Unholy Desires: Erotica Collections

Step-Dad's Forbidden Craving: 4

Night fell heavy, the house quiet except for the distant hum of the TV downstairs. Mom had crashed early, her snores filtering through the walls after a long day of shopping and gossip with friends. I lay in bed, sheets kicked off, skin prickling with unmet need. Marcus's c*m from the laundry room blowjob lingered on my breath, a secret tang that made my core ache. We'd barely spoken since dinner—his eyes promising payback, my body screaming for it. But with her home, we had to play smart. Or riskier.

I slipped into a thin nightie, the hem barely grazing my thighs, no underwear to hinder access. Barefoot, I padded down the hall, heart pounding like a drum. His office door was ajar, light spilling out— he worked late on 'reports,' or so he told Mom. I pushed in, locking it behind me with a soft click. Marcus sat at the desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, his broad shoulders tense under the lamp's glow. He looked up, eyes narrowing to slits of heat. “Riley. Go back to bed.” But his voice cracked rough, betraying the lie.

I sauntered closer, hips swaying, climbing onto his lap without a word. Straddling him in the chair, I felt his c**k twitch through his slacks, already thickening against my bare p***y. “Can't sleep. Need you inside me.” My hands roamed his chest, unbuttoning slow, exposing the dark hair trailing down to his belt. He gripped my waist, thumbs pressing hard enough to mark, but didn't push me away. “Your mother's down the hall. One sound, and we're fucked.” The warning only fueled me—I ground down, slick lips parting around the bulge, soaking his pants.

“Then make me quiet.” I leaned in, nipping his earlobe, breath hot on his neck. His resolve snapped; one hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. Teeth sank in—not breaking skin, but bruising deep—while his other palm slid up my thigh, fingers probing my wetness. Two plunged in without preamble, scissoring wide, stretching my walls. I bit my lip to stifle a gasp, rocking onto his hand, c**t rubbing the fabric barrier between us. “So f*****g wet already. Greedy little slut.”

He finger-f****d me steady, thumb circling my nub in firm strokes, building that electric hum low in my gut. I clawed his shoulders, nails digging crescents, as pressure mounted. But he stopped short, withdrawing slick digits to suck them clean, eyes locked on mine. “Not yet. Want you begging silent.” Standing abrupt, he bent me over the desk—papers scattering, lamp wobbling—nightie hiked up to bunch at my waist. Cool air hit my exposed ass, p***y clenching in anticipation.

The zipper rasped low, his c**k springing free—heavy, curved up, the head purple and leaking. He slapped it against my cheeks, once, twice, the wet smack echoing too loud in the small room. I spread my legs wider, arching back, presenting like an offering. “Please, Daddy. f**k your daughter's holes.” He chuckled dark, lining up at my entrance, but paused—teasing the tip along my slit, dipping shallow before pulling back. My whine was muffled into my arm; frustration burned hotter than fear.

Finally, he thrust in—slow at first, inch by inch, letting me feel every ridge and vein splitting me open. I trembled, walls gripping tight, the fullness bordering on pain. Once seated balls-deep, he stilled, grinding circles to stir me from inside. Then the rhythm hit: hard pulls out, slamming returns, desk creaking under the force. His hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my cries as he railed me, c**k pistoning relentless. Each drive nudged my cervix, sparks shooting up my spine, t**s scraping the wood with every jolt.

Sweat slicked our skin; his free hand roamed—pinching a n****e through the fabric, twisting until I arched sharper. “Tighten up. Milk Daddy's dick.” I obeyed, clenching rhythmic, drawing grunts from him. The risk amplified everything—Mom's room just feet away, her sleep fragile. What if she woke to the thuds? The thought twisted fear into thrill, my arousal spiking, juices coating his shaft and dripping to the carpet. He released my mouth, trailing fingers down to rub my c**t—fast, insistent—pushing me toward release.

I shattered first, orgasm clamping down like a vice, body convulsing as waves crashed. Silent screams tore from my throat, reduced to whimpers, p***y spasming around him. He didn't stop, chasing his own peak, thrusts erratic now. “Gonna paint your insides white. With a muffled growl—face buried in my hair—he erupted, hot jets flooding me, overflowing to trickle down my legs. He stayed buried, pulsing, until spent, then pulled out slow, a gush following.

We caught our breath, him zipping up while I straightened the nightie, c*m seeping warm between my thighs. “Get out before I take you again.” His kiss was fierce, claiming, before shoving me toward the door. I slipped back to my room, collapsing into bed, fingers dipping to taste our mixed essence. Sleep came fitful, dreams tangled with his body dominating mine.

Sunday brunch brought normalcy—or the facade of it. Mom chattered about church plans, her fork scraping the plate, while Marcus and I exchanged loaded glances across the table. My p***y still throbbed from the office f**k, a secret soreness that made sitting squirmy. After she cleared dishes, announcing a solo walk in the park, the air thickened. “Be back in an hour,” she said, oblivious, door shutting with finality.

Marcus cornered me in the living room, backing me against the wall. That stunt last night? Reckless. But his hands betrayed him, hiking my sundress, finding me commando again. Fingers traced my slit, dipping into the remnants of his load. “Yet here you are, soaked. I hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him close. “Punish me then.” His belt buckle clinked open; pants dropped to ankles. c**k hard and ready, he lifted me effortless, impaling me on it mid-air—walls stretching anew around his thickness.

I wrapped legs tight, arms around his neck, as he bounced me on his length—deep, vertical thrusts that hit every angle. The wall scraped my back; his mouth devoured my neck, sucking marks hidden by my hair. “Bounce harder. Ride Daddy's fat cock.” I did, slamming down, c**t grinding his base with each drop. His hands cupped my ass, fingers kneading, one slipping to probe my rear entrance—circling the pucker, pushing in to the first knuckle. The intrusion burned sharp, mixing with the pleasure below, making me clench both holes.

“Like that? My finger in your ass while I f**k your cunt?” He added a second digit, scissoring gentle, prepping me. I nodded frantic, moaning into his shoulder, the dual penetration overwhelming. He walked us to the couch, laying me down without disconnecting—knees to chest, folding me open. Now he hammered down, c**k and fingers in sync, the pressure building insane. “Gonna f**k this ass soon. Stretch it wide on my dick.” The promise hurled me over—orgasm exploding, squirting around his shaft, soaking the cushions.

He withdrew fingers, gripping my thighs bruising, pounding through my spasms. “Take it all.” c*m shot deep again, filling me to brim, excess bubbling out with his final grinds. We lay tangled, breaths syncing, until reality intruded—Mom's keys in the lock distant. He pulled out quick, c*m spilling free; I tugged my dress down, dashing to the bathroom to clean.

The afternoon dragged, tension coiling tighter. Mom suggested a family movie night—dark room, close quarters. We piled on the couch: her on one end, me in the middle, Marcus flanking. Lights dimmed, screen flickering horrors. But my focus? His hand creeping under the blanket, inching up my thigh. I parted legs subtle, pulse racing as fingers found my core—still slick from earlier. He stroked lazy, dipping in shallow, while Mom munched popcorn inches away.

I bit my fist during jump scares, masking gasps as his thumb pressed my c**t. The danger electrified—her head on my shoulder, his digits curling inside me. Orgasm crept stealthy, a quiet quake that left me trembling, cream coating his hand. He withdrew, sucking his fingers clean under the blanket's cover, eyes gleaming wicked.

As credits rolled, Mom yawned, heading to bed. Alone now, Marcus pulled me onto his lap facing the TV's glow. “One more time before tomorrow.” His c**k freed, I sank down, riding slow at first—then frantic, hips rolling to take him full. We f****d hushed, my hands braced on his chest, his gripping my waist to guide. Climax hit mutual—me grinding deep as he unloaded, our moans blending into the night's silence.

But as I snuck back upstairs, a creak from Mom's door froze me. Had she heard? The uncertainty thrilled, craving evolving into addiction. Tomorrow loomed—school for me, work for them—but the pull between Marcus and me? Unbreakable, leading to whatever forbidden depths awaited.