Taboo Erotica~Banned by Amazon
Dance for
Daddy, Salome
When
Salome's mother marries Rod, Plain-Jane Sally falls head over heels for his
son. They're only step-siblings, but John still thinks it would be wrong if
they surrendered to temptation.
Right or
wrong, Salome's got her sights set on her new step-brother, and she won't take
no for an answer.
Rod isn't
happy that his twenty-three-year-old son still lives in his basement. Now he's
got a barely-legal step-daughter to support as well. Worse yet, his new wife is forcing him to
attend the girl's goddamn dance recital!
Onstage,
the gangly teen transforms into a seductive stripper. In a sexy little dance costume, Sally becomes
the most seductive vixen Rod has ever seen.
There's no turning back. He's
going to bed his step-daughter if it kills him...
Warnings:
This filthy book contains explicit sex and extreme 1970s outfits. If you're not into step-Daddy/daughter
erotica, adult step-siblings getting it on, or polyester pants, you'd better
steer clear of Dance for Daddy, Salome.
Read an ADULT excerpt:
“Do we hafta go
to this thing?”
Dia gazed at him
in the dressing table mirror. Her
expression faded to disappointment.
“Rod, she’s my daughter. What’s
mine is yours.”
“Yeah, I
know.” That kid was bound to cramp their
style. They only just got married, and
within a week he was being dragged to a goddamn dance recital? Rod stared unapologetically at his wife’s
incredible cleavage. “Jeeze Louise, you got great tits.”
Dia rolled her
eyes as she clipped on earrings. “No
sense changing the subject. You’re still
coming to Sally’s recital.”
“Sure you don’t
want to stay home instead? We can have a
little dance recital of our own.”
Circling his
arms around her body, he dug her tits out of her dress. When he squeezed those sweet melons, his dick
stood at attention. He stroked it
against her ass, and she obviously felt it because her eyes rolled back in her
head. God, those tits! He bounced them on his palms and her flesh
jiggled. He nipped her neck, and she
moaned.
“So…?”
“Rod…” Dia sounded tortured, and he knew she’d
reached a tipping point. But she tipped
in the wrong direction, smacking him away.
“Rod, enough!”
“Aww, come
on.” He pulled up her skirt, but, shit,
she had a slip on too. “Just a quickie,
since I’m in the mood?”
She kicked him
in the shin. “Not now.”
“Fuck, Dia, you
didn’t have to get all physical.”
“Neither did
you.” She glared at him in the
mirror. After a long moment, a smile lit
up her face. “I’m not rejecting you,
Rod, we just don’t have time. Wait until
tonight. I’m gonna rock your world.”
“Not if I rock
yours first.” He ran his hands up and
down the silky fabric of her dress. Felt
so good to have a wife again. The worst
thing in the world was going to bed at night and not smelling a woman’s hair on
his pillow. “I love you, Dia.”
“Aww, baby, I
love you too.” She turned her head and
planted a sweet kiss on his lips. “Hey,
would you help me with this clasp?”
“These damn
things are too fiddly for my fingers.”
He tried anyway, securing her necklace with surgical precision. “And I don’t want you thinking I don’t care
about your little girl. Just, I’ve raised
a daughter already. I’ve seen about all
the ballet recitals one man can handle.”
“Don’t worry,
dear, it’s not ballet.” Dia handed him a
bracelet to put on next. “I can’t stand
all that fussy stuff either.”
* *
* *
Rod shifted in
his wooden seat. Why were the chairs in
these auditoriums so damn small? His
knee kept touching John’s. Turning to
Dia, he asked, “When do we get this show on the road?”
“Five more
minutes, Mr. Impatient.”
“I don’t see
your kid’s name in this here program.”
He held it between them. “Did
they miss her?”
“It’s right
there,” Dia said, pointing to a name near the top.
“Salome? That’s her name? And I been calling her Sally all this
time...”
“Sure, Sally for
short.” Dia chuckled to herself. “My mother said she’d disown me if I didn’t
give my child a biblical name. It’s a
wonder she didn’t disown me for having a child out of wedlock. Sometimes people surprise you.”
“Hmm.” Rod didn’t like thinking of his wife fucking
other guys. Made him want to toss his
cookies. But, hell, that would have been
eighteen, nineteen years ago.
Dia started
talking to the lady on her other side, and John stuck his nose in a book, as
usual. Rod felt claustrophobic, trapped
between them. All these people, all
these chairs. What if there was a fire?
He gazed at his
step-daughter’s name in the program. Kid
didn’t look like a Salome. Salome was a
sexy name, a stripper name. Girls, Girls,
Girls! Curves, Curves, Curves! Salome wasn’t a name for a twiggy stick bug
with gangly hair and pimples. Dia’s kid
weren’t nothin’ to look at.
When the lights
went down, Rod’s heart raced. Music
seemed to rise out of the floor, and a whole bunch of dancers hit the
stage. It sure wasn’t no ballet they
were doing. This was new stuff, Disco,
all the rage. They pointed and
strutted. Guys in suits fucked the
air. Girls got brazen under the mirror
ball.
Stupid dance
shit.
Rod looked for
Dia’s kid, but didn’t see her. Maybe the
girl wasn’t in this number. He tried to
divert his mind to something else. How
long until this goddamn show was over?
He slid his hand
up Dia’s thigh, but she smacked it away.
Maybe he could
play a game—a game called If I Could Only
Fuck One Dancer, Who Would It Be?
None of them
girls with the short hair. Nah, they looked
too much like guys. He wanted a girl
like Dia, with wide hips and nice tits, but none of these dancers looked like
that. A few leggy blondes caught his
eye. Hell, what man could resist a leggy
blonde? And he wouldn’t mind riding the
chick with the ‘fro—she had a butt that wouldn’t quit.
But if he could
only pick one out of the entire crowd?
Well, he’d go with the girl in that sparkling silver dress. She’d be down with it, for sure. Any woman in a dress that short was
guaranteed to be a floozy. Every time
she kicked, he got a peek at her panties, and they were silver too. A girl like that was just begging for it.
As he watched
her slim hips gyrate, his cock filled his pants. He squirmed in his seat, because the seam was
cutting into him, but his squirming drew Dia’s evil eye. Sitting still, he covered his crotch
nonchalantly with his programs and tried to adjust himself.
When the number
ended, the auditorium burst into over-eager applause. Family and friends were always too
generous. The dancing hadn’t been that great.
Dia leaned in
close and asked, “Wasn’t Sally stunning?”
“Oh, sure.” No way he was about to admit he couldn’t pick
his own step-daughter out of a crowd.
Leaning across
Rod’s lap, Dia asked John, “Are you feeling all right, dear?”
Rod hadn’t
noticed that his son wasn’t clapping.
Kid’s arms were crossed over his chest and, without looking at Dia, he
snapped, “I’m fine.”
Strange
behaviour, for John. He usually went in
for this artsy bullshit.
Dance numbers
came and went, but they didn’t capture Rod’s imagination. He kept watching for the girl in the silver
dress. Even with his beautiful wife at
his side, he found himself craving young pussy.
Craving the girl with the silver panties.
And there she
was!
When the lights
came up on a sexy scene, Rod did a double take.
Was that girl naked? No, couldn’t
be… couldn’t be… but the silver dress was gone.
And the silver panties.
Two dancers
kneeled together on heaps of velvet pillows, offset by barely and arm’s
length. The sexy mama with the ‘fro was
on her knees, just a touch behind the sweet thing with the long, dark hair.
What were they
wearing? If only he’d brought
binoculars. Were those flesh-toned
bikinis? Yeah, mesh string bikinis with
sparkly rhinestones, which caught the light as the girls gyrated in unison.
This wasn’t like
any dance Rod had ever seen. He didn’t
know what you’d call it. Modern,
maybe? Seemed better suited to a strip
club than a dance hall, and the music was straight out of a porno film. He didn’t feel exactly comfortable watching
this show of rippling flesh with his new wife at one side and his son at the
other, but he couldn’t take his eyes off that dancer.
As it turned
out, John was even more uncomfortable than Rod, because he stormed from his
seat, stepping over eight sets of knees to get out the aisle. Normally, Rod would have followed his son—any
excuse to get out of a dance recital!—but he remained transfixed.
Dia was just the
same. She didn’t even seem to notice
that John had left in a huff.
The girls on
stage waved their hands over their heads, snapping their fingers, smiling
coquettishly at the audience, and at each other. Their hips circled around. Their bare bellies waved like the ocean. Up and down, like they were each straddling a
lover, like they were fucking invisible men right there on stage. Their motions were lewd, pornographic. Rod
couldn’t look away.
Stage lights
picked up body glitter on their chests and thighs when they launched into a
modified mash-potato, like they were beating their invisible lovers with their
fists. What Rod wouldn’t give to get
under those girls! His cock strained so
hard against his pants he worried his erection would tear out his fly. He could just imagine his insistent dick
ripping through the seams, expanding unbound until it filled the entire
auditorium. That’s how huge he felt,
watching those girls dance.
Dance—if you’d call it
that.
He couldn’t
stand the sheer physical pressure. His
cock had grown into a Thanksgiving belly, threatening to rupture if he didn’t
unbuckle his belt.
As the girl with
the ‘fro traced her long fingers across the other dancer’s glittering skin, Rod
unzipped his fly. His desperate cock
flew out, whacking the program that served as a shield. He glanced over his shoulder, trying to be
subtle, but everyone in the theatre watched slack-jawed as the two girls turned
and touched.
The dancers
mirrored each other, stretching their arms over their heads as they wagged
their pert asses. Rod’s precum soaked
the program. His body, mind, and spirit
lived inside his dick.
Wrapping his
fist around his shaft, he imagined it was the girl on stage. The girl with the long, dark hair. Those were her little fingers clinging to his dick. Maybe she’d circle both hands around it and
pump with all her might. She’d look at
his raging erection like she’d never seen anything so huge in all her life.
She’d say, “I
don’t think it’ll fit inside me, Mister.
It’s just too big.”
“Let’s find
out,” he’d say, grabbing her hips.
He’d pull her
body down on his. She’d shriek wildly as
he filled her wet cunt with his massive shaft.
He could just imagine how tight she’d be. Her sweet young pussy would wrap around him
like a warm hug.
Rod squeezed
harder, pretending his fist was the dancer’s pussy. He watched her writhe against the other
girl. The way the stage lights struck
them, he was pretty sure he could see their erect nipples through the glittering
mesh bikinis. Their bodies rippled. They drew closer and closer together, until
pink tits touched dark ones. Their small
breasts teased him beyond sensation. He
couldn’t bear much more of this.
And then the two
girls bobbed their heads forward, like they were about to kiss, and Rod’s
thighs trembled against the hard wooden seat.
Just as their pretty pink lips were about to touch, they swooped their
heads to either side. Hooking their
chins around each other’s shoulders, they raised their backs and then their
arms, like birds in flight.
Damn, they were
gorgeous.
Could he stroke
off without arousing suspicion? The
program concealed his cock. He could
feel the smoothness of the paper against his engorged tip. Maybe if he beat off slow and hard he’d make
it to the finish line without Dia noticing.
She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the dancers any more than he
could.
No more fooling
around. He circled his thumb and
forefinger around his slick head and teased it.
His hand was a pussy—that little vixen’s pussy—and he was gonna punish
it so hard she’d walk funny for a week.
As the girls
touched and teased, playing nipples off nipples, Rod fuelled his orgasm with
friction. He fucked his hand, or his
hand fucked him, until his balls clenched.
He felt warm all over. His throat
closed up. As those two agile dancers
collapsed in a heap of velvet cushions, hot jizz filled his program.
The lights went
down as the awestruck audience broke madly into applause. Thank god for the darkness, because Dia
certainly would have recognized Rod’s orgasm face if she’d seen him in that
moment.
By the time the
lights came up on the next number, he’d regained a certain amount of composure
and zipped his spent cock back into his trousers.
He was about to
lean in and tell Dia, “I can’t wait to get you home,” when she spoke to him,
instead.
“Wasn’t Sally
spellbinding?”
“Huh?” Rod
glared at the stage, but the disco dancers all had short hair. Sally wasn’t up there. “Where?
When?”
Dia cocked her
head, like she didn’t understand him.
“In that last routine…”
---
If you want to buy Lexi's book, it's available from:
eXcessica EDEN:
http://excessica.com/eden/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=14&products_id=180
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http://www.bookstrand.com/dance-for-daddy-salome
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