HIS CHUBBY STEPDAUGHTER

CHAPTER 018: PLEASE, DADDY

MICHELA;

I sat in the only armchair in the small changing room, legs spread, hands resting on my thighs, trying to look into my phone, anywhere else but the wide hips before me.

The soft overhead light made everything look warmer than it should have. Michela stood in front of the full-length mirror with her back mostly to me, already starting to undress, my heart beating too hard for a public place.

She pulled the white top over her head and dropped it onto the small rack beside the mirror. Then she unzipped the denim skirt and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of it carefully.

Now she stood in only a soft white bra and simple panties. My eyes moved over her without permission. The full curves of her breasts shifted gently as she breathed. The soft flesh of her stomach, the wide flare of her hips, the thick thighs that she was pressing together while trying to meet my eyes from the mirror.

Her panties had already started to dig slightly into the soft cheeks of her ass. Every time she moved, the fabric shifted.

I swallowed hard. My c**k twitched against my pants, already half-hard and my balls growing heavier. I felt like a man smelling a meal he wasn’t supposed to touch. The room suddenly felt too small. I could hear every soft rustle of fabric and every small, deep breath she took.

Whenever our eyes met in the mirror, Michela bit down on her lower lip in that slow, knowing way. She knew exactly what she was doing to me, and how best to do it. I gripped the chair's arms tighter and forced myself to stay seated.

We were in a freaking boutique changing room. Anyone could walk by or knock. The attendant had already looked at us strangely earlier, she had offered quiet condolences about my late wife… the same woman I used to bring here years ago… and then her eyes had moved to Michela with clear curiosity.

She never asked the question out loud, but the look on her face said enough. I had only given her a short smile and no room for more conversation as I willed Chela toward the changing room. Still, the memory of that look sat heavy in my chest.

Doing anything in here would be reckless. What if there was a camera hidden somewhere? What would people say if they found out I was in a changing room with my stepdaughter, hard and barely holding on?

I was supposed to be the responsible one. The bigger person. The man who took care of her. Not the man sitting here with a painful erection while she stood almost naked in front of me.

I was still fighting myself when her soft voice cut through the quiet.

“Daddy… can you help me with this?” She almost breathed the words out.

She was holding one of the new dresses below her chest, looking at me over her shoulder. Her free hand reached back and touched the clasp of her bra.

I stood up immediately. The chair creaked behind me. In two steps I was behind her, towering over her body.

We both looked into the mirror. Her lips held that small, teasing smile. The moment my fingers touched the metal clasp of her bra…

“Ugh.” She shivered. The soft, low groan slipped from her throat… the kind of sound that said she wanted me right there, right then.

My eyes darkened equally. That quiet little sound went straight to my c**k. It hardened fully, pressing painfully against the front of my pants.

I unhooked the bra slowly and slid the straps down her arms. Pulling the soft material completely away from her body as I tossed it onto the armchair without looking.

Chela’s hands immediately flew up to cover her breasts mockingly, she made sure it was only able to cover her dark n*****s, pushing the soft flesh higher, the dark n*****s peeking between her fingers.

I stepped closer until the hard line of my c**k pressed against the soft curve of her ass through my pants. My voice came out low and rough.

“Daddy can help you cover them better,” I whispered into her ear, my breath hot where it touched. I could feel it.

She smiled, not ugly, filthily and sweet at the same time, and slowly dropped her hands. I reached around her from behind. My large hands cupped her full breasts, one in each palm. The weight of them settled against my skin. I started squeezing slowly but firmly, my thumbs brushing over the tight n*****s.

Soft, deep moans filled the small room at once. Michela’s head tipped back slightly against my shoulder. Her breathing turned quick and uneven.

“Daddy…” she whispered, voice shaky. “My panties are fully soaked… please, Daddy.”

I kept kneading her breasts, feeling the soft flesh overflow between my fingers. My c**k throbbed hard against her, ready to break her walls apart.

“Please what, kitten?” I asked, my voice almost a growl. My green eyes had gone dark in the mirror.

“Please, make love to me here. f**k me here, Daddy.” She demanded—a flicker lit in my heart at the sound of her words and her boldness. My Michela has become a woman… My woman.

I gave her t**s one sharp pinch each… but then a sharp knock sounded on the door. We paused, eyes on the mirror.

“Just checking up, Mr. Stewart… Do you need any help?” The attendant's polite voice followed the knock.

I froze, my hands still full of Michela’s soft breasts, my c**k aching, and the entire changing room suddenly feeling far too small.