Step Father - d o n e

By Storm_X0X0

4.7M 64.7K 24.5K

[18+ Only, Mature Conent] * * "We shouldn't be doing this...." I moan against his lips as my hands tug at the... More

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S T E P D A U G H T E R

D R E A M

214K 3.3K 1.5K
By Storm_X0X0

V A N E S S A

His tongue dances between my thighs, his head buried deep between my legs. I moan, quivering as his tongue explores deeper in the sweetness of my dripping honey.

"Faust...." His name slips my lips in a begging manner. Begging him not to stop licking me. Begging him not to stop touching me.

I wake up, heat radiating from between my legs, my panties moist.

Fuck.

I bite my lip and check the time. Three o'clock in the afternoon. My mom went to meet up with some friends at a near by coffee shop, Faust was still at his meeting. Leaving me alone in the mansion, with Chauncey being wherever the hell he wanders.

Seeing I have nothing else better to do, I slide my hand between my thighs, pleasuring myself. I think of Faust. I imagine my hand as his, slowly curling inside me, making me come closer to my climax with each thrust of my fingers.

I moan his name quietly, making sure that I was only able to hear, even though the house was practically empty. His name rolls off my tongue so easily.

"Oh, Faust...." I arch my back and finger myself faster, wishing he was here to witness how badly I crave him.

I let out a sharp gasp and shut my legs as I finally came onto my fingers.

Oh Faust, if only you were here to clean up the mess you caused.

I sigh in my mind and go into the bathroom that was attached to my bedroom my mother had cleaned for my stay. I decide to take a quick shower.

I don't know what was really going on with me. I just met my mothers fiancé, and I'm totally lusting over him. Wanting to fuck him, and cum for him. God, what is wrong with me?

I slip out of my clothes, tuning on the hot water, before stepping in the shower. I let the water run down me as I try to cleanse myself of the unnatural thoughts I have for my soon-to-be StepFather.

It was all so wrong. I couldn't even imagine the disgusted hatred my mother would have for me if she knew what I was thinking. I don't even want to know what Faust would think about me either.

I should be mortified by my thoughts, but somehow part of me is not. As sick and twisted as my thoughts may be, I can't help but smirk to myself at the mire thought of Faust becoming mine.

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