Actress Sex Story Fettb’s Fantasies - Long Stories

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Tabu's Veiled Taboo

Chapter 3: The Monster in the Mist

[Section 5 of 10]

After several more brutal minutes, I pulled out suddenly and stood over her. Tabu lay sprawled on the wet tiles, legs spread, chest heaving, her body a glistening mess of sweat, pussy juice, and steam. My bladder, full from all the water we’d been under, suddenly demanded release.

I positioned myself near her feet, aiming to the side, but the pressure and lust made control slip. A hot, powerful stream of piss splashed directly onto her exposed pussy and lower belly.

“Shit—Auntie! I’m sorry—” I froze, the old timid self flashing back for a split second. Shame burned my face. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, that’s too far.”

Tabu didn’t look angry. She lay there, eyes half-lidded in pure depraved bliss as the warm golden liquid seeped into her skin, trickling over her swollen clit and between her puffy lips. A deep, guttural moan escaped her as she felt it mix with her own juices and seep inside her cunt. She rubbed it in slowly with one hand, coating her mound.

Then she looked up at me with pure hunger. “Don’t you dare stop now, beta. Come here… to the side of my face. Piss in your aunty’s mouth. Mark the woman who performed for you that night like a whore. The one who let you cum in her panties while your uncle painted my tits.”

My cock throbbed painfully at her words. The dark side she had goaded out of me took over completely. I moved beside her head, my hard cock hovering over her full, parted lips. Tabu opened wide, tongue extended like an eager receptacle, staring up at me with total submission.

“Do it,” she begged hoarsely. “Piss in the mouth that moaned for you that night. The woman who changed your nappies as a baby… who wiped your little cock… now drinks from the man you’ve become.”

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Tabu's Veiled Taboo

Chapter 3: The Monster in the Mist

[Section 6 of 10]

The sensory experience was overwhelming and intensely taboo. I released, the hot, strong stream jetting from my cock onto her waiting tongue. It splashed against the back of her throat with a wet sound. The warmth, the slight salty-bitter taste she would experience, the steam rising faintly from the heat contrast in the cool air — it was all filthy perfection. Tabu swallowed greedily at first, moaning around the flow, then let some overflow deliberately. Golden rivulets ran down her chin, over her neck, and onto her heavy breasts, mixing with the water and her own arousal.

“Mmm… it tastes warm and salty… a little bitter, like concentrated sin and youth,” she gasped between swallows, her voice husky and broken with lust. “It feels… freeing. Like you’re claiming every single part of me, inside and out. The aunty who performed like a slut in the bathtub for you is now drinking her second son’s piss. So wrong… so fucking perfect.”

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Tabu's Veiled Taboo

Chapter 3: The Monster in the Mist

[Section 7 of 10]

She savored every drop, rubbing the earlier splash into her pussy with her fingers, circling her clit as she drank. The sharp, musky scent of my piss filled the steamy washroom, mixing with jasmine, sex, and sin. Her hand never stopped teasing herself.

The act shattered any last remnants of my old self. I finished, shaking the final drops onto her tongue, then stroked my throbbing, aching cock furiously.

“On your knees, Aunty. Properly. Open that filthy mouth for your second son.”

Tabu obeyed instantly, rising despite the mess coating her body. She knelt on the wet tiles, looking up at me — face flushed and streaked, hair wild and damp, voluptuous body marked with hickeys, bite marks, red handprints, and now glistening with piss. Her heavy breasts heaved, nipples raw and coated. She pushed them together invitingly with her arms, tongue out, mouth wide like the perfect cum-hungry receptacle. The same maternal face that had comforted me as a child now looked up with pure, depraved hunger.

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Tabu's Veiled Taboo

Chapter 3: The Monster in the Mist

[Section 8 of 10]

“Give it to me,” she begged, voice raw. “Paint your aunty’s face. Drown me in your hot, thick cum. Let it drip all over my body like the filthy taboo whore I am for you. Mark me deeper than your uncle ever could.”

I stroked my aching cock with savage urgency, the monster she had unleashed completely free. The pressure that had built through the entire confession, the piss, and the relentless fucking finally exploded.

With a deep, animalistic roar, I erupted.

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Tabu's Veiled Taboo

Chapter 3: The Monster in the Mist

[Section 9 of 10]

I kept pumping, aiming lower. Rope after rope landed on her heavy, heaving tits — coating her dark nipples, running down the deep valley between them and over the soft swell of her belly. Cum dripped everywhere: onto her thighs, mixing with her pussy juices, piss, sweat, and the shower water pooling on the tiles. She looked utterly ruined and claimed — face glazed and shining, eyes half-closed in blissful submission, tongue still out licking at the mess as she scooped cum and piss from her breasts and sucked it off her fingers like the filthiest treat.

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Tabu's Veiled Taboo

Chapter 3: The Monster in the Mist

[Section 10 of 10]

“So much cum for your aunty,” she whispered hoarsely, rubbing the combined mess into her skin like erotic lotion, smearing it over her nipples, belly, and pussy. “My good boy finally unleashed. After all these years of watching me… you’ve marked me completely. We’re going to hell for this, beta… and I’d drag you there again and again.”

I collapsed beside her under the cooling spray, pulling her cum- and piss-covered body into my arms. We kissed slowly, deeply, sharing the filthy taste of our ultimate sin — piss, cum, sweat, and years of repressed taboo desire. The washroom reeked of raw genitals, jasmine, piss, and victory. Her real son — my best friend — was still out there, fucking my girlfriend, completely oblivious that I had just utterly claimed his mother in the most depraved, possessive ways possible.

In that moment, with Tabu’s marked and claimed body pressed against mine, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

Starring: Tabu

A #FettbOriginal Fantasy Sequel

I hope you enjoyed reading all 3 parts as much as I enjoyed writing them!

 

[hotaks]

A special one for the birthday girl

#FettbOriginals

Open Aperture

With the one and only, Barkha Singh

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Open Aperture

[Section 1 of 15]

Five years had not dulled a single edge of the memory.

I still woke some nights with the phantom weight of her body draped across mine, the sound of her breathless laugh still echoing in the dark of my shitty one-room flat. Barkha. Super model. The woman who once looked at me like I was the only man in the world worth undressing for. We had been serious—stupidly, beautifully serious. I was the rising celebrity photographer then, the one trusted to shoot her for magazine covers and brand campaigns. She was already a star, but still hungry, still private with me in ways the industry never saw.

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Open Aperture

[Section 2 of 15]

Our private language had been filth and exposure. She developed a kink for being watched, for the idea of cameras and hungry eyes, and I fed it. We never risked the real thing—careers were too fragile—but in hotel rooms and my old studio we built entire scenes. I would set up lights, step behind the lens, bark orders like a paparazzi pack while she stripped slow, touched herself, begged me to come closer.

Sometimes I stayed fully clothed, shooting her while she rode my cock, the shutter clicking in time with every wet slap of her body against mine. Other nights we switched: she would order me to strip, pose me, “expose” me while she sat in a chair and played with herself. We got depraved in the safest possible way—intense, filthy, and completely ours.

 

[hotaks]

#FettbOriginals

Open Aperture

[Section 3 of 15]

I wanted to marry her. She wanted the next five years of her career first. The breakup was quiet, almost gentle. No screaming. Just two people who still loved each other deciding the timing was wrong. She moved on. I never really did.

I kept the old hard drives. On the worst nights I still opened the folders of her private shoots—the ones where she looked straight into the lens with that half-smile, nipples hard, thighs parted, knowing exactly what those images would do to me later. I jerked off to her like a teenager, five years later, still aching for the real thing.