Forbidden Fruit is a fucked up trilogy that tells the story of a three individuals having the night of their lives.
It is recommended that you start with part one…
Content Note: This piece contains explicit sexual content, psychological manipulation, infidelity, and a deliberately cold, predatory narrator.
All characters are adults (21+)
Is intended for Adults (18+)
And for the record I don’t condone this fucked up shit, so if you are running through the world doing shit like this…you are SO blocked.
Read at your own risk.
Forbidden Fruit: Clara
When you’re standing at the open door of an airplane while the wind roars deafeningly and flaps against the folds of your jumpsuit.
You don’t think about jobs.
Or student loans.
Or prenups.
Or dirty dishes.
Or the latest quip from your couples therapist that pissed you off.
Because the reality is, in a few moments your whole body will be rolling through the sky, and your stomach has already started the party early.
In that state, things get real simple.
You’re not thinking I’m gonna die.
You feel it.
Without language.
And there are two kinds of people in that situation.
Those who say I want to live and back away from the door.
And those who say I want to live and step forward into peril.
My name is Clara Kowalski.
And I’m dying.
Literally, not metaphorically.
I’m dying, dying.
Terminally ill.
So screw it, I’m jumping out of the damn plane.
*** I take a moment to savor her scent.
It smells like cunt.
Which is strange…I always imagined it’d smell sweeter.
I mean, mine doesn’t, but I just assumed I was more tart/tart than sweet/tart.
The hesitation is sweet, but the thrill burns in my lips.
So I throw myself out the door, leading with my head.
My tongue slipping through her folds like a freshly hatched eel through water.
If I’m being candid, I’m not really sure how I feel about the taste, but her texture is exquisite.
And the way she sings with each lap of my tongue floods the agony between my legs.
Oh, how long I have waited for this.
***
In all our years of having sex with multiple partners, Kevin has always had one inviolable rule—no women.
He was okay with men.
He encouraged it.
He got off on it.
Tall men.
Short men.
Multiple men.
Ropes. Whips. Masks.
Large. Small. Limp. Curved.
Peeking through plywood holes.
Stuffing multiple holes.
I was like an employee at a goddamn Cold Stone Creamery…
I’ve had all the flavors and all the mix-ins, in every combination imaginable.
And as I turned the test results over in my hands, my only thought was: I swear to God, if I have to eat one more banana split I’m gonna gag.
***
She’s smooth in a way I never was.
Not just down there. Everywhere.
Is this what the competition was like these days?
Had these girls started bathing in whatever Jennifer Lopez had been rubbing on her face for the last twenty-five years?
I lick down her inner thigh, tongue sliding without a hint of resistance.
She shivers.
FUCK.
I look back at Kevin to make sure he’s filming.
Not for him. For me.
For later.
***
Finding out you have a very definite expiration date is a lot like the old Buddhist story…
There is a man hanging from the edge of a cliff, with a hungry tiger above him and a hungry tiger below him. Suddenly he hears the roots of the vine he’s clinging to pulling out of the dirt, and he knows it’s all over.
In that moment, he sees a strawberry—the most beautiful strawberry he’s ever seen, growing out of the foliage. So he reaches out and bites it. And it’s the most sensual thing he’s ever tasted.
***
She glistens down the corners of my mouth as she rides my face.
In other circumstances, looking up at her perfect natural tits jiggling as she struggles for each inhale and surrenders each exhale would make me feel insecure…
Not tonight.
Tonight they look like art and porn.
I can see her pouting and calling to him with her brown smoky eyes.
Let her.
It’s only going to make the show better when I rewatch the tape.
I hear the leather underneath him shuffle as he gets up.
Instinctively I tuck my ass to my ankles, crouching over Jolene like a tigress protecting her kill.
I don’t care what he does, as long as he doesn’t fuck with me.
***
When I walked out of the specialist’s office, I quit dick cold turkey.
I told my husband that I was going to have sex with a woman and there was nothing he could do about it.
He could either support it or cry about it.
He chose to cry about it.
Typical.
My therapist told me it was a violation of our marriage agreement and that what I was suggesting was selfish and improper.
I told them both to fuck off.
Eventually he came around. He’s always had a thing for this whore, so I just sold it as an opportunity to fuck the babysitter.
He still hated the idea of watching me with another woman, but apparently he figured these were the sweetest terms he’d get out of the deal.
Besides, I didn’t really enjoy practically being drowned in cum as six men ejaculated on my face…
But I did it, for the marriage.
***
He moves next to her on the couch, looking at her like… well, I’m looking at her.
He starts touching her nipples and she presses forward, filling his palm with her tits.
I smile.
Not because I’m happy for him.
But because I’m happy he’s leaving me the fuck alone.
She vaguely waves her hand in the direction of his cock and he rushes to oblige.
Presenting himself to her like a cat presenting a dead mouse.
I slip a finger inside as I lick her clit.
Dear God she’s tight.
***
I always knew she had a thing for Kevin.
For a valedictorian, she wasn’t smart enough to spot the nanny cams hidden throughout the house.
At first we used to have them in every room but ours, and it took me a while to notice it, but every weekend when she came over to watch Xavier and Stella, after she had gotten them to bed, she would disappear into our bedroom for around thirty minutes and emerge looking disheveled.
That was strange.
I wasted no time moving the pantry cam into the bedroom and fuck me.
Right there, in living color.
Was little miss innocent…
Digging through our dirty laundry…
Stripping off all of her clothes…
And bucking her fingers Desperate Housewives style as she sniffed my husband’s briefs.
Most women would have fired her.
They would have made every move to keep the little dirty slut as far away from their husband as possible.
Maybe even burning the house down and moving to a new place.
But not me.
Those videos became my little secret.
Guilty pleasure rituals.
And from that moment on, every time Jolene would come over to cover us for date night, I’d make sure she always had at least one unlaundered pair of briefs waiting for her.
***
I’m not sure why men always say that it’s so hard to make women come.
I mean, maybe I had the slight advantage of hours spent as her invisible voyeur.
Studying her the places her fingers drifted and the spots that brought her home.
But still, it wasn’t rocket science.
I’ve lost count of how many times she’s melted in my mouth… three, four, maybe five?
I hear her gagging as she sucks him off and it’s SO HOT.
Let’s make things a little more difficult for her…
I slip another finger into her and curl upwards.
The tendons in my fingers are starting to protest in sore fatigue as her inward pressure forces me to fight for space.
I love every second of it.
The pain bearing witness to life.
And at this moment, it felt great to be alive.
I watch a bead of sweat crisscross its way down her forehead, dropping onto her chest, then trickling a haphazard path before disappearing between her breasts.
Moans, gasps, gags, and the wet sounds of saliva and fluid.
I know she’s close. I’ve seen this a hundred times.
I pull my fingers out and clamp down on both of her thighs, nails digging into her skin, marking my presence like initials carved in a tree.
She loses it.
Detonating all over my face.
Smothering me in arousal.
Her thighs locking and shuddering uncontrollably.
I want to touch myself terribly.
But I want to wreck her even more.
So I hold her still, pinning her tiny ass to the couch and driving through.
***
After she’s recovered and gone back to cock sucking, I rise.
Chin wet.
Chest wet.
I move over to him and get a closer look.
She literally has him by the balls.
I kiss him deeply with her all over my mouth.
Rubbing everything I’ve just done in his face.
Then I whisper in his ear, loud enough for her to hear.
“Why don’t you fuck her?”
He smiles, thrilled.
I’m thrilled too.
Thrilled to have my life back.
Thrilled that tonight, for once, he’s fucking someone else.
(The End)
