"Ummmm, uh?" she began.

Mercy screamed and pushed her skirt down over those naked pubes and grabbed for her bra and blouse. "I'm sorry Mrs.Samuel... "

She struggled to get her little breasts into the cups of the tiny bra decorated with little blue flowers along the edge.

"It's OK, Mercy. Sit down. Please. Listen kids, it's normal. We all go through this. But, it is complicated. Your step Mom and father won't like it Mercy. You know that."




Taboo: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/taboo/43472

Nice update