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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
*****
Once, I’m sure, at some point in your life –
You must’ve wondered, How did I get here?
That was the thought running through my mind, standing in front of my mirror –
Hot blood gushing through my veins, my heart pumping and throbbing –
Pooling at my little cock, the tip more scarlet than the usual pink –
Dressed in my mom’s corset, the straps digging into my thin waist, accentuating my plump cute butt –
Moaning and fingering myself like a little slut, waiting, hoping, fantasizing about the knock at my door.
But, really, there wasn’t anything to wonder at all.
I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that this would happen eventually.
No matter how much I denied it, this was my destiny; I wanted this, more than I wanted anything in my life. I always did.
It began just a month ago.
My family was… Modern, to an extreme degree. My mom divorced before I could remember, and remarried when I was sixteen. She was the breadwinner of the house while my step-father stayed at home.
His name was Frank, and he was a piece of shit.
I never understood why my mother married this jackass. She was a domineering woman; with her, there was only one acceptable answer. Yes. Anything else, and you’d get both the sound and the fury.
So why did she marry Frank, the most chauvinistic piece of shit? He treated everyone like shit, and cussed like a sailor. Every sentence ended with a fuck – with both uses rather common.
With him, she was like a different person. She was obedient. Quiet. Patient. I never understood why.
I eventually did find out.
It was my first year in college. Our relationship… Was not too good, to say the least. He hated me, as I hated him. Living in California, I didn’t feel the need to hide my sexuality; he caught me kissing my boyfriend. That was the day I found out he was capable of learning.
The words faggot and queer never left his mind since.
Not that he treated me any better before. He always called me girly, asked if I was a fag… I never answered. I didn’t want anything to do with the man. We never really spent time together or talked, besides the little chit-chat at the dinner table.
Anyways, going back to the story… It was nighttime. I hated being home, so I often turned up late. My mother was used to it by now. She just assumed that I slept over at someone’s place if I didn’t show up, and left the key under a pot just in case.
I was supposed to spend that night at my friend’s place, but the asshole ditched me. He had his girl over and kicked me out. So I just headed back home and snuck inside.
I was a little stoned, and I was going to just crash in my bed and sleep. But as I crept up the staircase, I heard this… Noise. A rhythmic thumping.
My heart sank. I was 20… I didn’t need to connect the dots. I knew what it was. And being their kid, I should’ve just left it alone. I should’ve just fucked off.
But…
There was a little crack in their door. They must’ve thought I wouldn’t come back that night.
I… I had to admit one thing about Frank.
He was a stud.
The dude was massive. Over six feet tall, and shoulders as wide as a dam. His arms were thick and hairy… And while his hair was graying, his mane was full, and his beard fuller still. You could tell he did sports before, but much of his muscles were hidden under a layer of fat.
I had a thing for guys like him, as little as I wanted to admit it.
And perhaps it was that attraction that drove me over the edge.
I wonder what they’re doing? I thought – but of course, I knew already. I… I… Should I check it out? I mean…
What if he’s… Hurting my mom, or… I continued. If my mother wasn’t moaning so lustfully, one could mistake that for an emergency. I should check it out.
So I crept up the stairs and peeked inside.
Inside… Was Frank. All of him. Two legs – my mother’s legs – were wrapped around him, and he was thrusting away, his thick body nearly crushing my thin mother with each and every pump. The bed creaked and cracked, the thick planks of wood threatening to snap, rustling in the places where they did.
And I watched it all. Mesmerized. Transfixed.
I’d seen porn before. Duh. But live sex… Well, I was a bit of a virgin. I’d never slept with anyone, and needless to say, had never seen people fuck in real life. And it was a hell of a difference from porn.
Everything was just so real.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Not from my mother, a sadist of a woman, crying and moaning, begging for more like a common whore… No. Frank, his whole being; Frank, his whole existence.
Everything, from his beer-belly gut rested on her stomach, his thick muscular arms holding his slut-wife down, his manly face, an aggressive, domineering expression drawn on it…
To his thick, veiny cock… Average in length, but certainly not in thickness… God, and it pulsed, as thick ropes of cum, yalova escort thicker and more plentiful than I’d ever shot, creamed his property…
And then I ran.
I slept in a diner that night. Luckily, we still had one of those 24/7 places in business. I had a couple of bucks, so I ordered some coffee and pancakes, and crashed.
I couldn’t look him in the eyes since then.
Ever since… That scene never left my mind. Every night, I jerked off to Frank. I had been in relationships before, again, this is Cali, but… I’d never been so attracted to a man.
I think that was the key word – man. My exes were all boys. They might’ve been adults, but that didn’t mean shit. They weren’t like him. They didn’t have the aura, the build, the looks, the… Beasthood.
And I – I craved it.
I must’ve jerked off five times a day. I fingered myself every time, thinking about his veiny cock, plunging deep inside me…
I was the opposite of him. I was skinny, leathe, and feminine. My body was pale and thin. With a little makeup, I could pull off the tomboyish girl look. My butt was thick and round, and my cock was tiny and pink.
I hated myself for it.
He was my step-father.
And I was jerking off to him.
He treated me like shit.
And I wanted to feel his chest.
He was a homophobic cunt.
And I wanted his cock inside of me.
Two sides kept stirring and clashing, each winning small victories; as my lust won, I masturbated. Every other time I was wrapped in shame.
But my shame could only keep me shackled for so long.
Eventually, just imagining it got… Tiring. And I wanted more.
So, being the degenerate I am…
I stole his underwear.
I know… It’s sick. And perverse. But… I couldn’t help myself. One day, I left the shower, and there it was – on the top of the washing bin.
The front was a bit crusty, a bit sticky…
And I licked it.
God, it tasted nice. It drove me over the edge. I kept it. I hid it under my bed, and I jerked off with it, sniffing the leftover musk of his sweaty cock. I rubbed my dick with it to finish, thinking of his slimy cum all over my cock, dominating me.
For weeks on straight – I stole his underwear.
It was enough to keep me satisfied. I knew it was wrong to desire him. Besides the whole step-father thing, he was also just a shitbag. I was happy just keeping it a fantasy. Happy with the way things were.
It was stupid of me to think that way.
I came back home two days ago. Frank was out – he went to the pub to drink with his friends, and my mom was on a business trip. I was all alone and horny, and had nothing to do before evening, when I planned to go hang out with my friends.
So I looked under my bed – where I hid my most recent prize. A fresh pair of used boxers. My cock was hard just thinking about it on the way home.
I reached under my bed, tapped everywhere… But I couldn’t find them.
I convinced myself it was because of the bad lighting. I grabbed my phone, turned on the torch, and… Gone.
I panicked. Holy shit, I thought. Did my mom clean my room? Did she see it? Or…
Another thought – a far more arousing, a far more dangerous one – popped into my mind.
Does Frank know?
That preoccupied my head all night. I went drinking with my buds, let loose a little, but… I just couldn’t relax. So I quit early, and left for the house.
When I opened the door, Frank was there.
The sharp scent of liquor pinched my nose. He’d been drinking, I knew – and, fuck, he was a hell of a drunkard. He sat there, his legs spread apart, as if showing that this was his domain, his kingdom. He only wore a wife-beater and his boxers.
He almost caught me leering at his bulge.
Our eyes met for the first time in days.
“Had a night out?” He asked, disinterested. He always spoke with that sharp, demanding tone – a hint of venom in his voice.
I nodded, and flatly said yes – I hung out with the guys.
He grinned, his teeth flashed like a predator’s. “Had some fun with yours friends, huh, faggot?” He asked. “No wonder you’re so late. How was the dinner?”
These moments reminded me why I hated him so much. My face flushed beet-red; both from the humiliation and the embarrassment from my cock getting hard. No, this couldn’t be – not for this guy.
I told him to fuck off.
“Watch your tone with me, boy,” he retorted. “If you weren’t her kid, I’d have your ass bent over my knee. But I guess you’d like that, wouldn’t you, faggot?”
I didn’t answer. He didn’t deserve one.
“Little bitch can’t even squeak,” he mumbled. “Fucking pussy. Should’ve just been born a girl, you fucking whore.”
I ignored him the best I could – ignored my anger, my impotence, my – my arousal…
And walked into my room.
Where on my bed –
Right in the middle –
Was Frank’s freshly cum-soaked boxers.
I froze.
It must’ve been just a minute, but it felt like an eternity.
It edirne escort was the laughter that brought me back to reality.
A rough hand grabbed my shoulder – Frank’s hand. I felt the callouses press into my skin.
And turned me around.
I faced him – all of him. He was grinning.
“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” He asked. “Think again, son. Your ma was wonderin’ where my underwear went… I knew it was you, you fucking faggot. Knew you’re the kinda slut to go do that kinda fag shit.”
I stumbled backwards, and luckily, my bed was close to the door. Ass first, I fell in, and I stared up – Frank suddenly looking bigger than ever. And hotter. No, no, I couldn’t think that – I had to find an excuse. Some kind of reason –
But he shut me up –
As his disgusting –
Foul-smelling –
Vile –
Wonderful mouth pressed against mine.
His tongue slipped in with ease – like my lips were made for him. They opened wide – I wanted to resist – no, I didn’t, actually – I did – no, I didn’t – but I did.
And I let him kiss me.
Dominate me.
Take me.
He tasted like a stale can of beer. I kissed guys before, and it never did it for me. I just never understood what it was about kissing that made people crave it so. But now I understood. I just had never been kissed before.
We kissed. Me and my boyfriend, we together did the kissing. But Frank, he was the one who kissed me. He took me. His tongue toyed with mine, played with the insides of my mouth, like it was a toy, built to his liking.
He explored it.
And I let him. I let him explore me all he wanted.
What felt like an hour later, he finally pulled away, huffing as he did – catching his breath. A long sliver of saliva connected his mouth to mine.
My pink, puckered lips to that wolfish grin.
I was still sitting on my bed, completely dumbfounded.
He didn’t say anything yet. He just reached for his waist, and grabbed the waistband. Slowly, as if teasing, he lowered his boxers…
I saw a glisten in the middle of the boxers as they fell.
And it emerged… His hard cock.
Frank’s cock.
The cock of my dreams.
It was beautiful. While just above average, it was way longer than my tiny clitty; and it was a thick as a can of beer, to boot. Wonderful veins sprawled across the uncut beast. It twitched, leaking a little bit of pre, glistening in the moonlight.
“Undress,” he demanded in a drunken slur. “Let me see that body of yours, slut. I wanna see what a good little girl’s packin’ under those faggy clothes.”
I didn’t hesitate. I practically threw my clothes off of my body. My smooth, milky-white pale skin shuddered from the cold, my little cocklet nearly freezing.
Frank laughed. “God, you really look like a girl,” he said. “You look like the skinny emo bitches I used to pound back in the day. They all squealed like a mouse when I fucked them. Do you squeal, faggot?”
I protested – well, if you could call it that – and told him I was a virgin.
“With that slutty body?” He raised an eyebrow. “Hell, most straight guys would tap an ass as fine as that. Are all the faggots in this state girly little whores? Should’ve grown up here.”
And with that, he grabbed my head, and positioned it across from his cock.
“Whatever,” he said. “Just means I get to break the bitch in. You ready, slut?”
I protested. This was the last chance – I… I… I couldn’t, I told him. He was my mother’s lover.
“Ya think I don’t tap some on the side already?” He grinned. I looked at him, a little fear, a little hate in my eyes. “Don’t even think about telling that stupid whore. Not that it even matters – bitch won’t even care. And, even if she did…”
He pointed at his boxers on my bed.
“I’d tell her first what a degenerate faggot her son is.”
My heart sank. He couldn’t do that!
“And you can just jerk off into my underpants, boy?” He laughed. “You wanted this, you little sissy. Just look at yourself.”
He pointed at my crotch. I hated it. Hated myself. Between my thighs…
My cock was so hard, it was ready to burst.
“Look at you,” he said. “Little slut didn’t even resist when I kissed him. Her, I mean. I’m no fag, not like you. Like a good, obedient whore, he just strips his clothes off instantly – and now he wants to pretend he doesn’t want this cock.”
With a sway of the hips, his cock – it slapped my cheek.
I loved it.
“Look at your eyes, you fucking faggot,” he said. “So hungry. So thirsty. Come on, faggot. Suck daddy’s dick.”
I… I… I…
I couldn’t resist anymore.
I opened my mouth.
He slowly pushed his hips, and slid his cock into my mouth.
I’d played with my own dick so many times before. I thought I knew all there was to know about cocks – how they felt, how they smelled, and how they looked.
But another man’s dick – god, it was a world’s worth of differences. His foreskin, it was so thick, so leathery, so… Delicious. erzurum escort His pre was slimy and bitter, and the tastiest treat I’d ever eaten.
His thick veins rubbed against my lips, creating an uneven texture… It felt great, feeling them slide all the way down my throat – I didn’t gag, I’d practiced quite a bit. And he noticed. Oh, how he noticed.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “Holy – fucking – shit. Is this your first time, boy? How the fuck – god, it feels so fucking good – what a fucking slut you are. I had to train your whore mom to take my cock whole, and you’re just doing it like a champ.”
I barely heard him. I was so focused on his dick, the sensation of it, sliding down faster and faster down my throat. My tongue explored it. Licked it all around the head, under the foreskin, flicked the tip…
“You’re a born cocksucker,” he moaned, and pulled my head roughly to his base, holding it there. He watched as I slowly choked, my head turning red, looking up at him with tears in my eyes – knowing that he had full control of me. Knowing this could be the last thing I’d do in my life, and that I’d died loving it. “The best fuck I’ve had in years. I jerked my cock three times today and didn’t wash it, just for you. Does that taste good, you faggot? Fucking nod.”
I nodded immediately. I was just being honest. It tasted – fucking – amazing. It was so thick, so creamy, so salty, so bitter, so sweet…
Watching me nod sent him over the edge.
With a final grunt, he pulled his cock out, and came all over my body.
Before I knew it, I’d started jerking off.
His slimy cum landed all over my tiny cock, and lubricated it, as I jerked it to completion.
For a moment, we both basked in the afterglow.
My entire body was covered in cum. It was a sign; a sign that I was his. The moonlight reflected off the thick, milky beads of jizz, its musky scent making me crazy, as I desperately scooped up every last strand of cum, shoveling it into my mouth…
And my cock got hard again.
He laughed. He laughed for a minute straight.
“Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said. “Instead of that gym membership, I should’ve given you my cock for your birthday, faggot.”
I didn’t say anything. I just fell into my bed.
Even though it aroused me so –
It kept nagging on me, that guilt –
I had just had sex with my step-father.
With my step-father.
What would my mom think of this?
But before I could even process it –
He lied down besides me, now naked.
“I’m tired,” he said. “Let’s get to sleep, slut, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
I was tired, too. But I protested, saying I wanted a shower first.
“You’re not taking a shower,” he grumbled. “You’re my bitch now. The cum stays on. You understand me?”
I looked at him – and he looked like he meant it. His hand grabbed my ass firmly. I nodded.
“Good boy,” he said, slapping my ass. Fuck, I loved it. “Now let’s get some sleep.”
I lied down next to him. He grabbed me and hugged me like a bodypillow. I felt his warmth, his hair, his muscles, his fat… His entire weight, and felt uncontrollably horny. My cock stood erect.
I barely could sleep that night, as I lied there, sniffing his sweaty, musky scent, wondering –
And fantasizing –
About how wonderful it would feel to have him take me.
The next three days were the best days of my life.
I had school, but that was the last thing in my mind. We spent the entire three days in my room, ordering takeout, going to the toilet here and there, but mostly in my room.
I serviced his cock whenever he wanted with my mouth. It never got old; it never got boring. I loved it more and more, and got better at it. Every time he finished, he would unload on my body – and I wasn’t allowed to wash myself. At all.
By the end of the third day, my entire body was caked in his dry cum.
I admired myself in the mirror, looking at the lines of dry, white crusty jizz; remembering each and every blowjob that caused every line.
I wondered just one thing over the last three days.
Why hadn’t he taken me yet?
Truthfully, I was reluctant, too, but even Frank seemed hesitant. I think I knew why, though – every time he looked at my cock, his seemed to soften just a little.
So on the fourth day, the final day before my mother would come back – I made him a proposition.
I asked him to let me wash myself.
I told him I had a surprise for him.
I told him to knock on my mother’s bedroom door at night.
He obliged, clearly set back, disgruntled that I’d dared to take the lead – but also curious, and clearly amused.
I took a shower, prettied up my face with some makeup, and stolen one of my mom’s corsets.
This wasn’t the first time I’d worn one before. I loved the feeling of wearing a nightgown or corset; it made me feel sexy. I jerked off in one many times before.
But this was the first time I wore it for someone.
And that someone was a person I shouldn’t desire.
I stood in front of that mirror as the clock ticked by.
I wondered if this was the right thing to do.
It clearly wasn’t.
But…
Was it worth it?
I was jolted awake when the knock finally came.
I took a minute to take a deep breath.
This was it. The moment I opened this door…
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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