Taboo Vacation

I'm a big fan of Jane Black's work for all kinds of reasons. Her fiction, exemplified in Clean Sheets' "The Painter," balances spice and jazz with profound emotional insight. Her essays, such as "S/M in the Suburbs," explore the relatively uncharted territory (in public discourse, that is) of the sex lives of parents. I'm always hungry for more, which is while I'm thrilled that Jane agreed to stop by Suite 69 to share a story with us. I'm baking cookies today, which is fitting for the maternal theme. However, I want to remind you that these are adult cookies with nuts and booze. There's my Chewy Pecan Bars with fresh pecans from Georgia and Amaretto Almond Bars with plenty of amaretto and white chocolate chunks. They're sweet and sinful and I bet you can't stop at just one. Today's creamy and sensual photo, "Toga," is again the work of Suite 69's resident visual artist, Nikki Magennis. Enjoy!

Taboo by Jane Black

Before our vacation last year I would have said that there were no taboos between us, no secret sex fantasies that we wouldn’t share with one another. I would have been wrong.

At the time of our vacation I was in the process of weaning our baby; Keith and I weren’t going to take him (or his older brother) with us. This would have been a problem a couple of months ago, back when my breasts became uncomfortably full after just a few hours away from the baby’s eager little mouth. But now he was down to nursing once a day, and I wasn’t producing much milk. I decided that it would also be safe to leave my loathsome little electric breast pump at home. (Using a breast pump to get milk out is like using a string and doorknob to extract a tooth-it works, but it’s not exactly something you do for fun.)

So we left the pump, but we packed plenty of toys. We filled a small suitcase with wrist and ankle restraints, a couple of ropes, a posture collar, a blindfold, and a nice selection of whips. After all, a good vacation requires the proper gear. We packed our stuff in the car, waved bye-bye to the kids and their grandma, and drove for five hours to get to the hotel where we were staying. I spent most of the first evening hog-tied, collared, and blindfolded, being spanked and fucked silly. A most auspicious beginning.

But by the second evening, I knew I’d made a mistake, breast-wise–my boobs had become uncomfortably engorged with milk… I told Keith that we had a small problem.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked, concerned.

“No, and anyway we couldn’t get there fast enough.” I told him.

“Well, should I go try to get you a breast pump?”

I didn’t answer him, because I’d already come up with another solution.....

Want to read on? Well, have another cookie--I knew you'd want more--and pop over to Good Vibrations.