Generational boundaries dissolve in Pure Taboo scenarios where age gaps amplify power imbalance. The psychological weight of experience exploiting innocence creates inviting dread, as maturity becomes predatory advantage in forbidden encounters. Resistance is futile once you begin.
Paul comes home late. Hall light catches his eye through Tina's open door. She's stretched out on the sheets, bare from the waist down, legs loose and waiting. He stops cold. She watches him watch her. No words. Just that slow, wet sound as she spreads herself wider, fingers dragging over her slick cunt like she's daring him to pretend he doesn't want it. His jaw tightens. She smiles, lazy and filthy, then slips two fingers inside herself with a soft moan that hits him straight in the gut. Paul steps in. Door clicks shut behind him. He grabs her wrist, pulls her hand away, replaces it with his mouth—tongue pushing deep, tasting how ready she is. She gasps, hips jerking. He pins her thighs open and eats her like he's starving, sucking her clit until she shakes. Then he's on the bed, cock out, thick and leaking. He rubs the head against her soaked pussy, teasing her entrance, making her beg with her body. She grabs his hips and pulls. He sinks in hard, one thrust, balls-deep, groaning against her neck. Tina wraps her legs around him and takes every inch. They fuck like they've both been waiting too long—rough, deep, no holding back. She claws his back. He pounds her into the mattress, sweat-slick skin slapping loud in the dark. When she comes she bites his shoulder to stay quiet. He doesn't stop. Keeps driving into her until he spills inside, hot and heavy, filling her while she trembles under him.
Paul comes home late. Hall light catches his eye through Tina's open door. She's stretched out on the sheets, bare from the waist down, legs loose and waiting. He stops cold. She watches him watch her. No words. Just that slow, wet sound as she spreads herself wider, fingers dragging over her slick cunt like she's daring him to pretend he doesn't want it. His jaw tightens. She smiles, lazy and filthy, then slips two fingers inside herself with a soft moan that hits him straight in the gut. Paul steps in. Door clicks shut behind him. He grabs her wrist, pulls her hand away, replaces it with his mouth—tongue pushing deep, tasting how ready she is. She gasps, hips jerking. He pins her thighs open and eats her like he's starving, sucking her clit until she shakes. Then he's on the bed, cock out, thick and leaking. He rubs the head against her soaked pussy, teasing her entrance, making her beg with her body. She grabs his hips and pulls. He sinks in hard, one thrust, balls-deep, groaning against her neck. Tina wraps her legs around him and takes every inch. They fuck like they've both been waiting too long—rough, deep, no holding back. She claws his back. He pounds her into the mattress, sweat-slick skin slapping loud in the dark. When she comes she bites his shoulder to stay quiet. He doesn't stop. Keeps driving into her until he spills inside, hot and heavy, filling her while she trembles under him.
