by Adrian Amos
His hips pull back. He drives into me faster, using his bulk to fuck me hard, keeping my tiny crumpled body against the cabinets. His hips pick a consistent speed, fucking me with a controlled thrust, giving me his dick and taking it away in the same amount of time.
He holds my legs still, bouncing into my ass and scooting me back and forth on the smooth marble. He notices that I'm losing traction, so he picks me up and sets me down on the ground.
Then he spins me around, grabbing my hands and placing them down on the counter. He grabs my ass, lifting me to my tippy toes, and sticks his rod back into me. He fucks me standing from behind, driving his cock up inside me, a smooth gliding motion sending him deep. At least, it feels deeper from behind, his cock still entering until the hilt.
“Daddy... I think I might... I might come.”
“Okay, babygirl, here we go.”
Daddy grabs my arms just above my elbow and pulls them behind me, holding them elbow to elbow with one arm looping through them. He tilts me over further, using his newfound leverage to fuck me fast and deep.
He slaps my ass with his free hand. “Come for me, daddy's little slut.”
“I'm your slut?” I ask, confused at my new name.
“I own you now,” he says, fucking me fast, throwing his words in between breaths. “Daddy's going to fuck you everyday. He going to come deep in that pussy every... single... night.”
A couple more hard thrusts sends me over, daddy's admission that I'm going to be used like this every day sends my mind into overdrive. A hard, thick cock, a pounding from my protector, and submitting to the man I love every day! I'd never have to worry again about being a virgin, or being called a slut. The thoughts ricochet inside me as daddy's cock continues to attack my cunt. Now I can be a slut to a single man.
My hips buck as daddy's power shoots through me, waves of pleasure spilling up my body. My stomach clenches as I moan loudly, my pussy sputtering in absolute submission.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Take it, babygirl. Take it all in your pussy. Daddy's the first inside you.”
Daddy holds my arms still as he shoves his cock all the way inside me. He immediately starts pulsing, his dick throbbing and bobbing. The second pulse fires the warmest thing I've ever felt, soaking me in daddy's cum, filling my pussy up and pushing that warmth into my core.
He shoots countless strands of sticky cum into me, a far more enticing feeling than being disappointingly come on in a matter of seconds. Daddy, though, doesn't end so quickly, or so silently, as his cock unloads into me.
Daddy slowly lets go of my arms, setting me down as he gently pulls his exhausted cock from me. The warm goop begins to drip down my legs. He shot so much into me that it seems to flow out of me continuously for the next 10 minutes, bathing me in whatever couldn't fit in my tight cunt.
“Is it okay if I'm a slut, daddy? Would I still be pure then?”
“As long as you're with me, I'll make sure you'll be pure the rest of your life.” He smiles, “I think it'll help a whole lot when I put a baby in that belly.”
“You'd really get me pregnant?”
“What else do you do with the woman you love?”
Daddy's baby inside me gives me the slightest glimmer of hope. Being worried about who you have sex with or what your life might become... that's all so tiring. The prospect of carrying a baby for daddy? That sounds like the easiest thing in the world.
That's something I can readily accept.
- - -
Daddy, I Can't Stop Fantasizing About You
Deep down, I know I shouldn't be here. Down deep to my core, I can feel what's the right thing to do, how's the right way to feel.
But that moral compass is sandwiched between subconscious desire and nagging thoughts. Obsessive and compulsive, completely irrational, they're the ideas that control all my actions.
I shouldn't be the troublemaker I've turned out to be.
But I can't help it. No matter how much I try, I can't contradict my overwhelming thoughts.
I'm obsessed with my stepfather. In every way possible. His smell, his look, his body, his light facial hair, his spiky hair, his physique, his face, his cock. God, I'm obsessed with his cock. I'm stuck fantasizing about it day in and day out. Desire isn't the word; it's a burning need I have to fill. His long, thick cock in my hands, my mouth, my pussy, my ass. I want it inside me every day, all day long, anywhere he can fit it.
It's to the point where it's affected my studies; it's affected my ability to work outside the house; it's affected my interest in friends; it's affected my family ties. Every other member suffers because the only one I seem to ever care about is my stepdad.
I even dyed my hair a dirty blonde because I knew my stepfather has a thing for it. He likes slender girls, so I makes sure I eat the best I can and work out as much as possible. I keep my body in perfect shape, I keep my pubes trimmed, and I always make sure I have makeup on when I'm anywhere near him.
To say that my obsession with him is unhealthy is an absurd understatement.
They know. Everyone knows, I think. We try our best to curb my urges, but it's a difficult path to say the least.
If it were easy, I probably wouldn't be in my daddy's closet, trying on his clothes, absorbing whatever essence of him I can.
Ugh, I know I'm a creep. But I just can't help myself.
The feeling of his silk shirts on my bare skin, his tight boxer briefs hugging my ass, and the smell... oh shit, the smell. It's his cologne. The strong musky odor never leaves his clothes or his closet, clinging to everything like a noxious poison that can't be washed out. This is probably how people who used to smoke or gamble or whatever feel everyday when they continue to see cigarettes or lottery tickets. They want to stay away, but their addiction is everywhere and playing innocent all the time, like it's no big deal. It's unfair that my daddy's smell seems to find me no matter how much I try to hide from it.
Ah, but his clothes. The cool fabric is so breathable! I spin around, letting the draft carry under my—his—clothes, gusting against my flesh, waving over me like an aloe wash, soothing and comforting. I climb up onto the bed, jumping around and giggling to myself like an insane person.
It just... makes me feel safe and protected. It also makes me feel like a little girl again.
That feeling is impossible to neglect, especially because the feelings that get me to this wacky point make me feel like an utter mess. There's a reason why the nagging, irrational thoughts are hard to dismiss: satisfying my urges brings about this great sense of bliss that makes me feel all warm on the inside.
Being around daddy is an addiction I don't know if I can't beat on my own.
But the feeling, the joy, the absolute maniacal glee I feel is...
“Grace,” a stern voice says from the doorway, “what are you doing?”
I freeze instantly, my heart seizing in my chest. I turn around to see my stepfather standing with arms akimbo at the entrance of his bedroom.
My eyes are wide and I swallow over a tense bump in my throat. I quickly fall to my knees on the bed, sliding backwards until my feet contact the floor.
“I'm sorry, daddy,” I say, my eyes fixated on the floor, not wanting to meet his gaze.
“That's not what I asked,” he says, folding his arms together.
I don't look up at him. I focus on the beige carpet in his room, the little bubbly curls of fabric that form the softest, most inviting texture. That carpet is one of the best parts of this room when you're walking barefoot. It makes you feel right at home the second you enter.
“Grace, I expect an answer.”
I blow air out of my nose; not quite a sigh, but a definite signal of exhaustion and defeat. “I'm sorry, daddy. I just wanted to try your clothes on.”
He shakes his head, disappointed. “Yeah, I see that. But the question is why? Why are you wearing my clothes?”
I blush, knowing I'm going to sound like a complete loon. “Because I like how they feel. And how the
y smell.”
Daddy sighs, staring at me and thinking to himself. He bites his lip, clearly frustrated with my answer. He turns and closes the door, locking it. He turns back to me and his eyes are sullen. “We've been over this before, Grace. There's no way you're going to get over this obsession if you keep throwing yourself into it.”
“I know, daddy. It's just hard to fight it.”
He sighs. “It makes me wonder if we should put you on medication.”
I move to raise a complaint, but he negates himself first, shaking his head, “No, I can't be putting you on medication with all those goddamn side effects.”
It's true. We've tried therapy, but every psychiatrist we've been to has ultimately suggested medication for me. We've taken everything they've prescribed me, but I must have a weak stomach or something because everything has caused severe stomach cramps, nausea, and piercing headaches.
I know it makes daddy incredibly upset because he feels like he's causing it all. Like he is the one making me sick. I think he just feels guilty that he's the object of my obsession, and therefore, the object of my pain.
I always tell him it's not his fault.
I don't know if he ever really hears me.
He exhales, “I can't watch you keep doing this over and over. We need to try... something... anything new.”
I squish my lips together, tilting them to the side. It annoys me how much I frustrate him. “I'm sorry, daddy. I don't mean to be so much trouble.”
“I know, babygirl,” he says, nodding, “Now stand up against the wall over there.”
I move over to the opposite side of the room as daddy sits down on the sofa chair across from me.
I look back at him, fidgeting and nervous. I wring my hands and cross my feet, feeling especially vulnerable in my awkward pose.
After daddy watches me for a little while, he says, “Okay, babygirl, I want you to take off your clothes.”
“Take off my clothes?” I ask, my brow furrowed.
“Yes, they're my work clothes, right? I don't want you ruining them.”
I nod. “Of course.”
I take a step over to the bathroom, but daddy puts his hand up. “Wait,” he says, “I want you to remove them right where you're standing.”
The pit of my stomach erupts in a thousand crawly insects. I swallow, my throat super dry. “Here?” I ask, pointing to the floor where I'm standing.
He nods. “Yes.”
I look down at myself, in the silk work shirt and boxer briefs, and then look back at daddy.
I've come on to daddy a number of times, flirting with him and trying to seduce him to the best of my meager ability. I'd dress skimpy, giving daddy the best view of a young woman's body he's probably had in a long time, from exposed tummies to tight panties and bare ass cheeks. But I've never, to the pride of my inhibitions, been naked in front of daddy. I've resisted it so much because even in my irrational state, I knew going that far was a step I couldn't take back. I've always been very careful to save what little dignity I had left.
But now... now daddy's asking me to get naked in front of him. Any other woman would be offended by it, would tell him 'no, I'm not going to do that'. But me? It's what I've always wanted, even if I fought the urge every day since I came of age, when I finally felt old enough to bare everything to him.
I could question him, but a big part of me doesn't want him to even consider changing his mind.
I want it.
I reach for the top button of the black dress shirt I'm wearing. My fingers fumble slightly, but my nervousness is far outweighed by the colossal desire to turn my daddy on, to show him everything I've done for him, how well I've taken care of my body just for this moment.
The top button slips out of its hole. Each subsequent button down my body follows, ending at the final button just above my pelvis. When I unlatch it, the shirt falls open, exposing my stomach but still covering my tits.
I lick my lips, waiting to see what daddy does.
“Go on. Take it all off,” he says, his hands steepled together as he watches me from the sofa chair.
I nod. I grab the shoulders of my shirt and push them off, allowing the black silk shirt to fall to the floor. I feel a tingle in my small breasts, as if the contact with the air causes them to come awake. I know it's really my daddy's eyes, staring clearly at my chest, taking in my refined beauty. I lay my hands on my stomach, the gut twisting feeling inside calling me to calm it.
Daddy points at me. “My underwear. Remove it.”
I hook my thumbs under the waist band, both shocked and excited at what I'm about to do. The comfort of daddy's clothes is going away, only to be replaced by his judging gaze on my pussy.
I pull them down slowly, bending over as I drop them below my knees, shaking them to the floor so that they get as far away from me as possible.
Daddy stares at me, contemplating something. After a moment, I ask, “What do you want me to do now, daddy?” My own words make my heart skip, awaiting an answer I've been hoping for for so long.
He waves me over. “Come here.”
I walk over to him, the anxiety in my steps clear to me. I'm naked and standing in front of daddy. All I'd have to do is jump on him and I can solve all of my problems...
Daddy leans forward and with a rapid movement, uses his index finger and runs it between the lips of my cunt, making me shiver in elation.
Oh my God! Daddy just touched my pussy!
“You are actually incredibly wet,” he says, rubbing his index finger and his thumb together, testing the slippery lube I'd been building ever since I put his clothes on.
I blush. Daddy acknowledging my arousal for him is somehow shameful to me. I mean, I know why it's shameful; I shouldn't feel this way about my stepdad.
But I just do. I can't help it. My pussy gets immediately wet when my mind wanders to him, which could happen at any moment at any point in the day. To say I'm not self-conscious of it would be crazy.
“Are you going to punish me?” I ask, aware of the sickness of my mind.
His smile in return is compassionate and sad. “No, babygirl,” he says, running his hand up my arm to comfort me, stoking a fire in my loins at the same time. “I would never punish you for something you can't control. It's not your fault. Ever. I would never blame you for something like this.”
For all the anxiety and erotic buildup I've experienced today, those words are enough to make me forget all of that frustration for the moment. For the next few seconds, I no longer feel the arousal of an obsessed sexual being, but instead I am consumed by the innocence of being this man's stepdaughter. Comforted and loved, I know he'd do anything he could to help me through all this.
I just never knew how hard he was willing to try.
“I want to help you,” he says, rubbing his hands together apprehensively. “I think we need to try a new form of therapy to fix your urges.”
I squint my eyes, unsure of what to expect. “Like what, daddy?”
“We've been trying to fight your urges all this time. I think we should work on fulfilling them.”
I open my mouth, surprised at his prescription.
I want to say something; nothing comes to mind.
“I want you to remove my pants, babygirl.”
My breathing becomes fast and uneven. I never knew that when I got this close to my goal that I'd feel strangely shy. My desire is there but this is a grown man telling me what to do, a mature demigod of sexual prowess. I feel like the littlest girl in the world in response to his demands.
I kneel in front of the sofa chair. I remove his shoes and socks, delicately pulling them off his giant feet. I lean in and undo his belt. The buckle comes undone, I unzip his dress pants, and he lifts his butt so I can shimmy them off of him.
His pants to the side, like a starstruck teen, my eyes focus on his bulge. I watch it even as he tells me to stand up, my eyes glued as I get to my feet. The urge to reach out and grab it is strong.
; He grabs my arm and pulls me gently forward. He shifts his knee so that it's between my legs.
“Sit down.”
I sit, my butt directly over daddy's leg.
“Now grind.”
“Grind?”
“Grind your wet pussy into daddy, babygirl. I want you to dry yourself on my leg. I want you to work out your urges.”
I breathe in deep. Daddy grabs my hands and puts them higher on his thigh to support me. Leaning forward now, my pussy comes into contact with daddy's leg, When I shift to the side a little, my lips snag on daddy's leg and spread open, causing a spark to flow through my labia.
My body won't be denied!
I arch my back, pulling my ass out and then thrusting it forward, sliding it along daddy's hardened thigh. My pussy drags, pressing hard against his skin as his leg splits my lips and pulls against my flaps.
And my clit.
Leaning forward harder causes my clit to bounce off of daddy's leg, making me twitch in harsh pleasure. My fingers dig into daddy's flesh as I start to ride him quicker, relishing this moment of daddy's contact with my pussy, soaking his leg in juices.
My arousal smears over daddy's leg, drying fast but quickly being reapplied by my gushing pussy.
“Daddy, it feels so good!”
“I know, babygirl. Keep working it.”
“I don't think this is going to dry my... pussy at all.”
He laughs, “I was joking, little lady. I want that pussy to get its fill. I want you to be satisfied that you finally got to indulge in your urges.”
“Do you think it'll help me?”
“I guess we'll find out. You do what you think you need to do in order to feel better.”
My pussy aches so much that I don't think daddy understands how much I want him. I have no idea if something like this can help, but I know that obsessive compulsive disorder is only mitigated when the sufferer succeeds in completing their irrational desires. Or so my old therapists told me.
Daddy knows this, too. I don't doubt that he's doing what he thinks is best for me.
But I'm a hungry, hungry girl. Daddy wants me to work out my urges, but I think they're more likely to consume him than leave me.