Tangled Taboo

Tangled Taboo:

Waylen and Holly's Forbidden Love

Indulge in the forbidden with In Tangled Taboo,

An interracial love triangle that'll leave you panting.

Mary Not Wollstonecraft

© Copyright 2023 by Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman

This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote a lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.

Tangled Taboo:

Waylen and Holly's Forbidden Love

Love is a marvelous, elusive thing. My name is Holly Golightly Sanders. My mother was, at the time of my birth, quite the romantic. She and Father were deeply in love for many years. But as I said, love is elusive.

My Father, Edward Sanders, was a bitter man who failed to give Mother, or me, attention. Working in a high-pressure job, consumed with advancement, we became afterthoughts. I don't remember when he stopped giving me hugs. And to be truthful, I can't remember if he ever kissed or hugged me.

Part of my father's resentment stemmed from old-fashioned views of the world. In 1980, when he lost out on a promotion to a black man, his bitterness turned into bile-filled hate. Not that he was ever a fan of any minority. He considered anyone not white as subhuman.

He resented black people for taking his future away from him. His soured disposition affected his relationship with Mother and me. Mommy's friendship with some black folks angered him. When I defended her, his hate turned to me.

Mother's deceptions lasted for months. Sneaking around, having an affair with a black man. When Father discovered their treachery, he left us heartbroken. Nevertheless, he was my father, and despite his cold indifference to me through the years, I loved him. It took more months, and they divorced. Father, feeling she'd humiliated him, moved away, leaving me as devastated as he.

Not that he left. He'd left me much earlier if he'd ever cared for me at all. The devastation came from living in a house so empty of love. My mother's heart held no love for anyone but Waylen, and I was an outcast in my home.

Father moved from Denver to Miami, Florida. A few months later, Father moved to New York City for some reason known only to him. After that, dear ole Dad tried LA. The problem was there were minorities wherever he went.

As soon as Father was gone, Waylen moved in.

My mother, being with Waylen, took getting used to. Waylen was a handsome man with incredibly dark skin. Younger than mother by some five or six years. I held a grudge against him. He'd driven a wedge between my mother, the only person who'd ever shown me love, and me.

How does one live without some small comfort given them out of love?

At night, the two of them cuddled and cooed on the couch. Whispering secrets, they didn't wish me to hear. Later in the wee hours of the morning, they made love. They weren't discrete but loud and boisterous. The headboard banged against the wall separating my room from theirs. As they made love, my mother cursed like a sailor, screeching in ecstasy.

Often, Waylen sounded like a rutting pig. Then again, they were rutting. It wasn't so much making love as fucking. Loud, nasty fucking. If I'm honest, I have no notion what a rutting pig sounded like.

Once my mother's belly swelled, I realized I, too, would find myself displaced.

After all, I'm nineteen, have a job, and am out of school. If I stayed in their home, I'd be a babysitter and nothing more. One night, while I lay in bed contemplating my fate, Waylen tapped on my door.

"Yes," I said.

"May I come in?"

"Sure."

The door opened, and Waylen walked into the room. Pulling my sheets and spread to cover me to my neck, I gazed at him. Fully expecting him to order me out of 'his' house as soon as possible. Barring that, he'd lay down the law regarding my duties to my mother and baby half-sibling.

Waylen shifted from one foot to the next. Tension hung in the air, thick, palpable. Eyes dark as coal gazed at me with an intensity I'd never seen. A tingling in my toes and fingers and a prickling on my neck pestered me.

He frightened me. Without speaking a word, he scared the shit out of me.

Sitting on my bed beside me, he turned his intense gaze into my eyes. He placed his hand on my leg and squeezed my thigh slightly. The glower softened, and his face lost all the severe manifestation that terrified me.

"Your mother and I want you to know you can live in this, her house, for as long as you want." Waylen's voice was deep and raspy but spoke calmly and gently. "We were married a few weeks ago. You're my stepdaughter now, and I'll try to be a good father for you."

"And I'll be your excellent babysitter," I said. My voice was harsh and sarcastic.

"No, Holly, you won't. The baby is your mother and my responsibility. We want you to concentrate on yourself, work, or better still, I'd love for you to attend college. Also, I'd consider it a privilege if you let me pay for your schooling."

"What?" I said, confused.

"If you let me, I will pay your tuition, books, and room and board if you want to move on campus. But I'd rather you live here, so we can get to know each other."

"Truthfully, I'm not sure I want to go to college."

"Well, Miss Golightly, you don't have to decide one way or the other anytime soon. CU, CSU, and DU aren't going anywhere, anytime, in the foreseeable future."

"Stupid middle name, right?"

"Nothing about you is stupid, Holly. I've wanted to get to know you from the moment we met. You're a beautiful young woman." He moved his large hand from my thigh to my face, turned my gaze up, a touch, and kissed me on my cheek. His lips grazed mine in the softest peck as a shiver ran up my spine, and fire erupted on my lips.

The fire found its way to my crotch, and turned away, my cheeks blushing.

"I'm sorry, was that inappropriate?"

"No, not on your part." I twisted further away, giving him a view of my back.

"Not on your part, either," he said. Putting his mighty hands on my bare shoulders, he kneeded my spine, neck, and back. Rubbing his thumbs in circles, unknotting the tension. "We're not related by blood." He dug his magical thumbs and fingers into my muscles, and warmth radiated from his callused flesh into my skin.

He interrupted the rub down and pulled me gently to his chest, caressing me lovingly.

"If you tell your Mom I said this, I'll call you a little liar. But you're much more lovely than she." Kissing the lobe of my ear, he hugged my body into his. "Let this be our secret."

He left the room, and I sat there, my body on fire. Only when the door closed did I turn toward where he'd been. Reaching out, I touched the pillow he'd pressed against. Pulling it between my breasts, I hugged it as if I hugged him.

Laying down, putting the pillow between my legs, I masturbated. Eventually, I fell asleep, wondering what lovemaking felt like. I dreamed of Waylen. Hot, torturous, wet dreams of kissing, fondling, and hugging, never reaching the point of making love.

Until that night, I never thought of Waylen in that way. I'd never dreamed of anyone like I dreamed of him. In truth, I'd thought I was a lesbian until his lips touched mine, and his hands warmed me. I'd only flirted with girls, only kissed them.

No one ever sent a fire into me.

For days, I was happy. So happy that I was nicer to the diners at the restaurant where I waited tables. I made more tips, enjoyed my work, and walked with some zing. One customer, a lovely older lady, told me I must be in love. She said she saw it in the sparkle in my eyes.

After a week, on one of my days off, I fixed Mom breakfast, and we sat drinking coffee and chatting about nothing.

"Oh, Waylen and a friend will move you to the bedroom downstairs. Actually, you're getting a whole new bedroom. Waylen and Jon are painting it, getting you new furniture, and will move your clothes and other things while you're at work tomorrow. I'll move your delicates. We don't want the boys in your drawers, do we?" she laughed.

"I guess not, but Mommy, why are you moving me downstairs?"

"Well, two reasons. You shouldn't've been listening to all the, you know. I swear, I'm so in love my brain has been in neutral. I'm sorry if it upset you hearing us carry on so much. And the second reason we want to turn that room into the nursery for the little one."

Somewhat disappointed, I agreed. Disappointed because I'd grown accustomed to Waylen's and Mother's sexual noises. And I masturbated while they fucked and imagined I was her.

I was cautious when I frigged myself. Never allowing my fingers much egress inside. In order to preserve my cherry for someone to take who loved me. I often plotted, only partially seriously, how to take Waylen from Mother.

When moving day came, it passed slowly, and I couldn't wait for the end of my shift. Althea promised to keep the last table, and I hurried home. Waylen's truck sat in our drive, and a new burgundy Buick sat in the driveway beside the pickup.

Running into the house, I found the men in my bedroom unloading bedding and boxes. "So, this is gonna be your room, right, Missy?"

"This is your stepfather's friend."

I blushed and offered my hand to Jon. "Yes, this is my room, and you're Waylen's best friend."

"Yes, ma'am. Jon Hebert."

"Welcome to the family." I reached out to touch his arm. His strong jawline, thick, dark hair, and hands bulging with muscles some women would die to know. "Please call me Holly."

"And you may call me Jon," he said.

"Well, Holly, give us a hand. There's a carton of food, and we still have lots to move," Waylen said.

I focused on the food. "Oh, my gosh, you're eating here?"

"We are?" Jon asked.

"Well, sure. Your family, right?"

Later, after dinner, Jon and Waylen sat on my bed, catching up on each other's lives. I couldn't believe Jon was so at ease here. He sat on my bed, in my room, as if he'd known me his whole life. He finished his drink in a rush, excused himself, and returned to the nursery to finish painting it.

Waylen and Mom moved back into the kitchen and gabbed about the baby. Would it be a boy or a girl? What should they name it? This was my cue to leave.

Excusing myself, telling them I wanted a bath and to read in my new room.

I knew what I'd do as soon as I entered the downstairs bathroom. The sight of the two black men gave me such an itch. Since I kissed Waylen, my mind turned quite dirty.

Turning the hot water on, I filled the tub. Taking off my clothes, I got in. After I'd soaked in the tub, I put my hand down there. My fingers found my clit, and I frigged myself, replaying everything that had happened throughout the day.

As I pleasured myself, my mind thought about Waylen and his friend. Rubbing my nub, circling my thumb, coaxing myself near the edge, I wondered if I'd ever fuck either of them. A very soft knock brought me out of my trance.

"Yes."

"May I come in?" Waylen asked.

"Um, I'm in the tub."

"I know," he said in a whisper. "Jon's gone. Your Mom laid down for a nap. I want to talk to you." He eased the door opened, and Waylen smiled. "Come on, baby doll, I won't bite."

"Sure," I said. I covered my breast with one arm and put my other hand over my crotch.

"Don't be so shy, Holly." He kneeled next to the tub, a shit-eating grin on his face. He'd had his shirt off and must have been working in the nursery. Beads of sweat covered his bare chest and belly.

Putting his hand in the water, he pushed my hand away and cupped my pubic mound. His middle finger slid over my clit and then between my lips.

"Baby doll, you have so little pussy hair, even for a blonde. But you're the palest girl I've ever seen. All porcelain, alabaster, whitest platinum hair, and palest beautiful blue eyes. Holly Golightly is sex rolled into desire."

He leaned into me and touched his lips against mine.

Thrusting his tongue into my mouth, he sent electricity through my body. He kept his tongue in my mouth, investigating and teasing me as we kissed. Waylen's hand massaged me between my legs, let my hand loose from my chest, and caressed his noble bald head.

When we broke our kiss, reluctantly, he gazed into my eyes. He stared at me, making me feel like no one had ever seen me before.

"I love you," he said. "More than your mother, and in the same way that I love her."

"Really?" was the only word I could form. This admission was what I wanted. But I didn't like that he loved her. "This is a problem, isn't it?"

"No, actually, it isn't she knows. I wouldn't say she's happy about it, but she knows people can love more than one person. Besides all that, if push comes to shove, your Mommy doesn't want for push to come to shove."

I knew what that meant. Waylen would choose me over her. Therefore, I'd force things to come to a head someday. Taking his head in my hands, I pressed my lips to his, stuck my tongue, not his mouth, and glued them together.

Pulling away, I kissed his ear, whispering, "I'm a virgin."

Waylen reached under me with his powerful arms and picked me up. Lifting me from the bath. He gently set me on my feet and pulled a towel from the rack. He toweled me off and took me to my bedroom. A sexy teddy was on the bed.

"Get dressed, baby girl, and if you want, put on some makeup and get comfortable. I'll be back in ten minutes. Have you ever had champagne?"

"Okay, well, I'm getting us some Dom," he said. Waylen left the room. A few moments later, I heard the bark of his pickup starting.

I took my time getting ready. Flushed with excitement and anticipation, I tried and failed to calm my nervousness. My mind turned to my mother, briefly wandering to a gloomy series of thoughts. Dark, selfish thoughts. A loud rap sounded at my door.

"Yes," I said. Knowing he couldn't be back yet. "What do you want, mother?"

The door creaked as she slowly opened it. "You look lovely," she said. And for some time, she didn't speak. "Please, I know you're beautiful. More so than me. I know your body is young, supple, and tender. You're better equipped to satisfy his needs than I am. But please, please, don't take him away from me just because you can. I'm willing to share, but don't shut me out."

"Mother, would I do that to you?"

"I don't know," she said, cupping her hands over the growing bump on her belly. "In five months, I'll give Waylen a child. Don't make me raise his son or daughter alone."

"Mother, even if I wanted to take him away, Waylen would never leave his child to be reared by a single mother."

"Yes, he would." She turned and walked out of the room. I heard a squeak as she mounted the stairs.

Why would she say such a thing? Waylen would never leave a woman with one of his children. He might have affairs, but would never leave a mother to raise a child alone. Waylen wasn't that kind of man.

I thought about Waylen touching my face, kissing my cheek and mouth, and his hand massaging me between my legs. So many white or black women would die to know him and make love to him. And he was mine. Not entirely mine, but enough to make me realize he'd never leave my mother until his child had grown into adulthood.

Shame on her for not understanding that.

The familiar rumble of his truck told me he was home. The door to the house opened and shut. He spent a minute or two in the kitchen, digging around, moving this and that until he found what he wanted. Waylen came into my room, a sensual longing in his eyes. In one hand was a bucket of ice with a bottle sticking out, and in the other, two glasses.

Waylen had already undressed. His muscles rippled on the hairless upper body as he moved. His cock and balls hung large between his legs, moving to the rhythm of his walk. Waylen's cock had several thick veins, and swarthy skin glistened in the low light of my room.

On the bed, I lay with my knees bent and legs drawn up in a poise I hoped was seductive. I wore the sexy teddy and nothing else. Black lace and my pale white flesh.

Picking up the bottle, he wrapped a towel around it, took the cork between two fingers and his thumb, and twisted it. The cork jumped out, but he held on, and the loud pop took me off-guard.

I raised up on my arm and fluttered my eyelids. Without taking his dark, brown eyes from me, Waylen filled the two glasses and returned the bottle to the bucket. Strolling like he owned the world, handed me a glass, and sat beside me. We locked our arms together and drank the bubbly wine.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I took my first sip of champagne, but its smooth, agreeable flavor pleasantly surprised me.

He took the glass and set mine and his on the bedside table. He rolled up next to me, slipped his arm behind me, and I laid my head on his gorgeous solid chest. I ran my fingers over his hard abs and lower, touching the fat base of his cock.

Running my fingers over his stiffening prick, I watched as it twitched, swelled, and grew. Longer than my forearm and thicker than my wrist, the monster defied gravity and wrapped my fingers around it, unable to get the entire mass inside my grasp.

"Oh, my God, Waylen, this will kill me."

He put one of his massive paws on a tit, massaging my breast through the lace. As I fell onto the bed, his lips met mine, and he explored my body, inspiring a yearning inside. His cock was straight, and the cockhead was almost round. The glans grew out of the foreskin as he stiffened.

The head was about the size of a ripe plum. Under the prickhead was the thick shaft, which gradually increased to a girthy ten inches around at the base. My body trembled with fearful anticipation of the pain and pleasure to come.

While I believed I knew what to expect, to my surprise, my body didn't. Bliss overwhelmed me as Waylen's tongue explored my slit. He left a trail of wet kisses down my stomach and settled between my legs. Kneeling on the bed, he pulled the material to the side with one hand, and his tongue probed me.

"Oh, oh, oh," I moaned, twitching and shivering with a burning yea erotism.

His firm hands explored my curves. He squeezed my ass, and I hoped he wouldn't neglect my rosy asshole.

His tongue slid between the folds of my pussy, and I grabbed the pillows as his tongue flicked my clit. The delight was overpowering. I'd experienced nothing like this. My body shook, and my toes curled. I fought to control my body, but he held my hips, massaging my curves, encouraging me to surrender.

Moaning, he sucked my swelling clit into his mouth. I grabbed his head and pulled him to me as I arched my back. I felt my orgasm building.

"Oh, god, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," I moaned.

The sensation was indescribable as I came. My body shook, and my soul trembled. The rapture flooded me. Every muscle in my body pulsed. My legs spread wider and my pussy throbbed in a sweet, lovely intoxication of his loving tongue.

Once the climax subsided, I relaxed, exhausted, and ready for much more.

"Tell me how to please you," I cooed.

My ass trembled as he stood and kissed the back of my neck.

"Relax, Holy. You don't need to do anything. It'll be my pleasure to take your virginity," he whispered. "You will be mine. I'll own you, and that thrills me."

I moaned in delight. He tugged at the material. Roughly, he wrenched my outfit from my body. I shivered as the cool air rushed over my body.

"Are you ready?"

His cock rubbed against me, and I squirmed from the tingling caused by the friction.

"I'm ready.".