Little Brats Jenna: Forbidden Taboo Erotica (2 page)

Jenna stared at the paper shaking in her hand. It was her stepfather’s handwriting, no doubt about that. But his words were so shocking to her, she had to double check anyway. She sat, frozen, her heart beating her in her chest while she fought for air. A rush of emotion surged through her, from fear to anger to disbelief.

Her body simply reacted. She broke out in a cold sweat, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, and an icy finger snaked down her spine. A little shiver turned quickly to shaking. Her vision blurred, a sudden dizzy spell making her grab her night stand to steady herself.

“Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered.

When she felt strong enough, she went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Then she went down to get a Coke from the fridge, grabbing a few saltines to settle her churning stomach. She couldn’t believe what she’d read, but it was there, in black and white. Her stepfather hadn’t stolen anything. It was her mother who had taken the money. And, apparently, she still had it.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, looking at that first letter. She couldn’t read on. She was too afraid of what she might find. What else hadn’t her mother told her? The thought of her stepfather sitting in jail for a crime he didn’t commit filled her with a helpless rage. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, but her mother was the criminal. He hadn’t done anything.

“Jenna!”

She startled, glancing at the clock, realizing only then how much time had actually passed while she was sitting there, in shock. Her mother was home from work. And she had all of her stepfather’s letters in her lap. Jenna heard her coming up the stairs and panicked, getting quickly under the covers, taking the letters with her.

“Jenna, did you start dinner?” Her mother poked her head in, frowning when she saw her daughter in bed, Coke and saltines on the bedside table. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not feeling well,” Jenna managed. That was true enough. She still felt sick to her stomach, and she was finding it hard to look at her mother at all.

“Hm.” Her mother narrowed her eyes, assessing the situation. “Well, you do look pale.”

“Just a stomach ache, I think.” Jenna pulled the covers up further, closing her eyes. The letters were still clutched in her hand. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“I’ll go order a pizza, then.” Her mother shrugged. “I sure don’t want to catch whatever you’ve got.”

“Mmkay.” Jenna rolled away from her mother, a dismissal, and she shut the door.

Jenna’s mother had always been a bit of a germaphobe and now Jenna was glad. She was used to taking care of herself anyway. Her stepfather, once he’d come along, had been the one who would take off work to sit with her, read to her, make her soup. At least those memories made the information in the letters easier to believe.

She knew her mother would avoid Jenna’s room like the plague, now that she thought her daughter might be ill, so she felt safe to pull the letters out from under her covers. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read any more, honestly. The truth was hard to hear. How was she supposed to keep this kind of secret?

But curiosity got the best of her and she unfolded the letter and kept reading.

I really want to see you, Jeanie. I miss you so much. I want you. God, I still want you. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. I can spend all night just thinking about it.

Do you remember?
The hunger in your mouth on mine, your hands, pushing me, pulling me. Are you shaved smooth for me, just like I like it? I know just how to make you wet. I want to turn you around and bend you over. I want the soft, round curve of your ass in my hands. If I had you here right now, I couldn't wait, I know it. You’d open your legs wide for me. I want to see you reach around and grab your cheeks and spread them. It's so pink inside, so wet for me. You're all I can think about. I want my cock buried in you to the hilt. Show me where you want it with your fingers. Press them deep into your cunt. That’s
my
hot, wet cunt. I want to fuck you until you can't breathe. 

I can
hear the quivering moan of your anticipation, as you look over your shoulder at me. I can feel your fingers, finding the hole you want me to fill. My cock is so hard for you. I’d stroke it in my hand, rub it right against your pussy, up and down between those smooth, baby-soft lips. Can you feel the heat of it, the months of waiting, longing for just this moment?

How long could we stay there, savoring the moment, before I plunged the steel heat of my cock into you? A minute? Two? It wouldn't be long before our appetites took over. Maybe you would moan and wiggle back, or beg me, "Please, Scott, don't tease me, baby. Put it in!" Or maybe it would be me, grabbing your hips and thrusting forward with a groan, saying your name as I sank into your flesh.

It doesn't matter who, or how, I just know that we couldn't wait, and we wouldn't stop until we were satisfied. It would be a wild, violent, frenzied fuck—me pounding into you, our flesh slapping together.

And you would beg me to fuck you. Harder, faster, deeper, more! I couldn't get enough, I can never have enough of you. There's no end to how much I want you, and the moment my cock slid inside you, I'd never want to leave. The wet squeeze of your flesh around mine, drawing me deeper, making me groan and grunt against you. 

I can see your ass rising up in the air for me. I can't help it. I'm helpless with lust, wanting you, filling you to your very depths. I'd grind into you, rolling my hips, panting and gasping and moaning as I fucked you.

I can hear you telling me, “Fuck me, baby! God, please, don't ever stop!”

But it couldn't go on that way, you know, burning so hot between us, for long—that delicious friction building, my cock swelling inside of you, your pussy clamping down on me with that velvet squeeze. 

It’s been too long since I’ve shot my cum inside of you, since I've experienced that moment that every man lives for—burying myself so deep inside of you that you can't tell where either of us begins or ends, that one ecstatic moment of bliss.

I want to take you, fuck you, fill you. I want to hear you say, “Come inside of me, baby!” I want to grip your hips so hard I leave bruises and shove my cock so far up into you that you can almost taste my cum when I shoot it, waves of white-hot pleasure filling your cunt so full you can't contain it. Can you feel it seeping out around the edges? I can feel it dripping down the weight of my balls.

So much cum in there for you, all for you. And I want you to take every last drop. I promise I’ll save it for you, baby. I’ll let you have it all.

God, I'm so hard now. You make me crazy with wanting you. I say I can't wait, but I know I will. I have to. I need to see you, Jeanie. Please. Write me. Call me. Come see me. Soon.

Jenna stopped reading, her breath coming in jagged gasps, tiny huffs of air like fire in her lungs. And those weren’t the only flames that had been ignited in her. She knew this letter was private, that it was meant for someone else, but she couldn’t help her excitement. So much passion, so much hunger. She had walked in on him, once, while he was masturbating—she knew just what he looked like when he grabbed his big cock and pumped it.

Had he done that, after reading this letter?

Her wet sex throbbed imagining his words were meant for her. Oh God, that was so wrong, but when she closed her eyes, she could see it. She could see him doing it to her, bending her over, fucking her, hard, stretching her, making her writhe. She was, technically, still a virgin at nineteen, but she’d played with toys enough to know she’d popped her cherry long ago.

In fact, some of best masturbatory fantasies she’d ever concocted had been about her stepfather. She would never have admitted that to anyone, but it was true. The man was impossibly kind and beyond sexy. It had proven to be a dangerous combination when she’d taken up the sport of masturbation. And for a while, she’d done it almost constantly—in the shower, in bed, on the couch late at night watching soft porn on Cinemax, but so often, it had been Scott’s cock she was imagining buried inside of her.

She imagined him now, as she closed her eyes and unzipped her jeans, sliding her hand under the elastic of her panties to finger herself, circling her clit with her thumb. It was his cock she pictured, plunging deep inside of her. She clutched the letter in her hand, reading his words over and over, pretending they were for her. All for her. He wanted to take her, fuck her, fill her.

“Oh Daddy,” she whispered, eyes half closed as she rubbed herself toward climax. “Fill my pussy. Fill your baby girl’s pussy with all that hot cum. I want all of it, Daddy. Give it to me! Oh now! Give it to me, Daddy!”

She shuddered all over as she came, her body bucking under the covers, hips thrusting as if he were inside her, filling her completely.
Ohhh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She gasped, clutching his letter to her chest, a slow, steady ache beating with the rhythm of her heart.

He was in jail, pining away for a woman who could care less. She’d stolen his money and tossed his letters, unopened, in the back of a drawer.

I’m going to save him.

The fantasy took shape in her mind, a small smile curling the corners of her lips.

The letter had ended with him begging her mother for a conjugal visit. He said he’d been on his best behavior and had earned it. She imagined the thrill of going into a prison and being locked in a room with a criminal, having sex when she imagined any guard could walk in if they wanted to. I mean, she’d seen it happen on TV shows, so it wouldn’t be impossible.

Jenna turned off her light, tucking the letters into her pillowcase, before drifting off to sleep.

* * * *

Waitressing took its toll on her, mentally and physically, but at least it helped pay her college tuition. Her father had stopped paying, and her mother said she didn’t have enough to make ends meet. Of course, Jenna knew now, that wasn’t exactly true. She came into the house, tossing her jacket onto a kitchen chair, her only thoughts focused on a hot shower and curling up with her stepfather’s letters.

The rest of his letters were full of pleas, asking his wife to come see him, to bring Jenna. And then, there was the talk of sex. So much sex. The letters were sticky with her juices, she’d read them so much.

Jenna opened the fridge, perusing the contents, but a sound made her freeze.

She cocked her head, frowning.
It can’t be.
But it was. It was her father’s voice. Her biological father, Keith, hadn’t bothered to come around much since her parents divorced. Not that he was much of a dad before that either. Mostly, he yelled and berated Jenna’s mother, or talked about his get-rich-quick schemes. He was determined to strike it rich someday.

The sound of his voice in her house made no sense, but nothing surprised her anymore. Her entire world seemed to be built on lies.

She inched up the stairs, avoiding the creaky one, third from the top, creeping down the hall to the bathroom that adjoined her mother’s room. She was hoping it would be cracked enough that she could listen. It wasn’t, but she could hear them, her mother and father, their voices, not their words.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly, carefully eased the bathroom door open and peered through the crack. She had to stifle a gasp, putting her hand over her mouth to prevent any sound from escaping.

Her mother stood naked at the end of the bed, facing Jenna’s father, where he sat on the bed. Jenna couldn’t quite register what she was seeing.

“On your knees.”

Her mother sank down in front of him as the man unbuckled his jeans. Jenna had never seen her mother humbled this way. Jean MacKenzie was always in control, always in charge. She’d ordered Scott around like he was a child—or, at least, she tried to. He’d quickly tired of it, but that was just who she was. Jenna knew she would never change.

So seeing her mother on her knees for her ex-husband was a shock.

“Do you want that cock?” Jenna’s father pulled out his erection, shoving his jeans down just far enough to do so. “Tell me, whore.”

“Yes,” Jeanie whispered, licking her lips. “Please. I want it.”

“You’re going to get it.” He grinned, inching forward to touch the head to her lips. “I’m going to fuck your mouth until you choke.”

Jeanie made a low, pained noise in her throat as she looked up at him.

“Did it miss it, even when you were fucking that young stud?” Jenna’s father yanked his cock away from her when Jeanie leaned in to take it into her mouth. “You did, didn’t you? Did you think about me when you were fucking him?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a vigorous nod. “I was only ever thinking of you.”

“My God, you’ve gotten fat.” He sneered, slapping her cheek with his cock. “I told you, I’m not going to be as tolerant as the gullible fuck you married. I want my wife back, you hear me?”

“I’m trying.” Jeanie whispered the words. “I swear, Keith, I’ll be beautiful again for you.”

“He might not have cared if he was fucking a cow every night, but I sure as fuck do.” Jenna’s father grabbed his ex-wife by the hair and guided her mouth toward his engorged cock. She opened her mouth willingly enough, accepting his length. “You got your chubby little fingers on all that money and you blew up like a balloon.”

Keith guided Jeanie’s head, forcing her mouth on him, his cock sinking in deep.

“If I knew our plan to steal all that dumbfuck’s money was going to cost me your figure, I would’ve kept tighter reins on you.” He grunted as he reached the back of her throat. Jeanie gagged but he ignored the sounds, grinding his hips, eyes closing momentarily. He was clearing enjoying the sensation, maybe even the choking sounds coming from his ex-wife’s throat.

Jenna stared, wide-eyed, aghast, not quite understanding his words, although they were beginning to sink in. Slowly. Like a dream.