Step-Dad's Forbidden Craving: 1
I shouldn't have worn that tiny bikini to the family pool party. The black fabric hugged my curves like a second skin, the triangles barely containing my full C-cup t**s, the bottoms riding high on my hips to show off the smooth tan lines from last week's beach trip. At 22, I knew exactly what I was doing when I stepped out onto the deck, the sun-warmed concrete hot under my bare feet, the chlorine scent thick in the humid air. Mom was inside fussing with snacks, oblivious as always, but my step-dad, Marcus? His eyes locked on me the second I appeared.
He lounged in the shallow end, his broad shoulders and tattooed chest glistening with water droplets that traced down to the waistband of his swim trunks. At 45, he was built like a goddamn wall—thick arms from years of construction work, a salt-and-pepper beard framing that stern jaw. I'd caught him staring before, those dark eyes lingering too long on my ass when I bent over in yoga pants, but today felt different. Hungrier. My p***y clenched involuntarily as his gaze raked over me, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch.
"Looking good, kiddo," he called out, voice low and gravelly over the splash of kids in the deep end. He didn't smile, just pushed off the pool wall with powerful legs, water sluicing off his body as he waded closer. The chlorine mixed with his musky scent hit me as he stopped at the edge, arms braced on the tile, biceps flexing. Up close, I could see the bulge starting in his trunks, the thick outline of his c**k twitching against the wet fabric.
I bit my lip, pretending to adjust my top, my n*****s hardening into stiff peaks that poked against the thin material. "Thanks, Daddy," I said, drawing out the word like honey, testing him. Mom called him that in bed sometimes—thin walls in our house meant I'd heard her moans, the rhythmic slap of skin, his grunts. But imagining him buried in me instead? f**k, it made my c**t throb.
He climbed out in one fluid motion, water sheeting off his thighs, the trunks clinging to every ridge of muscle. Towering over me at 6'3", he grabbed a towel but didn't wrap it—just wiped his chest, letting droplets trail down his happy trail into that promising V. "You trying to kill me with that suit?" His voice dropped, eyes flicking to my cleavage, then back to my face. The air between us crackled, thick with unspoken s**t.
My heart hammered, thighs pressing together to ease the ache building in my core. God, what if he just grabbed me right here? Pinned me to the lounge chair, ripped the bikini aside, and shoved that fat c**k inside. The thought sent a fresh gush of wetness soaking my bottoms. "Maybe," I whispered, stepping closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. My fingers brushed his arm "accidentally" as I reached for sunscreen on the table. Firm. Hot. His muscle jumped under my touch.
Marcus cleared his throat, glancing toward the house where laughter echoed. "Go on, rub that in before you burn." But he didn't move, watching as I squirted lotion into my palm, the coconut scent blooming sharp and tropical. I started with my arms, slow circles, then arched my back to slick it over my stomach, letting my hands drift up to the swell of my t**s. His breathing roughened, chest rising faster, and I swear his c**k thickened, the head now clearly outlined, straining.
"Need help with your back?" he rasped, towel forgotten in his fist. His free hand flexed, like he was fighting the urge to grab me.
Fuck yes. "Sure, Daddy." I turned, holding my hair up, exposing the curve of my spine down to the dimples above my ass. His rough palms landed on my shoulders first—calluses scraping deliciously over my skin, sending sparks straight to my p***y. He spread the lotion in firm strokes, thumbs digging into knots I didn't know I had, working lower, lower, until his fingers grazed the sides of my t**s. I gasped, pushing back against him, feeling the hard ridge of his erection nestle right against my ass crack through the thin fabrics.
"Jesus, Riley," he growled, voice thick with lust, breath hot on my neck. The scent of his arousal hit me—salty pre-c*m mixing with sunscreen. His hips rocked once, involuntary, grinding that massive c**k along my cleft. "You feel that? That's what you're doing to me."
I whimpered, c**t pulsing, my juices trickling down my inner thigh. He's huge. Gonna stretch me so good. "I want it," I breathed, reaching back to grip his thigh, nails digging in. "Want your c**k, Daddy. Been dreaming about it splitting me open."
He groaned, one hand sliding around to cup my tit, thumb flicking my n****e hard enough to make me moan. Pinching. Twisting. "f*****g tease. Your mom's right there." But he didn't stop, his other hand dipping lower, fingers tracing the edge of my bikini bottom, brushing my swollen lips. Wetness smeared under his touch. "So goddamn soaked. This p***y mine?"
"Yes," I panted, grinding back, the lounge chair creaking as he pressed me forward. His finger slipped inside, thick knuckle curling to hit that spot, pumping slow while his c**k throbbed against my ass. The squelch of my arousal was obscene, loud enough I prayed the pool noise covered it. "f**k me. Please."
"Not here." He withdrew, leaving me empty and aching, but spun me around, crashing his mouth to mine in a brutal kiss—tongue invading, tasting of beer and chlorine, beard scraping my chin raw. His hand fisted my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. He bit down, sucking a mark that'd bruise purple by morning. "Tonight. Your room. After she passes out."
I nodded frantically, p***y clenching on nothing, n*****s aching from his earlier assault. He adjusted his trunks, the wet smack of fabric over his c**k echoing in my ears, then grabbed his beer and strode inside like nothing happened. I collapsed onto the chair, legs spread, hand diving into my bottoms to rub furious circles over my c**t. The orgasm hit fast—shuddering waves, cream coating my fingers, tasting salty-sweet when I licked them clean.
All afternoon, I caught his stares across the grill smoke, promising hell. By bedtime, Mom was snoring, wine glass empty on the nightstand. I waited in my room, door cracked, naked under the sheets, p***y freshly shaved and dripping. Footsteps in the hall. Heavy. Coming for me.
