A Reluctant Stepfather Ch. 01

I heard a singsong voice in my head. I can't see you.

And another voice. It's not a big deal. She wants it. We're both adults. It's not like she's blood. It's not exactly....

Shut up. Just shut up.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew I would break. It was just a question of when. Spring break couldn't end soon enough.

I'm a good person. While I only wanted to think with my dick, I also had Stephanie to think about.

The war within grew, and the tension I felt from holding myself back did not ebb; it only grew more voracious. I was like a dog worrying a bone with my inner conversations. Many times a day I told myself letting go of my logic and following my instincts would be okay.

I remembered once hearing that every action you do, you should be able to be proud of. If you did something, but did not want it written out in blazing gold letters above your head, you shouldn't do it. I used that thought to cool off.

I held on for another month. Then she stopped flirting with me. One day, over-the-top flirtatious vixen. The next day, nothing. I don't know if she gave up because I didn't take her up on it or what. Strangely enough it was when she stopped trying that she became even sexier. One Thursday, when she was cooking dinner, the tides turned. She was at the stove, her back to me. Stephanie wasn't doing anything special. She was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a university sweatshirt, cooking and humming to herself. I wanted to grab her away from the stove, brace her against a counter and take her from behind. BAM! One moment I was looking at her like an appreciative father figure, and the next moment I was rock hard. I wanted to throw her down and bite her.

I hustled out of the kitchen, thankfully without Stephanie noticing the quick change in my pants. I took a very, very cold shower, and told her I had to skip dinner. I was going out with the guys, and I wouldn't be home until late.

Phew. That was a close one.

I drank a lot that night, and then sat in my car for a good long while until I was sober.

My relentless rationalizations started immediately after that, and every day they got worse.

When I got home that night I had trouble going to sleep. I played that kitchen scene over and over in my mind. What would she have done if I had come up behind her, brushed her hair out of the way and gently kissed her neck? What would she have done if I grabbed her and fucked her like I wanted to? She had her own life now, maybe she didn't want me like she did when she was messed up.

I let my iron grip that I'd been keeping on myself go a little, and let my mind wander.

My hand slid down my chest to my stomach. I saw myself coming up behind her. "Keep cooking," I said in her ear.

My hand hovered on my low stomach as I imagined grazing her neck with my teeth. In my mind I could smell the food cooking and her perfume. I let my teeth scratch her harder.

My hand glided over my hip. I told myself to stop. This was wrong. I should stop.

It's okay. No one would know.

"You better stir that," I said, slipping my hands under her sweatshirt, over the lace of her bra, massaging her breasts together. I unsnapped the front hook of her bra and her tits spilled forth into my hands, much bigger, heavier and lusher than I thought. She moaned.

"That's it, baby."

I palmed my cock. I should stop. Oh fffuck. Too late now.

I pictured myself opening her jeans. In my dreams she was soaked. Impossibly wet, an ocean. I took her away from the stove and hoisted her up on the counter. Her clothes magically disappeared. I opened her legs wide and then I was drinking from her, cups and cups of liquid. Then the fantasy changed. She was blowing me, the suction getting tighter and faster and faster. I realized it was my hand but at the same time I saw her sweet mouth bent over my hips as I came hard.

In the dream she drank it all down.

I should have felt ashamed, but I didn't.

I fantasized about her the next night, and the next. The dreams got kinkier each time. Hotter, faster, more electric. I dreamed she was watching me palm myself. In the way of dreams, sometimes I fantasized more than one thing happened at once, so I dreamed that she watched me jerking off to her at the same time we were having a threesome, or I grabbed her, or taunted and tied her, or bit her hard where she was most sensitive, or any other the many dark variations of something else.

My grip on my resistance was slipping. I thought more and more of Stephanie, not just sexually, but in every way. There wasn't just the step-father /step-daughter relationship to consider. There was the age difference. There was the fact that I had certain inclinations, necessities even, and she was young to learn about the world of dominance and submission. Perhaps that level of trust, mentally, physically, spiritually, the light and darkness that world encompasses, might not be right for her. Then again, it might.

It was late Sunday afternoon. She was at the stove again, in a way a mirror of the first turn down this road, when I snapped. Her hair was half up and half falling out of a loose bun and she was just wearing a long, loose black Guns & Roses T-shirt and nothing else.

Stephanie was making an omelet, minding her own business, and she never saw me coming. I felt my body heat up. There was an increasingly loud roar in my head. I lunged at her, startling her, so she made a noise between a yelp and a squeal, and I turned off the burner and shoved the pan away.

I squeezed her whole body tight to mine, and I mean hard, just for a millisecond. She felt so good. So much better even than I dreamed about, and I dreamed plenty.

I rotated our bodies so we were facing the counter. I forced her arms together grabbed both her wrists together in one big hand and then slammed her hands down firmly on the counter edge. Her breathing was loud.

I grabbed her hips and lifted her up, yanking her lower body fast, her feet coming off the floor for a second, as I pulled her back where I wanted her.

She squeaked.

Stephanie. Hands grabbing the edge of the counter, back flat, butt in the air, nestled against my cock.

Oh yeah.

I drew back slightly and then slammed my hips into her ass and locked my hands over hers before I even knew what I was doing. I had her where I wanted her. Then I plastered my body against hers. My breath came out in harsh gasps.

"Wha—" she said.

I growled at her. "Keep your hands there."

Part of me couldn't believe I was doing this. Some animal had taken over. I ran my hand down her front, right over one free swinging breast. Yes, they were bigger, softer, fuller than they looked. Yes, I wanted to bite that. I grew harder against her ass. I continued to slide my hand down to the bottom of the shirt, up under it, right around the top edge of her panties, buried under, dipped into her. Just a little. Soaking.

"Is this what you want?" I whispered. My voice was rough.

She pushed back against me.

I dipped my hand into her further.

She whimpered.

I pulled my hand away.

"Steph," I said, and my voice was rough. "If you want to say no, the time is right now."

"Yes," she whispered.

I put my hand back under her shirt. I caressed around one breast, to her back, and down to her ass. Her skin was so, so soft. It was hard to take a second, to think what I was doing. Yet somehow I wanted to establish some kind of dominant control. Right here from the beginning. I just wasn't sure what.

Then what came out of my mouth was a surprise, even to me.

"In this household there are only two rules," I said. "One, don't come until I tell you to." My voice was harsh. I wasn't sure she could even control that. I just hoped the thought of it would turn her on as much as I suspected it would. I slipped my fingers inside her, took her honey and ran a circle around her clit, teasing lightly, then firmer. "Do you understand me?"

She nodded.

"Say it."

"I won't come without your permission," she panted.

"And two, you will come exactly when I tell you to."

It was ridiculous. Even with my Dom tendencies this was a little much. But it was like I was caught in some game I couldn't escape. I was asking too much, too far out of control, felt my brain slip past okay into unreasonable but my absolute need took over and the monster in me said and did what it wanted.

"Good," I said directly into her ear and my voice was even gruffer. "If I fucking tell you to come now, you are going to explode right then." I found her exact sweet spot and worked it mercilessly. She moaned and pressed back against me. "Understand?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes."

"Yes, Sir," I said. "Now say it."

"Yes, Sir," she said.

"Good."

I knew coming on command wasn't something she'd be able to do right away. She'd have to learn it. But I didn't care. I wanted this to be the first of many, many times for us. Heat burned me from head to toe. I wanted to make her say the whole thing from the beginning, but I got so lost in the smell of her, the way the T-shirt was riding up high on her back, the way her breasts were swinging.

I worked her harder. She was so wet now she was starting to drip over my hand. Her legs shook. "Say it again," I said."

"I will come exactly when you tell me to."

I scraped a nail lightly over that sensitive spot and she screamed. Her head fell suddenly, as if her neck went suddenly boneless.

"Say it."

She started panting and I could tell she was having trouble processing. She started shaking all over, violent shakes. "Please..." she begged. "Please let me come." Her knees gave out under her. I grabbed her hips, holding her up, but I didn't stop the onslaught. If anything I increased it.

"SAY. IT."

The electricity was running so high throughout her body I could feel the current galloping from her head to her toes, burning every cell of her body and into mine. Her words were a cry. "Two. I...will"—her breasts heaved up and down with the effort swinging—"will...will... I... will... ha... come," she took in a deep breath, battling for air. I stilled my fingers. "Exactly when you tell me to." I slipped two fingers deep inside her.

"NOW!" I yelled.

Her orgasm was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. It should have been raw and raunchy; it shouldn't have been a spiritual experience. Yet as her aftershocks quivered around my fingers I thought, hell, man this is IT.

I pulled off her panties and opened my pants. I gently stroked my fingers into her, thinking she might be sensitive, but she moaned and pushed herself against my fingers. Her whole body shuddered around me, over and over, and she came again. She wasn't waiting for my say so and I didn't give a damn. While she was still coming I guided her down to the floor and plunged into her.

A huge hunger washed over me. I had her on her hands and knees and I was ploughing into her but it wasn't enough. I flipped her over and entered her again, pushing her knees way up, almost by her ears as I tried to think of something to slow myself down.

The need, the charge, the desperate lust was electrifying, there was nothing to temper it. I pictured chaining her to floor, opening her up, delving into her further. All the while my pumping continued, ever increasing to a more and more furious pace. Her "unh, unh, unh" sounds made me wonder if she was going to come again.

Then she squeezed her muscles around me and I peaked hard and flew right over the abyss.

*

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