You’re a bit apprehensive as you come downstairs. We had a fight last night. Well, not so much a fight. I scolded you for coming home late. Apparently you were out with a co-worker? I didn’t like that at all.
I’m in the kitchen already. You can hear me moving about and you curse silently to yourself. All that time you spent mucking about in your room; you had hoped I’d have gone to meet up with one of my girlfriends today. Unfortunately for you, I was determined on having a family breakfast this morning.
It’s been like this ever since I came back home on Summer break. You tell yourself that you only have to put up with me for a few days more until I move back into my dorm. Our relationship isn’t that abnormal, after all.
The first thing you notice when you enter the kitchen is that I’m dressed somewhat provocatively. I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, usually, but this morning I’m wearing a white tank top with a black bra underneath, as well as a loose, plaid miniskirt. I’m wearing four in heels instead of my usual trainers and my footsteps make a sharp clicking sound as I walk on the hardwood floor. Each footstep makes you feel a nervous tug at the back of your navel. You swallow hard and try your best to put on a manly voice, saying, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I say curtly. I don’t look at you as I finish setting the table for our breakfast. “You overslept. I knew you’d oversleep and now you’re late for work.”
You’ve learned by now to just let me be right. We’ve been living without my mother for almost ten years now an you’re as big of a pushover now as you were when she left. “I’m not late for work,” you say, “I was thinking of going in a little late today anyway.” You pause for a moment. “My date didn’t go so well last night.”
“Did you think that was what I wanted to hear?” I snap. I sit at the table and turn towards you. I lift one leg and fold it over the other. My skirt reveals way too much but I make no attempt at modesty. Despite everything, I notice your eyes glancing towards the back of my thigh. “You know we have an agreement. You’re my daddy. You’re not allowed to give other women any attention!”
“Don’t be…”
“What? Unreasonable?” I let out a little laugh and look down at my legs. I roll my foot at the ankle, watching the polished black of my shoe shine. “If you bring another woman in this house,” I say softly, “I’ll say you molested me. I’ll say you raped me.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.”
“You know that’s not true,” you say. I can see the look on your face just as you can see the look on mine. You know I’ll do it.
I stand up and walk over to you. Each step is slow, seductive, and I make sure to show off my wide hips. I bite my lip as I stop right in front of you, running my hand up your chest. “You’re my daddy,” I whisper. “I own you.”
“Y-you made breakfast?” you ask, trying to change the topic. I can practically hear your heart beating. And I can see the bulge stiffening in your black slacks.
“What’s that?” I ask, giggling in an exaggerated, girlish manner.
“Huh?”
“I asked,” I say, moving my hand down over your belly. I trail my fingers over your belt, letting my nails rake over your buckle before I grab your crotch. “What…is this? Are you getting hard looking at your daughter?
I smile and lean in close. “I wore this outfit the last frat party I went to,” I whisper. “Do you know how many boys I let use me?” I squeeze lightly. “I bet you wish you had the balls to put me in my place, huh? You can do it if you want. Just grab me by the throat and bend me over the kitchen table. Right now…”
I wait for a moment. I watch the confusion and arousal on your face. It’s mixed in with something else. It’s fear.
“You’re such a pussy,” I say. “And if you’re going to be a pussy, someone has to have the cock in this family, right?”
“Rainbow,” you whimper.
“Call your secretary,” I say, unbuckling your pants as I speak. “Tell that slut that you’re definitely going to be late to work today.” I pull your belt off, letting your slacks sag and expose your tightie whites. “Then bend over the table so I can teach you what having a real man inside you feels like.”
…
Your whimpers are cute. Girlish, even. You’re twice my age, your hips are narrow, you’re not very strong. You’re a good father and I think you were a good husband. You’re just not a strong man. Women like my mother – like me – need a strong man in the family.
I love you. But if you won’t be strong, then I will.
I stop thrusting. The latex cock strapped to my hips is glistening with lube. You’ve been dripping precum for the past 5 minutes; I’ve felt it splashing against my shins as your pathetic cock swung and dribbled all over the floor. I reach around your waist and take hold of your meat. It’s a good size. I’d probably be in trouble if you had the will to use it.
My fingers wrap around the base and I squeeze hard. “Do you want to cum?” I tease. Your slacks and underwear are bunched around your ankles and I point your cock directly towards them. My hips start grinding as I lean against you. I know your weak spots. I know that if I poke just a little downwards, I’d grind against your prostate. “Squirt your juice in your panties, daddy.”
You grunt and moan. I feel your cock bulge thrice before I slacken my grip on it, letting your thick cum spurt downwards and make a mess.
I laugh, squealing and giggling in genuine delight at the way your hips buck while you climax. I slip the dildo out of you and you quickly drop to your knees and take it in your mouth.
“Good boy,” I say as I stroke your hair. I know you can smell my wetness. You always suck more eagerly when you can smell how moist my panties are. “I want you to wear those dirty panties all day, daddy. Every time you feel the coldness. Every time you notice that the people around you can smell the stale cum, I want you to think of me.” I reach down and use my fingertip to make you look up at me. “Now,” I whisper, “who’s my daddy?”
*I’m just looking for a new place to post my stories. Let me know if it’s not appropriate*
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/btfnlu/bullied_by_your_stepdaughter_mf
That was awesome