Stepdaughter's BFF Ch. 01

"Shhh...be quiet...must NOT wake the step-oogler."

I heard my step-daughter Amanda drunkenly stumbling down the hallway past my door towards her room. I knew she would be talking to her bff, Kara. Kara had arrived about eight hours ago and after a very awkward set of introductions, the two twenty year olds had dashed out in search of alcohol, dancing and boys, dressed like tarts. In other words, a typical young folks New Year's Eve.

"Step.-oogler, waz 'at?" Kara slurred.

"You know how step-mothers get called step-monsters. Well, there's no similar term for step-fathers. Since Bert can't resist undressing me with his eyes, I think of him as the step-oogler. I made up the term."

Amanda giggled at her own cleverness. Not that I could deny the term was both clever and accurate. This holiday season was only my second meeting with Amanda, and the first extended visit. I had met her mom last New Year's eve, accidentally impregnated her, so we had a quickie wedding in April. Amanda had lived with her Dad since the split years ago - my wife had abandoned them for another guy who had not lasted - and only begrudgingly flew in for the wedding, bringing her Dad as the "plus one" just to try to piss off her mother. It had worked to the extent that my bride had gotten drunk in spite of her pregnancy.

The wedding, having gotten off on that wrong foot, meant the marriage was rocky from day one and my wife came to use the 2 a.m. feedings as an excuse to sleep in the nursery. In spite of my fetishes for pregnant women and nursing moms, I was left to my own devices most nights. The fetishes just ensured that I was half chubby all day and needed self-relief at least twice a day to avoid inconvenient wood. Tonight, the anniversary of that fateful meeting, my wife had expressed enough milk that she could drink, which meant that she had passed out by ten p.m. I had left her under a blanket on the couch in the den. The baby was across the hall in the crib, both doors ajar as a failsafe in case I slept through the baby monitor.

In the circumstances, it was shocking to have Amanda with us for the holidays. She had been booked to go to Aspen with her Dad, an annual tradition it seems, but he had been called overseas due to work. He had insisted she come stay with us and meet her little brother. Amanda had reluctantly agreed on condition that she be allowed to bring Kara along.

Having two college girls under my roof was a new experience for me. I had been too busy at the wedding to really check out Amanda, who largely had avoided me anyway. I do recall that she wore a formless dress that hung from spaghetti straps to past her knees. The low neckline and drop had suggested full breasts, without more than hinting at her cleavage. I must admit even that had given me a woodie, and I had wished to get a better look, but with both her parents hovering, I had behaved. When I had fucked my drunken bride later that night, images of my step-daughter were flowing through my mind - imagining boobs with no tan lines and extended excited nipples sensitive to a mature touch; an appreciation of the virtues of a little pain; full wide hips, but a firm ass...

When I had picked the girls up at the airport (my wife stayed home with the baby), I had the opportunity to at least confirm about the ass, since both girls had travelled in skin tight jeans, obviously meant for fashion not comfort. Amanda had insisted on grabbing her own luggage, though I had offered, so I got a perfect view of her backside. Her hips were much more boyish than I had imagine, hardly any butt at all, but the demon in my slacks reminded me that a handful was enough in asses as well as tits.

What I really noticed a moment later was that Amanda's butt was nothing in comparison to Kara's. The tall raven haired guest was perfectly proportioned - hips just narrower than her shoulders - but what really stood out, literally, was the shelf like curve of a dancer's rear end. I might have had to lick a bit of drool off my chin as I watched Kara load suitcases on the luggage trolley. My long loose sweater strategically covered my instant bulge.

Despite their having just had a flight to chatter, Amanda had insisted that both of them ride in the back of the car, no doubt wanting to emphasize that I had no relationship with her. Their excitement about the baby soon switched to talk about partying, and several times they playfully teased each other about which one was a bigger slut. As if THAT was not enough to give me wood, Kara excitedly blurted out, "well, at least I don't take it up the butt."

In the rear view mirror, I expected to see Amanda blushing, but instead she had slapped Kara playfully and replied, "Ass fucking is wonderful, don't knock it until you try it. I have better orgasms that way than when the guys just want to finger me twice, lick me once and then stick their throbbing cocks into my cunt and cum in like four of five thrusts."

"You are SUCH a slut," Kara had laughed, leading to a playful slapfest that lasted until we got home. Almost immediately, the two chums had declared themselves exhausted by the trip. My wife went to feed the baby, and the gals vanished to the guest room they were sharing. That room had a wall in common with the master bedroom. I sat reading on my bed, muffled sounds of playful giggling teasing me.

I thought I heard some slaps of palm on ass, and imagined how great Kara's ass might be to spank. Even watching her get spanked would be wonderful, I realized - the image of red palm print on creamy flesh gave me instant wood. As my cock tented my pants, I eased my zipper open. My organ sought fresh air, poking itself up out of the fly in my briefs. My book fell to my mattress as my hand curled around my shaft, my eyes closing all the better to focus on the springs squeaking on the other side of the wall. I imagined youthful lips suckling twenty year old nipples as I stroked my throbbing member. It only took about a dozen strokes for my balls, which had been aching since the airport, to tighten to my groin and allow great gobs of goo to spurt out my pee slit. I cupped my fist over the head of my cock, capturing the mess, intending to roll over for a tissue, but I nodded off, waking up an hour or so later to the sound of my wife in the kitchen. I noticed my door was open. Had I left it that way? Had she come in and seen my pathetic indulgence in self-abuse? Had she guessed the focus? Or, worse still, might Amanda and Kara have peeked in and snickered at my shrivelled manhood?

The two weeks since had passed quickly. The girls were seldom home, finding every excuse to go shopping, working out, hanging out, and partying every night, then sleeping until noon the next day or later. I never got a chance to peep at what they might be doing in their shared bed, or the extra shower built en suite in that room.

My imagination remained vivid enough that I was jerking off more than my normal once daily, retreating to the bedroom two or three times as the day unfolded, usually as my wife tended our son. Each night ended with me climaxing and then falling asleep with my cock relaxing in my fist, only to wake up with morning wood urgently demanding that I stroke myself to orgasm the next morning.

Amanda and Kara accidentally supplied just enough fuel to keep that fire burning. Though they both favoured sloppy sweats for the few moments they lounged around the house, in the morning. They might stumble to the kitchen for juice with their tank tops barely hiding braless breasts, and a five inch gap down to pajama pants, or on one memorable occasion, Amanda appearing wearing a matching set of lacy pink bra and bikini panties and no pants or shirt.

Though Amanda still treated her mother coolly, both girls seemed truly enchanted by the baby, so they tended to spend a few minutes each afternoon in the nursery. I found it easy to linger in the hallway and admire how their asses flexed even though the baggy sweats blurred the actual edges. When they lifted my son up from his crib and held him against their chests, I felt pangs of jealousy in my heart, envying the lucky little guy. MY little man stood at attention whenever his cheek rubbed a nipple. Neither girl seemed to bother with bras at home. The pokies in their sweats created bulges in my briefs.

When the ladies went to party, they teetered out of the house on six inch platforms, underwire bras elevating exposed cleavage at the top, long bare legs emerging from micro-skirts at the other. Or they wrapped a diaphanous sarong over a bikini that barely covered the nipples and the quim, with the simplest of flip flops to go to a beach party. My eyes never knew where to look. I knew that I should just look away, read a newspaper or fiddle with a gadget, but unless it was my imagination, the ladies went out of their way to tease me. Amanda might label me an oogler, but I would argue that it was all her doing, and that she loved the attention. There certainly seemed to be an abundance of giggles every time I was caught staring. My step-daughter would pose in the doorway, pivot like a model, and in a throaty voice inform me, "Don't wait up, Daddy-o, us girls might be out 'til dawn."

Of course I did more than oogle. The display and thoughts of what the young women might do until dawn never failed to leave my cock throbbing. Each evening I would go upstairs, hoping that my wife had put the baby down and be interested in a cuddle, but it never happened. Nursing and napping seemed to be the two options. So I would continue down the hall to my room and relieve myself, images of my step-daughter and her best pal dancing in my mind. Amanda naked, inviting me into the shower. Kara slowly stripping, dropping to her knees, sucking my cock. Both girls crouched on my bed, fighting over which of them would get my fat meat in their tight cunt first. Then the loser licking my cum out of the winner while I watched, slowly stroking my cock back to life so that I could fuck the second girl from behind while she ate out her friend.

New Year's Eve was their last night in my house. Their plane back to school left the evening of New Year's Day, the cheapest fare going. Before they headed out, Amanda left me strict instructions to let them sleep until the afternoon, because "there's nothing worse than flying with a fucking hangover."

I pointed out that at twenty she was still underage. That earned me the retort "Yeah, all you dirty old men just love THAT fantasy - finding some hot young thing to get drunk and fuck... you wish." With a wicked cackle, she pivoted and flounced out of the room so quickly even Kara was left behind in her wake, staring at me in stunned silence.

After an awkward moment, my step-daughter's bff shrugged and rushed to catch up to her. I swivelled my head to admire how those fine young legs disappeared under the hem of the plaid short skirt that hung straight down over the perfect ass. My animal brain begged me to stride over and shove her up against a wall, lift the skirt and take her caveman style. My self-restraint kicked in before I did more than shift my weight forward, though my stiff cock begged me to keep going.

My wife begged off staying up until midnight, insisting that she needed the rest, expecting the baby to wake up soon. She stumbled into the nursery and soon was snoring. I watched some dumb movie - intentionally picking the least sexy selection around, then watched the ball drop. I was in bed by 12:15, but still could not sleep - my cock kept filling with blood as images of Kara and Amanda dressed to kill danced like sugar plums.

So once again, I masturbated myself to sleep, nodding off with my limp dick still in my fist.

The sound of the girls returning drunkenly was the next thing I recall.

Right after the 'step-oogler' remark, Amanda stumbled into the bathroom, and I faintly heard retching.

"Is that the booze, or swallowing so many loads of spunk at the party, slut?" Kara teased Amanda, standing in the hallway, not worrying about the level of her voice.

I decide to get out of bed and remind her that my wife and the baby were still asleep when I heard her add, "you were such a greedy little cocksucker that I didn't get any action beyond a couple of hand jobs and tit grabs by the guys waiting to board your train. Mind you, watching you take on all comers was pretty hot. Except it just left me even more horny."

As I reached the doorway Kara finished, saying, "If you weren't such a mess, I would love to suck the spunk out of your cunt. You looked so yummy."

Right after speaking, Kara noticed my reflection in the glass of a painting hung in that hallway. Her eyes opened wide, a hand flew to her mouth, she froze. I noticed that her left tit had never gotten properly tucked into her top after the fumbling with the guys at the party - or maybe she had been making out while being driven home. She was braless, so I finally was treated to a good look at her entire breast, not like the bikini tops that teased but concealed. Her bubble gum pink nipple was noticeably erect. So was my cock.

Kara turned, still silent. Her eyes dropped right to my groin. She did not run to her room. She stepped toward me. Very quietly, she whispered, "Is that for me?"

Then she giggled, stepping closer and reaching her dainty hand out toward my erection.

From the other room, Amanda groaned.

"Let it all come up sweetie, I'll go find you some ginger ale and bring it up once you are finished, then tuck you in."

As Kara spoke, she wrapped her fingers around my shaft and gently gripped my girth. Clearly her practice earlier in the evening was effective, because she knew just how to stroke my member, firmly but slowly. She raised her free hand to my mouth, one finger across her lips to tell me to be quiet. I was about to reach up and grasp her boob when she sank to her knees. Her tongue swirled smoothly around the ridge of my helmet, teasing the glans on the underside, then poking into my slit. Her fist pumped my twice more to the root. She teased my balls with the tip of a finger before standing again.

I feared she was done with me, that this was just a tease to punish me for watching, until her lips brushed my ear. Her tongue flicked inside that cavity and she spoke ever so softly. "I'm going to go to the kitchen for that ginger ale, why don't you join me?"

She sounded a lot more sober, but clearly was drunk enough to think that this was a good idea, regardless of Amanda's distress, or how we might need to make eye contact in the morning.

She had never released her grasp on my cock, so I really had very little choice but to follow along. Kara paused at the top of the stairs and I bumped into her from behind, my stiffness pushing hard into the cleavage between her firm buttocks. She sighed and shifted her weight to roll her ass around my meat. Then she found the banister and we proceed as if we were joined.

The main floor was ghostly silent, dimly illuminated by an under cupboard light my wife always left on as a night light. Kara dropped my hand as we entered the kitchen. I stood in the doorway watching as she walked to the fridge and found the soda. She held the can against her cheek then placed it on the counter.

Turning toward me, Kara said, "If I feed it to Amanda that cold, it will come right back up for sure. I better leave it to get closer to room temp, and a bit flat never hurt either."

She popped the pressure with an elegant nail, stepped around the massive center island and asked,"What ever shall we do while I wait?"

To make sure that I understood, she pulled her top down further, baring both breasts, and hefted them in her palms. Long fingers with long nails caressed her own nipples. She leaned back against the island, moaning softly. I remained frozen, watching, stroking myself as she moved her right hand slowly down her body, caressing her belly, and then lifting her skirt to bare a panty free quim. One finger immediately stroked her gaping gash. The soft moans became throaty groans.

"Amanda was right - you do love to oogle. I wonder what else you would like?"

My hand stroked my cock as I stared at this beauty stroke her nipples and clit just a few feet away.

"Fuck me with that fat cock. Fuck me right here. I need cock right now." Kara grinned wickedly.

Kara's command released my invisible bonds and I closed the gap between us. I knew that having climaxed just a few hours before, I would last more than enough for this tart to enjoy the treat. My hands grabbed tightly onto her hips and I lifted her just enough to lower her cunt onto my cock. The first stroke was fierce, unrelenting, burying myself to the hilt, all my pent up passion releasing itself. Her labia separated effortlessly, her slit still tight enough that it molded itself to my weapon like a glove.

I pulled back, until only the very tip of my spear rested between her petals. I could feel Kara's warm moist boozy breath bathing my face as her chest heaved, panting for breath. In the morning, she would be able to blame drunkenness, or even claim not to remember. Worst case, she might call it rape. I had no such excuse. I was the sober adult, but I knew she wanted me, and I wanted her. I drove hard and deep into her cunt, pushing her ass against the counter, rewarded by her animal grunt.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck me hard," Kara groaned, thrusting back around my hardness, her wetness soaking my groin.

She released her tits and grabbed a hunk of my hair with each hand, dragging my face to the pale valley between those mounds. My nighttime whiskers must have felt rough on her tender flesh, and she might still have the rash in the morning, but after midnight, in the moonlit kitchen, it just made her hips twist harder and faster around my shaft. Kara swivelled my head first in one direction and then the other. I instinctively trailed my tongue along the curve of her boob from her sternum right to her nipple, which I teased first by flicking my tongue out, and then gave a gentle sloppy full lipped kiss. Finally, I drew the nipple deep into my mouth and nipped at the base with my teeth. The first time I did that, Kara almost screamed, biting her lower lip to strangle her noise. When I switched to the other side, she was ready, and moaned instead

The harder I attacked her tits, the harder Kara fucked me. My hips were just on autopilot, my lower body rocking slightly to piston my meat into her gash, but her enthusiasm more than made up for my distraction.

My hands continued to explore her tits thoroughly, enjoying firmness I might have expected after surgery, but which seemed to exist naturally on this fit young college student. Once I had felt all those mounds had to offer, my hands roamed further, sliding down Kara's belly, along her sides, up and down her back. A finger caught on a curl of Kara's hair.

"Ouch," she exclaimed, startled.

Instinctively I grabbed a handful of that mane and tugged harder.

"Oh, fuck, yes, like that," Kara moaned, humping even harder against my groin.

At that moment, my other hand was caressing the special divot at the bottom of her spine, where all the nerve endings seem to join. I knew that just the right touch there would drive any woman wild. I was not wrong this time. Kara climaxed, her juices flooding all around my cock. I shifted both hands to cup her buttocks to steady her. Her muscles were incredible, milking my shaft without pause as her orgasm grew, subsided, grew again, in waves. Still, because I had come earlier, I did not explode.

As Kara writhed, my hands shifted to keep her balanced. Without really meaning to, one finger curled along the inside of a buttock, down that special cleavage and bumped against this young woman's most forbidden fruit. I was about to retreat when Kara grabbed my hair again, and dragged my mouth to her lips, sliding her tongue deep along my teeth.