It was a dark and stormy night. Cliche, but true.

I laid in the bed, listening to the rain, and waiting for sleep to come claim me. So, that I could visit the world where he would belong to me instead of her.

I love my Mom. Don’t get me wrong. And she has had it so rough that she deserved something special when she left the sperm donor that caused me to exist. I refuse to call that asshole “father”.

But, I saw him first, dammit.

Ok, maybe not. But, I didn’t know when I did see him that they were already a couple.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Mom had taken me shopping for clothes for school. I was fourteen and would much rather be in the bookstore next door.

“Fine.” Mom sighed, finally, while we were in line to pay. “Go ahead.”

I probably left a doppler effect in my wake. Getting out of the store and next door. I made a beeline for my favorite section and began scanning for new books by my favorite authors.

“Can I help you find something?”

I half turned, prepared to explain, yet again, that I was older than I looked and didn’t need the children’s books thanks when I saw him.

It wasn’t that his clothes fit him badly, mind you. Quite the contrary, actually, as that shirt molded itself to his broad shoulders and tapered to tuck into pants that hugged every curve of his thick, muscular legs. He just looked like he should be on a beach somewhere in nothing but a speedo. Probably selling something.

My mouth felt like all the moisture had been sucked out of it. What the hell was he doing in my bookstore, in my little town?

“Everything all right?”

“Fine.” I answered faintly, my eyes fixating on those grey eyes. “Just fine. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you for asking.” He smiled and I felt like I had just melted into a puddle. “Were you looking for anything in particular? Or just browsing?”

“Browsing,” I said. The wrong answer as he nodded and turned and walked away.

I hated to see him leave. But, watching him go was a real treat as those slacks bunched around the nicest butt I had seen in my short life.

Hell, it is still the nicest and I’ve seen a lot more since.

“So, did you find anything?” Mom interrupted dreams that I didn’t really understand as yet.

How can I put this nicely? I was a bit… behind my classmates in the division between boys and girls and exactly what it meant for me personally.

Oh, I understood where babies came from and such. Probably better than my classmates since I actually took the time to read.

Sorry. That was ugly and uncalled for.

Anyway, I knew the mechanics. But, why exactly a girl would want to let a boy do those things to her was beyond me. At least until I met him.

Losing a school girl crush to your Mom, sucks. I don’t know how else to say it.

I’m not much into melodrama. But, my fourteen year old self wanted to die when he came to the house one evening just as I had dreamed and then took my mom out to dinner.

The thing is, a lot of things get crushed. But, sometimes, like with coal for example, the more you try to crush it, the stronger it becomes.

You see, he didn’t just look good. He read. And as he spent more time around my mother, he spent more time around me as well. And we had similar taste in books. And smart? I truly believe that he could have been or done anything he wanted to.

I remember this one science project I had…

Never mind. You are already wondering when I’m going to get back to that dark and stormy night, I’m sure. I’ll get there. But, it’s important to me that you see why I did what I did.

Anyway, he was quite a bit younger than Mom. Actually, he was closer to my age than he was to hers.

I started to have these fantasies that he would see me and decide that he wanted me instead of her.

I think if he had, I would have gotten over him. But, it was still a fantasy I had.

That house of cards came tumbling down when they married when I was sixteen. I know it probably puzzled him when I pulled him aside and begged him to make Mom happy and then cried on his chest until his shirt was soaked. He had no idea how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut when the preacher asked if there was anyone who saw any reason these two should not be joined. But, saying “because I want him” at your own mother’s wedding is a bit much.

I think I’ll skip over the next two years. Let’s just say I didn’t take the disappointment well and acted out a little.

The big climax, if I may be permitted the pun, was when the cops pulled me out of a van with a lot of alcohol and no clothing. And I was the only girl with six boys.

I suppose you might say that I was trying to find the quality he had in quantity.

The courts decided I needed to go away for awhile. I came home on my eighteenth birthday. He picked me up at the bus station.

When he hugged me and kissed the top of my head and told me that he had missed me, it did what two years of acting out and three months of that place couldn’t.

It broke me totally. I cried into his shirt once more like a hurt child. I don’t know how long I cried, but the bus had left once more and we were the only people still standing around that didn’t work there.

“Come on.” He said gently. “Let me take you home.”

Home. He was my home. No matter what, I would not forget that again.

At home, though, things were strange. Mom had decorated and baked a cake. And both seemed really really happy to see me. But, there was a … tension between them that I didn’t understand.

Finally, I got Mom alone.

“Mom?” I asked. “Is everything okay between you and Dad?”

“Of course, it is sweetie.” Mom busied herself picking up the debris from our dinner. “What a thing to ask.”

“Mom?” I got up and wormed my way under her arm. I twisted my head to look up at her as I clasped my hands around her waist. “Mom, you know I’ll just ask him if you don’t tell me.”

“And he would probably tell you too.” She sighed. “You two always were like two peas in a pod.”

I was startled to see a tear trickle from Mom’s eye.

“Mom, you’re scaring me.” I said.

“Oh, honey. It’ll be fine.” She said, giving me a brisk hug and wiping at her eyes. “We just got a little surprise is all.”

I knew that they had wanted other kids besided me. But, this didn’t seem like a happy surprise.

“What kind of surprise?” I asked.

“Well, you know how we’ve been trying to give you a little brother or sister.” Mom said. “Well, that won’t be happening.”

“And that is fine with me.”

We both jumped at his deep voice right behind us. His strong arms slid around both of us and held us tight.

“I am perfectly content with my perfect wife.” He kissed mother’s head. “And my perfect daughter.” He kissed mine. “And our perfect little family just the way it is.”

I don’t know how, but I knew he was lying. More, I knew there was something else they weren’t telling me.

“I don’t understand.” I said. “What, are you guys doing it wrong or something?”

“We do just fine.” Mom said tartly. “Better than fine in fact.”

“Mmm. I’ll say.” He lowered his head to kiss her.

“Eww.” I said to hide the combination of jealousy and the desire to have him kiss me with those lips. “Get a room, guys.”

I knew immediately that I had said something wrong the way they both tensed up, but not what exactly.

“You two go sit down and catch up.” Mom shooed us both out of the kitchen and bustled about cleaning up.

“Dad?” I whispered. “What’s going on?”

He looked at me with that measuring look he always had. I don’t quite know how to explain how good it made me feel when he looked at me as if trying to decide if I could handle it and then telling me anyway.

When you are short and skinny and look like a twelve year old at eighteen, it’s unusual for people to treat you like an adult. If I had to pick one thing, I think that is what made me love him the most. He always treated me like a responsible, thinking person. Even when I was going out of my way to prove I wasn’t.

“It’s cancer.” He said. “She’s going to have to have a full hysterectomy. And they don’t know if that will get it all.”

“Oh my God.” I clapped my hand over my mouth and looked back at the kitchen where she was still bustling about. I could feel the water works filling again. “How long does she have?”

“Hey, hey now.” He pulled me close and nuzzled my hair again. “It’s not like that. No one is talking about ‘how long’. It’s just causing her some pain. They’re going to cut it out and then we’ll see.”

“How bad of pain is she in?” I asked.

“Well, she tells me it’s like twelve months of cramps rolled into one. Except it doesn’t stop.”

“Ow.” I winced. My own cramps bordered on legendary and had kept me in bed more than once. “So, um… what about you two?”

“What about us two, what?” He asked.

“Well, I mean. If she’s in that kind of pain.” I faltered. “I mean it just kind of seems like, well, you know, she wouldn’t be interested. I mean I know I’m not during the cramps.”

“It’s been awhile.” He admitted, slowly.

“That’s got to be tough on her.” I said.

“How do you mean?”

Typical male. I almost snorted.

“I mean, you two used to go at it night and day.” I rolled my eyes. “I used to have to put a pillow over my head and another under it like a sandwich to get to sleep. And, she wasn’t exactly quiet about how much she was enjoying it. It’s got to be tough going without. Blue ovaries deluxe.”

“Bl-lue o-ovaries?” He chuckled.

“Yeah,” I said. “Like blue balls only much much worse. So, have you been able to do anything for her?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Lay on my side and let her snuggle up behind me and use my butt for a heating pad.”

Ok, truthfully, there wasn’t “a plan”. Seriously. Part of it was that it had always been a bit of a secret turn-on for me to talk about sex with him. Sort of the next best thing to doing it.

Part of it was, that I really did feel for Mom. If she enjoyed sex anywhere near as much as I did, then my recent experience of going without told me exactly how much she was suffering. And since we had the same genes, and based on the sounds she would make when they kept me awake, I would assume she enjoyed it at least as much as I did.

I wasn’t trying to get him worked up hoping that something would happen between us. Honest, I wasn’t.

Fine. Don’t believe me. But, it’s true.

“Have you tried doing anything else?” I asked. And, okay, my tone was maybe a little more scathing than it should have been. “Or did you just try to stick your dick in and when it hurt, stopped and rolled over.”

He glared at me for just a moment and I was afraid I had gone way to far.

“Oh, I’ve tried.” He all but snarled at me. “I have tried going down on her. I have tried using my fingers. But, anytime I do anything to her pussy, it just makes it worse.”

My knees nearly folded when he talked about going down on her. When he said the word “pussy”, I almost lost it completely.

“Oh, um.” I shifted my legs, causing my thighs to squeeze my aching sex. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

We let the subject drop and talked of other things until Mom joined us.

I don’t know how long I would have lasted if the storm hadn’t blown up suddenly. I kept seeing his face glistening with pussy juice.

I almost came out of my skin at the loud crack of thunder just as the lights went out. I may have even screamed a little.

“I guess that’s a hint.” He said. I could just make out his shadow, darker than the other shadows, standing. “Time we were all in our beds.”

It felt so good to strip naked in my own room, not worried about who might be looking in on me. I ran my hands over my nude body, reveling in my freedom to do so in privacy.

I stripped the cover back on my bed and laid down on sheets that were actually soft once more. God, it was good to be home.

Fat rain drops hissed on the roof and the occasional crack of thunder as I laid there.

And laid there.

And laid there.

Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t seem to relax. I mean, it looked like home. It smelled like home. I rolled over and felt my little nipples brush against those sheets that didn’t feel like they had been softened with sandpaper. It even felt like home. But it didn’t.

I realized what was missing as I scooted up the bed and put my ear against the wall. There were no sounds of sex.

For three years, slightly longer than they had been married, I had been able to hear them going at it at least twice a night.

Many, many times I had jilled myself off while listening to them. Even, or especially, on nights that I had had an unsatisfactory session with one of the boys, I would put my ear to this wall and listen in on them while I fingered my sodden sex to orgasm after orgasm.

I laid back down and sighed. This was going to take getting used to.

I don’t know how long I lay there, sleepless while the storm raged on outside. But, long enough that I needed to pee again.

On my way to the bathroom, something didn’t seem quite right. There was a wierd feeling.

I don’t mean that I was feeling my way along the hallway in the dark completely naked. I had been doing that for two years. Half hoping he would catch me. Half afraid he would.

No, this was different. Different enough, that I didn’t close the door while I peed.

Then I heard it. A sound like a train rumbling along the tracks.

“Tornado!” I screamed.

I ran to their room and slammed the door open.

“Tornado!” I screamed again.

“Crap!” I heard him say. “Go. Go. Go.”

Suddenly, his strong arm was across my belly, half carrying me, half pushing me. I had a fleeting moment to realize I was naked before I was sprinting towards the bathroom.

If you don’t have a cellar and there is a tornado coming, the safest place is the bathroom in the tub. Preferably with a mattress over you.

The pipes may attract lightening. That’s why you don’t bathe during a storm. But, they may also keep the tub from flying away if the tornado gets close.

If you are having to share the tub, it only makes sense for the heaviest to be on bottom and the lightest on top since you don’t know how long you are going to be there and it’s not like a freakin’ tornado is not going to pick up someone that weighs two hundred just as easy as someone who weighs eighty if it comes to that.

We piled in with him on the bottom, Mom kind of to the side and me on top of him and then we froze and listened.

He had taught me that it’s not actually the tornado that made the sound. It was the pressure stopping up your ears and hearing your own pulse.

Mine was going like a jackhammer for so many many reasons.

No matter how many close calls you have with tornados, you never get used to it. After all, this might be the one that gets you. So, I was afraid.

Then, as the fear let up a little, the longer we sat there, I gradually began to realize that I was naked on top of my Daddy. And more, we were skin to skin.

I could feel the corse hair on his chest rubbing against my nipples as he held me against him, listening. Those hairs might as well have been electrical wires because a jolt like an electrical shock shot through me from my nipples to my little puss.

I twitched in his lap and felt something that made it so much worse. My hypersensitive sex didn’t brush against cloth. It brushed against a tube of skin and more coarse hair.

Ohmigod, I thought. Ohmigodohmigodohmigod. I’m naked in his lap while he’s naked. God, if it was hard…

The tornado could have rolled right over us right then and I don’t know that I would have noticed. I didn’t have an orgasm, exactly. But, it was the next best thing.

Then I felt a hand on my back.

“Gena Elizabeth,” Mom whispered. “Are you naked.”

I felt something twitch down there against me.

“Y-yes.” I whispered.

“Honey?” She asked then. “When we stopped trying, did you put anything on?”

I could feel him now, pressing up against me. Without really meaning to, I began to rock my hips. Not very much. Just enough to feel him sliding along me. Or me along him. Whatever. His hardening cock felt so good between my lips as I wet him along the length of his shaft.

“No.” He coughed. “No, I didn’t.”

We were all quiet for a moment. We could hear things hitting the outside of the house.

I couldn’t seem to stop moving my hips. I could feel him getting longer and thicker. Harder.

I felt the hand on my back slide down a little until it was resting on my flexing, grinding hips.

“My daughter’s naked cunt is this close to my husbands cock.” Mom said. “How am I supposed to feel about this?”

“I’m sorry, Momma.” I said.

But, I couldn’t stop my hips from moving.

“And you are probably still hard,” Mom was saying. “It’s been so long since you could fuck me without it hurting. You’re hard all the time.”

And he was getting harder. I could feel him pressing against me as his cock began to throb, trying to lift to point straight up. Straight up, so that if I just lifted up a little, it would slide right in me.

I moaned and tilted my head to press my lips against his neck just below his jaw. I heard him gasp.

“Are you humping my husband’s cock, you little hussy?” Mom asked.

“Yes, Momma.” I gasped. “Sorry, Momma. I can’t help it.”

“Is it inside you?”

“No, momma.” I shuddered.

I felt her hand slide over the curve of my ass to feel him pressing against but not in me.

“Don’t you dare raise up,” Mom said, tugging at me to lift my hips. “I know you want to. I know you’ve wanted to fuck my husband for four years now, haven’t you, you little slut.”

I didn’t know what to make of it since her words were saying one thing, but her hands seemed to be trying to adjust us to make that very thing happen.

I moaned as I felt her take him in her hand and brush the tip across me.

“Yes, Momma.” I whimpered. “Since I first saw him. I’m sorry, Momma.”

“What?” He gasped.

“Well, don’t you do it.” Mom said. “Don’t you sink that pussy down on his cock.”

Meanwhile, her hand was pressing down on my ass and I could feel him sliding into me.

“He hasn’t gotten to fuck me in awhile.” Mom said. “His balls are full of sperm. You don’t want your daddy to get you pregnant.”

Fourth of July fireworks went off against my eyelids. I shuddered and felt him slip inside all the way until my clit was nestled in the thick bush at the base of his shaft.

“Gena Elizabeth, are you listening to me?” Mom asked.

“I’m sorry, Momma.” I gasped. “His dick is in me. God, I feel so full.”

“Well, don’t you move those little hips.” Mom said, pulling and pushing at me to get me moving. “Don’t you fuck my husband. You don’t want to get pregnant, do you?”

I whimpered and began to hump harder.

“Do you?” Mom whispered.

I nuzzled at his mouth and licked at it’s corner. It was slightly open, panting. I could feel his hardness. My nipples scrapped across his hairy chest as I pounded harder, trying to take him deeper into me.

“Gena Elizabeth, do you want to have your daddy’s baby?”

“Fu-u-uck.” I screamed. “Yes! Yes. Yes. Fuck me, daddy. Shoot your cum in me. Give me my baby sister.”

He groaned and I felt that ass lift off the bottom of the tub. He slid that extra little bit that I’d been trying for. There was a sharp, brief pain, almost like when my hymen broke. Then, I swear, I could feel a spurt of his warm cum spray directly into my womb.

I fainted. Blacked out. Whatever you want to call it, the world just went away.

“Baby.” Mom was shaking me. “Baby. Are you all right?”

“Just five more minutes, Mom.” I sighed and turned my head on my pillow.

Only it wasn’t my pillow, I realized as Mom started laughing. I turned my head to look in his wonderful grey eyes that were staring at me as if he’d never seen me before.

I blinked, and realized that the lights were back on and I could actually see him.

I guess, first, I need to tell you something about my mother. Now, all I have to do is figure where to start.

So, let’s see, my mom. Well, she’s blond, no, not natural, good figure which probably mostly means big boobs, what would be considered a ‘hot ticket’ in a man’s world. My mom was not shy around men. She was flirty and loved to party.

My father divorced her when I was three and he came home early. Do I need to explain? Thought not. I really don’t see or hear from him much except for a birthday card once a year.

Her next husband, David, was a long-distance trucker, kind of rough around the edges kind of guy, loved C&W and lots of beer. He came home early, too. I was twelve at the time and was there in the house when he came in. It was not pleasant.

Then, three years ago, my mom married her third husband, Craig. I think he was the only one she didn’t pick up in a bar. My mom actually bought a car from him, he worked for the local Ford dealer as a salesman.

Do I sound like I don’t particularly like my mom very much? Well, let’s just say I have a ‘difficult’ relationship with her. I’ve never thought that I was ‘number one’ on her priority list, that was the next party and the next guy. So, no, I really don’t hold her as a prime example of how I want to live my life.

Now, me? I’m eighteen, will be in college next fall, plan to become a pharmacist since I’m good in science and math, I get good grades, always A’s and a few B’s. I’ve dated some, had one kind-of serious boyfriend this year, no one now, um, he got my top off a few times and played with my boobs. Oh, and sucked them, too. That was a real turn-on.

I also now have my driver’s license and haven’t crashed the car. No, I’m careful and, yes, I always wear my seatbelt. I don’t make rash decisions like my mother, no, that’s one of many differences between us.

I have long, auburn hair that I keep real glossy, my figure is nice, not as full as my mother’s and that’s just fine with me, my boobs more fit the kind of frame I have, if you have to know, I’m B-cup. She’s two letters up on me and I like what I am just fine. They’re really pretty if you ask me. Or if you ask Jason Cummings, my ex-boyfriend. He sure used to like them a lot. Oh, well.

So, now I had been living with my mom and stepdad, Craig, who, in my book, was miles ahead of any of the men she usually went for. Craig was nice. He treated me well and had gone to college for a couple of years, actually read books which, for the guys my mother usually hooked-up with, was quite the departure.

When report card time came around, it was Craig that asked how I did. I was a good student, another area where my mom and I differ; there are many. Anyway, you would have thought Craig was my real father the way he cared about me. He’s more than any stepdaughter could reasonably expect.

My mom, on the other hand, finally broke the camel’s back in pieces when, six months ago, she just left, disappeared, yes, with a guy, the note said. Rex. She left with Rex. Anyway, the note said for me to be good and that Craig loved me and would take good care of me, I was now eighteen, anyway. Now, you know my mom. No prize, huh?

Thank god, she bought that car from Craig. Where would I be without him? He let me stay, told me that he would always be my stepdad and began divorce proceedings against my mom. Who could blame him. She didn’t contest it, no, that would be pretty hard to do, and within about sixty days, the divorce was granted.

Actually, our life, Craig and me, was really nice. He never, ever blamed me for any of this, really took care to not only tell me he cared but to show me as well. He went to teacher’s meetings, to the school play I was in, every soccer game I was in, he was my dad. Really nice.

He did some dating, after all, he was a pretty young, and very nice-looking guy. He’s thirty-six and has met a number of women being in the car business and has seen several women since my mom left, but none, seriously.

Sometimes, his dates would come back to our house and I could hear them during the night. Some, of course, even stayed overnight and one even told me that she would see that I moved out on my own when I became eighteen. If you wonder if I liked her, I didn’t. Big surprise.

Me? Well, I wanted to stay with Craig. I had lots of friends here in school and really wanted to graduate with them. I also loved Craig. He was so nice to me, so good to me, that I wanted him to stay in my life. And, I must be honest here, yes, I was drawn to him in a non-daughter way. Yes, you guessed it. He was just so nice.

So, I made a decision. I was going to seduce him, a decision millions of women have made throughout history. But, this time, it was me making the decision.

I played soccer and I also ran a lot, so it’s not unusual that I’d get sore, sometimes, very sore. So, asking Craig to massage my legs and back is not all that out of the ordinary. This time, though, I planned for it to be just a bit different.

After my shower, I came back out into the family room with a towel around me and asked him for a massage. He agreed and, as usual, followed me down the hall to my bedroom.

I flicked the towel off me onto the bed and got on it, facing down. I didn’t dare look at him, I knew if I did, it would spoil everything. He knelt down next to the bed and started massaging my legs.

I always loved his hands kneading my muscles, he is strong yet uses that strength with a gentleness that is so relaxing. This time, though, being naked under his hands, there was a thrill to every touch. It felt wonderful and erotic at the same time.

His hands went from my calves to my thighs, then up onto my lower back where he spent a good amount of time, then onto my upper back and shoulders. It was heavenly. I would have dozed off if it weren’t for the throb it was giving my pussy. I was turned-on.

Then, his hands traced back down my back and on to my buttocks where he had never massaged me before. That really made me warm and tingly, and you know exactly where.

His hands would slide between my thighs and I widened my legs a bit and he rubbed along my inner thighs, never getting too near where I was hoping his hands would go but then his hands shifted up to my back again.

I was pretty sure that he could see the lips of my pussy which, just the thought that he could, was really getting me wet. I’m glad the towel was under me.

This had gone on long enough that I was sure he was fully aware of the sexual nature of all this and that not only was I going along with it, he was as well.

I knew then that I could turn over which I did.

“Um, uh, Lori, uh…”

“I’m sore all over and it feels so good,” and I closed my eyes as I brought his hand to place it on my stomach. I knew there was no way he couldn’t be looking at my breasts and my pussy, my curly auburn pubic hair and the wetness that must have been evident.

I could hear his breathing which, hardly surprising, had become faster and deeper, especially after I turned over. His hands stayed on my tummy, Craig was a gentleman, for sure, and I began to softly moan, “Mmm, mmm, nice.”

He would never put his hands on my breasts, I thought, as I took his hand and placed it there myself as I moaned once more, keeping my eyes closed.

He left his hand there and, in a few seconds, began to knead my breast as his other hand started massaging the other one. Oh, did this feel good. I was so sexed-up, so horny and turned-on. I didn’t dare open my eyes to look at him, but I just knew that he must have a huge bulge in his pants. I knew that I am a pretty girl with a very nice body, I knew he had to like this. I sure knew I did.

So, I dropped my arm off the bed and put my hand in his lap, yes, right where you expected I would. He was hard. No question. My fingers grazed over his bulge and he leaned over and kissed me, letting his tongue explore my mouth in a very un-stepfatherly fashion.

“Oh, Lori, oh, Lori,” he whispered as his lips lowered to my nipple and began to suck. Oh, that feeling again. I had missed Jason sucking my nipples, I loved it so much, now I was feeling it again, and even better, stronger. I knew I was headed for intercourse. Where else with a thirty-six year old man? This was no high school boy.

He lifted up off my nipple as I opened my eyes and watched him pull off his shirt and pants, then he pulled his boxers to the floor.

Unmissable. There it was. Big, bigger than I had expected. And stiff, standing straight out, well, a bit up, too. And kind of wavering about. I almost gasped when I first saw it. I knew my pussy pretty well, I’ve been getting off for a while now, and his penis looked huge. Much larger than my vagina. I thought, “What am I going to do with that?”

He knelt back down next to me, leaned over and began kissing me as I felt his hand travel down my stomach, my abdomen and onto my pussy. It was electric.

I knew what I wanted, I had just ended my menstrual period the day before, and I moved my legs apart as I felt his finger drop down and begin to explore my slit. I raised a knee up, widening myself to him.

My hand dropped down onto his thigh and traveled up to his dick which jumped when I touched it. It was so alive, so ready, so thrilling to hold. I began to rub it up and down, the tip of his penis was slippery with cum, I guess, it was already coming out of him, I smeared it around with my thumb as I felt his finger slip inside me as his lips went back down to my nipple.

“Mmm, that feels so nice, Craig. I love you, you know.”

His face lifted up to kiss me as I saw his eyes mist over.

“I love you, too, Lori,’ and he got up, reached down and lifted me off my bed and carried me into his bedroom and put me on his bed.

I knew what I wanted, so I said, “I just had my period, it was over yesterday, so it should be safe, Craig,” as I reached over and took hold of his dick.

Chapter 2

He reached under the cover and pulled my hand off his penis, saying, “Lori, we just can’t do this, we need to talk first.”

“Talk? About what, Craig, I love you, I want you, I want to be in your bed. We’re naked.”

“I know, I know. But I’m your stepdad. You’re just eighteen.”

“I have been for eight months. And I’m over the age of consent in our state, I checked. And I consent. I want you, Craig, more than anything.”

“Well, I want you too, are you really sure about this? Really sure?”

I placed my hand back on his penis and whispered, “There’s your answer, Craig,” as I leaned over and kissed him, probing his mouth, rubbing the moist tip of his cock with my thumb.

“And you just finished your cycle, your period? Yesterday, right?”

“Yes, it’s okay and we can get some condoms and I can go on the pill, too. I want you to make love to me, Craig. I want you for my lover. I want to stay in your bed.”

“Well, Lori, I want you to know that I love you, too. And not just as a stepdaughter. I love you as a woman, Lori.”

I leaped on top of him, planting kisses all over his face as I told him over and over that I loved him.

“I just want to hold you for a while, Lori, is that all right?”

“Oh, it’s just wonderful, I love the feel of your bare skin on mine, it’s so sexy,” as I kissed him more and let my hands roam over his back and butt.

We kissed and held each other close, the feeling of his hardness against me, a constant reminder of exactly where I was wanting all this to go. I wanted that penis deep inside me.

“Mmm, this feels so wonderful, Craig. I really do love you, you know.”

“Yes, Lori, I know, I know you do. And I love you, too. It’s just taking me a while to try to get used to you as my lover and not just my stepdaughter.”

“And I want to be your lover, Craig, you know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he whispered as his hand settled on my breast and began to massage it lovingly.

His head dipped down as I felt my nipple begin to be sucked, the feeling was wonderful, but it paled to the feeling of his fingers sliding down along my damp pubic hair. I quickly opened my legs to invite him to enter me as a finger slid up and down my slit, then slowly worked inside me.

I had my hand on his cock and began rubbing it up and down as his finger fucked me in and out. I was in heaven.

“Oh, Craig, I love you so much. This is so good,” and I laid my head back to savor the glorious feelings that were swamping my whole being. Then, he began kissing me down my body, stopping to tongue my navel, then licking down to my pubic hair. I knew where he was headed and I knew where I wanted him to go, so I spread my legs as wide as I could.

I jumped when his tongue poked between my labia, then swiped up and down. Oh, I had known from some of my friends that having a guy lick and tongue your pussy was simply ecstasy and, yes, it was, oh, was it.

“Oh, Craig, oh, that feels so good, oh, you’re making me crazy. That is so sexy. Oh, please, I want you so bad, can’t we do it, can’t we do it now? I am so ready for us to have sex, I want you.”

I was trying to pull him up and get him between my legs so we could have sex and he did get up between my outstretched legs and began rubbing the tip end of his penis up and down my wet slit. I was so ready.

“Put it in, Craig, please put it in,” and he pushed hard and I felt the tip go inside me. He stopped pushing, I think so I could get used to it or something, but I was so ready, I just pushed down and the rest of his cock slid right up into me.

There was no real pain, more like a pinch that soon was gone. He knelt there over me, his cock deep inside me, not moving, just remaining still for a minute, then he pulled back, almost out, then pushed back inside me again, doing this over and over. He was looking down at me, smiling, rubbing my boobs as he went in and out. My virginity was history. I was a woman, his woman.

“Oh, Craig, it feels wonderful. I’ve never, ever been this happy before. You are so wonderful and you feel so good inside me like this. Oh, I want this forever.”

“Lori, I can’t believe we’re doing this. You are so pretty, so beautiful, mmm, this feels so good. And your breasts are so beautiful.”

“Mmm, I’ll just go topless for you when I’m around the house. That’ll keep you hard all the time.”

“I won’t be able to keep my hands off you if you do that.”

“Promise?” I asked as I wiggled my butt under him.

“I might just run around the house naked all the time, how would you like that, Craig?”

“We better get you on the pill. And, I’ll get some condoms tomorrow. Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow’s Saturday and we have all weekend long.”

“Oh, I sure know what I want to do all weekend long,” and, I swiveled my butt around as he went in and out of me, it felt so good, just wonderful.

“Mmm, Craig, you’re making me feel so good, oh, so good, really good,” I whispered as he stroked in and out of me. He had his hands up over me holding my hands down on the bed as he arched in and out sending waves of joy across my trembling body.

I was holding my legs up in a vee as he ran his cock deeply down into me pushing down when he went in as I tried to swivel my hips making it feel even more sensuous. I never, ever dreamed I could feel so loved.

“Oh, Craig, I love you so much. This is so right, you and me, you so deep inside me. It’s so wonderful.”

“Mmm, you are so pretty, Lori, I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

“You make me feel beautiful and if I can make you want me, I’ll stay naked like this forever. I want you to want me, want me as a woman, to want me in your bed, to want your penis inside me.” Craig kissed away as he pressed into me over and over making me feel so completely loved and cherished.

He was up over me, his cock stroking down into me, driving deeply, making me feel so good. Our lovemaking was exactly what I had wanted, the feelings were so wonderful. Then I felt my nipples begin to tingle and a warmth begin to spread out from my middle, then it happened in an explosion of ecstasy.

“Mmm, mmm, mm, UH, uh, oh, oh, Craig, I love you so much, you make me feel so good, I love you, Craig,” I groaned as I felt like I was melting into a pool of pure pleasure, pure joy. I was so in love. Craig was everything to me, everything.

He continued to run his cock in and out of me, sending waves of pleasure all over me, then I felt his body tense, he threw his head back, and drove his hips forward pushing into me so deeply.

“Uhn, I’m cumming, Lori, oh, Lori, oh, I love you, Lori, I love you,” and he dropped forward onto me, our lips pressed together, his tongue mingling with mine, just surrounded by our happiness with each other.

We lay there for quite a while, my legs up around his back, his cock remaining inside me where I wanted it to stay forever, it was idyllic.

That was our beginning.

We did get condoms and I also went on the pill, so after a month or so, we quit using condoms and it is so wonderful.

We’re also naked whenever we’re home together and, yes, we’re at each other all the time. I love to suck him off, he gets head at least twice a day and, of course, we have been sleeping together ever since that first night.

I’m now graduated and I’ve been accepted into pre-Pharmacy at a nearby university. Even better, Craig has promised me that we will get married, he wants me for his wife. He has been everything I had thought he would be.

Thanks, Mom.

This story involves incest, but not in the first chapter.


I was very happy when I was married the second time. My first marriage had been a disaster but the second marriage was everything that I always expected to have if I ever happened upon “the right one.” And my second wife had been the right one.

My first marriage lasted 15 years. I thought she was the right one — obviously, or I would not have married her. Unfortunately, I ignored the warning signs when we were dating. There were clues, omens, glimpses into the future that I blindly refused to see. After a few years of something less than connubial bliss, and a few months of marriage counseling, I learned that “the right one” had borderline personality disorder.

If you don’t know anything about borderline personality disorder, you are quite lucky. Women with this disorder have frequent and prolonged states of aversive tension. They have frequent and sudden changes between anger, anxiety, and depression. They very often have destructive or self-destructive feelings, they have a weak sense of identity, and they perceive themselves as victims. In their perception, everything that happens in their life is caused by someone else and they take no responsibility for the chaos that surrounds them. You don’t want to be married to a borderline personality. However, very intelligent women with borderline personality can sometimes mask their symptoms for long periods of time and that is what Number One did to me.

After the divorce, I was apprehensive about getting into another long-term relationship. Still, I was too young to commit myself to a life of celibacy, I have never solicited or used the services of a prostitute, and masturbation is a very poor substitute for physical intimacy with a woman.

I started using a few internet dating sites and learned how easy it was to find women who were available and not obviously defective. After one or two weeks of exchanging emails and a few phone calls, I always suggested that the new prospect meet me at a restaurant for dinner. If there was no chemistry, we went our separate ways after dinner. When that happened, I had spent about $50 but had saved myself from the necessity of dealing with a potentially awkward situation. When the chemistry seemed to be present, I suggested a second date the following weekend and things progressed from there.

I was surprised at how ready these women were for a sexual encounter. Usually, by the third date, I was in her bed, either getting my dick sucked or pounding her pussy as hard as I could. A few of the women were relatively uninhibited and were not bashful about telling me what they wanted me to do to their bodies. Usually, they wanted me to lick their clit, which I was always happy to do. One of them had to have sex in three positions before she could cum — missionary, woman on top, then doggy style. One of them couldn’t cum without a vibrator parked on her clit for fifteen minutes. One very beautiful girl, who was a few years younger than me, took me in her bedroom, quickly removed her clothes, got in the doggy position with her butt up in the air, and asked me to fuck her in the ass. I was always happy to oblige.

I had some good times with these women but it never got too serious. I tried to date women who lived 50-75 miles away from me, so that it wouldn’t be convenient to see them during the week. If she had kids at home, I never went to her house unless the kids were spending the night somewhere else. I made a point of telling them, during the initial ‘getting to know you’ phase, that I had been badly burned in my marriage and never intended to do that again. When I sensed that they were developing some attachment, I started suggesting dates every other weekend instead of weekly encounters. And, if I sensed that none of these tricks were working, I simply told them that I wasn’t ready for a long term relationship and I wanted to break up before anyone got too involved.

This pattern continued for about two years. I was certainly getting my needs satisfied and I was not trying to hurt or take advantage of anyone else in the process. I was content and thought that this formula was right for me.

All of this went out the door when I met Laura. Laura was 34 years old (and I was 42,) about 5’4″, 120 lbs., blonde hair, blue eyes, and 34B tits. (I am not obsessed with big tits and, in fact, prefer women who are not flat-chested but who have small boobs. I am very happy with 34A or 34B tits.) Laura had not been a cheerleader in high school but she looked like she could have been. She had a very cute face; she looked pure and wholesome, not glamorous or worldly. I thought she looked like a blonde Hillary Duff.

Laura was an ER nurse and she earned a good income so I know that she wasn’t looking for someone to take care of her. Like me, she had been married previously and he must have been a real idiot, because he had been cheating on her for several years. When she discovered it, she divorced him very quickly. She got primary custody of their one child — Elizabeth — and the father/sperm donor left town and abandoned his child.

Elizabeth was 11 years old when Laura and I started dating. Obviously, Elizabeth was never spending the night with her father but she did spend weekends with her maternal grandparents. Initially, I maintained all the rules designed to avoid long-term relationships, but after a few months, I knew that things were different with Laura and I abandoned all the rules.

One thing that was different was that Laura wasn’t real quick to jump into a sexual relationship. This was frustrating, initially, but I eventually came to respect her approach. She told me that she had only had two sexual partners in her entire lifetime and she never wanted to think of herself as promiscuous. She did promise me that she wasn’t waiting to have a ring on her finger before she would have sex but, on the other hand, she also did not subscribe to the three date rule. She acknowledged that she understood sexual needs, as she actually had a strong sex drive and masturbated almost every day. If I got too horny, she explained, she could take care of my needs without having vaginal intercourse.

By our fifth or sixth date, we were feeling comfortable with each other. She would kiss me like she was on fire with passion and she let me feel her boobs through her clothes. She wouldn’t let me put my hands near her panties or under her blouse. She understood that I was just really feeling horny. Finally, she told me to stop what I was doing and she said that if I followed her orders, she would ‘take care of me.’

“I’m horny, too, but it’s just too soon for us to be ‘doing it.’ I can do something that will take care of you and me, but I don’t trust you to exercise that much self-control, so I have to ask you: how much do you trust me?” “I trust you absolutely,” I replied.

“Good, because I’m gonna tie you up so you don’t do anything bad,” she answered.

She left the room for a minute and returned with a roll of duct tape and a bottle of KY. She instructed me to sit in a dining room armchair and get comfortable. She taped each of my arms to the arms of the chair with 6 to 8 wraps of the duct tape.

“Hey, you’re not the only one here that I don’t trust . . .. Now that you can’t touch me, I’m gonna show you what you’ve obviously been wanting to see.”

She stood in front of me and began a very seductive strip tease. “When I masturbate, I play with my nipples a lot,” she said as she began to rub her boobs through her blouse. “Would you like to see my nipples?” she asked in her little-girl voice.

“Hell, yeah, I wanna see them and I wanna lick on them.”

“No, you can’t touch, and that includes your hands and your tongue, but I’ll let you see.”

She got another dining room armchair and placed it directly in front of me so that she could sit facing me. She spread her legs and put them up on the arms of the chair so that I had a good view of her panties.

“Do you like looking at my panties?” she asked so coyly.

“You’re such a fucking tease. You know I wanna fuck you ’til you beg me to stop!” I declared.

“Do you wanna see what’s in my panties?” she continued in lolita fashion.

“I wanna see every square inch of your body,” I said in an almost demanding voice.

She stood and turned so that her back was towards me. I could tell that she was unbuttoning her blouse and it was soon hanging from her shoulders but I still couldn’t see anything.

She reached to the side and unzipped her skirt. She pushed it over her hips and it fell to the floor. She was wearing a white thong that disappeared in the crack of her behind. Her butt was cute. It was small, almost like an adolescent’s rear end, and her cheeks looked firm with no hint of cellulite.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked.

“Baby, you’re beautiful. Please . . . turn around and let me see all of you!”

She slipped her blouse off of her shoulders and it, too fell to the floor. She stood before me in only her underwear and, to me, she looked like a goddess. She obviously was not a virgin but she had a look of innocence and simplicity that would appeal to any man.

She slowly turned to face me. Her beauty was overwhelming and I was literally breathless. By now my dick was as hard as Chinese arithmetic and I wanted nothing more than to be set free so I could touch and lick and fuck every hole on her body.

“Before I take off my bra, I need to tell you that I’m a bit self-conscious about my boobs. My husband always said they were too small and he wanted me to have a boob job but you can see that I refused. My boobs are so small that I just feel like a girl instead of a woman. So . . . I hope these will be okay for you.”

As she spoke the last words, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She held it to her chest as she removed her arms from the straps. When she was ready to let it fall away, she looked at me with the most pitiful expression and said, “Please don’t laugh.”

When her bra dropped away, I was looking at a perfect pair of 34B tits. They were absolutely symmetrical and they were perfect. Small boobs tend to not sag and her boobs were . . . perky. I know that is an overused word but it is the perfect word to describe her boobs. They were firm and stood proud. They were about the size of small oranges and she had areolae about the size of quarters. Her nipples were hard and stood about a half-inch when erect. When I glanced down at her thong, I saw that the fabric in the crotch was clinging to her pussy lips and she must be one of those women who shave their pubes, because the outline of her pussy lips was very obvious. I could also see the beginning of a damp spot.

“Laugh!” I exclaimed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Those boobs are perfect. Bring them over here and I’ll suck on them all night long.”

She smiled. She looked at my crotch and she knew that my dick wasn’t telling any lies. I was extremely aroused looking at her partially nude body.

“No, no, no,” she responded, “remember I said no touching. At least, you can’t touch me . . . but maybe I can touch a little bit. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said.

“When my nipples get hard like this, they’re very sensitive,” she explained as she began rubbing her left nipple with her right index finger. “I actually had an orgasm once just from touching my nipples.”

She switched and placed her left index finger on her nipple and continued rubbing it in circular motions. “But I usually need to touch down here, too,” she said as her right hand disappeared behind the silk of her thong. I could see her hand moving up and down and I knew that she was rubbing her clit. “Little Miss Clitty is pretty sensitive, too. It usually doesn’t take too much for me to have an orgasm.”

She continued rubbing her clit as she massaged her entire left boob with her hand. “Pretty soon, I’ll let you do this for me, but for now . . . I guess I could let you see,” she said. She pulled her right hand out of her thong and pushed it down her legs until it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it and picked it up, dropping it in my lap.

Her pussy looked very young. There were no pubic hairs visible and her inner lips were truly inner lips; all that was visible was her two outer lips coming together to form a simple slit. As soon as I saw it, I wanted to have my dick in it.

“Sometimes, I put my finger inside myself, like this,” she explained as her right middle finger entered her slit and went to her G-spot. “When I touch that place inside me, I get SO turned on . . ..”

She began whimpering and then moaning, quietly at first but she got louder as she approached her climax. “A friend of mine said that some guys get turned on watching a woman masturbate and I guess she was right. Would you like to see it from another angle?”

She turned so that her back was towards me and then she bent over and placed her left hand in the seat of her chair, for support. She spread her legs apart so that I could see her finger thrusting in and out of her wet pussy and she was close enough that I could hear the sound of her lips parting and coming back together.

I could also see the pucker of her tiny crinkled hole. Again, there was no sign of any hair anywhere and I guessed that she had shaved earlier in the day in anticipation of doing this to me, and for me, when we were alone at her place. Having had some experiences with anal sex, I was really turned on by the sight but I wasn’t sure that Laura realized what she was showing me.

“Are you looking at my pussy or at my ass?” she asked. That answered my first question.

“Both,” I honestly replied. “Usually, a girl doesn’t let you see her honeyhole unless she’s open to having it explored in some way, but I don’t know if that’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Well,” she answered, “there isn’t any exploring tonight, but my friend told me that a lot of guys get turned on seeing a girl’s back door. And, I’m guessing that you’re one of those guys, too.”

“Well, yeah, I love every square inch of your body. I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”

“I’ve never had anal sex,” she said, “but I might let you be the one to take my virginity, eventually.”

By now, her moaning had intensified and her body looked like it wouldn’t last much longer. “Oh, I’m so close, I’m so horny, I need it so bad . . .. I’m . . . cumming!”

She didn’t stop sliding her finger in and out of her pussy. I saw her sphincter tighten and relax as each wave of her orgasm hit her. “Oh, fuck, I want your dick in me!” After seven or eight waves, her orgasm began to subside. She removed her finger from her wet cunt and stood upright.

She turned around and faced me. She held her finger below my nose and I was intoxicated by the scent of her arousal. She then lowered her finger to my lips and I quickly opened my mouth to capture the nectar of her female fruit. I loved the sweet taste of her pussy and knew that I would enjoy having my tongue explore the innocent folds of her female flesh.

She then picked up her thong and placed the crotch at my nose.

“If you don’t take care of me soon, I’m gonna bust this duct tape and fuck you hard,” I demanded.

“Would you like a hand job or a blow job?” she asked, apparently as a last attempt at teasing me. She got down on her knees and pulled my pants and boxers down, then brought her face to my crotch.

I was so horny and so aroused that I didn’t last very long once I was in her mouth. Within about ten seconds, I warned her that I was getting ready to cum. She looked up at me, smiled, and just kept licking on my dick.

When I came, I felt like the end of my dick had exploded. My cum shot out of my dick like it was jet propelled. I can’t remember ever being that fucking horny and needing to cum that badly. Laura swallowed every drop.

“You taste yummy,” she said with a smile. She stood and left the room, returning a minute later with a warm, wet wash cloth which she used to clean my meat. She then got dressed before she unwrapped the duct tape from my arms.

“Soon, you’ll be cumming inside me and spending the night and then you can fuck me again in the morning . . . if you want,” she offered.

“Oh . . . I want, alright. I really want,” I admitted. “You’re the sexiest woman on the planet and I want a whole lot more of you!”

Though not intended to be the next “chapter,” for many of you who read my “Step-Daughter Watches” series, this will seem so. This story stands on its own, but your understanding of my story will be enhanced if you first read my S/D Watches series.

I don’t know if there will be any follow-on to this story.

As always, constructive and appreciative comments are welcomed.

All persons are 18 or over.


I shouldn’t be facing this dilemma again.

I shouldn’t be faced with lustful thoughts about my youngest stepdaughter.

I shouldn’t have to figure out if she’s aware of what she’s doing to me.

And… I shouldn’t be wondering if she knows about me and her older sister, Ashley.

But here I am. Once again overwhelmed by a mountain of conflicting emotions rattling around in my head… and the raging hard-on I’m madly stroking as the water from the showerhead cascades down my body.

My second marriage had sexually evolved into something I could never have imagined.

My wife and I have enjoyed a very healthy sex life from our first date – which ended with her taking my hand and leading me upstairs to her bedroom, past the closed bedroom doors of her two daughters. I admitted to her several months later that the thought of having sex in her room, even with the door closed, with her daughters sleeping nearby was surprisingly erotic and naughty and had heightened my excitement, and, as she reminded me, my vocal chords.

I didn’t meet her daughters until a few weeks later, but was relieved to discover that they were cute, and charming.

While dating, if we finished the night at her place, we were always careful to make sure that they were in bed before we satisfied our carnal desires, thought there were several times when we had to scramble to gather ourselves when we heard one of their doors open – not wanting them to come downstairs and see their mothers head in my lap, her mouth sliding up and down my cock as she encouraged me to fill her mouth with my seed.

We also both discovered, during one of our phone chats, that we’d each experimented in the group sex/swinging arena and were interested in furthering our experiment together. We attended a few parties and enjoyed getting together with a few other couples, but always at either someone else’s home or my condo.

At some point, about two years after we started dating, she had become comfortable with me spending the night. My wife is very comfortable with her body and even before we were married, would often walk around her house in her bra and panties, even in my presence. It seemed quite natural to her and her daughters, and she would tease me about being a prude when I would make sure I was always wearing either my pajama bottoms or a pair of running shorts whenever her daughters were around. I remember her gently patting my arm and sweetly smiling at me and saying, “Don’t be silly, it’s perfectly natural,” when I mentioned to her that she should warn the girls when I was there so they didn’t walk downstairs in the morning wearing only panties and a t-shirt. Eventually, after we were married, even I grew comfortable walking around the house in my boxer briefs and a t-shirt.

It was shortly after my oldest step-daughters 18th birthday that my ‘problems’ fully surfaced. Both step-daughters readily accepted my presence in their life and it was easy to forget that they weren’t actually my daughters. It was quite common for one or the other of them to sit on my knee or in my lap and give me a big hug and rest their head on my chest or shoulder and watch TV with me, the other step-daughter and my wife similarly situated on the couch.

But as the oldest one, Ashley, matured and passed through puberty, it was becoming clear that she had her mothers’ genetics and by the time she turned 18, watching her walk around in her bra and panties, not to mention sitting in my lap, had begun to cause my cock to twitch, regardless of my desire to behave.

The summer after her graduation, I was convinced that Ashley would intentionally find an excuse to wiggle her ass against my crotch, enjoying the discomfort she caused me as my cock stiffened against her.

Though it took a few years, it seemed a short trip as we progressed from her wiggling her ass in my lap, to catching her sneaking upstairs from her basement bedroom to try to watch her mother and I having sex in the living room or in the hot tub out back, and finally, to the full consummation of our incestuous relationship in her mid-twenties.

And while I had definitely enjoyed the sexual part of my relationship with Ashley, I knew it wouldn’t last forever and, in fact, she eventually married and the sexual side of our relationship had to be throttled back to the point that we were only able to find an opportunity to get together a few times in the last couple years.

All the while, her younger sister, Heather, also passed through puberty and had developed into a beautiful young woman.

Their body shapes are different as night and day. Ashley is a typically and beautifully proportioned woman with child-bearing hips and a small waist, complimented by her C cup breasts.

Heather, on the other hand, has the lithe body of a dancer, and at 5′-5″ is taller than Ashley, but her hips are not nearly as curvy and her legs are long and toned from all the years of competitive dancing. Her breasts are smallish and less developed than most of her friends, but they are the very definition of “tiny titties.”

In my opinion, however, her most impressive feature is her incredibly toned ass. It is perfectly shaped and begins its gentle, but firm rise from the top of her very, very long legs. It is small and compact, no doubt a result of the narrow shape of her hips.

My familiarity with her shape is the result of her pre-dance stretching routine, which consists of rolling her warm-up mat out on the floor, and stretching and limbering up before her mother or I take her to the studio. Most of the time, she asks her mother to help her with her flexibility warm-up exercises, and I had begun enjoying subtly watching as her skin-tight leotard would hug her ass and crotch so tightly during some of her exercises that I could see the crease dividing the mounds of her pussy.

Recently, however, it seemed to me that her most ‘exposing’ stretches seemed to be performed with her crotch facing directly at me. My personal favorite is when she raises one leg and grabs her ankle and raises her leg so high that it is pressed against her face, as if she were doing the splits while standing on one leg. This causes her leotard to stretch so tightly against her pussy that it leaves little to the imagination.

It also reminded me of a prima ballerina that I had dated several years before I met my wife and how she would strike this position in the nude so I could walk up and slide my cock into her pussy while her leg was pressed between our bodies. It permitted the deepest and tightest penetration of any position I’d ever tried and never failed to result in our bodies crashing to the floor as we both trembled in post-orgasm bliss.

I have tried, and failed, to replicate this position with my wife, only to have her tease me about spending too much time at the dance studio watching the dancers stretch and warm up.

I have assisted Heather with her stretching exercises now and then, but find that I’m hesitant to help her because my mind and cock conspire together, with every electric jolt that I feel when I touch her, to cause my heart to pound in my chest and my cock to swell.

It was on just such an occasion that our relationship changed.

Heather came into the family room for her normal Saturday morning stretching. I was sitting in my recliner, sipping a cup of coffee and catching up on the latest sports news on TV.

I was looking forward to being distracted by her array of positions and was barely pretending to watch TV, as she bent and twisted her body and we talked about a variety of monotonous subjects to break the silence in the room.

I knew the affect watching her would have on me, but wasn’t particularly concerned about it since I had the newspaper spread across my lap. It wasn’t until she asked me to help her that I remembered that her mother had gone to meet one of her girlfriends for a cup of coffee at the local specialty coffee shop, and, more importantly, I was sitting there in my boxer briefs.

My feeble argument for not helping her fell on deaf ears as she reminded me that her mom wasn’t around and she needed help so I was the only one left. She paused her preliminaries and stood with one hand on her hip, cocked her head and said, “Come on dad, please.”

I told myself that I was the stronger person and could keep my thoughts on the clinical and technical aspects of helping her and prevent my cock from humiliating me.

Heather moved through her preliminary warm up stretches as I rose from my chair and waited to help. After a few minutes she moved into a split position on the floor, then asked me to lift each foot and place a padded roll under each foot, essentially leaving her leotard-clad pussy as the only point of contact between her body and the cool tile floor.

It was then that I noticed something I couldn’t remember seeing before; her nipples were visibly poking at her leotard as if they were trying to rip the material. My cock immediately twitched with life as I realized she wasn’t wearing her tights underneath the leotard, as she normally did. This also meant that her legs were bare, and, more importantly, the only thing covering her pussy was the thin, taut material of her leotard.

I couldn’t help but allow my eyes to roam over her entire body. The firm defined muscles in her thighs and calves; the outline of her small breasts beneath the black leotard; the aforementioned nipples, erect and pressing against the leotard. Even without seeing it yet, I knew immediately that the absence of tights beneath her leotard would exaggerate the definition of the mounds of her pussy.

I could feel my cock begin to swell and offered to get her some water from the kitchen so that I could leave the room and try to adjust my semi-erect cock and make it less obvious. I considered running upstairs and putting on some jeans but my thought was interrupted when Heather shouted for me to hurry up.

I returned with the glass of water as Heather leaned to one side so she could end her split, stand up, and put her feet together, toes pointing 180 degrees apart, heel-to-heel, bend over, wrap her arms around the backs of her knees and hug her torso against her legs. Her back was to me and I was met with the erotic outline of her ass and the puffy mounds of her pussy pressed against the leotard.

My cock was now well past semi-erect and the tent in my boxer briefs was painfully obvious.

“Dad! You’re bad!” I looked down at her face in time to see her eyes move up from my tented boxer briefs to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry sweetie, but you’re growing up into a beautiful young woman and sometimes you remind me of your mother.”

“Daaaad! You have to help me! Stand in front of me and hold my hips so I can do a hand-stand now.”

I moved around her and held her hips as she put her hands down on the floor and began to unfold her legs upward into a hand-stand. As she unfolded, she spread her legs in an upside down split and held them there for a few moments, leaving her pussy close enough to me that I could see a few strands of pubic hair peeking out from the sides of her leotard. Then she closed her legs and extended them upward toward the ceiling.

My cock was now fully engorged and throbbing against the material of my boxer briefs. I released her hips as I walked away from her saying, “I can’t do this right now sweetie.”


By the time I got to the top of the stairs, a small wet spot had appeared on my boxer briefs as the precum from my cock oozed through the material. My mind was swirling and my cock was aching.

I grabbed my jeans on the way to the master bath, threw some cold water on my face and took a few deep breaths. I was acting like a pubescent fourteen year old with raging hormones!

After collecting myself for a few minutes, I went back downstairs to find Heather sitting on the floor. “Are you finished?” I asked.

“No. I was waiting for you.”

“I had to go upstairs and put my jeans on.”

“I know. I saw. How come you were like that?”

“It’s difficult to explain sweetie.”

“I hate when mom tells me that, ’cause it means she doesn’t wanna answer my question.”

“It’s not like I don’t know what a penis looks like you know.” She added.

“I know, but not your step-fathers.”

“It was ok for Ashley to see it…” she said, looking down at the floor.

Oh shit. My brain burst into flames. I had a hundred questions to ask, but all I could manage was, “What?”

“Ashley told me you let her see your penis.”


“Last summer when mom was out with her friends and you were in the hot tub by yourself and Ashley came home and wanted to get in too and you let her get in wearing moms underwear cause her swimsuit was dirty and she said she knew you weren’t wearing your swimsuit cause it was hanging on the hook and she saw your penis when you stood up to get your drink and cigar.”

Again, “What?”

“Never mind. It’s ok.”

“But can you help me finish my stretches now?”


I was still trying to process what she said about me and her sister in the hot tub… “What? Ummm… Yeah, sure. What do you want me to do?”

“Sit on the floor with your legs straight out to the sides as far as you can. I’ll sit facing you and put my feet on yours and scoot closer.”

I sat with my back to the couch for support and put my legs out in front of me – spread at about ninety degrees – far short of Heather’s flexibility. She sat on the floor across from me and spread her legs and put her feet against mine, affording me an unobstructed view of her leotard clad pussy as she leaned down and touched her head to one leg then the other alternately.

Every time she made this move, her leotard would stretch even more tightly over her pussy.

I looked up at the TV as I asked her why she wasn’t wearing her tights. “cause I need new ones and mom is bringing them back from the store before she takes me to dance.”

Heather stopped her exercise and sat back and braced herself with her hands. I knew from watching and helping her previously that she was going to begin sliding her body closer to me while keeping her feet braced against mine. This would help her attain another split.

It would also mean she would be moving closer to me as her split got wider and wider. By the time she stopped, her feet had extended out beyond mine and my feet were now pressed against her calves and her torso was about a foot and a half from me. She tried to move a little closer but lost her balance and fell towards me, reaching out with both hands to brace herself as she fell into me. One hand landed on my inner thigh, almost touching my crotch. The other hand landed squarely on my cock. I jumped as her hands squeezed and she pushed herself back upright.

Heather acted like nothing had happened as she continued her stretching.

“Hey you” I said.

Now it was her turn to say, “What?”

“You know what – watch your hands young lady.”

“Oh, sorry. It was an accident.” She tried to brush it off.

“No it wasn’t and we both know it wasn’t.”

Now she stopped and looked at me. “It’s just not fair that it was ok for Ashley to see your penis and it’s not ok for me.”

Here it comes. All that incredible sex I had with Ashley was about to bite me squarely in the ass.

“So is that what this is all about – you getting a peek at my penis?”

“No…. Maybe.”

“What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know. I just have these feelings and I like the way boys touch me sometimes but Ashley told me I should talk to you about it and not let those boys use me like a toy.”

“Ok, exactly what has Ashley told you – and EXACTLY how are boys touching you?” I was going to have to have a serious talk with Ashley, though I suspected it was too late.

“Heather… you can talk to me now, or we can wait til your mother gets back,” I bluffed.

“No… It’s just that I know you and mom still do it cause I can hear you sometimes… And I know you let Ashley get in the hot tub naked when you and mom were in there naked too… and it’s just not fair.”

“Not fair?”

“Ashley says it feels really cool to be all grown up and get in the hot tub naked with you guys.”

Blank stare.

“Nevermind, just help me finish stretching, please.”

She stood up and stretched her leg out and grabbed the ankle and pulled her leg up so that it extended straight above her head in the aforementioned favorite position of mine.

“Ok, you can start near my knee,” she said as she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against her raised leg and held the leg up with one hand and steadied herself on the back of a chair with the other.

I knew what she wanted me to do. In this position, she needs someone to knead her thigh muscles to loosen them up and allow them to stretch and lengthen. I’d seen her mother do it many times before, but I had only done it to her a few times. I stepped next to her, determined to focus on helping her and not looking at the fabric that was barely covering her pussy. I encircled her leg just below the knee with my hands and began kneading her muscles with my thumbs.


I stopped.

“No, it’s ok. It’s supposed to hurt… a little. It’ll be ok when the muscles start to relax and loosen up.”

I pressed on. After about two minutes she said, “Ok, lower now,” and I slid my hands a few inches away from her knee, closer to pussy.

This continued with her telling me to move further down her uplifted leg every few minutes. My hands were holding her leg as my thumbs continued their deep tissue assault on her thigh muscles. Her skin was so soft and youthfully perfect. Thanks to her older sister, it hadn’t been that long since I’d touched such soft, supple skin, but it still felt like a treat and my fingers were beginning to move in unison with my thumbs and massage the full expanse of my grip.

“That feels great dad…” Her eyes were still closed, but her mouth was open slightly and her breathing was a little deeper than normal. As my eyes traced their way down her body, I noticed that her nipples were rigidly stretching the fabric of her leotard, seemingly yearning to break free. My mouth watered at the thought of encircling one of them with my lips… gently sucking and brushing my teeth across the tip. I wondered if her nipples were as sensitive as her mothers.

I quickly glanced back up at her face. Her eyes were still closed. I continued my visual trail down her body. Her abdomen was trembling slightly.

“Are you ok – do we need to stop?” I asked.

“No. Good.” Was all she said; her eyes remained closed.

I had reached the point where it was very awkward to continue to move my hands down from a standing position and knew that I would have to kneel down in front of her the next time she asked me to go lower. On cue, I tried to move my hands down into the last position, virtually at the junction of her gusset, without kneeling.

“No,” she said, “you can’t do it standing up, it makes your wrists hurt. You have to get down.”

I knelt and slid my hands down into the final position.

The outer half of my left palm was directly over her pussy. The moist heat was unmistakable. It was difficult to keep that edge of my palm from brushing her pussy with each kneading stroke of my thumbs. I felt the material of her leotard as my palm brushed it and I bent my wrist to avoid such contact, but this was a painful and awkward position. I didn’t remember having this problem in the past, and didn’t remember seeing her mother have this problem either. What was I doing that was different?

“I know you want to see as much of your daughter during her winter break as possible, but I already booked a get away cabin ski package for Valentine’s day.”

“Well, I’m sorry it is the same time. Tell you what — phone the resort and see if she can come along. That will be even more fun than Christmas – without the distraction of a bunch of other kids around, we can really have family time.”

My heart sank, then did a few gymnastic moves in my chest. My brain was playing cinematic flashbacks of my first encounter with my stepdaughter on Christmas Eve, or more properly the wee hours of Christmas day, of her kissing me under the mistletoe; of making out like we were teenagers – though, at eighteen, Emma still was one – of her playing with my cock; her first time touching a real one. Then she had taken me in her mouth, sucking me until I exploded. I had wanted to return the favour, to taste her virgin clit, but she had been in a hurry for me to deflower her, right there on the floor by the Christmas tree. I still owed her that cunt lapping, and still had hopes of taking her anal virginity, but the hustle and bustle of her short Christmas break had kept her too busy for alone time with her stepdad. We had discretely texted and chatted since — I knew she was saving her ass for me, though she was fucking college boys, and had sucked one prof. What I did not know was whether her Mom had found out about my taboo infidelity. If it wasn’t bad enough that I cheated, I had to do it with her daughter.

My heart sank every time I realized the trouble that might cause. I love my wife. Plus, she is my boss in her Dad’s company, and in this economy, I did not want to lose my job and have to start over selling odd lots over the phone or worse yet, a jobber hustling product from gas station to corner store.

My brain understood logically that Emma likely would come home for the summer, but my lusty devil in the base of the brain rationalized that summer offered the perfect combination of space and opportunity so that I could find time to fulfil my unrequited desires, but avoid situations where my transgressions might be revealed. A week in close quarters in the snow country would be just the opposite — all the desire would bubble to the surface, and was likely to explode at the worst possible moment.

I had no chance though to avoid the disaster – my wife wasn’t leaving the room until I called the lodge. Then when they said that they were sold out and no two bedroom units were available, she told me to arrange an extra ski package for Emma, who could easily sleep on the couch in the cabin. She’s the boss. I did as instructed.

As soon as I hung up the phone though she saw my pout and asked what was wrong.

“I had planned this as a romantic interlude,” I covered up. “Tough to do that with Emma around.”

“There will be a wall between our room and her, and a door on the bathroom. Plus I’m sure she’ll find lots of kids her age to hang around with. We’ll have lots of opportunity.”

Her eyes travelled downward at that moment from my face to my groin, where she immediately noticed the erection that I had grown recalling my experience with Emma, which had solidified even harder when my wife spoke of fucking in the shower with Emma just outside.

“Someone is still excited,” she purred kittenishly. We had been fuck buddies for years before getting married, and she had lost none of her enthusiasm. Leaning in toward me, her lips met mine as her hand stroked my shaft through my sweatpants. While her tongue wrestled its way inside my mouth, pushing past my teeth, she moved her hand up to caress my hairy belly, and effortlessly slid inside the waistband of the sloppy Saturday sweats, cupping my hardness in her palm.

I could feel her braless nipples rock hard against my chest, separated only by our thin T-shirts. I was glad that her face was flush to mine, because I was sure I was blushing at the mental comparison of how that sensation so closely matched a moment with Emma, while she still had her nightshirt on. The recollection had the benefit of making my balls tighten up against my taint, and my helmet swell, my piss hole gaping open, leaking pre-cum onto my wife’s hand, which felt so remarkably like her daughter’s.

My hands grasped her shirt on either side, ready to rip it if she didn’t stop kissing long enough for me to remove it. She would need to break the lip lock anyway, as I was determined to taste her nipples, to kiss down her belly, and eat her clit.

My wife, however, had other ideas. She took a half step back, still holding the kiss, but angling her body, and then she moved her mouth, licking down my throat, lifting my shirt to bathe my chest in her saliva, planting a forest of tiny pecks around my navel. The entire time, her fist pumped my shaft. I ached so urgently that only the tightness of her grip held me back from premature ejaculation.

One deft twist of her wrist exposed my groin fully to the air, but in an instant, her mouth danced through my hair and bounced up over the top of my cock. Her tongue flitted around the rim at the bottom of my swollen head briefly, more confidently than anything Emma had accomplished in her maiden efforts. My wife licked up all the seeping precum, and teasingly stabbed the tip of her tongue right into my opening, a trick she knew I enjoyed.

She was so expert that, in that moment, I wondered why I had ever considered risking loosing her for Emma’s tentative talents. Which thought exploded in my mind as my wife’s mouth closed over my cock head, her lips sliding effortlessly along the silky outer sheath of my shaft. One flick of her fingernail against my scrotum triggered my seed to explode, flooding her mouth with great gobs of goo. Her fingers stayed busy, kneading my balls, milking all of my seed up and out my shaft, her lips remaining tight until my spasms reduced to trickles. Then, she opened her mouth, leaving my shrinking cock head laying on her tongue, letting me watch as she caught the final gasps of my climax, lapping up the seepage.

With a huge grin, my sperm glistening on her teeth, my wife sat back up and grabbed handfuls of my hair, pulling my mouth to her lips, sharing my seed between us. I remembered the first time she had done that, in a coat check room at a sales convention, how she had broken the kiss and whispered, “sealing our love”, just as she did now.

This time, however, I felt a surge of guilt at having been blown by her teenage daughter. The first time she had said it, she had giggled afterwards and assured me that she was just kidding, that ‘a blow job is just a blow job’ and she knew the difference between love and lust. We had not been exclusive for quite a while. I wondered how she would react if she found out we were not exclusive again.

“Don’t worry, honey, it will be fun,” she said, feeling my fretfulness, but misinterpreting it. “Emma is a good girl. She’ll have fun too.”

Just what sort of fun Emma would expect was my worry.

The days passed quickly before our Valentine’s treat, as my wife liked to refer to the trip. We both put extra energy and effort into work to make sure that everything was in order. Our sex during that time period was hurried, nervous, routine married fucking. Which was so unlike our usual voracious appetites that my wife felt that she had to assure me that her Dad would cover for us, that the trip would not be interrupted, saying “and even missionary position fucking with you is so much better than any guy I’ve ever been with before. Your cock is the perfect fit for my cunt, it throbs just right as you fill me up with your offerings, and it’s not every man who not only goes down after coming, but does it with such enthusiasm.”

Once again, she misunderstood why I was nervous; that as I licked my wife my mind turned to thoughts of tasting Emma’s young cunt overflowing with my seed. And I supposed the sex wasn’t all that typical of married couples — at least if you believe the mutterings of my sales staff, who thought carpet munching should be reserved for lesbian sex scenes in the porn they charged to their hotel rooms, and then had to reimburse the company, while begging me not to tell their wives. My standard “we all have our secrets” answer had become more true in this new year.

I knew that my wife loved me, but I feared what Valentine’s day might bring – and as fate would have it, Emma’s travel arrangements ended up such that she would arrive at the cabin right on February 14th.

Her mother was disappointed that Emma could not join us earlier, but the young woman had school activities to finish up during the first part of her winter break. So we arrived at the resort as a couple, like we had originally planned. Though we partook of the full range of activities — alpine skiing, cross country skiing, snowshoeing, snowmobiling, hiking – they were just interludes between the vigorous athletic sex that seemed to start the moment we arrived in our cabin, and stop only when we left. Heck, we even got up to some risky play on the chairlift, on the back of the sleigh during a Sunday evening hay ride and on the deck overlooking the frozen lake which was the focal point of the resort for summer fun.

In fact, the sex had started on the plane trip to the resort. Though we were both veteran travellers, we had discussed often how neither of us had joined the mile high club. On this plane, we had seats near the rear, where there was a washroom. Both stews were busy starting drink service from the front of the plane, so after my wife giggled, whispered “did you know I’m not wearing panties?” and dragged my fingertips across her wet labia to prove it, we scooted quickly into the lavatory. She did not have to touch my pants to know that my cock was hard and ready, threatening to burst my zipper.

She went in first, pirouetting like a very horny ballerina to snug her ass into the space between the sink and bulkhead, tugging me close to her. Our lips locked in a bruisingly urgent kiss, hands exploring like high schoolers. I grasped her ass in both hands and lifted her up so that I could run my teeth along her throat until I reached her blouse. Her hands quickly fumbled the buttons open, allowing my lips access to her engorged nipples. I alternately sucked each tit while her fingers found the button at my waist, loosening my pants. I continued nibbling as her hand started stroking my hardness.

“You’re so…big, so firm, so ready,” she moaned, in that voice that sounded so much like her daughter, who once again, I found myself thinking about as I made love to my wife. Part of me remained remote from the act, wondering whether what I had done with Emma was also making love, or just fucking.

Soon her stroking had achieved a furious pace. And she shifted her ass in my grip so that her naked pussy lips were rubbing against the tip of my cock.

“Fuck me now, fuck me hard, I need to come,” she sighed, sharping my focus back purely into that moment.

I had to stop sucking her nipples and gasp for air as she guided my length into her wetness. We were both crazy with desire as I started slowly driving in and out of her by rocking up and down off my toes. I pushed hard, burying my full pulsating piston into her, which, combined with the taboo of fucking just a few feet away from a plane full of people, quickly pushed her over the edge

“Feels sooo good…” she muttered into my ear dreamily, and then nibbled my lobe. Her cunt was pushing down on my cock and at the same time her pelvic muscles were clenching around my shaft.

“Now you have to fill me up,” she whispered, somehow making my turn still about her.

She grabbed her own nipples and twisted them, triggering another climax. Then we were both completely lost in the passionate intensity of the moment. I felt every muscle in her body stiffen and release as she climaxed yet again just as my load of milky sweet seed surged up my shaft and gushed out of my tip inside my wife. Her climax seemed to last forever as we came together.

“It’s like I can feel every drop as it explodes out of your cock.” she breathed as her orgasm slowed and I expelled one final spurt into her.

She sealed the moment with another deep kiss, and as she straightened her clothes she said “If you think that is great, imagine our Valentine’s treat.”

Then she kissed my nose playfully, as if for emphasis, while I was fumbling my softening cock back into my pants so that we could slink back to our seats, hopefully before the drinks cart arrived. Once again, I could not help but notice the playfulness which Emma had inherited.

With that start, it really took on the flavour of a second honeymoon. The shuttle bus provided to the resort was too public for more than hand holding and meaningful gazes, but every time our eyes met, she broke out in giggles. Once, she playfully nibbled at my ear.

We barely got checked in before she ran to our cabin, started stripping, and threw herself onto the bearskin rug in front of the hearth. Fortunately, the resort had thought to have a fire going for our arrival.

“I didn’t have a chance to properly clean your cock on the plane,” she said. “I hope if anybody caught the scent, they weren’t too jealous.”

I obeyed as she crooked a finger in the universal come hither gesture. She had an easier time with my pants than aboard the plane. My cock was surging semi-hard again already when it flopped loose and she wasted no time slurping my full length deep into her throat. After a few quick head bobs though, she backed off and started slowly, carefully, laving up down and all around my shaft, paying extra attention to the area below the head, and the ridge where shaft and helmet joined.

Emma had nowhere near the cock sucking skills of her mother, though she seemed to have inherited the passion. Again, I had to wonder why I was thinking about my stepdaughter at such moments, and worried about how she might impact our Valentine’s treat. But also once again, the sensuality before me washed away the worries. I had not had a chance to lick Emma’s sweet young cunt, but I loved to eat her mother, even with a slightly less than fresh load of my cream inside that crevice.

Since my wife still had no panties on, it was simple for me to slowly ease myself to the floor in stages so that she could adjust, never entirely stopping her oral ministrations, but accommodating my returning the favour. Before long, we were snuggled on the rug in a sixty-nine position, me mostly on top, but tangled up.

I lapped at her hard pearly nubbin, making it dance with my tongue just like her lips were dancing around my cock. I reached through her shirt to toy with her nipples as much as I could without stopping fucking her with my face, working my tongue deep into the darkest recesses of her cunt, searching out every morsel of my remnants, finding more as she got wetter and wetter and the dried bits moistened. I did not stop because she had a shivering orgasm, in spite of the fire’s heat.

She had long since licked my cock clean, but did not stop there. I was steely hard again, and she treated me to a good old fashioned tea bagging, taking me so far into her throat that my balls were smacking her cheeks as she writhed on the rug.

As warm as the fire made the cabin, it was not as hot as her mouth, so I noticed immediately when she eased her mouth off my cock, which by then was aching for release. I paused with a couple of fingers poised within her labia, where I had been about to wriggle them to add to her pleasure. She shifted smoothly and swiftly, her skirt still bunched around her waist, her lower abdomen now pressed against the back of the bear’s head, her naked buttocks presented to me.

“Fuck me from behind,” she moaned, “you know how much I love it when you enter me from there.”

I complied, starting my rubbing the tip of my cock around her lower labia, making sure my flesh was good and moist with her wetness as I pressed slowly into her on that first thrust. It took all my self-restraint not to impale myself immediately with my raging hard-on. Her back arched and I took two handfuls of her dangling tits as I slowly pushed deeper within her womb.

My fucking her daughter had been on a hearth rug, but although I had fantasized briefly about taking Emma doggy-style, I had deflowered her in missionary position. Fucking my wife from behind made me wonder once again what taking Emma in a similar style might be like. I had compared Emma silently to her Mom while fucking the daughter, and now, I was doing the opposite. I felt secret shame knowing that my cock pulsed harder because of it.

My wife squeezed her pussy around my shaft but I slid back until only the head weighed in her opening, and then I drove back in swiftly, burying myself deep, right to the root.

“Is this what you want?” I grunted.

She fucked her hips up against me in silent response.

My balls started slapping against the flesh where her wet pussy lips curved up to meet her ass, her thighs slamming up to meet mine. I released her tits and gripped her hips, pile-driving our bodies together. I felt her climax around my cock but just kept going, once again moving my hands to her tits, kneading them in my fingers, feeling her rhythm alter to match my tempo. I kept up the hard fucking, adjusting my grasp on her tits, capturing her nipples between my fingers, squeezing them hard, which made her thrash wildly from side to side. I pushed the weight of my body down onto her and gently nibbled the back of her neck just above the top of her spine.

“Oh fuck me! I’m cumming so hard!” she screamed, her entire body convulsing uncontrollably. “Oh, fuck! Don’t stop!”

In that instant, I realized that once Emma arrived, not only would fucking in front of the fire be out, but her mother would have to climax more quietly.

I released one breast, my hand sliding along her ribs until I curled it under her body, touching her clit. Her orgasms were coming in waves by then, but this triggered a sudden blast of intensity which I felt clamping around my cock. One last pinch of her bud. Her pussy spasming around my cock and I pumped another blast of sperm inside of her.

Spent, I soon softened and rolled off of her, and we both must have fallen asleep, because the next thing we knew, it was morning and we had spent the night in front of the dying fire, on the bear skin rug.

All week, my wife and I had great fun. I kept asking if the latest kink was my Valentine’s treat, and she kept saying “It isn’t Valentine’s day yet.”

I could not help but wonder how Emma’s presence might crimp her Mom’s style in offering me a treat. Only in that dark basement of my brain did I allow myself to hope that Emma WAS the treat, but every time that thought appeared, it was squelched by logic arguing that my wife had given no sign of knowing about my carnal knowledge of her daughter, and had given no hint of offering any further extra-marital taboo sex as a treat.

That internal debate always left me bummed out, convinced that Emma’s presence would somehow ruin everything. I never was much of a poker player, and wore my concern on my face. This led my wife to think I was not having enough fun, so she kept on adding to our activity list, and to our sexual smörgåsbord.

“You’re like a big baby boy who can’t wait ’til Christmas for your present,” she said on Tuesday after we had gotten each other off with our fingers under the table in the dining room.

That just brought back mixed feelings from memories of Emma on Christmas Eve, of how she had been such an incredible gift to me, but she had throughout insisted that I was the gift to her. No matter how much logic argued that my wife and I exchanged gifts sexually just as enthusiastically as I had with Emma, my internal skeptic argued that the trade-offs in the marriage had become routine, boring — that the very thrill seeking we shared had become a stale bit of play acting, a search for something we were missing.

What was missing of course was my full attention to my wife, as throughout the week, Emma kept intruding into my thoughts. It did not help that an hour never passed that my wife did not remark about Emma, wishing her daughter was there already; that a particular activity would be so much fun for Emma; pointing out young men that Emma might find attractive. Every mention of my stepdaughter’s name made my confused heart ache in my chest, but my cock ached in a more solid fashion – the mention of her name always gave me instant wood. In retrospect, that was a big factor in how I couldn’t stop sexing up my wife, seeking a release for that hormonal buzz.

By the time Wednesday night rolled around, the fact that Thursday was Valentine’s day had been submerged by my wife’s excitement about seeing her daughter the next day. I reconciled myself to being an afterthought on what should be the most romantic highlight of our year. Then I decided that if my Valentine’s day risked being a disaster, I should take full advantage of the night before.

Not that it was something I had planned out. Like my encounter with Emma, or my quickie Vegas wedding, all the best things in my life happen spontaneously.

Dinner had been down at the main lodge, where the focus was already anticipating the big night of romantic candlelit meals the next night. I realized that mine might be the only dinner for three in the big room that evening. But the night before the big day was just a simple buffet, with beef carved off the bone, which I think was trendy in the sixties, but fit the time warp aspect of the rustic resort.

I wish I could tell you that we randomly shared a table with a couple in their twenties, and that after too many bottles of wine, we all ended up naked in a hot tub together. Instead, our table mates were an older couple. She was a Lutheran pastor, he was a retired school teacher. It was fun to learn that they were on their honeymoon, having discovered their love late in life, and cooing at each like doves, but my cock never twitched once, and my wife’s hands never groped my lap.

We said good night to our new acquaintances as soon as dessert was over, and made our way toward our cabin along the trail, pausing occasionally to admire the starlit sky.

“I love you,” my wife said simply, as she squeezed my hand while looking heavenward. I bent so that my lips met hers. Our tongues intertwined, her breasts pressed against my chest, making me imagine I could feel the excitement of her nipples right through our abundant layers of clothing.

She broke free first, but never let go of my hand, tugging me after her as she raced reckless through the night, as if our cabin was a prize which might vanish if we dallied another second. By the time her boot landed on the deck, we were moving at a sprint, and she did not pause until we were inside. As soon as the door was behind her, she let go of my hand, because she needed both to strip out of her sensible clothing, each item tossed more wildly than the last. I was frozen in the doorway, still fully dressed, when she reached the washroom, turned on the shower, and turned back to look at me, with a huge mock pout.

“Don’t make me come over there and strip you too,.”

My cock was already rigid, without a single thought of Emma.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” was what I said, “but I don’t think you want me in that shower with these clothes on…”

By the time I said that, I was in the bathroom, the steam warming my nose, but all my clothing except my boots still in place. My wife, not normally the servile sort, was forced to strip me if she wanted me to fuck her. This subtle role shift seemed to excite her greatly. Her talented fingers flew over buttons and zippers. Her even more talented tongue bathed each bit of my flesh as it was exposed.

My cock was the last thing she uncovered. My flannel shirt was tossed over a towel rack. My pants were a puddle at my feet. But my conservative white briefs were taut, distorted by my tumescence. She hooked a finger in the elastic above the point of each of my hip bones, her nose grazing my navel, her warm breath ruffling my abdominal fur.

But then she shook her lovely head, maybe a millimeter to each side, and dropped her hands, before reaching up and back to grasp my glutes, holding my groin firmly to her face. Her head moved, her tongue licking all around my firm cock through the cotton. As she worked, her nose grazed against that covered flesh, until without warning, the plum coloured engorged head poked free.

She pulled back for a moment, her hands dropping onto her knees as she sat back on her haunches. She was grinning up at me, cheeks rosy and eyes bright, not like a middle aged mother, not like my boss, not like my wife, but like a school girl. Like Emma – in that instant, she looked as amazed and excited by my cock as my stepdaughter had on Christmas Eve.

I did not say that, of course, I just stood there as she rose up and licked the underside of my helmet, trying not to compare my wife’s blow job to the one I had enjoyed from Emma. To this day, I could not tell you which was more enthusiastic. My wife’s was certainly more experienced, but something about the familiarity made it seem practised rather than fresh. As she bobbed up and down, my entire length now out of my underwear, I missed the excitement of knowing how much extra pleasure Emma had gotten out of the novelty of the adventure.

The upside to this distracted state of mind was that I did not quickly blow my wad into my wife’s mouth, which seemed to please her, because after rolling her tongue up and around my shaft for several minutes, and tasting my precum, she grasped me firmly in her fist and stood, allowing her naked body to slide up mine, her diamond hard nipples adding extra frisson.

A few steps and we were engulfed by the mist of the shower. She stood directly beneath the spray, and released my aching cock so that she could lean against the wall, her hands braced, her ass thrust back against me. I stepped closer, my erection tight into her ass crack. My hands reached around and firmly kneaded her dangling tits, just teasing her nipples as her hips started rotating, grinding her cleft against my cock.

She was panting with excitement as my fingers finally gripped her nipples, tugging them harder than I think I had ever done before.

“Oh, fuck, yesss,” she moaned, clearly not upset. “Can you come on my back? I want you to mark me. And then i want to kneel here and lick your cock until it shrinks enough for you to… “

Her next words were lost in her climax, but as she settled down moments later, she repeated them, still short of breath.

“…I want you to piss on me, to mark me as your territory.”

Once more, I was a mess of confusion and arousal, but at least in that moment it was not about my lust for my stepdaughter. For a few seconds, I had assumed that she wanted me to fuck her ass, which she had always told me was cherry – one of her earliest boyfriends had tried to stick his fat cock up her dirt road without proper lubrication, and she had been tuned off anal intercourse ever since, though she certainly loved being stimulated by smaller objects.

I also realized that the desire to be marked likely meant that, on at least one of her frequent business trips, my wife had cheated on me. That seemed the only logical reason for her to feel the need to be owned. Sadness stabbed my chest, ignoring the hypocrisy of my having cheated, and with her daughter. My hardness started to evaporate.

“Too kinky for you?” she growled, her lust bringing out her dominant side again.

“Nothing is too kinky for me,” I heard myself reply before I had a chance to self edit. I thought of Emma as I thrust my hips against her ass, rubbing my cock so deep into the cleft that I might as well have been ass fucking her. I could feel her flow coating my balls. I imagined that it was Emma’s ass I was pushing up against. Emma would let me take her ass cherry, I thought.

As I pictured flooding Emma’s bowels with my seed, I exploded, my offering spurting up and out into the warm mist of the shower, but most of it coming with enough energy to curve across and land on the dimple of flesh at the base of my wife’s spine, that gentle curve where she loved me to rub as we fucked, guaranteed to make her come. This night, no hands were needed – just the sensation of my goo coating her skin was all that it took to trigger another scream of climax. She moved one hand from the wall to her clit to maintain that wave, and I helped by letting go of one tit so that I could massage my semen deep into her back.

After a long chain of orgasms, my wife finally silently sank to the tiled shower floor, the water cascading around her, her hair plastered to her face. She looked innocent, angelic, like her daughter. But I knew that they were both naughty wenches who loved my cock.

As promised, she reached up and took my semi-hard member in her fingers, lifting the tip to her lips and started to lick, but at the first touch, my bladder released and instead of her cleaning my cock of sweat and salt, she received a full blast of golden elixir. We had never tried water sports, never even discussed them, so I was a bit shocked when she hungrily opened her mouth and swallowed the entire stream like she had just crossed a long dusty dry desert.

The wine and water at dinner had filled me up, and soon it was running down her chin and dribbling on her tits, droplets dangling like diamonds on her nipples. Remembering her desire to be marked, I took my shaft in my hand and directed my spray away from her lips, pissing down on top of her hair, the urine running in rivulets down her face, her tongue flitting from side to side to capture as much as she could. Before I was finished, her entire body had been showered in gold. A few final spurts bounced off her tiny nose. All the while, she smile up at me. Finally, she brushed my hand away and grasped my shrinking organ in her fingers again, leaning forward to lovingly lick up the last few drops leaking from my slit.

“I love you, I love your cock, I even love your piss. ” she sighed.

“Was that my Valentine’s treat?” I asked. “I don’t think it is even midnight yet.”

“No, tomorrow, I have something very special planned.”

The demon in my skull hoped for something special with Emma, regardless of what my wife had planned. By the time we towelled off and staggered over to the bed, collapsing together like spoons in a drawer, my cock was erect from thoughts of Emma, but my wife was soundly sleeping before I even pressed my flesh firmly against her back.

Wednesday’s special activities must have tired us out more than usual, because on Thursday, Valentine’s day, we did not wake with the morning sun bathing us through the cabin’s huge picture window, like we had each prior day. Instead, there was a knock on the door — the wide open bedroom door to be precise.

“Too horny to even lock the outside cabin door?” I heard Emma giggling, my eyes still only half open.

I hoped her mother was more awake, and that the remark was directed in to her, not to me. It was way more openly sexual than anything Emma had said to me in her mother’s presence at Christmas. Her tone of voice and sprinkle of laughter reminded me instantly of how she had acted while seducing me during “the Santa hour” as Christmas Eve had turned to Christmas morning. Just thinking about that event made images of her sexual ecstasy flash through my mind, travel down my spine, and stiffen my cock.

My wife was mumbling something sleepily in reply to her daughter. Part of the reason I could not make out the words was that I was busy realizing that my surging shaft was grasped in my wife’s hand. Whether she had rolled over in her sleep and grabbed that handful, or had been awake, slowly warming my weapon for a quick bout of wake up sex, I had no clue. Not that it mattered much, except perhaps as to how much Emma had seen, which in turn might influence her mother’s mood.

“You do have a habit of turning up unexpectedly,” my wife muttered to her daughter. I froze for a moment – the opportunity for my taboo encounter at Christmas having been triggered by Emma catching an early flight, arriving without her mother or I knowing she was in the house – but then realized that the early arrival was a known fact, but this did not necessarily mean that she was also aware of my infidelity.

Fortunately, the awkwardness of Emma standing in the doorway excused my freezing up.

“I’d offer to go for a walk while you two start your Valentine’s day off properly, but it’s frigid cold out this morning, plus I need a shower,” Emma replied.

I thought she might have winked when she said “properly”. Her leering grin was so obvious that its ghost lingered Cheshire catlike in the air even after she spun out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

The latch had not even clicked, and my wife was fisting my cock with more intensity than was typical for a morning. I lay between the sheets, briefly wondering if the added excitement was the day, the interruption, or some combination of both. By the time my wife rolled her head onto my shoulder and nibbled my earlobe, so much blood was pulsing into my hard cock that such silly irrelevant thoughts were obsolete. I did not notice whether or not the shower started running right away.

“Feel how wet I am,” my wife breathed into my ear.

“Is that because of last night, or because your daughter just walked in on us?” I took a chance asking.

“Maybe a little bit of both?” she chuckled heartily as my fingers found her slit, which really was soaked, and wide open.

“You know how I love the risk of an audience,” she continued. Indeed, we had fucked at conventions in coat check rooms, and, once, when due to space constraints, everybody was sharing double rooms, with her room mate asleep five feet away.

“Maybe part of it is that this is a special day, too?”

“Oh, is it? What day is it again?” she giggled, just like her daughter did when being playfully naughty. I think I just imagined an echoing sound from outside the door.

“If you make too big a deal of it, you might not get your treat,” she teased.

“You mean, this isn’t it?” I asked as I slid two, then three, fingers into her slit, my thumb bumping against her engorged clit with each stroke, and dragging along her swollen inner labia on the downward path.

“Not while Emma might pop in to ask about brunch at any second.”

She moaned as my fingers thrust deep into her cunt, her hips bouncing up off the mattress. My little finger slid under her butt, instinctively teasing her anal cleavage. Her fingers were too small to do the same for me, but she played with my scrotum.

The shower was running, but I was sure that I heard a shuffle of feet followed by heavy breathing just outside our door. My attention was quickly diverted, though, as my wife twisted her body under the sheet, her mouth trailing down my chest, her lips wrapping around my cock. I felt rather than saw her leg fly over my head as her groin aligned with my face. My wet fingers had slid effortlessly out of her flesh, but served perfectly to grasp her hips and steady her gyrating pelvis enough for my teeth to tease her labia.

My wife opened her jaw, mouth half way down my shaft, to emit a heavy groan, a typical mix of protest and pleasure from my heavenly pain slut. I hoped that she was too engrossed to notice the softer moan I detected from the other side of the door. To reduce that risk, I raised one hand and slapped her ass, counting out a half dozen spanks. Her hips jumped higher with each one, and drove down harder on to my waiting tongue. She continued her half of the sixty-nine by bathing my balls with her tongue while fisting my shaft, her fingers striking the ridge under my cock head harder with each stroke.

At the final slap of my palm on her quivering rear, I curled my fingers, grasping her downward curving flesh, tugging open that forbidden cleavage. Her movements had shifted her body so that I found myself licking her taint. However, the instant that the tip of my tongue slid into the groove leading to her rosebud, she stiffened, barked a sharp no, and grabbed my hand away from her butt, while repositioning her cunt squarely over my face.

“We better hurry, that shower’s been running a long time,” she said softly, apparently not wanting to discourage me too much.

The slowness of her breath indicated that her orgasm must be close. She might be just as excited by me at the proximity of her daughter while we made love, whether or not she knew that Emma was likely still crouched outside the door — I pictured my stepdaughter stripped naked, ready to bolt to the shower as soon as we climaxed, one hand working her sensitive nipples, the other buried deep in her barely legal cunt, fucking herself as fiercely as I had fucked her with my cock at Christmas.

That made me wonder if Emma could successfully bite her cheek to contain her orgasmic cries this time. To help the situation, I started moaning as loudly as I could while still tongue fucking my wife. I also created more noise by pounding against the mattress with my legs. My wife’s breathing became a pant. Her body writhed around mine as she achieved climax. At its peak, it was especially intense and it was long-lasting. I could feel her muscles spasming around my tongue as she struggled to ride the waves without ignoring my cock entirely. Her groans echoed in the room. I knew Emma would have heard them even if she was in the shower.

As her orgasm began to subside, my wife shifted her attention back to my needs, taking my pulsating organ half way into her mouth, and then bobbing her head, taking a bit more into her mouth each time. Her right fist kept a firm grip on the base of my shaft, her teeth teased the tip when she had just the head resting on her lower lip.

Her left hand began kneading my balls, and then she slipped her finger back where she had not allowed me to venture. Her finger was well lubricated and slid smoothly into my ass hole, probing expertly until she stimulated my prostate. At exactly the same moment, she released her grip on my root and closed her lips around the head of my cock. My seed pumped feverishly upward, pumping in bursts into her mouth. She just swallowed and swallowed, and then swallowed some more. Finally, I felt the last languid spurts leaking out of the corners of her mouth onto my flesh.

She rolled off me, her head resting on my shoulder as we both tried to catch our breath. I realized that I had been too focused to notice any noise outside the door. Hopefully that was also true of my wife.

After a few minutes, she had enough composure to say, “Emma sure took a long shower. I hope she’s left some hot water for us.”

Just then the water stopped running. I grinned to myself, thinking that Emma must have barely had time to rinse the afterglow off of her loins, and maybe the road dust. At the moment, I realized for the first time that I had not thought to pack a robe for this trip. With Emma at college, I was used to walking from my bedroom to the shower naked, or wearing just my boxers.

I glanced around the compact bedroom. No towels on the floor. Not even a jacket to wrap around my waist. Of course I did not care if Emma saw my scuzzy cock through my shorts – she had been up close and personal before — but her mother might think it was stranger, particularly God forbid, I made eye contact with my stepdaughter then popped wood. There was also the risk of Emma reacting — she had proved twice now that she was a sexual adventuress.

My wife left no time for me to reflect further. She boldly stepped out of bed and opened the door wide. I was covered by the sheet, but my boxers were on the floor. I saw Emma, in the kitchenette which meant that she could see me.

May 2018
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