Forbidden Fruit
 
 Copyright 2000 by silli_artie at hotmail dot com 
 
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior express written permission of 
the author. 
 
A work of fiction, meant for adults.  Read something else if you are not an adult, or are offended 
by stories with sexual content.  Then again, if all you're looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you 
should probably read something else.  I welcome constructive comments.  Enjoy.

	Oh how sweet, the forbidden fruit!  Oh how swift, my fall!

	Our usual parental roles were reversed Wednesday morning.  My wife was off early, 
Powerpoint slides in hand, for a day of client presentations.  That left me to get the kids to school 
and attend the monthly school planning meeting, giving our presentation.

	I got us dressed, fed, and out the door on time.  I enjoy walking the kids to school.  It's 
good news and bad news -- the good news is that we live within easy walking distance of very 
good schools, the grammar school and high school at the end of the block, the junior high around 
the corner.  The bad news is that our streets are filled with overflow high school parking.

	We had a good walk.  "Hugs for daddy," and "do your best for me," separated us as they 
headed to class and I headed to the conference room with my slides and handouts.

	My presentation went well -- it should.  My wife and I have been involved in school 
fund-raising efforts for years.  We put the same professionalism and preparation into things for 
school that we do for our jobs.  I'd expected some difficulty, inappropriate and off-topic 
questions really, and prepared for them.  Surprisingly, I received support not only from the usual 
people, but also from a newcomer to the group -- a red-headed gal I knew my wife had been 
speaking to lately on a number of topics.

	After the meeting, I thanked her for her support.

	She smiled and shook her head, looking around before speaking.  "I couldn't believe 
those questions.  When will those people get a clue?"

	I smiled.  "They haven't in the four years we've been doing this."

	She sighed and frowned, still shaking her head.  "Do you still have the puppies?"

	I nodded.  She must have been talking to my wife.  "Yes, we've got three -- one left the 
family on Monday, and two others leave this weekend.  Then we'll be back to two dogs again."

	She'd picked up her things, and we were walking to the door.  "Can I stop and take a 
look?  I ended up parking across from your house.  Are you in a hurry to get to work?"  She had 
quite the sparkling smile.

	"They love visitors.  I cleared most of the morning -- I expected Monica to go far longer 
than she did."  Our PTA president had been surprisingly and blissfully brief in her remarks.

	We walked along, talking.  Our kids were in fourth and second grades; hers was in first.  
We'd lived in the area for about twelve years; they'd moved in during the summer.  She asked 
about my wife, offering me a Wintergreen Altoids.

	I told her that she was off making client presentations, so I got to see the kids to school 
and do the PTA thing.  When I asked about her husband, I could sense dissatisfaction and 
turmoil as she told me he was out of town on business -- again.  I quickly changed the topic to 
the puppies, and how much fun they'd been.

	We went into the house, putting our things on the kitchen table, then walked back to the 
living room and looked out the large windows to the back yard.

	The three pups were busy at serious puppy business, on the grass playing a three-pup 
version of tug-of-war, growling, snarling, tugging, their short cropped tails wagging furiously.

	She laughed at their antics, as did I.

	"What are they playing with?" she asked.

	"Looks like another chunk of the sprinkler system," I told her.  It looked to be about a 
three-foot piece of small diameter drip line.

	She laughed more, and asked if they got into a lot of things.

	"They're puppies -- it's their job," I told her.  I started to tell her that their destructive 
ability goes up as the square of the number of dogs as I turned to her.

	Her head was tilted a little to one side as I looked into her green eyes.  She sighed and 
smiled.  Her eyes drifted closed as one of her hands reached up, pulling my lips to hers.  Her 
hand at the back of my head urged our lips together gently.

	As her lips and tongue filled me with Wintergreen tremors, I moved a hand to her 
shoulder, to do what, I'm not sure.  As I did, her other hand found its way inside my shirt, and 
her fingers caressed the bare skin of my stomach and waist.

	Oh what sensations!  Delicious, forbidden touch, new and unexpected, similar but so 
unlike the caresses to which I'd responded for all these years.

	Her tongue probed my mouth as her fingers found their way along my waist, sending 
sighs and shivers through me, sending my arm around her shoulders.  Her sighs echoed mine, her 
tongue and hands becoming more adventurous.

	I raised my other hand along her side.  She urged it to a breast, and a nipple which 
demanded my attention.  Her hand returned to the back of my head, pulling our lips together, and 
our bodies along with them.

	Was my fate sealed that quickly?  Was it through action or inaction, through absence of 
decision or absence of inhibition?  We found our way upstairs, both half undressed by the time 
we entered the bedroom.  We helped each other shed the remainder, and fell to the bed together.

	Oh what sensations!  For the most part my eyes were closed, the better to revel in them.  I 
did catch glimpses of her almost waist-long red hair, her pale freckled skin, proud and attentive 
nipples, and flaming red bush.  I saw her hands as well, and gave myself to what they did to me.

	Oh, the forbidden fruit of sensation -- was I helpless, or well trained?  As newlyweds 
when my wife and I made love, she would run her hands over me.  I'd twitch and ask her not to.  
Gradually I learned to enjoy and revel in those sensations, giving myself up to them, and to her, 
letting my body respond.

	And oh how my body responded to the sweetness of forbidden fruit!  So similar, and so 
different at the same time -- her hands adding new steps to an old dance.  I sighed and moaned, 
my hands reaching for her.  Out of habit, I reached to my left, but she was on my right -- more 
emphasis on the new and unexpected nature of the situation.  She touched, stroked, caressed in 
such new and exciting ways, and I gave myself more and more to the sensations surrounding me.

	One of her hands moved up to the back of my neck, and as she pulled my head to her, her 
other hand danced deliciously with my cock.

	My moan was muffled by her breast and nipple.  My arms flew around her, exploring her 
now.  She brushed her hair over us, sending waves of sensation and dizziness through me.  She 
moved me from breast to breast as I explored her with my mouth.

	At her urging, I moved lower, to her forbidden fruit.  Oh the heat she radiated!  I felt her 
heat.  Her scent tantalized me, and I had to taste her.  Slipping lower, I inhaled deeply as I tasted 
her.

	She cried out, covering my ears with trim, hot thighs.  I moved my hands around her 
waist and to her bottom as I explored with my lips and tongue.  The motion of her hips, her legs, 
her hands was so insistent, so clear, so new and different.  Her vocalizations were a new wind 
fanning old flames higher and higher.

	After crying out again, she pulled me up and to my back.  She moved between my legs 
and tantalized me with her breasts and her hair, her hands running along my waist and hips.  She 
had me panting and moaning.  She slid up my body, biting and sucking at my nipples as she 
stroked my cock, wrapped in her delicious, soft hair.

	As I moved to hold her to me, she moved up more, her legs straddling mine, and 
suddenly I was deep inside her.  As she pulled her knees up alongside me, she pushed down with 
her hips, pushing deep moans from both of us.  She rocked on top of us, taking her pleasure.

	I opened my eyes, to see hers closed, her head back, a smile and a look of ecstatic 
concentration on her face.  I reached up and caressed her breasts with her long hair.  That touch 
brought a sudden shift in her motion.  She sat up, one hand going to her fiery bush.  My hips 
shifted to meet the new angle, my knees pulling up, luxuriating in her smaller hips and bottom 
riding me.

	I squeezed her nipples gently through her hair, eliciting a gasp, followed by moaning and 
strong, slow rocking of her hips.  I moved my hips and legs to her rhythm, helping her along.  
Soon her breathing (stolen from silli artie at hotmail dot com) shifted, and she moaned as she quivered atop me, the motion of her hips 
swaying the hair not held to her chest.

	She opened her eyes and looked at me, moving her hands to mine, squeezing them to her 
breasts, smiling and exhaling loudly as her orgasm continued its delicious course.  She leaned 
forward, taking her hair and caressing me with it, caressing my chest, then my neck and face, 
leaning forward.

	Now it was my turn, as she rocked on top of me, leaning forward, caressing my face and 
neck with her hair.  A hand behind my head urged me to a nipple and held me there.  As I 
moaned again, my body shifted in its rhythm, signifying the inevitable.  She held me closer, 
blocking my nose completely with her breast, rocking stronger, holding me tightly to her.  Panic 
distracted me momentarily and the motion of her hips shifted, carrying me over the edge.  I 
pumped into her, still unable to breathe, pulling at her waist, pulling us tighter together.

	As I emptied myself into her, my focus shifted suddenly back to my breath, and my hands 
started moving up.  As they did, she released me, and I fell back with a plop.  I breathed deeply, 
and my hands continued up her sides, but now they drew her back down, and I took her breast 
again, breathing deeply through my nose, inhaling her scent and her perfume as I devoured her.

	She laughed softly as her hand found my head again, holding me in place gently now, 
rolling my head around until my arms gave way and I moaned under her touch.

	Her nipple withdrew and I fell back again, but before I could respond to its loss, it was 
replaced by her lips and tongue merging with mine.

	I felt myself slipping out after some period of blissful embrace. Out of habit, my left hand 
reached up under my pillow, reaching for the pair of underwear I kept tucked there for just these 
occasions.  These occasions?  Habit?

	We rolled not quite apart, as she wiped me and tucked the cloth between her legs.  Then 
we embraced again as she held me, holding and kissing.  My head worked its way to her chest 
and we nestled together as she held me in place.

	I woke more to the bed moving.  My heart skipped at least a beat as I looked up to see an 
enticing yet unfamiliar body with long, flowing read hair stepping to the bathroom, hips asway.  
Unfamiliar?  Not any more.

	I rolled off the bed to the sound of the toilet flushing.  She met me as I reached the 
bathroom door.  We embraced and kissed once more, our bodies contouring to each other.

	She led me out the bedroom door, holding my hand.  We peeked first into my son's room, 
then into the kids' bathroom, and finally in my daughter's room.  Hers was the cleaner, with 
large expanses of floor visible.  I was drawn by the hand into the room, bright in its colors and 
filled still with morning sunlight.

	As I looked around the room, my gaze turned to the full-length mirrored closet doors.

	My heart caught at the sight before me.  A man stood hip to hip next to a slender yet 
athletic woman, a woman with flaming red hair, mid-sized breasts with taut nipples, and a red 
bush with a peek of white cloth between her trim legs.

	She laughed softly, and I saw the look of shock and confusion on the face of the man in 
the mirror.  What was happening?  What had happened?

	I saw the woman in the mirror raise a hand.  A hand touched the side of my face, turning 
me to her.  We kissed again, and fingers running along the inside of my hip sent tingles and a 
sharp breath through me.  Her hands inflamed me, as mine became lost in the softness of her 
hair, and of her breasts.

	I reached for her waist, pulling her hips closer to mine.  She stepped back, looking briefly 
over her shoulder, laying back on my daughter's trundle bed, pulling her legs up and removing 
the cloth.

	I needed no more invitation, stepping closer and sliding into her warmth once more.  She 
moaned, extending her legs and bringing them together at my neck.

	The way her legs squeezed my neck, lifting her bottom a little at the same time, bringing 
us closer together, set off something inside me.  I spread my legs wider, wrapped my arms 
around her legs, holding them close to me, and pushed into her.

	She moaned in appreciation, her head rolling on the bed.  Her hands found the insides of 
my hips, and with gentle motions of her fingertips, she took control of my body.

	My moaning increased, as did hers.  She pulled and pushed me with her legs, as she 
squeezed my neck between her calves.  She moaned and cried out, and squeezed me harder.  I 
raised my hands to her calves, helping her squeeze me, squeezing as we rocked, suddenly so 
close, suddenly coming again, pushing deeper and deeper into her.

	She released her legs, and I collapsed dizzily on top of her.  She held me and laughed 
softly, running her hair over and around my face.  I kissed her hair, her neck, her shoulder, 
moving my arms under her to pull myself in tighter, deeper, even as I softened inside her.

	With a sigh, we separated again.  She returned the cloth to its place between her legs, and 
helped me up, wobbling me back to my bedroom.  There we collapsed on the bed, and she held 
me again, suckling me and getting me lost in her hair.

	I awoke to the distinctive sound of the front door closing, sitting up quickly.  I was alone.  
Her clothes were gone.  I stood up, nervous and shaking.  Had it happened?  Looking out the 
window, I saw her walking to a car parked across the street.  She paused as she unlocked it, 
reaching up as if to straighten her bra underneath her top.  Then she got in, started the engine, 
and drove away.

	I turned back to the bed and sighed.  I straightened it up, got dressed, and left the house.

	I found my way to work.  I was disconnected, unsure, and the usual strong currents of 
business swept me up.  For brief moments during the afternoon, I sensed I was immersing myself 
in the currents, as I had immersed myself earlier in the day.  What had I done?

	The drive home was almost contemplative -- almost, as I somehow kept from thinking, 
kept my mind not quite blank, yet away from the abyss looming in front of me.

	Once home, I was immersed in the near chaos of the evening -- homework needing to be 
done, the table needing to be set, my wife needing to tell me of her day as our daughter insisted 
on babbling endlessly, our son interrupting with sarcastic and pointed comments.  Then it was 
puppies loose in the house, homework to be completed before baths that had to be taken.

	As I brushed my teeth before going to bed, before joining my wife in bed, I realized -- 
what?  We hadn't had a spare moment all evening.  That wasn't unusual.  So, what was unusual?  
The abyss looming in front of me, the knowledge that I'd tasted forbidden fruit.  What now?

	I climbed into bed, filled with apprehension, tears starting as my chest tightened.

	But she pulled me to her, holding me gently and softly, as she always does.  I held her, 
squeezed her as she nestled my head between her breasts, holding me to the sound of her heart.  
My breath was ragged as I held her, the abyss looming, the flood of tears close but still distant.

	She held me and rocked me, gently, holding me, telling me she had me and wouldn't let 
me go.  I held her closer.  I hovered in her embrace, hovered between losing myself in her, and 
the abyss of what had happened earlier.

	But as I hovered, between heaven and hell, a hand worked its way down my side.  Gentle 
knowing caresses, oh so knowing, oh so familiar -- and with a cry, I gave myself to them, threw 
myself into them.

	She whispered, "Shhh -- it's all right," as she pushed me to my back, leaning over as she 
does to keep me on a nipple, yet open my body up to her roving hand.

	Oh, she knows me so well, and I gave myself to her, mindless once more.  She tantalized 
me as she's done so many times, then slid on top of me, and rode me as she's done so many 
times.  She rode me to a quivering release, then held me and rocked me to sleep in her embrace.

	I woke to the alarm clock in the morning; she silenced it.  We slid together, embracing as 
always in the morning.  She sighed, "Oh, you're so warm."  I broke into tears, holding her 
tightly.  She held me, rocked me, whispered to quiet me, finally slipping a nightgown strap off 
her shoulder and holding me to a nipple, rocking me gently.

	How do I tell her?  How do I explain what I don't understand?

Work in Progress 
Rev 2/07/2002

 
Forbidden Fruit  
By silli_artie at hotmail dot com  
http://www.asstr.org/~artie 


Forbidden Fruit

 silli_artie at hotmail dot com	2	http://www.asstr.org/~artie 


