by Dark Angel
“Still think you can handle me?” he asks me again, his cock filling me so perfectly I think I can feel his pulse.
“Of course,” I somehow manage to say, the muscles in my throat struggling to get the words out. Without bothering to reply, he slowly slides his cock out of me, but then only to thrust again, this time harder than before. He starts pistoning into me like that, slowly moving out and then giving me all his fury when he thrusts, and I can’t help but to scream.
Even though my eyes are wide open, I can’t see a thing. Right now, my brain is too busy trying to process the gigantic cock filling me, and it seems that it has shut down all other functions. Each time Drake thrusts I fall deeper into that unconscious abyss; the first thing to go was my sight, and now it’s my cognition, and I don’t know if I’m going to come or pass out first.
I’ve never felt anything quite like this. Remember when I told you that my toys are better than a real cock? Yeah, you can forget about that. Nothing beats this. Nothing. It seems that, after all, men like this really exist. I’m just glad they’re a rare breed, or else no one would buy my toys.
I open my mouth to say something but, like a fish out of the water, I just close it again, the words lost in a deep corner of my mind. Digging my fingernails into the muscles of his back, I feel my whole body tensing up as a tidal wave of ecstasy grows on that unconscious horizon. That electric fire inside of me has spun out of control, and I’m actually afraid that this orgasm is simply going to be too much; maybe I can’t handle him after all. But if I can’t, who can?
“I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” I don’t even finish my sentence. My words drift into the air as a scream explodes between my lips, a violent orgasm shaking me to the very core. It feels like a thousand needles are pricking my skin, stabbing my skin with pleasure over and over again.
I let my head fall and, with my forehead pressed against one of his shoulders, I scream for God knows how long. I scream until my throat becomes raw, and then I scream some more for good measure. My fingernails are buried so deep into his skin that I must’ve drawn blood by now, but it’s not like he cares; he just keeps on thrusting viciously, fucking me through the best orgasm of my life.
Oh, yeah, make no mistake about it; this is definitely the best orgasm of my life. If I could make a toy that produced orgasms such as these, I’d be a billionaire in under twelve hours.
“Fuck,” I exhale, breathing so hard it’s a wonder my lungs are still functioning. “This was… something else.”
“This? This was just the warm-up,” Drake says, putting me down on the floor. I wobble as my feet touch the floor, my legs weak from that raging orgasm, and I have to grab him by the shoulders to steady myself. Warm-up? Is he for real? If that was warm- up, I better dial 911 right now, because there’s no way I’m going to survive something even more intense than that last orgasm.
“Unless you want me to stop,” he adds, perhaps noticing the look of pure awe on my face.
Ah, fuck it.
“No, I want more,” I tell him, “I want much more.” When you have a man like this in front of you, his cock hard and ready to give you the fucking of your life, it’d be a sin to stop. And I hate sinning. Except when it comes to fucking my stepdad, I guess.
“You’re a brave one,” he chuckles, turning his back to me and walking to my work table. He glances at some of the toys I have lined up there, and then he grabs a pair of nipple clamps and dangles it in front of my face. “Let’s see exactly how brave,” he grins, opening the clamps and reaching for my nipples with them.
I grit my teeth as the clamps bite down on my nipples, pinching my tender tips hard. I look into his eyes, noticing the expression of savage lust on his face, and then I act on pure instinct. I turn my back to him, place both of my hands on the wall, and then bend over, offering him a nice view of both my ass and pussy.
“Fuck, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen,” he tells me, coming up to me and brushing the tip of his fingers over the curve of my ass cheeks. He runs one finger over my ass crack, but then he takes both his hands off of me, as if he suddenly remembered something.
I look to the side just in time to see him reach for the bullet I used moments ago. He picks it up with two fingers, looks at it curiously for a second, and then presses its tip against my asshole. Oh, fuck. I’m not sure if I’m capable of handling this. Nipple clamps and the bullet? These are not just any toys, mind you; these are two prototypes that blow everything else out of the water. Each one of them, by themselves, are capable of driving a woman truly mad; when combined, they’re a weapon of mass pleasure.
To top it all off, I think he’s going to fuck me while using the toys. Dear Lord, prepare a bunk bed for me, for I’m on my way.
“Feels good?” he asks me, sliding the bullet inside of my ass. The moment it’s halfway inside of me, its sleek body starts to buzz, and I know it has just paired wirelessly with the nipple clamps. They start to vibrate at the same time, and the pleasure is so intense that I become lightheaded; my arms grow weak suddenly, and instead of using my hands for support, I have to place my forearms on the wall.
“Yeah, I bet it feels good,” Drake replies to his own question, an eager melody to his voice. He squeezes my ass cheeks as the bullet continues to vibrate, and then he grabs his cock and pushes it down; he places it right between my legs, his shaft pressing upward against my pussy lips, and then he starts rubbing his length back and forth over my wetness.
“Oh God,” I moan, my voice quivering. I don’t even know what to say right now. The clamps are hurting me, biting deep into my flesh, but the pleasure they produce is so intense that it’s unreal. At the same time, the bullet keeps on vibrating harder and harder, its rhythm becomes so fierce that it seems even my own brain is vibrating inside my skull.
I come like that; Drake hasn’t even slid his cock inside my pussy and I’m already screaming like a banshee, the fires of hell devouring every shred of sanity that ever existed in me.
“So good… It feels so good…” I pant as I feel my insides burning, the orgasm pulling me down into the depths of pleasure land. And that’s when Drake thrusts; he angles his cock slightly upward and, with one hard thrust, it parts my folds and goes all the way inside my pussy.
I go on tiptoes as his enormous length pierces me, and the scream that leaves my mouth is so intense that I become dizzy for a few seconds. Without even letting me catch my breath, Drake digs his fingers into my ass cheeks and starts to ram his cock into me violently, the sound of his thighs smacking my ass filling my entire apartment.
“As hard… as hard as you can,” I tell him, somehow finding a hidden reserve of strength; I start thrusting back at him, my whole body moving in a flowing motion as I match the coming and going motion of his cock. The sound of flesh on flesh grows even louder, and I simply lose all control.
“Fuck me as hard as you can, daddy. My pussy is now yours,” I find myself saying, and that drives him completely mad: he takes his hands to my waist and, grabbing me by the hips, he starts to thrust so fiercely that I have to make one mighty effort not to crash against the wall.
“That’s it…” I urge him, having no idea how I’m getting the words out. He’s not fucking me right now, he’s ravaging me, destroying my pussy with such a fury that I don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to use it again. I know that women can push a baby out without causing major damage, but Drake’s cock is so huge that it has me doubting the healing capabilities of the human body. I mean, there’s only so much a woman can take.
Drake’s cock, the clamps, the bullet—it’s all too much, and there’s no other option left for me except to come my brains out. Which is exactly what happens.
“FUCK!” I shout at the top of my lungs, my scream sounding like the cry of some wild beast. “FUCK,” I repeat, my consciousness stretched so thin that I don’t even know what’s real and what’s not. Pleasure spreads from my nipples, ass, and pussy to the rest of my body, infusing every single
cell with a sensation so wild and intense that it’s a miracle I still haven’t passed out.
And Drake keeps on pounding me; even though I’m coming so hard that I might melt away, he hasn’t stopped thrusting. In fact, I’d say he’s going at it even harder, if that’s possible. His thrusts are so fast that I can’t even tell when he’s going in or out of me; all I know is that he’s ravaging me like no one has ever done. And it’s simply glorious.
“Oh God, oh God, OHMYGOD!” I blurt out, another orgasm exploding on top of the last one. My muscles are no longer spasming; they’re shaking so intensely that it looks like I’m having a seizure. And I guess I am having a seizure, to be honest; what I’m experiencing right now is so outside the realm of what I thought to be possible that I don’t know any other word to label it.
“Seems like you were woman enough for me, after all,” I hear Drake say, but his voice seems like it’s coming from some far corner of the universe. Finally, he stops moving, slowing down thrust by thrust, and then he pulls his cock out of me. I collapse on the floor almost immediately.
I reach for the clamps and, with trembling fingers, I take them off my nipples. I go for the bullet and pull it out from my ass, and only then do I take a deep breath, sitting up on the floor and leaning back against the wall.
“Am I still alive?” I ask him, forcing my eyes open and looking up at him like an idiot.
“You’re still alive,” he responds with a smile, the shadow of his huge mast falling over my face. Allowing instinct to take the steering wheel, I go up to my knees and grab his cock with both my hands. I start stroking him immediately, moving my hands back and forth over his shaft; the rhythm starts slow, but it’s only a matter of seconds until I’m stroking him so fast that the muscles in my arms and shoulders complain from the effort.
“Now here’s your reward,” I tell him, leaning in and using my tongue to jab at the tip of his cock. “I want you to come in my mouth,” I say, and then just wrap my lips around his cock. This time I give him my all, bobbing my head back and forth as fast as I can right from the start. I use one hand to stroke him while I suck, and I take the other one to his balls, caressing them as I drive him to the edge of pleasure.
The moment I feel the first spasm of his cock, I realize that having him come in my mouth is a mistake. Well, a delicious mistake, actually; throbbing violently, he gushes a stream of warm semen into my mouth, and all it takes is a mere second for him to fill me up to the brim. Cum drips out of my mouth, drops making their way down my chin, and he still keeps on cumming.
I move back, popping his cock out of my mouth, and a thick strand of semen hits me straight in the face. I close my eyes by instinct, and swallow the cum inside my mouth at the same time, the saltiness of it burning its way down my throat. The moment that’s done, I open my mouth and throw my head back, allowing him to empty his load all over my face, which he does more easily than I thought.
He covers my face with his seed with two spasms of his cock, and then I just grab it and angle it down; he keeps on gushing his load, but this time it hits me in the chest, large gooey strands sliding down my breasts and making their way onto my stomach.
“Fuck,” he groans, looking at me with a wild smile. I might've had the best sex of my life, but something tells me that the same is valid for him. I don’t know if this has anything to do with the forbidden aspect of fucking someone in your family, but the sex we had was on a whole other level. If the Greek gods were real, I doubt their sex would be half as good as ours.
“This was fucking insane,” he tells me, blurting it out as his cock gives its dying spasms against my fingers.
“It was so much more than just fucking insane,” I admit, peeling my fingers off his cock and closing my eyes for a whole second, exhaustion finally taking over my body. When I open my eyes again, he’s already kneeling by my side, an easy smile dawning on his lips.
“You know,” he whispers, gently brushing my hair to the side and looking at my cum-coated face with a hard-to-read expression, “you look so hot right now.”
Without even waiting for a reply, he leans into me and brushes his lips against mine. I place both my hands on his face and kiss him back, parting my lips and sliding my tongue inside his mouth. We kiss in complete abandonment and, at the same time, he squeezes my breasts, smearing his cum all over my naked skin.
“Now I can say the same about you,” I tell him, pulling back from his kiss and glancing at his lips, drops of his own cum making them glisten.
Using two fingers, I run them up from my waist to the valley between my breasts, scooping whatever cum I can on the way. Then, I take my fingers to his mouth and brush them over his lips, painting them in white.
Moving gently, I kiss him once more, this time taking it slow and really savoring him. He does the same, our tongues dancing around one another over a blanket of semen.
“This is so fucked up,” he finally says, his words sounding genuine and candid.
“It is,” I admit, remembering that the man in front of me—the man who fucked me almost to the point of passing out—is actually my stepdad. Yeah, I guess that ‘fucked up’ covers it.
But then I look into his eyes and smile, my heart beating steadily and a warm pleasant feeling washing over me. Right now, I should feel guilt, or shame, or whatever it is the prudes would like me to feel; I should regret the fact that I’ve broken one of society’s most sacred taboos. I should do and feel all these things, but the truth is that I can’t.
Screw what society says; screw what people think. Hell, screw what that little voice inside my head keeps on whispering (this is wrong, this is wrong, he’s your stepdad!). To hell with all of that.
I’m a grown woman and, fucked up or not, this was the best sex of my life.
Drake
I lean back in my leather chair, my feet propped on top of my desk. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, I can see the entire New York City skyline, like a glittering necklace draped across the city. To me, there isn't much that's more beautiful than this. It signifies power, progress, and best of all—money.
It's a testament to what man can accomplish. When the first man figured out how to put a building in the sky, that's when cities became real—when they had their individual fucking fingerprints. They had an identity.
St. Louis can have its Gateway Arch; San Francisco can have its Golden Gate Bridge; Las Vegas can have its golden lion and Pyramid that spears a beam of light into outer space; Washington DC can have its Lincoln Memorial; and Seattle can have its Space Needle; but New York City … well, nothing fucking compares to Gotham. Sure, we've got the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building, but this city's got something more; it's got guts because you know what? It's been reaching for the sky since the fucking beginning.
Just then, my mid-day reverie is cut short, and my office door flies open. I look over to see Sloane bursting in. My secretary is running after him, her necklace bouncing up and down on her chest, and she's flashing me an apologetic and flustered look.
"I'm sorry, sir, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He insisted on seeing you."
"You!" Sloane shouts, pointing a stiff finger in my direction, "You should be ashamed!"
I look back at my secretary and give her a nod. "It's okay, CJ. I'll handle it from here."
"So, what do I owe the honor?" I ask, casually removing my feet from my desk and sitting up straight in my chair.
"Cut the crap," he growls. "Natalie is your daughter."
"Stepdaughter," I correct. "And technically, even that's a stretch after Linda and I divorced."
"I'm asking you to stay away from her."
"Careful, Sloane," I smile. "You're starting to sound like a jealous boyfriend."
"Ha, that's where you're wrong. I'm here on business, Drake. Plain and simple."
"You can't be serious?" I laugh. "Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at Natalie. Now tell me why you're really here."
I can see the pulse
in his temple quicken. I don't think I've ever seen him this worked up before. Maybe once … after his mother died, but that was a lifetime ago. There is a strength and power in his anger—the way his nostrils flare and the chords in his neck spasms. The way his chest and biceps quiver.
Why am I noticing these things?
"You're fucking impossible, you know that?" he growls again. "Always have been. Just like a real shark—cold and emotionless. It's fitting, isn't it? Your name?"
"So that's why you're here? To tell me that I look like a living, breathing shark? Bravo. Well executed. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get on with my day."
"See what I fucking mean?" he barks.
There's something in his eyes that tells me this is about more than just Natalie. This is about the past.
"If this is about your mom, I—" I begin to say, but he cuts me off.
"Don't fucking go there," he says, his eyes flashing a mixture of anger and pain.
"I just meant that I—"
"Stop."
He says the word with such finality that I honor his request. For an extended moment, we both hold each other's gaze. I can still see flashes of the impulsive, childish side of Sloane, but with him standing here in front of me, I see that above all, he's a grown, chiseled man with the power of youth.
He blinks and turns his head, walking over to the windows. "I mean it. Just stay away from her. It's not right."
"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."
I watch as he balls one hand into a fist and shoves it into his pocket. He's pacing my office like a caged tiger, unsure where to channel his frustration.
Would he dare come at me?
That would be a stupid and impulsive decision on his part, but I wonder … and if he did, how would I respond? A scene unfolds in my mind. I fantasize that I counter his rage, and wrestle him to the ground—pinning his wrists to the ground with my bare hands, feeling his muscles flex and strain against mine, his chest heaving in and out, perspiration beading on his upper lip.