Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Foster's Home: A Forbiden Love Part 1	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Views: 4475 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1.
- 2-2.
- 3-3.
- 4-4.
- 5-5.
- 3
- 4
- 5
4.
Frankie became more casual about dressing and undressing in front of him. Oh, she would turn her back, but if he caught a glance of her breasts as she put on her bra or removed it, they laughed. They shared a bathroom after all. Seeing each other in their underwear was no big deal. Naked, just a little more so.
Just friends.
Right?
She helped him with his homework. He helped her around the mansion. The settled into a routine. More like brother and sister than just friends.
Right?
She caught him masturbating. Purely by accident, she immediately backed out, apologized through the door. Mac was red faced the rest of the day. Frankie thought it was cute. After a couple of days, she teased him about it when they were in bed. He pulled a pillow over his face till she stopped. Then he hit her with it. Their pillow fight was fun!
They alternated nights on choosing what to watch on TV in Frankie’s big soft bed.
The next day he chose an R rated movie he had found online. The actress in it looked a little like Frankie, had red hair tied in a loose pony tail (clearly a wig). She was topless within the first ten minutes. Frankie pulled a pillow over her face, but was laughing too.
Mac said, “I thought you like romantic comedies. I chose this one special for you.”
She hit him with her pillow. It evolved into a tickle fight. She eventually won, but played dirty because she knew how ticklish Mac was under his arms. They both lay back, panting heavily. The movie was still on, it was pretty lame.
“Ugh!” Frankie said, “The wig is bad enough. But the bad boob job…”
Mac turned to face her, “Really?”
“Obvious fakes. They don’t move! They hang they there like rocks. I should be insulted you think that looks anything like me.”
Mac couldn’t tell, they looked good to him.
“Boys!” Frankie muttered. That said it all!
They looked each other in the eyes, the movie forgotten. Heads on the same pillow. Frankie in one of her knee length night shirts, Mac in his tightie-whities.
“Hey Mac, can I show you something. Promise not to laugh?”
“Sure.” He didn’t know what to expect.
She got out of bed, went to one of her drawers and pulled out a box and left the room.
She was gone for nearly ten minutes. Mac turned off the movie and put on the rerun of some crime show. Frankie loved these shows, especially the ones that reenacted real crimes. She’d “oooh and ahhh” as the horrific crimes were described in graphic detail. Mac often turned away, but was fascinated too.

Frankie had a secret hobby. She never shared it with her friends or her lovers. It was more of a guilty pleasure, an addiction. She loved lingerie. The sexier the better. Oh, she was mostly a slob at home, she had no one to dress up for, to share her secret with. Just one time she wanted to show off. “Just this once!” she swore.

Her hair was piled high on her head, it was like the style she wore when with her black party dress (she called it her “titty dress”, he loved hearing her say that word, “titty”), to go out to parties. There were pretty gold heart shaped clips in her hair this time.
She smelled of lilacs.
Mac didn’t know what it was called.
“It’s called a teddy. Silly name.” It was made of white lace and ten thousand tiny white satin bows. It covered everything and was still the sexiest thing Mac had ever seen. It seemed to push her breasts up and out, exposing both the tops and sides of her breasts at the same time. Was those her areola peeking out the top?
She wore long white sheer stockings that ended mid-thigh. There were white ribbons with gold heart shaped clips matching the ones in her hair, that attached the top of the stockings to the teddy. There were white slippers on her feet.
She laughed and blushed at the expression on his face as she pirouetted for him, then turned again slowly to show him the back. The teddy was cut in a v shape down the shoulders and across her back to her ass where it became a single ribbon, exposing both firm ass cheeks.
Mac’s expression was everything she hoped for in a man… and more.
She danced over to him. She could see he was struggling with his undies; they were tight and he was hard.
“Shhhh” she whispered. “It’s OK.”
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now, how he was supposed to act.
She whispered in his ear. He moved his hands away.
Had she planned this? If so, it was not consciously. She just wanted someone to share her obsession with… someone. If it had been a man, the outcome would have been obvious. But with a boy? This boy? She had to have known… didn’t she?
She didn’t know.
She reached over and pulled his underwear down, slowly. His young cock sprang erect. It fit her hand perfectly. She began to stroke him, slowly. She had done this dozens of times, before. Guys expected it… a hand job was the least she could do. It usually had no meaning for her, just part of the seduction, the game, the ritual… part of the dance between men and women.
It meant something more now.
He didn’t last long, he couldn’t. He was just a boy and this was his first time with a woman. She was surprised by how powerful he shot his load. Most went into her hand but some shot in the air and landed on the sheets. She laughed and kissed his ear. Grabbed some tissues, careful to clean up and not stain her outfit. She wondered if they made it cum proof?
They kissed. Not the friend kisses they usually shared. This was a long, deep kiss. Tongues touched. Shared.
Then she ran from the room, was back in her night shirt, the box put away. Mac was already asleep. The smell of lilacs and his cum hung in the air.
It didn’t happen again for a while. Usually only for something special, good grades, breaking up fights in the Home, helping with the House laundry (they both hated that!). She delighted in showing him her ‘collection’. He knew there were some things she was holding back. She loved modelling for him. He loved her black outfits the best.
His favorite was a simple outfit, a sheer floral lace black bra that covered her nipples and little else. A small black thong and a floor length bed jacket that seemed to be made out of green fog and nothing else.
He had painted her toe nails a matching green. He loved doing that. Then blowing on her toes. She giggled and wriggled her toes.
The occasional hand job became impassioned blow jobs. Her idea. Birthday surprise (her birthday!).
He was allowed to touch her breasts now (but under the covers); in fact, he was encouraged. She liked his tentative explorations. He marveled at the feel of her button shaped nipples, how they firmed up under his hands, especially when he stroked them with his thumb. Then she hugged him tight.
That was as far as they went.
She had never been topless or bottomless with him. Never really naked after that first time with the dress (and that was mostly an accident, in darkness). They never had sex. Not really, she did things for him, but drew a line.
One night, after she modeled a new outfit, pink frilly horizontal and vertical straps, he turned to her and asked if he could make her feel good, like she had done for him. She thought for a moment. He knew she was going to say no. Then she took his hand and put two of his fingers in her mouth. She sucked on them slowly, moistly. Then took his hand and drew it beneath the covers, down her belly until he encountered her filly panties, then beneath to the thick curly hair he knew grew in a broad red stripe. Then to her pussy. She guided his hand, his fingers until he was inside her. He felt the way her tunnel seemed to grab at his fingers, how tight and warm she was. As his thumb played with her clit her back arched and she nearly threw the covers off. He felt her slickness, her wetness as she pumped his hand inside her. Fingering her until she came with a gasp, a sharp intake of breath and wetness down his hand.
She drew her knees up as his third finger slipped moistly inside. She was hot and wet as he pushed more of his small strong hand into her. He brought his other hand to her tits and yanked down her top, pulling the blanket off so he could see her tits as he mauled them. She was crying and laughing at the same time until she began to pant and call his name. She came second time, more powerfully than the first.
She kissed him long and hard, sucked at his tongue. The kiss went on, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, fought with her.
She rewarded him with the longest, most intense blow job she had ever given any of lovers. She let him cum on her lips and throat and titties. She was mess. He loved seeing her like this.

Madame Foster must have known what was going on or suspected. The next afternoon she whispered to Frankie “I always liked ‘em young myself, dear, but you take the cake!” and cackled. Then, more seriously. “Be careful. Both of you!” That was all she ever said on the subject.
Mac’s mom was due for her second visit that weekend. She approved of the way Mac was helping “Miss Frances” and was seeming to spend only a little play time with Bloo and the others. She spoke to Mac’s teachers and found he was doing much better in school. She attributed it to Terrance’s absence… it might have even been true, at least in part. His growing relationship with Frankie probably had a larger effect.
She slept in his room on a cot they moved in for her. She had no idea that it was the first night Mac had spent there in weeks.
Mom told him, “Terrance was doing wonderfully well and was anxious to see his brother again”. Mac didn’t say anything, but Terrance hadn’t once been in on any of his Mom’s video chats.
She flew back the following Monday. If she had had any doubts about her son staying at Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, in the care of Madame Foster or Miss Frances, she had lost them all. Mac waved to his mother from the front door as the taxi pulled away. Expecting to chat the next day and see her again in a month.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Foster's Home: A Forbiden Love Part 1