Extra Taboo - a Collection of Taboo Adult Erotic Stories for Women: Erotica for Women, by Women Read Online Free Page A

Jason, I've got it all recorded and I don't think my Dad would be particularly happy with your performance at work tonight.'
     
    'But he would yours?'
     
    'I only need to show him the bad bits of you corrupting me. What else is editing for? It would be too cruel to make him watch the whole thing. I wouldn't want him having a fit now would I? I don't know about the ins and outs of the software used for that kind of thing, but I don't have to. Did I ever mention that Gary's a real whiz with computers – he posts all kinds of stuff on youtube or is it xtube? '
     
    'What the hell? You want me to say you win?'
     
    'That'd be a promising start.'
     
    'Okay, Kirsty you win.'
     
    'I really have, haven't I?'
     
    'Whatever,' said Jason, indifferently.
     
    'You'll hand your resignation in Monday?'
     
    'Are you actually serious?'
     
    'I am Jason. I really didn't like your tone on Monday morning. Defending that stammering idiot Mark and speaking to me like I was a naughty school-girl. The cracks about Gary really aren't acceptable, he's a great guy that really gets the girl I am. He knows all about tonight and is prepared to help out.
     
    What I'd suggest is you hand your notice in on Monday and get Daddy to write you a nice reference, otherwise I think tonight might be classed as 'gross misconduct'. If I'm not wrong that's a sackable offence. I might get off the hook for what's on the tape, Daddy sometimes turns a blind eye, but how do you rate your chances, Jason?'
     
    Kirsty smiled and waved goodbye without looking back.
     
    ***
    Psst... The link to your bonus books are near... maybe after the next story?

The Sorority Sister’s White Box
     
    by
Darla Caldwell

Shirley Glasgow had never stolen a thing in her life...not even a donut from the local coffee shop when she worked there. Now, here she was, actually trying to steal a flower pot from some poor family’s porch. This was beyond ridiculous. She wasn’t even sure the sisters would be happy with the flower pot...this house had 20 flower pots...how was she to know which one was the right pot?
     
    She flipped her long black hair away from her face and sighed. It was dark out; well after 9 p.m. The late October air had a chill to it. Shirley shivered. Underneath her flimsy black sweater, her nipples were hard against her full breasts. She hugged her slim belly for warmth.
     
    Closing her eyes, she grabbed a pot. Any pot. She was ready to make a mad dash for it, blue jeans and high heels and all. Just as she could feel a pot in her delicate hands, her foot got caught in a patch of mud of some kind. She tried to pull away and free her heel but it wouldn’t budge. Terror seized her. Calm down, she thought. Calm down. It will be OK Just slide your foot out of the heel.
     
    Now, just as Shirley freed her foot from the shoe, the sensor lights were triggered. The entire front yard was now bathed in surprising swatches of light; in the middle of the yard, there stood Shirley. No shoe, stolen flower pot, and all. The nausea she felt now was nothing like the terror she had experienced just a few seconds before. As the front door angrily swung open in the night, Shirley tried to smile up at whomever had opened it.
    Blinded by the lights, acutely aware of how hard her nipples must look in her thin sweater, Shirley stared up at the figure on the porch. The figure stalked back and forth. Pacing. Finally, the figure cleared its throat. Shirley braced herself. The bellowing, male voice declared, “I think if you’re going to be taking from my prized collection of begonias, then you’d best come in for a cup of tea.” Shirley didn’t respond.
     
    “This instant,” the deep voice bellowed again. The voice repeated, “I make it a habit to get to know all the young ladies who take gifts from me each year. Or I make it a habit to call the police. It’s your choice.”
    The man in the robe turned away and stalked toward the door. Trying to free her heel from the mud, Shirley