All Chapters of Fifty Shades Of Taboo: Chapter 51 - Chapter 59

VINCENT Just a week in Cancún, Mexico and you start realizing how much you’ve been missing out on in your thirty eight years on earth. The sun, the beach, the tequila, the way my wife laughed when she’d had enough margaritas to forget the mortgage. Ten years married, and somewhere in the middle of it all, we’d stopped being the people who fucked on vacation. You know that hot, spontaneous sex couples have in their early years of marriage? The kind that happens in empty bathroom stalls and against hotel room doors? My wife and I weren’t that anymore. We’d become the people who fell asleep to the sound of waves, side by side, not touching. The massage was her idea. She’d wanted it ever since she learned this place existed. “We’re here,” she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail, a wide satisfied smile plastered across her face. So there we were—two tables, six feet apart, overlooking a stretch of white sand that curved into turquoise water. We were told to strip completely and g

VINCENT The steam room was thick and white, heat wrapping around me like a second skin. I chose this spot because it was empty. The other men were mostly at the jacuzzi and sauna like they had nowhere else to be, or just sauntering around the wide open space, drinking and catching up like old pals. I found a spot against the far wall and sat, my knees drawn up, trying to make myself as small as I felt. I liked the privacy this spot offered. I didn’t want anyone noticing me. I didn’t want anyone staring down at my waist and reminding me I had a small dick. I’d been embarrassed enough already. The sound of the door sliding open caught my attention, making my body jerk upright. There goes my privacy. I didn’t think anyone would be coming in here at least until the next five to ten minutes. The two men I had seen talking to the young masseur earlier entered the room. Their towels hung looser around their waist than before. I could see the thick bush of hair covering their pub

VINCENT They looked at each other and laughed. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought the look they were giving each other was to decide on telling me. Not their sharp, cruel laugh that made me feel even more pathetic than I already was. “You shameless cocksucking slut,” the taller guy said as he stared down at me. “It doesn’t matter if your wife put us up to this or not. What matters is that you’re here, on your knees, with my cock in your mouth and a dildo in your ass. What matters is that you opened up for two strangers before you even knew their names. What matters is that we could be anyone—two guys off the street, we could’ve been sent by the spa, your boss, your brother-in-law, your goddamn mailman—and you’d still be down here with that same hungry look in your eyes, gagging for it.” He leaned down, grabbed my spit-slicked chin and squeezed until my jaw ached. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to stop asking questions about your wife. You’re going to stop t

ZACH I am looking at a magazine I’ve had with me since my late teens right now. And in case you’re wondering, it’s not your regular fashion or lifestyle magazine. It’s a gay magazine, filled with pages of young men—naked, hard, fucking and sucking and coming in each other’s mouth and ass. This magazine has been with me for a long time, kept hidden under my mattress, between the springs and the sheets, where my mother or anyone close to me never looked. It holds a special place in my heart because, one, whenever I need to jerk off, I use it for inspiration. Two, it was hard to come by at that time in the late nineties. I believe you know why. That probably gives away my age. Well, not to keep you guessing too much, I turned forty-eight last summer. I’d been married for ten years before becoming a divorcé, no children; because according to my ex-wife, I still needed to go figure out my shit. I guess that happens, and I’m not the only one who’d been through that phase. I had a good-p

ZACH He posed me the same way I’d posed him. Against the window first, then on the edge of the bed. He was a better photographer than I’d expected—patient, quiet, taking his time to get the angles right. Like a director on set, I let him direct me. Let him tell me to spread my legs, to arch my back, to look down, look up. I felt like the young man in the magazine again. Like I was twenty and still had something worth capturing. Then he set the camera down. “I want to take the other ones now,” he said. I quickly knew what he meant. He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs apart, cock already half-hard from the shootings we’d been doing nude. I got on my knees without being told. The floor was hard, the carpet rough against my shins. I smelled the chlorine on his skin and something else. Something young, clean and male. I took him in my mouth. He was thick, heavier than I’d expected, and he hardened fast. I felt him growing on my tongue, felt his hand find the back of my