Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (19 page)

“
I’ll never forget that.” A wave of pure passion and gratitude went out from Deryk’s heart to Aimee. He’d do anything for her. Meg and Tomás meant nothing to him, when his stepdaughter was willingly on her knees before him.

Aimee smiled gently, and looked down at his penis. Deryk gave her tit a quick squeeze, before he grabbed it hard, and started sucking on her pink, swollen nipple. Aimee gave a soft moan as her languid body writhed upon the ground. Deryk extended her pleasure, his hands spanning her narrow waist, caressing her skin, before he started kissing her on the side of her neck. One of Aimee’s hands stroked and rubbed the back of his head, before she hugged him round the neck, in the way that he loved to death.

Aimee reveled in her success. She wanted her show of appreciation to be something Deryk would always remember—a special gift from Daddy’s little blowjob queen.

# # # # #

Story #1: Take Out

Dedication: For everyone with an Asian Fetish.

And thank you to “Angry Jake” from Phx, AZ.

I. Jake Blake the Rake

“
Jake the Rake,” the mean kids at school had always taunted him. Thin as a reed, throughout his tween years, a four-eyed dirty-blond geek, nose always buried in a book.

It was the nickname, “Jake the Rake,” that made Jake Blake take on summer and part-time jobs while at school anyway. Mowing the lawn, cutting grass, raking leaves during the fall, washing neighbors’ cars—he made $2,000 as a 14-year-old over the summer and first half of the school year (then spent most of that first haul on books, and shopping trips to the mall).

The teasing lessened when he started working out during his sophomore year of high school too. No steroids, no protein shakes. Just focused, intense repetitions of nightly (or bi-nightly) push-ups and crunches, which gave him a lean look, which hinted at the noticeably toned abs his clothes hid, which all the girls seemed to truly love to drool over.

The teasing evaporated during his junior year, when he had all the pretty girls throwing themselves at him, and lining up to offer him blowjobs. Janitors’ closets between classes, school buses, in bathrooms, libraries, stairwells, at parties, friends’ houses—he could’ve had his pick anywhere.

Could, have.

He held off for a while, mentally comparing one pretty girl to another. It made him think that all the pretty girls were sluts. He theorized that 9 out of 10 were total whores, and potentially swarming with STDs.

He selected a redhead, the most wholesome-looking “pretty girl.” He was a year older. They both felt pressured—not by each other, just by some weird ideas in their own heads—to have the blowjob done, instead of a hookup that consisted of just, like, feeling each other up.

He honestly didn’t remember anything about the girl—he just knew that she’d gone down on him at her house one afternoon, when no one was in. They both felt obliged. The message had filtered through from TV or a magazine or school or somewhere that they were supposed to.

The gray blinds were shut. He had stood still, backed up against the wall. He was quite quiet the entire time. She tried deep throating. He came. But it wasn’t exactly exceptionally great.

The girl was pretty, and tender, and finished the job. Still, she was nervous, so she didn’t appear to be enjoying herself much.

He wondered: Did she like the taste, or the smell, or the feeling of someone’s private parts pushing into her face? Did she really want to, even though he hadn’t forced it upon her?

He felt a little lost, after that experience. Lost as the girls on their knees. It was a never-ending story of young girls losing themselves, such that they were no longer humans with any souls or characters, but pretty girls with fat asses and nice tits.

* * *

Jake was raking the leaves again, on another early Sunday morning, in the autumn. He’d always live in Perri, a small town in New England, with a population of about 3200.

“
A couple more years,” he thought to himself, almost shredding the grass beneath the leaves, with the rake teeth. “Two more friggin’ years before I’m outta here for good…”

Not that he hated Perri itself. It wasn’t a bad place, completely full of lowlifes. But he hated the isolation which hit him like a ton of bricks, from time to time. It was tough for someone living in Perri to experience new things or broaden their horizons.

He thought of the girls who had peaked in high school. Rhonda Farnham. Carol-Ann Carter. Brittney Mitchell. All married straight out of high school: Mission Accomplished.

He mentally calculated how long he thought each of their marriages would last. One of the guys was his former close friend too. But they had all been out of touch for a while. They just existed in different spheres now.

Jake thought of Courtney and David. She’d given him a blowjob one night and the next day, David had gone to school and told all his friends, “Damn, I got the best blow job ever last night! She made me cum five times!”

Skinny, blonde Courtney had a kid with David. Courtney was a greedy baby mama; she was using her child support payments to buy her new boyfriend some speakers for his car.

“
Sex is so overrated. It just makes life complicated.” Jake was hearing that from one friend or another almost every week.

He never wanted any of that baby mama drama, “baby mama” being the mother of one’s offspring, whom one did not marry and with whom one was not currently involved with. It freaked him out, big time.

Not-so-skinny-anymore Courtney’s 2 year-old girl would grow up to be just like her. Courtney had already announced early on she was going to “spoil her rotten.”

Jake knew the cycle would continue. He was no exception. While both his parents had just a high school diploma, they knew hard work and the trappings of debt.

After graduating from high school, Jake had intended to attend Pratt Institute in New York City. The private art college was one of the leading undergraduate art schools in the country. Jake was lured by the prestige and glamour. He wanted the whole University Experience, set at $40,000 per year at PI.

But his non-deadbeat parents set him straight.

“
It’s a scam and the college presidents know it, who’da thunk?” his old man advised. “Them fancy-schmancy schools do nothin’ but take all your money, and tell you things that ain’t true. Ain’t nothing but a rip-off.”

Jake’s mother said he could stay at home, and enroll in the University of Maine at Perri (UMP) instead, which was a short drive away. She knew her son wanted a ticket out of Perri, but knew he’d loathe being saddled with debt before he could get his life started.

So Jake stayed at home, saving on costs. He helped out with the household chores and groceries. On the surface, he seemed to be a hardworking young man, spaced out a little, at times. He was a third-year student at UMP, hoping to get his degree ASAP, because the biggest challenge for him was not the education or the exams.

It was having to constantly fight against the urge to descend into madness. Perri was Nowheresville to him.

To make things worse, it tormented him that he still considered himself a virgin—he’d received oral sex—but never given PIV sex a try. Nobody knew. He just went along with things, and gave people the impression they already had of him.

There’s always been a huge emphasis on Penis-in-Vagina sex. It was the only thing that counted as “real” sex.

And it troubled Jake—the whole pull between wanting to party like a rockstar and have free hard wild sex 24/7, with the bland, bleak reality of his present circumstances.

I’m a 21 year-old male, and still a virgin,
he’d think to himself, over and over, like a recurrent nightmare.
I am not gay or anything. I want to pleasure a girl in bed but I don’t know how. I fear ruining it and it is really starting to affect me. If I told people, I’d either be made fun of or be called a liar. They’d think I’m lying but I really am not. I wish I was. Do I want to have a good relationship? Why have I held off? Am I going to die a virgin?

He loathed himself for this. Even lowlifes could have families and enjoy a relatively normal sex life. Why couldn’t he too?

He yearned to be blown away, by someone experienced, by someone with pillow-soft lips, by someone who’d appreciate his quiet nature and intellectual interests.

Who’d it be, from small town Perri? Where a lot of people didn’t even know what “anime” or “manga” were.

He’d once been a 15 year-old who liked to watch Japanese animation, after an online friend introduced him to
Ghost in the Shell.
Jake thought anime and Asian stuff were cool, yet all he heard when his friends knew about it was: “Dude, you just have an Asian fetish.”

It got annoying. He probably shouldn’t have said anything.
Ghost in the Shell
was a cyberpunk anime series on a covert cyborg unit specializing in fighting hi-tech crimes. What was wrong about that? He kept quiet about his anime/Asian movies collection, which made up at least a quarter of his DVD collection.

Just because he liked Asian culture didn’t mean he was shallow and superficial, or obsessed with Asian girls “because they were Asian.” His blood boiled whenever he heard people say, “Asians are ugly,” or, “Why do you like that stuff so much?”

These ignorant people would never see that they were the ones being insulting, and acting like arrogant pricks. It ate Jake up inside. He was tired of people not seeing the beauty of another culture.

Besides, they were the ones missing out on Hentai (Japanese pornography).

Maybe he’d go to Japan some time. Spend a summer teaching English, something. Bang a thousand hot Azn chicks while he was there. Something about Asian girls was…sexy. He didn’t know what. They all seemed so clean and tiny—how could one not like them? And they seemed just so…slim, and flexible. Jake’s old high school consisted of mainly white people. Too bad UMP had no Asian students too. If there was, he always fantasized he’d meet corner her in a room somewhere.

She was wearing tight pink shorts. He hugged her from behind and locked the door, grabbed her, put his hand over her mouth, pulled her tight shorts down, put his thing into her, and did her really hard. Then he picked her up, stuck her on his dick, and spun her around like a corkscrew. He’d take her from the back till she screamed. They’d roll around for hours in between the sheets. He’d fuck her till he died!

It was a dream of a dream…to be overthrown, conquered by a naughty Asian slut’s thighs as she straddled over him, with long, silky jet-black hair she’d whip around, soft thighs and hips grinding over and on top of his flesh and manhood. God, it made his blood warmer just thinking about it, just what one needed in the crisp air of a dull, dark, and soundless late September morning.

Jake poked the handle of the rake into a hole in the ground. What was it with holes? Even cavemen flocked into caves and holes. Even people who knew nothing about sex knew where to go. The more he tried not to think about it, the more he fixated on it. The insanity was going to drive him to kill somebody, one of these days.

He stopped in his tracks, like a wild animal that was surveying the scene. He didn’t even know which house he was at anymore. He looked over to the left at Mrs. Bartlett’s house, at a pile of dead brown leaves in all their faded glory—he’d long finished raking up the leaves in her garden. There was no car in the driveway of this new backyard he was standing in, behind a quaint house painted light violet.

Some of the paint was flaking off the boards, but you could never tell. Some folks left their houses looking disheveled on the outside to deter robbers from breaking in, while some who had well-maintained lawns were classic hoarders indoors.

He thought he’d seen a flash of white—a
flesh
of white—a slight movement, in between the curtains of one of the ground floor room windows in the house right before him.