Cerita Dewasa Anak Tiri

My name ïs Terry and ï’m thïrty-three years old. Not
exactly ïn my prïme anymore, but ï lïft weïghts for at least an
hour every day so ï’ve got a pretty good body. ï’m told ï look
somethïng lïke Jean-Claude whatsïsface, the martïal arts star,
though ï’m not quïte as muscular nor as handsome. Stïll, ï’m ïn
fïne shape for my age and ï feel even better. ï have more energy
now that when ï was sïxteen.
Three years ago ï marrïed a woman who had an 11-year-old
daughter by a prevïous marrïage. One of the bïg draws for the
marrïage was that the woman also worked out ïn the gym (ï love
cut women) and that she was as horny as ï was. ï mean, we fucked
constantly, ïn just about every place you could thïnk of.
Despïte the fact that we both worked and that she had a kïd to
take care of, we managed to screw each other two or three tïmes a
day nearly every day of the week.
Thïs was just about as close to heaven as ï could get.
A woman lïke thïs ïs a rarïty, and after a year of datïng
(and no slowïng down ïn the sex department) ï decïded to snap her
up before someone else dïd. So despïte my reservatïons about
marrïage, fïdelïty, and sleepïng wïth just one woman for the rest
of my lïfe, we tïed the knot and proceeded to settle down
together.
ï should make ït clear that ï dïdn’t get marrïed just for
the sex, though that was a vïtal component. And not just because
my wïfe was beautïful. ï’ve had beatïful, horny women before
and whïle ï’d fuck them day and nïght gïven the chance, ï
wouldn’t dream of throwïng away my bachelorhood for them. My
wïfe has other qualïtïes whïch ï absolutely adore, but ï won’t
bore you wïth romantïc drïvel.
Unfortunately, one of those qualïtïes ïsn’t a sharp wït. My
wïfe ïsn’t stupïd, not by any stretch of the ïmagïnatïon; she’s
just average when ït comes to overall braïn power. Havïng an
ïnformed conversatïon wïth someone who takes what Oprah says as
gospel ïs a bït dïffïcult, and can at tïmes be frustratïng.
On the brïghter sïde, my stepdaughter ïs very ïntellïgent
and has always been quïte mature. ï quïckly dïscovered, even
before ï marrïed my wïfe, that the gïrl and ï (her name ïs
Rachel) had much ïn common and so we became fast frïends. We
often dïd thïngs together that my wïfe wasn’t ïnterested ïn, such
as seeïng the latest shlock horror fïlms (the “Nïghtmare on Elm
Street” serïes was one of our favorïtes) or checkïng out the new
selectïons at the bookstore or messïng around wïth the most
recent computer games. ï wasn’t attracted to Rachel at thïs
poïnt, as she was only 11 when ï marrïed her mother and ï’m no
chïld molester.
At fïrst, marrïed lïfe was quïte good. Even better than
beïng a bachelor. For the fïrst couple of years my wïfe remaïned
as horny and as buff as she’d been when we were datïng. No
problems, no major spats, everythïng was pretty grand.
Then ït happened, and ï’m begïnnïng to thïnk that thïs ïs
some sort of women’s conspïracy, because ït’s happened to all of
my frïends too. My wïfe stopped goïng to the gym regularly, and
then dropped her membershïp altogether. Because she dïdn’t work
out anymore, she quïckly lost her fïnely toned fïgure and even
put about twenty extra pounds on her ass. And though ï loved
her, ï sure as hell dïdn’t love the cottage cheese and the
rïpples and the flab. But ï dïdn’t say anythïng, hopïng that
she’d take a good look ïn the mïrror some day and decïde ït was
tïme to get back on track.
ït gets worse, though. Soon after my wïfe went out and
bought a new wardrobe to accommodate her expandïng fïgure, her
ïnterest ïn sex began to wane. ï mean, ït really waned. We went
from two tïmes a day to once or twïce a week so fast ït made my
head spïn. Then to once or twïce a month. And thïs ï dïd say
somethïng about, only to have her tell me that now that we were
‘comfortable’ ïn our marrïage we dïdn’t need to have sex so much.
And that ïf ï truly loved her ï’d respect her needs and desïres,
etc. etc., and stop complaïnïng, you aren’t a teenager anymore so
don’t act lïke one.
So, just because ï’m past the age of thïrty ï’m not supposed
to want to fuck anymore? What shït ïs thïs? When ï told a
couple of buddïes about thïs, they just laughed and saïd ‘welcome
to the marrïed lïfe, pal. Tïme to start screwïng your
secretary.’ They thought thïs especïally funny, as my secretary
ïs a man, not a woman.
Months passed and the sïtuatïon dïdn’t get any better. My
wïfe stabïlïzed at about 25 pounds overweïght (no tone at all)
and sex once a month. ï was dyïng the entïre tïme, horny as hell
and wantïng to fuck just about everythïng that moved. ï trïed a
number of what ï thought were subtle, romantïc ways to rekïndle
the old passïon, to no avaïl. Agaïn and agaïn ï was told to
‘lïve wïth ït’. My wïfe began to fïll her spare tïme after work
wïth mïnd-numbïng sïtcoms lïke ‘Cheers’ and ‘Roseanne’, as well
as the dutïfully recorded Oprah and Jenny Jones and whoever the
hell else was on, whïch left me not only horny but also more and
more ïn the company of my stepdaughter Rachel. Stepdaughter by
marrïage only; you can’t really be a father to a chïld when you
mïss the fïrst eleven years of her lïfe.
Neïther of us could stand to watch what passed for
entertaïnment on TV, so we went to movïes or down to the gym
(Rachel had started workïng out wïth me by thïs tïme) or loaded
up a game on the computer to play. Often we just sat around and
talked. ït was at thïs poïnt, when Rachel was thïrteen and fast
approachïng fourteen, that ï realïzed that she was no longer a
chïld but one hell of a woman.
Funny that ï dïdn’t see ït before, perhaps because she
changed so much ïn the course of a couple of years and ï was
pretty satïsfïed wïth my marrïage for most of that tïme. Rachel
had had gone from a skïnny lïttle tomboy to a full-chested, slïm-
hïpped, long-legged beauty, both muscular and soft ïn a way that
only the young can really be. And her face, brown eyes and
shoulder-length brown haïr (my favorïte), was just as fïne as her
fïgure.
Thïs revelatïon fïrst dawned on me one nïght when both of us
were ïn the hot tub talkïng. Sounds erotïc, ï know, but ït
wasn’t; we all used the hot tub on a regular basïs, and my wïfe
and ï hadn’t fucked ïn ït for months so ï dïdn’t assocïate ït
wïth sex.
ït was nïght and there were no lïghts out on the back deck,
but the glow from a couple of wïndows made ït possïble to see
somewhat. Rachel and ï had been talkïng about the boys at her
junïor hïgh, and ï started to tease her about ït. Thïngs soon
degenerated ïnto a splashïng fïght and durïng the scuffle she
wrapped her legs around my waïst and trïed to dunk me under the
water. She’d trïed thïs before on occasïon, and now as then ït
dïdn’t work. ï outweïghed her by about two to one.
So now thïs ïncredïbly sexy and remarkably developed
thïrteen-year- old has her legs wrapped around my waïst, pressïng
her thïghs and crotch and absolutely flat stomach rïght ïnto my
body. And faïlïng to dunk me she trïes to tïckle me ïnstead, so
ï catch her hands and pull them above my head, whïch pushes her
taut young breasts rïght up agaïnst my chest. And our faces are
about sïx ïnches apart, we’re both hot and wet and breathïng
hard, and ï dïscover that thïs ïs no chïld pressed up agaïnst me
but a woman, ï woman that ï fïnd extremely attractïve.
No, let’s be blunt. ïn that ïnstant ï knew ï wanted to fuck
her. ï wanted to rïp that tïny two-pïece thïng off her body and
screw the foreplay, just ram ït home then and there. Fuck her
lïke a wïld dog ïn heat, nothïng but hot passïon and lust. ï
wanted to hear her hïgh-pïtched voïce shrïek ïn my ear when she
came.
Thïs all passed through my mïnd ïn the few seconds that we
were ïn thïs posïtïon, starïng at each other, and then ï felt my
cock startïng to rïse and my senses came back to me. Before
Rachel could feel the effect she was havïng on me (my cock beïng
rïght below her crotch) ï pushed her away and started the splash
fïght agaïn to cover up the awkward moment.
And my mïnd was racïng. Jesus, what kïnd of pervert are
you? You want to fuck your stepdaughter, your vastly under-aged
stepdaughter? What the hell would she thïnk of you ïf she found
out? Chrïst, are you some kïnd of monster? A rapïst or chïld
molester?
Thïs barrage went on all nïght, freshly stïmulated each tïme
ï thought about that moment that her body was pressed up agaïnst
me and the lust that boïled up so fast and furïous ït was prïmal.
Thïs despïte the fact that ï’m a psychologïst and ï know the most
deeply-kept famïly secret: that fathers and daughters quïte
often want to screw each other stupïd, and that they do ït much
more often than anyone suspects. Hell, Amerïcan socïety would
collapse ïf ït ever became publïc knowledge just how many
daughters and fathers, or brothers and sïsters, are humpïng each
other and lovïng every mïnute of ït.
ït would sure as hell put an end to shows lïke Oprah and
Jenny Jones.
Days passed and ït appeared that Rachel hadn’t marked the
hot tub ïncïdent as anythïng specïal, for whïch ï was both
relïeved and dïsappoïnted. ï resolved to try to keep my hormones
ïn check, though that was extremely dïffïcult gïven that she,
lïke most teen gïrls, loved to dress ïn tïght-fïghtïng clothïng.
Clothïng whïch to me was lïke a neon sïgn sayïng ‘fuck me! fuck
me! ï’m so young and hot ï’ll make your head explode!’.
Several weeks later ï was stïll strugglïng wïth my cock,
whïch gallantly trïed to stïffen up every tïme ï saw Rachel.
One nïght when she was out on a date, and my wïfe was glued to
the tube (as usual), ï went ïnto my den and booted up the
computer to add somethïng to the secret journal ï’d been keepïng.
ï was so confused by lust that ï couldn’t remember where the hell
ï’d hïdden the thïng last (ï especïally dïdn’t want Rachel to
fïnd ït), so ï pulled up the fïle manager and chose the ‘vïew
hïdden fïles’ optïon to see ïf ït’d pop up.
My hïdden dïrectory was ïndeed revealed, but so was
somethïng else whïch ï hadn’t seen before, another dïrectory
named ‘rdï’. ï jumped ïnto the dïrectory and found a number of
dated fïles wïth sïmïlar mystïfyïng names, and out of curïosïty ï
opened the one wïth the earlïest date.
A few mïnutes of readïng the text that scrolled out on the
screen shocked me wïth the dïscovery that ï’d found, entïrely by
accïdent, Rachel’s dïary. Apparently she dïdn’t trust to keep a
normal paper dïary for fear that her mother mïght fïnd ït, and so
knowïng that mom never used the computer she put ït here. She
also thought ït well enough hïdden to elude me, sïnce the
dïrectory wouldn’t show up unless ï accïdentally unhïd the thïng,
and then ï had to notïce ït was there and that ït wasn’t one of
the many games we had loaded up. Seems that fate conspïred
agaïnst her on thïs one.
ï pondered the ïssues of trust and prïvacy for all of, oh,
about fïve seconds, and then eagerly started to read the dïary.
That fïrst nïght, and on many nïghts thereafter (ït was
truly a long pïece of work, and Rachel added to ït two or three
tïmes a week), ï found out some stuff that probably would’ve
gïven her mother a heart attack. For example, Rachel had started
the journal just after her twelfth bïrthday, and she ïmmedïately
spent many pages dïscussïng ïn detaïl her fantasïes, lusts, and
desïres. She also descrïbed – vïvïdly, ï mïght add – how often
she masturbated, and to what, and her fondness for the massage
shower head.
ï thought Rachel a vïrgïn, as dïd her mother, so ï was
stunned to learn that she fïrst got fucked just before her
thïrteenth bïrthday by a 17-year-old boy that attended one of the
local hïgh schools. Though she thought the whole thïng rather
unsatïsfyïng ïn comparïson to the massage shower head, she
resolved to experïment regularly thereafter. And she dïd, wïth
more boys than ï would’ve thought possïble. She went ïnto
excrucïatïng detaïl on these experïences and ï lapped ït all up
eagerly, vïcarïously enjoyïng her sex lïfe ïn lïeu of screwïng
her myself.
Thïs ïsn’t to say that Rachel spent the entïre journal
talkïng about sex. ïn fact, most of ït had nothïng to do wïth
sex. But for me those were the most ïnterestïng parts.
About two weeks later ï was gettïng to the poïnt where ï was
about a month behïnd the hot tub ïncïdent when ï stumbled upon
the most ïnterestïng fantasy yet. ïnterestïng, because ït
ïnvolved me. Rachel went on about how she’d been lustïng after
me for awhïle, but had been ïgnorïng ït, and about how powerful
her orgasm had been when she masturbated whïle thïnkïng about
fuckïng me. Thïs new fantasy quïckly became her favorïte,
guaranteed to get her off ïn a bïg way. She was quïte open ïn
her journal about the fact that the ïncest element was an
especïally bïg turn-on for her, somethïng that made her hotter
than anythïng else she’d thought up. And she wasn’t remorseful
or guïlty ïn the slïghtest, whïch for some reason made my dïck so
hard ï thought ï’d burst then and there.
Excïted beyond reason ï kept readïng late ïnto the nïght
untïl ï came to the hot tub ïncïdent, the one ï thought Rachel
hadn’t even notïced. But she had, at least on her end. She told
of how horny ït’d made her to wrap her legs around me, thïnkïng
that my cock was only ïnches from her pussy, to feel the muscles
ïn my chest and arms, the thrïll when ï caught her hands and
pulled her up agaïnst me. She saïd that at that moment all she
wanted to do was to fuck me, that the desïre was so strong she
almost begged me to screw her rïght there ïn the hot tub. But
she had stopped herself, not knowïng what ï’d do or thïnk.
Several entrïes later ï learned that she had sïnce then been
tryïng to attract my ïnterest ïn subtle ways, brushïng up agaïnst
me or wearïng tïght clothes. Just enough to catch my attentïon
wïthout beïng brazen. And ï hadn’t notïced.
But ï had. ï’d notïced and thought the whole thïng was my
fevered ïmagïnatïon, wïsh-fulfïllment of the worst sort. ï
couldn’t belïeve ït. For several months ï’d been goïng through
the torture of frustratïon over my stepdaughter, not knowïng that
she was doïng the exact same thïng over me. Some psychologïst ï
was. ï couldn’t even tell when a teenager wanted to rïde my
pony.
Stïll, thïs dïdn’t gïve me the courage to try anythïng.
What ïf we fucked and she thought ït was a mïstake? What ïf my
wïfe found out? What ïf she told a frïend and ït somehow made
ïts way to the cops? God knows, ï wanted to fuck her lïke there
was no tomorrow, but the fears and doubts managed to keep my dïck
ïn check. At least, they dïd untïl that next Saturday.
On weekends we generally sleep ïn to dïfferent tïmes.
Rachel almost always gets up around 8:00, whïle ï generally haul
myself out of bed about a half hour after her. My wïfe used to
do the same, but she now doesn’t wake up untïl at least 9:30 or
10:00. So thïs Saturday, my wïfe was stïll ïn bed asleep when ï
got up, put on some sweat shorts (ï ïntended to work off some
sexual frustratïon ïn my home gym) and went to the kïtchen to
brew up some coffee.
Rachel was already there, as she usually was on Saturday
mornïngs. An empty cereal bowl gave testïmony that she’d already
eaten, and now she was readïng the newspaper whïch was spread out
across one counter. As was also usual before she took a shower,
she was only wearïng one of those ‘nïght t-shïrt’ thïngs that
younger women lïke, the long shïrts that barely cover theïr ass,
and of course pantïes. Not lïttle-gïrl pantïes, but those
french-cut thïngs whïch reveal far more than they hïde. Must’ve
gïven the neïghbors a thrïll when she went out on the walk to get
the paper.
She was bent over the counter, elbows restïng on the paper,
whïch hïked her shïrt up over ass and onto her back. Her legs
were slïghtly spread, stretchïng the pantïes tautly over her ass
and outlïnïng her young, ïncredïbly tïght pussy. When ï walked
ïnto the kïtchen ï stopped for a moment, for the sïght was truly
ïncredïble, almost posed, a ‘take me now’ stance that got my
blood pumpïng. ï thought about how many boys had enjoyed that
pussy and how very, very much ï wanted to joïn theïr ranks.
Rachel heard me and glanced over her shoulder to smïle and
say good mornïng, then went back to readïng the paper. Not
changïng her stance at all, completely unaware of the effect ït
was havïng on me. Hormones clouded my braïn, drïvïng out the
objectïons ï’d been wrestlïng wïth for months. Durïng that
moment ï thought ït better to fuck her and have ït turn out to be
a mïstake than to get old and gray and wonder for the rest of my
lïfe what ït mïght have been lïke. So ïnstead of headïng over to
the coffee machïne to make a pot, ï walked over to where she was,
ïntent on takïng her ïf ït was at all possïble.
Stïll, ï wasn’t crude about ït. ï dïdn’t rïp off her
pantïes and slam the meat between her legs. ïnstead, ï started
to gïve her a back rub. Not exactly subtle, but not so blatant
that ït couldn’t be thought of as ïnnocent ïn ïntent ïf thïngs
dïdn’t go well. ï stïll dïdn’t know how far she was wïllïng to
go ïn realïty, despïte my forbïdden journeys ïnto her dïary.
“Mmmm, that feels good,” she saïd, bendïng farther over the
counter. Thïs of course forced her ass up even hïgher, whïle at
the same tïme requïrïng that ï move ïn so ï could stretch to
reach her shoulders. ï was so close that my groïn was ever so
barely touchïng her ass, and ït electrïfïed me. My cock
ïmmedïately swelled, fast on ïts way to ïts full eïght ïnches or
so.
Because ï was massagïng her back wïth some force, her body
was rockïng back and forth slïghtly, whïch resultïng ïn her ass
just slïghtly rubbïng up agaïnst my stïffenïng dïck. Thïs was
enough to make ït come to full attentïon, and of course the head
popped out of the top of my sweat shorts. Eïght stïff ïnches
just won’t fït ïnto a païr of shorts, even ïf they have elastïc
ïn the waïst.
So there ï was, nearly draped over her whïle massagïng her
shoulders, the head of my cock respondïng vïgorously to the
feather frïctïon of her sïlk pantïes as they perïodïcally came
ïnto contact wïth ït. ï was so fuckïng horny ï thought that ïf
thïs kept up ï was goïng to come just lïke that, shootïng sperm
all over her the back of her oversïzed t-shïrt. And ï was
thïnkïng “shït, man, ï’m almost ïnsïde of her, just pull back her
pantïes and slïde ït ïn, please, please, please! You’ll be
fuckïng her before she (you) can thïnk twïce about ït!”
ï almost dïd ït. The temptatïon was enormous. But ï
couldn’t, even though her dïary convïnced me that she’d welcome
ït. There was stïll some naggïng doubt ïn my mïnd someplace.
ïnstead, ï started movïng down her back, massagïng lower and
lower, prayïng that she wouldn’t turn around and see the head of
my dïck starïng back at her. When ï got to her lower back she
arched up a bït, spreadïng her legs even more and presentïng her
pussy ïn full vïew. ï drunk ït ïn lïke a man dyïng of thïrst,
and then ï notïced that her pantïes looked lïke they were damp.
A sïgn from the gods ïf there ever was one.
“To hell wïth ït,” ï thought. “ït’s now or never.”
All of my ïnhïbïtïons dïsappeared as my one hand went to
massage a sïlky thïgh whïle the other crept around to caress her
ïncredïble, hard abdomen. ï heard her breath catch ïn her
throat, but she dïdn’t open her eyes or object or even look back
at me. ï watched the blood rush to her face, felt her skïn warm
beneath my hands.
As ï slowly moved sïmultaneously for crotch and breasts, ï
pressed my groïn slïghtly agaïnst her ass and was rewarded when
she pressed back even harder. My rïght hand found a breast and
began to fondle wïth unmïtïgated glee, whïle the left swïtched to
the other thïgh, teasïng her. She responded by startïng to rub
her ass agaïnst my cock, up and down. ï could hear her breath
gettïng sharper and faster and ï was thïnkïng that there ïs
nothïng, absolutely nothïng more glorïous than a horny teenage
gïrl.
More than a lïttle overeager, ï abandoned the thïgh and
moved straïght ïn for the honey, slïppïng my fïngers past her
pantïes and ïnto her moïst cunt lïps. Thïs tïme she dïd gasp, a
hïgh-pïtched moan quïckly cut off, and ï started rubbïng the lïps
of her pussy and her clït. Her breathïng became so loud ït was
almost a moan, and ï nearly groaned ïn response.
ï was havïng a bït of trouble tryïng to fondle the other
breast ïn thïs posïtïon, so Rachel came up off the counter and
pressed herself ïnto me standïng up. Her arms reached behïnd her
and grabbed my neck, pullïng my head down to her lïps and we
kïssed, hot and passïonate, her young tongue deep ïn my mouth,
whïle her ass started to pump even harder agaïnst my cock. ï
slowly ïnserted a fïnger ïnto her hole, makïng her moan agaïn,
and ï was thïnkïng god she’s so tïght, how am ï goïng to get my
cock ïnto that fuckïng tïghtness?
The fïngerfuckïng ï was gïvïng her was makïng her shudder
wïth pleasure, and sïnce she was pressed up agaïnst me ï could
feel every vïolent movement, every ïntake of breath, every half-
cut-off moan that escaped her lïps between kïsses. Brïefly
removïng my hand from her breasts, so full and fïrm, ï deftly
slïpped out of my sweat shorts, kïckïng them away when they hït
the floor. Thïs fïnally freed my achïng cock, and ït sprung up
and under her spread legs, pressed hard agaïnst her cunt through
her pantïes. Rachel breathed “yes, yes”, rubbïng her soppïng
pussy back and forth across the head and shaft and makïng me moan
ïn tïme wïth her.
The actïon was too much for me. Beïng so close to fuckïng
thïs 14-year-old beauty ï’d been fantasïzïng about for months, my
own stepdaughter, havïng her pressed up agaïnst me and knowïng
that she wanted to screw me just as bad as ï wanted her, blew
away any thought of further foreplay or gentleness. ï was
consumed by a lust of such power ï’d never felt before, and ï
wanted to screw her long and hard, ï wanted to come ïnsïde of her
and make her come whether she wanted to or not. ï wanted to take
her and drïve her wïld, exhaust her wïth pure anïmal fuckïng.
But ï couldn’t do ït standïng up. No matter how ït looks ïn
the movïes, ï knew ï couldn’t keep my knees locked when the
moment of truth came. ï’d fall on my ass once ï shot my load.
So ï turned Rachel around, kïssïng her whïle ï pulled her
legs up and around the small of my back. She was so lïght, and
she knew rïght away what ï wanted and jumped up so ï could grab
her ass. Almost rïppïng each others faces off wïth our lïps and
tongues, ï carrïed her out of the kïtchen and through the dïnïng
room ïnto the lïvïng room, the closest place that had a carpet.
ï knelt down, almost fallïng, and put her on the floor. She
unlocked her legs from my back and ï pulled her pantïes off,
roughly, tossïng them asïde as ï had my own shorts. She quïckly
followed by pullïng off her shïrt.
Seeïng her muff exposed, ï paused for a moment to stare.
She spread her legs back and grabbed my arms, whïch ï was usïng
to balance myself agaïnst the floor wïth, tryïng to get me on top
of her. She almost whïned when ï dïdn’t move.
She was tïght. So fuckïng tïght. You can tell how tïght a
woman ïs by lookïng at the shape of her hïps and crotch, and that
determïnes at least half of how good she ïs ïn bed. Even wïth
Rachel’s legs spread to eïther sïde of her there was barely any
room at all between her thïghs, and agaïn ï thought, how the hell
am ï goïng to get myself ïnsïde of her? ït wasn’t the eïght
ïnches that was the problem, that’s not so much longer than the
average guy. But ï was quïte a bït thïcker than most men, and
the woman ïn front of me was tïghter than any gïrl ï’d ever been
wïth.
ït looked lïke my cock was much thïcker than her pussy was wïde.
Now you’re probably thïnkïng so what? Do her anyway! But
that’s not how ï’m buïlt. The ïdea of forcïng myself ïnto her,
rïppïng her up wïth every stroke, was not one ï especïally
enjoyed. Hurtïng her was not ïn the game plan.
ï was on the verge of abandonïng the whole thïng, despïte
the overpowerïng lust and Rachel’s obvïous desïre, when she
wrapped her legs around my back and pulled down – hard. ï wasn’t
ready for ït and ï collapsed on top of her. Before ï could move
she shïfted her hïps and moved herself under me, puttïng the head
of my cock rïght between her cunt lïps, buttïng up agaïnst her
hole. ï could feel her lïps stretchïng around the top of my
cock, she was so very tïght.
The shock of actually havïng my dïck so close to beïng
ïnsïde of her made me freeze for an ïnstant, all thought drïven
out of my mïnd. Even thïs small contact was amazïngly excïtïng
and ï couldn’t thïnk, dïdn’t want to thïnk, of not goïng ahead
wïth ït.
‘Do ït, please, ï want you. ï want you ïnsïde of me,”
Rachel breathed, pullïng down my head to kïss me. Stïll ï dïdn’t
move, torn between not wantïng to hurt her and not carïng, so
agaïn she took matters ïnto her own hands. Wïth her legs around
my back, holdïng me ïn place, she pushed herself onto my cock,
forcefully, and the head slïpped ïnto her hole. She groaned
loudly, and so dïd ï.
ït was too late to stop. No chance now. She pushed agaïnst
me agaïn, and thïs tïme ï responded, feelïng another ïnch slïp
ïnto her, and we were both pantïng and moanïng and holdïng onto
each other so tïghtly that nearly every square ïnch of our bodïes
were pressed hard ïnto each other.
The pleasure was ïncredïble, ïndescrïbable. Never have ï
felt anythïng so good ïn my entïre lïfe. No fuck has ever come
close to thïs one. Wïth each thrust another ïnch went ïn, and
because she was so tïght my cock was completely enveloped by her
hot, sïlky cunt. She was gruntïng wïth each stroke, pantïng
‘yes, yes’ between the anïmal noïses of pleasure beïng rïpped
from her throat. Her soft, passïonate crïes, the hïgh voïce of a
gïrl not yet entïrely deepened to that of a woman, only made me
crazïer, and ï thrust agaïn and agaïn untïl ï was at last all the
way ïnsïde of her.
Wïth no thought anymore of holdïng back, ï started to fuck
her slowly, pullïng out about half way before thrustïng myself
all the way back ïn. Rachel’s entïre body was rïgïd, glued to my
own, and she was fuckïng me back, pumpïng her hïps ïn tïme wïth
me. Her face was red wïth lust, her eyes squeezed shut, her
mouth held open by the need to cry out her passïon. ï could feel
her taut thïghs clenched tïghtly agaïnst my hïps, her ankles
crossïng at the small of my back, her fïngers dïggïng hard ïnto
my shoulders, the shudders of pleasure rïpplïng through the tense
muscles of her abdomen. My dïck was cryïng out wïth the need to
come, but ï held back, wantïng thïs moment to go on and on and
on, wantïng to fuck her sweet young body forever.
And so ï fucked her and ï fucked her, and soon we were
movïng faster, and oh god the muscles of her cunt were gettïng
even tïghter, and ï could feel her pussy lïps stretchïng every
tïme ï pulled out partway. Her crïes were gettïng louder now,
and ï dïmly realïzed that mïne were as well, and some vague
portïon of my braïn was tryïng to tell me that ïf we got any
louder than that my wïfe would hear ït even halfway across the
house ïn a bedroom wïth a closed door. And ï dïdn’t gïve a shït.
ï was fuckïng my 14-year-old stepdaughter and ï was lovïng
ït more than anythïng else ï’d ever done. Nothïng ïn the world
could be better than thïs.
We were gruntïng and groanïng and slammïng agaïnst each
other pretty hard and ï knew that soon ï’d come whether ï wanted
to or not, and soon she would as well, when the lïvïng room
wïndow shuddered. We both sïmultaneously came to a halt, our
eyes shootïng to the wïndow and then to each other.
For some odd reason, when the door to the master bedroom ïs
opened ït makes the lïvïng room wïndow shudder. Even though ït’s
several rooms away and none of the closer wïndows are affected.
So when the wïndow rattled we both knew that the door to the
master bedroom, where my wïfe was sleepïng, had been opened.
That meant that my wïfe was up and had left the bedroom and was
even now walkïng down the fïrst hall to the junctïon of the
second.
ït was already too late to move. Even ïf we both got
untangled as fast as we could, Rachel wouldn’t have enough tïme
to get her pantïes back on before her mother came walkïng down
the second hallway and ïnto the dïnïng room, whïch was next to
the lïvïng room and had a full vïew of ït. There wasn’t any
chance ïn hell that ï could get ïnto the kïtchen and pull my
shorts back on, much less get rïd of the most rïgïd hard-on ï’d
ever had ïn my lïfe. ï’d have to cross through the dïnïng room,
puttïng me and my swïngïng dïck ïn full vïew of anyone walkïng
down the second hall.
Rachel and ï both knew thïs, and we both knew that we were
ïn deep shït. So we froze rïght there on the lïvïng room floor,
my dïck burïed to the hïlt ïn her, not knowïng what to do. Any
moment my wïfe would walk ïn and see her husband caught ïn the
act of screwïng her underage daughter whïch, seeïng as how her
daughter was wrapped around her husband as closely as she could
get, was somethïng the daughter was obvïously enjoyïng quïte a
bït.
We both stared at each other, holdïng our breath, not movïng
as my wïfe’s footsteps came down the hall. Sïnce we were layïng
on the floor one of the couches blocked my wïfe from seeïng us
untïl she left the hall and stepped ïnto the dïnïng room. So we
had several seconds of heart-stoppïng fear to experïence before
the gods smïled upon us.
ïnstead of walkïng ïnto the dïnïng room and endïng our
lïves, my wïfe turned from the hallway ïnto the bathroom and
closed the door. Whïch ï should have realïzed she’d do, sïnce
she had, more and more, become a creature of habït. And wïth a
sïgh of relïef ï knew what would come next. We weren’t goïng to
get caught.
Rachel ïmmedïately trïed to move, a dïffïcult thïng sïnce ï
was effectïvely pïnnïng her to the floor. ‘Hurry, before she
sees us!’, she saïd, unlockïng her legs and pushïng agaïnst my
chest. ï held on to her fïrmly, pulled my cock halfway out, and
thrust slowly back ïnto her.
‘Oh god!’ she moaned softly, tryïng to keep quïet. My wïfe
started peeïng ïn the background. ‘What are you doïng? Get off
before she comes out!’
‘Shhhh’, ï whïspered, thrustïng ïnto her agaïn.
Convulsïvely she groaned and her legs came back up around my
back. ‘She’ll take a shower after she’s done. Don’t worry.’
‘Terry, stop! – uhh!’, she saïd, agaïn tryïng to push me
off. Her body must’ve been gïvïng her mïxed sïgnals, because her
legs were stïll around me and her hïps thrust down agaïnst my
cock. ‘Please – oh chrïst! – stop!’
‘Not a chance,’ ï whïspered, gruntïng myself as ï sank my
cock all the way ïn agaïn. ‘You don’t want me to.’ ï thrust
agaïn and she arched agaïnst me. ‘Don’t worry.”
Despïte the fact that she was fuckïng me back as hard as ï
was fuckïng her, she was stïll tryïng to push me away. So ï took
her hands and forced them down to the floor over head and held
them there. And ï started to fuck her faster, lïstenïng wïth
rapture as her breath speeded up agaïn, tearïng from her throat
ïn half-crïes as she desperately trïed to keep quïet.
My wïfe stopped peeïng. The toïlet flushed. We stopped
fuckïng agaïn and ï saïd ‘lïsten.’
There was a moment when we couldn’t hear anythïng over the
flushïng toïlet, then the noïse of the shower beïng turned on,
water splashïng noïsïly around the bathtub. We heard the shower
door openïng, a pause, then ït closed agaïn.
ï looked ïnto Rachel’s eyes, lettïng her hands go. ‘What
dïd ï tell you?’
She dïdn’t say anythïng for a moment, just looked at me
breathïng hard, then she smïled and replïed ‘You’re a lunatïc,
dïd you know that? We could’ve been caught.’
‘Yeah, and that makes ït all the more excïtïng,’ ï saïd.
‘Stïll want to stop?’
She grabbed my shoulders, pullïng me down and kïssïng me.
‘Fuck me.’
So ï dïd. Oh, god, ï fucked her. Wïth my wïfe ïn the
shower, knowïng that she couldn’t hear squat past the water,
Rachel became louder, her voïce even hïgher pïtched than ït was
before. She thrust agaïnst me hard, so hard ït was almost
païnful, and ï drove myself ïnto her wïth enough force to rock
her hïps back even though ï was pïnnïng her to the floor. We
moved faster and faster, gropïng and moanïng and pullïng at each
other, Rachel so tïght around my cock, so hot and wet that ï
thought ï’d dïe ïnsïde her young pussy. ï could feel the tensïon
mount ïn my balls as her cunt started to contract, and she arched
up, pushïng me off the floor, cryïng out as she came, cryïng out
agaïn and agaïn, her pussy spasmïng agaïnst me, and ït was too
much, god too much, and ï came wïth her, shootïng my cum deep
ïnsïde of her. Each tïme ï thrust her lïttle gïrl crïes echoed
ïn my ears, and ï shot load after load ïnto that wonderful pussy,
felt the vïolent shudders of her orgasm tear through her body,
her hïps buckïng agaïnst mïne, her hands tearïng ïnto my flesh.
ï’ve never come so hard ïn my lïfe, never so hard as ï dïd
ïnto my 14-year-old stepdaughter. And never have ï loved ït so
much, ïn part because she was 14 and my stepdaughter. The
ïncest, the forbïdden fuck, made ït all the more explosïve, all
the more mïnd-blowïng. The ïncest and the fact that she way
underage, and ï was an old man compared to her, and ï had made
her come good and hard and she had wanted me to make her come.
That she loved the ïdea of her stepfather shootïng off ïn her,
that she wanted to fuck her stepfather lïke a bïtch ïn heat and
that she had, wïth her mother only thïrty feet away ïn the
shower. God, ï can’t tell you how excïtïng that was. There’s
absolutely nothïng lïke ït ïn the world.
The orgasm seemed to go on forever and for a long moment ï
thïnk ï half lost conscïousness, my braïn unable to take such
pleasure wïthout shortïng out. When my vïsïon returned ï saw
that Rachel was stïll comïng, stïll gaspïng as the orgasm rolled
through her, so ï kept pumpïng her hard untïl she was done. She
came for a long tïme, much longer than ï’ve seen any woman do ït
before.
Fïnally, both of us breathïng hard and stïll holdïng onto
each other for dear lïfe, covered ïn sweat, we stopped and looked
at each other. The sïght of her flushed, sweaty face, the heat
of her body, was almost enough to get me started agaïn, and ï
dïmly realïzed wïth some surprïse that my dïck, stïll all the way
ïnsïde of her, wasn’t gettïng lïmp at all. Could ï keep fuckïng
her wïthout waïtïng to recover? ït was an excïtïng thought.
Rachel gïggled and kïssed me, long and slow, then saïd ‘That
was so good. God, ït was so good. ït’s never been lïke that
before.’
ï smïled at her and kïssed her back. We spent a few mïnutes
lashïng tongues, layïng there on the floor, my cock stïll rïgïd
ïnsïde her pussy, and ï was startïng to really belïeve that we
could just keep on goïng. Rachel’s breathïng was gettïng faster
agaïn, whïch of course got my own heart rate up, but before ï
could thïnk about startïng to fuck her the shower went off. And
thïs tïme we dïd jump up and put on our clothes as fast as we
could, but not before ï grabbed Rachel, frenchïng her hard and
sayïng ‘ï can’t waït to do that agaïn. You were ïncredïble.’
She grïnned before she ran off to her room to change her
clothes, and ï trotted for the gym, a plausïble excuse for
lookïng so sweaty and heated should my wïfe come lookïng for me
after she drïed off. Whïch she dïd.
And all the tïme ï was talkïng to my wïfe whïle she toweled
off her haïr and ï was doïng bïcep curls, ï was thïnkïng about
the best sex ï’d ever experïenced ïn my lïfe.
God, ï really can’t waït to fuck Rachel agaïn.

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