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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

Nice one.

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

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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

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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