[Mf] [stepcest] [cheat] [bare] Now I just wanna talk you out of it

My wife and I had just rolled into town. “Visit lovely Casper, Wyoming” said the leaflet that had gotten us there.

4 night stay at the most exclusive hotel in town, and $200 in gift cards at the fanciest bar and restaurant, just half a block away.

For those who live in Chicago, or New York, all that may sound ridiculous, a laughable parody of what the words fancy and exclusive truly mean. But we are from Oregon, and not the part with city lights. We are from the part of Oregon with cows, and shit, and more cows, and more shit. Even Casper Wyoming sounds appealing if it means you get 4 nights without the smell of cows and shit. So, when the church had a raffle, and the top prize was “Visit lovely Casper, Wyoming”, well, we signed up. And we won. And we drove for 2 days straight. Now, all I wanted was a cold shower in the most exclusive hotel, and a nice steak dinner at the fanciest bar and restaurant. I was out for blood. All that shit I smelled, might at least get a bite of the cow.

“Hi, I’ll be having” I said, as my head turned up. I was barely paying any attention. My foot hurt from all the braking and accelerating, I felt tired, a bit of a headache maybe. But as the sight in front of me registered, all that vanished, for all my blood had but one place to go.

She was young. She was beautiful. She was desirable. And her apparel did nothing to hide the fact. A tight skirt so short one could imagine the curve of her pubes. Fishnet stockings. A tight top so tight and so low you could have drawn the exact curve of her breasts and her nipples. She was dressed to seduce. Or to kill.

Kill, yes, my wife was probably about to kill me. How long had I stared? I didn’t know, but it was too long. I averted my gaze. “Yes, yes, sorry, I was saying.. I’ll take the rib eye. Rare please. Baked potato is fine yes”

I glanced as the brought over the drinks. I glanced as she walked away. And then more as she brought over the meat. And for the dessert. And for the check. I painted a picture of her body in my head. It was as if I had already seen her naked. I loved her fashion choices. And I wanted to talk her out of it. But how? My wife right there. Had she noticed? Probably. Was she going to be mad? Likely.

I walked out of the restaurant that night with two thoughts in my head: my wife will kill me tonight. And if she doesn’t, I’ll fuck this woman.

When I woke up the next day, surprisingly still alive, not tied to the bed, no scars nor fatal wounds, all I could think about was the woman. I saw her blonde hair in my head, I watched its gentle waves, its hues as it gently moved around her head as she walked. I saw her beautiful deep brown eyes, I saw her perfect smile. I saw her nose, cute as a button. And, yes, I saw her petite mounds bounce, I saw her ass fit so snugly in the skirt. I wondered how my head would fit between her legs, I fantasized about ripping off her stockings. Would I make sweet love to her? Or take her with the brutal passion of a primitive animal? I am not a young man anymore, I thought to myself, but if there ever was a time to perform a round two, this is it. I would love her tenderly, focus on her pleasure. And then, I would satiate my hunger. I would slap her, I would leave marks and bruises on her perfect skin, I would turn her smile into tears, but above all, I would make her scream and beg my name as I fuck her to heaven. Yes, I had a lot of confidence for a middle aged man. A lot of confidence and only 3 days to pull it all off. With my wife sitting next to me at breakfast.

I am not proud of it, but I admit it. I stalked her online. I knew her first name, and her job. It didn’t take too long. I found her Facebook rather quickly, Wyoming is after all a small state. Karen Berthan, born in some small town in Montana I never heard of, and moved to Casper for school. For, you see dear reader, I am in my late 40s, but Karen Berthan, the waitress of my erotic dreams, she is 21. Barely old enough to drink, and all this middle aged man could think of was to drink from the fountain of her wetness.

My wife never really used Facebook, and for me it was mostly a way to keep in touch with old friends from my days as a student in Denver, so, I thought if I was to crash and burn, might as well get it over with quickly. I added her. And then I kept glancing at my phone. “You alright?” asked Sarah as I kept checking my lock screen every few minutes. “Oh yeah yeah sorry just looking at the stock market”, I lied. “We’re on vacation. Relax!” she encouraged me. And just as she did that, my screen lit up. “Karen accepted you. Say hi to your new friend!” it said, and then immediately, “Message from Karen: Hi! Do I know you?”

My heart started pounding. I had to excuse myself. I was in a frenzy of every possible emotion. What was I to do? I hadn’t thought much further than creep her photos and rub one out. And now here it was, an actual chance. A chance at winning myself a creep label and being banned from the restaurant that is.

“Gonna use the bathroom. Be right back” I told my wife, and as I walked off I started typing my response. I went back on it 5 times. No, more like 10. And then I sent the best I could muster. “Hi. Yeah, we were at your restaurant last night. I wanted to say hi and thank you for the exquisite dinner. It was a pleasure meeting you. Hope we can run into each other again.”

Horrendous. I sounded like I was ready for the retirement home. I felt old. Deflated. I didn’t have it anymore. I could maybe pick up at a retirement home. But a sexy 21 year old college student? No way. Out of my league.

“Oh, yes, I remember you now. The lovely couple, yes. Yeah I would love that. Looks like you’re not from here?” she answered.

I told my wife I wasn’t feeling too well, and she should go shopping without me. And I set off to text Karen throughout the morning.

“Yeah, we’re from Oregon. Just on vacation. A church raffle and all. Must sounds so incredibly boring to you uh?”
“No, no, no way. It’s cute. I am also not from here. I moved from Deer Creek. It’s in Montana, just a few hundred miles north”
“Lovely. I never heard of it, but I do like Montana a lot. Wonderful scenery there. Why’d you move?”
“Oh school and stuff. My boyfriend had just broken up with me, so … why not do something crazy you know? So I moved”
“Bet you found another boyfriend rather quickly?”
“lol What makes you say that?” she asked

I left that message on read. For 5 minutes. 10 minutes. This was it. I knew why. “Because you’re so fucking sexy it makes me scream with desire”, but .. that would be the point of no return. No plausible deniability to my wife. No plausibly deniability to Karen. No plausibly deniability to myself. If I wrote those words, I’d be unequivocally attempting to seduce a girl I’d seen once in a restaurant. What kind of creepy loser does that?

Me, clearly, for I wrote and sent those very same words. “Because you’re so fucking sexy it makes me scream with desire”.

Delivered.
Read.
Read 2 minutes ago.
Read 5 minutes ago.

I checked. No she hadn’t blocked me. Read 8 minutes ago. “Message from Karen”
“And what do you plan on doing about that desire?” she said. And attached, a picture of herself. Wearing the same clothes she had on last night. And the sexiest most beautiful smile I had ever seen. Her head tilted to the side. The tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth. She was the image of lust. She was everything I wanted.

I took my cock out of my pants. And stroked it. Once. Twice. Harder than I remembered it could even be. But, so, what were my plans? What did I plan to do about it? Jerk it off like some loser? There had to be more.

“Ripping off your stockings and tongue fucking you” I answered. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol that day. I didn’t know myself to be so daring and explicit. Rural Oregon is not exactly where men to go become pick-up artists. And yet I was all but sexting the sexiest woman I had ever met.

“Come do it then” she answered, and added a map of her location.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Was this for real? Was she hired by my wife to take me to the dry cleaners for my enormous savings account of $5,318 and a few pennies? Was she trying to harvest my organs? I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

“Hey, honey, I feel a bit better. I’ll go take a walk. Can we meet at the hotel before dinner?” I texted my wife. And then I walked. For 20 minutes. Until I reached it. Apartment 4A. I knocked at the door. She opened it. Same exact clothing as last night. I smiled. If she was about to kill me, at least I’d die happy and horny.

She let me in, closed the door, smiled. “Well, my stockings are still not ripped off” she said laughing, tilting her head backwards again. I hadn’t noticed it last night, but it was probably her thing. That cute thing she did that a new lover could pick up on and find endearing before actually knowing anything about her.

I obliged her. I was on some kind of autopilot. It wasn’t me fucking her. It was my body. It was my cock. But I was a different man. I was virile, young, sexual. I was a true whore with no boundaries for her.

I ripped off her stockings, just as I had promised. It took more effort than in my fantasies, but I did it. I undid her skirt. Let it fall off. I let my hand find its way inside her panties. She was already wet. I fingered her. She leaned against the wall. Closed her eyes. Her cheeks flushed with cherry red. She panted. Moaned. Begged. She came. From my fingers. And then she took her panties off, pushed my head down, and made me tongue fuck her. “Do what you promised” she smiled at me. She tasted sweet. Maybe even a bit too sweet. But I would not have pulled away for the world. I licked. And licked. She moaned. She asked for more. Deeper. Faster. She liked to curse as her pleasure mounted. “Fucking shit fuck oh fuck yeah fucking fuck motherfucking fucker fuck”. Her mouth was as potty at that moment as it had been kind and polite at dinner last night. “May I serve you some more water, sir?” “Fuck oh fuck that pussy like you mean it”

She came again. And again. And then she took me to the bedroom. And she finally told me. No, I wasn’t some kind of irresistible Adonis. I wasn’t the most sexually exhilarating being on the planet. She had a crush on her stepdad. She didn’t dare fuck the man. She wanted me to be him. She wanted to fuck an older man and in her head she’d be fucking her stepdad.

“I have no boundaries” she added, as if I needed persuasion, as if she felt that I would run away. “Don’t kill me and you can do anything you want to me” she further suggested, as if to make it abundantly clear she’d do anything as long as I turned into Don Evans.

“What is it about Don that turns you on?” I asked her
“Oh. He is handsome. And rugged. And sexy. But, the truth? There’s a million men like that out there. The real reason I want him? He is forbidden. He is probably the only man I cannot have. You are not the first customer to eye fuck me all night. I am used to it. I know what I look like. I could take any of them home. Many would worship the dirty soles of my feet if I asked them to. But Don. Don is the only man who doesn’t see it. I am a baby to him. Not a woman. Not a slutty slutty woman. And I want that which I cannot have. I want the forbidden. The taboo. I want to fuck my mother’s man.” she explained. Her honesty was brutal. I understood now. She had a service industry persona. A soft-spoken kind gentle mild mannered young lady who waited tables. But the real Karen? She was wild. Shameless. She could not be tamed. She truly had no boundaries. She had already left rural Montana for a small town. She’d eventually find her way to the big city and push herself to the top somehow, somewhere, someway.

But for that day, I pushed myself on top of her. And inside of her. “Do you have a condom?” my last question. “No, but I bet you don’t care” her answer.

And in fact I did not care. I pushed myself inside of her bare. I would fuck her like animals fuck, with a mission, a goal. I would fuck her the way babies are made.

She closed her eyes. She squeezed me ever so tight inside of her. I licked her neck. I bit it. I pulled her hair. She moaned. “Oh dad” she giggled.

I slapped her. She opened her eyes wide. Looked at me. “But why?” she asked.
“I saw how you looked at me at dinner tonight. Your mother can’t know we fuck” I told her. I had never roleplayed in my life. And yet here I was, overlapping my wife with her mother, and my waitress with a stepdaughter I didn’t even have.
She squirmed. Moaned. “Oh dad I am sorry. I will never do it again” she replied in the tiniest girliest voice she could muster
“Good. Now take this cock and beg for it” I smirked at her

And beg she did. Or rather, beg and curse. She cursed my name, or rather Don’s. She called me a cheating motherfucking son of a bitch. One breath she said she wanted my baby. The next she said she’d tell mom and get me on the street. Oh boy, she was a wild crazy one. I had no idea what kind of youth she had had, but it must have been an intense tormented one.

“I fuck myself when you bang mom” she told me. “I fuck myself hoping you’ll come see me right after. She’ll be asleep and you’ll fuck me. I could give you the baby you crave” she pleaded, looking at me with her big brown eyes stealing my soul, as if I could really be her stepdad and I could really get her pregnant. I mean, I could have, I definitely could have, but it would not have been Don’s kid.

Her mind was filthier than YouPorn’s homepage. She wanted her stepdad to fuck her pregnant. She wanted him to piss inside of her. I pissed inside of her. I had never even thought of it as an option. And she made me do it. “Am I dirty dad? Do you like when I am dirty?” she chanted contentedly as I relieved myself. She wanted to be slapped. Called names. She wanted to talk about how she probably fucked better than her mom. She made me cum inside of her. She didn’t let me pull out. She held me tight inside of her. “Yes yes yes” she moaned as she could watch me get closer and closer, squirming between wanting my release and not wanting the risk. She felt relieved, sated, contented, released, when I finally gave in and came in her. She felt as if she had finally won her silent battle against her mom. She had finally vanquished whatever morals, whatever decency had stopped her stepdad from having his way with her. She finally felt like she could truly have any man she wanted, even the most forbidden one.

And I felt the thrill of being young and desirable once more, albeit by proxy of a decent man with a perverted stepdaughter. And I felt the fear of reading “I am pregnant” a month or two down the line, and of having a lot of explaining to do to my wife. Maybe then, Karen and I would have been the perfect match for each other: two perverted idiots with more sexual drive than morals, leaving a path of destruction of good moral people in our wake.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ccwlvt/mf_stepcest_cheat_bare_now_i_just_wanna_talk_you