Liz, a shy, late-blooming early-20s virgin, is quite a daddy's girl. Well, step-daddy's girl would be more accurate. As she prepares to move off to college, she's surprised when her step-daddy Peter finally returns some of the teasing affection she's tormented him with over the years. What will happen when they unleash years of raw, pent-up sexual tension? Liz is about to find out!
Lizzie, a shy, late-blooming early-20s virgin, is quite a daddy's girl. Well, step-daddy's girl would be more accurate. As she prepares to move off to college, she's surprised when her step-daddy Peter finally returns some of the teasing affection she's tormented him with over the years. What will happen when they unleash years of raw, pent-up sexual tension? Lizzy's about to find out!
Warning: This 7500+ word erotic story is dripping with steamy sex, taboo situations, and a promise of things to come. Lizzy and Peter enjoy explicit oral sex (both ways), multiple orgasms, a hand job that belies Lizzy’s inexperience, a virgin deflowering, and impregnation. This story is not for the faint of heart, but it just might be for you!
My little game went on for years. The poor guy had no way out. My mom got a promotion in the hospital to some sort of administrative position early last year, and so she was forever going on these long business trips for weeks, sometimes months on end. At that point, I was getting ready to leave for college, and taunting Peter had become almost a strip-tease exhibition.
I heard him sometimes in the bathroom or in his room late at night tugging on that **** of his, sometimes saying my mom’s name, and sometimes calling out “Liz” instead. I couldn’t believe it the first time I stumbled across him, but I understood. I was a little over twenty at that time, and one of the horniest girls you’ve ever known. Problem is though, I was so shy and so lacking in self-confidence that I’d never let a boy give me a good hard *******. I’d done **** a few times, and one guy had gone down on me badly twice, stuck a finger or two in me and fumbled around a little, but nothing serious. I wanted it so, so bad, but I just could never go that one last step. I guess part of it is that of the boys I brought home or met out somewhere, none of them ever stacked up to my daddy, Peter.
I’d listen to him in the bathroom. Close my eyes. Imagine what his **** looked like, what he looked like without any clothes on, and what having him split my ***** open would feel like. If I really concentrated, I heard his hand moving up and down his **** – that smooth rubbing sound. When he came, he always sucked air in through his teeth in a hiss. Then he’d grunt and sigh. I liked to pretend that while I was out in the hall with my fingers buried in my soaking wet, aching-for-him ****, that he imagined me underneath him, my legs pushed back so my knees were near my head, and he was so deep inside me that his ***** slapped against my ******* every time he pumped.
When I listened to him grunt out those orgasms and sigh, I grinded the palm of my hand hard on my ****, made myself *** just when he did. I’d drive my fingers deep and try to envision him spurting inside me, his **** dripping down the walls of my **** and out on to the sheets.
Sometimes he went for a second round immediately after the first. When he did that, I’d keep going too. My thoughts made it so that he used his own *** to lube me up again and **** me so hard, and so fast that when he grinded into me again, his **** sticky and hot from a mix of his *** and my ***** juice, he wouldn’t be able to take it for more than a second before he had to flip me over and take me from behind so he could get as deep as possible and fill me up with another gush.