Little Brats: Hanna: Forbidden Taboo Erotica Read Free Page A

forbid him to wear into the house.
    Marshall had his erection gripped tightly in his fist.
    She knew instantly what he was doing. It seemed to Hanna he was determined to break every rule he could, his wife’s and God’s. She also knew she should turn around and go back to her room and pray. Pray a lot. But she didn’t. In the conflict between sin and curiosity, curiosity won out. She watched him abuse himself, fascinated by the shameful, sinful act her stepfather was committing. She had, after all, done it to herself. She knew how good it felt, how tempting it was.
    The muscles in Marshall’s strong thighs tightened as his hips bucked up off the bed—just like hers had last night. His hand, slick with some sort of substance the made the tight skin of his male parts all shiny, moved up and down, squeezing up over the bulbous head and then moving down to the wondrous sack that hung between his thighs, cupping them, big and heavy.
    He panted, eyes screwed shut. From all appearances, he seemed to be torturing himself. No wonder her mother had called it abuse. The faster his hand moved, the louder his groans, the redder the skin along the shaft. The veins there bulged. His moans became growls deep in his throat, his ridged stomach tightening, accentuating each muscle. Between her own thighs, she felt dampness, a soft dew, the telltale sign of sin.
    His movements grew more frantic, fist rising up and down his manhood, his face scrunched up as if he was in pain. He let out a primal cry, like and animal, as he grabbed himself and squeezed. Hanna saw a slow spill of clear liquid from the head of his erection, dribbling down over his fingers. He was squeezing it so hard his fingers were practically purple and he gave another cry, this time, murmuring, “Fuck! Not yet! Not yet!”
    Hann had never heard Marshall swear before.
    She gasped, pulling her own thighs tighter together, that soft squish between them drawing a soft moan from her throat. She didn’t mean to make a sound, didn’t even register she had, until Marshall opened his eyes and looked right at her.
    “Hanna.” His voice was hoarse, pained.
    He reacted quickly, pulling the afghan always folded nicely at the bottom of the bed, the one her mother herself had crocheted, into his lap to cover his erection.
    “I’m sorry.” Hanna blinked, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean. I thought you were…”
    “It’s okay.” He attempted a smile and for a minute, he was the Marshall she knew. “Come in, sweetheart.
    She hesitated, a little afraid, but she opened the door enough to step just over the threshold. He was covered now, after all. And… she had questions. Maybe, if her mother couldn’t answer them, Marshall could?
    “Mom says…” Her hand still gripped the doorknob so tight her knuckles were white. “Mom says Pastor David says what you’re doing is a sin. It’s not godly. Just today, Mom said that men… do this. They abuse themselves this way. But…”
    “But…?” Marshall urged her to continue.
    “Sometimes I…” She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing with heat. “I feel things. Sometimes I… abuse myself too.”
    “Oh Hanna.” Marshall frowned, a pained look crossing his face. “It isn’t self-abuse. It’s self-pleasure.”
    “Self-pleasure.” She tried the words out in her mouth. That felt better than calling it abuse. But wasn’t it a sin?
    “Pleasure is a gift from God,” Marshall said, shaking his head, looking sad. “Why would he make it pleasurable, if He didn’t want us to enjoy it?”
    “I don’t know.” She swallowed, trying to think of what Pastor David would say. He’d tell you to turn around and go to your room and pray for forgiveness, that’s what he’d say. But she didn’t do that. “Maybe… maybe it’s Satan’s way of tempting us?”
    “No, Hanna.” Marshall smiled. “God intended a man and woman to find pleasure together, through each other’s bodies. That’s why he designed us the way he