Ruined By The Coby Twins

Free Use Zip Code 4

GARNET'S POV

I fell asleep immediately after my stepdad left. Too wrecked to even move.

By 7 AM my legs were still shaking as I went down the stairs.

Not a little.

They wobbled so hard I thought I'd forgotten how to walk.

Not surprising. Because three orgasms in twenty minutes would do that, obviously.

My sheets were ruined. My pride was worse.

And I was walking downstairs to make breakfast for the man who had wrecked them while I called him Daddy and pretended afterward that I hadn't.

I knew I'd m*********d to my stepdad's name several times. I just never imagined the real thing would leave me so… dismantled.

And he didn't even have to use that huge c**k of his.

Downstairs, the kitchen was quiet. Morning light coming through the window over the sink. Everything normal and the total opposite of what my body was currently doing, which was continuing to throb in the aftershocks of something it had never experienced before last night happened.

I hated him.

At least, I forced myslf to believe that was true.

Don't judge a girl!

I pulled the bacon from the fridge. Found the pan and turned the heat on.

Trging too hard to focus on something that wasn't the way his fingers had felt curling inside me or the way his mouth on my breast had scrambled my entire nervous system.

‘Stop it, Garnet!’

I tossed some bacon into the pan. Eggs next. Bread in the toaster.

Then…

Stepdad's hands suddenly came around from behind and grabbed my breasts.

Both of them. Hard. No warning… no approach.

Just his hands finding me through the thin satin of my nightwear and squeezing with the audacity of a man obligated by Free Use week.

And I staggered forward into the counter.

He ripped the fabric in one stretch.

The nightwear tore down the front and my heavy breasts fell out into his palms and he squeezed again and I made a sound that fogged the window above the sink.

Fuck!

"Don't stop cooking," he said against my ear. Low. Unhurried. Like this was just something that happened in kitchens. "You stop… you'll pay for it."

"I hate you," I breathed. Even my body doubted me.

"I know."

He rolled my n****e between his fingers and I grabbed the counter edge. "Say it again… It won't change anything."

The bacon was spitting in the pan. I reached forward and turned it with shaking hands while he kneaded my breasts from behind and pressed his chest against my back.

And I could feel how hard he was through his pyjamas and that information did things to my already wrecked body that I resented deeply.

"This is what you've always wanted," he said, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. "To be handled like this. Stop pretending, Garnet."

A warm wave of pleasure spread through my chest as he kneaded.

"I- I’m not pretending anything…" Even though I always got jealous whenever I saw him grope mum just like this when she made us breakfast.

Next his hand left my breast and went straight down between my thighs.

His fingers pushed through my folds and found me absolutely soaking and I bit my lip so hard I nearly drew blood.

My p***y was still sensitive from upstairs. Still swollen and raw. And even the lightest contact sent electricity up through my stomach and into my chest.

"Still so wet," he said, like the fact amused him. Like my body was a joke at my own expense. "I've barely touched you."

"Daddy, please stop…" The words came out before I caught them.

His fingers pushed inside my cunt and my knees buckled and I caught myself on the counter. "I hate you! I swear I hate you."

"Then why is your p***y getting wetter every time you say it?"

Fuck! I had no answer for that.

His thumb found my c**t and I cried out. Reaching down to circle it myself. Already so desperate, I needed to control something… anything at all.

Worst idea ever, because his hand came down hard between my legs.

Smack!

The slap was wet and loud. My own p***y juice splashing from the impact and my hips jerked forward into the counter and the sound that came out of me was pure filth.

"Don't you dare touch yourself when I haven't told you to," he barked. "Keep cooking!"

My hands found the pan again... somehow.

I flipped the bacon. And my fingers were trembling so badly the spatula rattled against the metal.

He kept his thumb on my c**t in slow circles while I stood there trying to function like a person and coming apart at a molecular level.

Then something slammed into my p***y.

No warning… no easing in.

Just his c**k finding my entrance and driving home in one brutal stroke that pushed me up onto my toes and knocked the breath from my lungs so completely that the scream that followed came out silent first and then very, very loud.