Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
I’d touched her mouth earlier today. Ran my thumb along her succulent lip. My cock hardened as I was hit with an image of tasting her. I ached to kiss my stepsister. In front of everyone no less.
That shit can’t happen.
Ever.
Especially when I’d been so worried about seeing our family again, but it actually went better than I expected. Indulging in these fantasies about Clara is too weird. Too disrespectful to our parents.
It. Can’t. Happen.
I’m not sure how long I lie in bed berating myself, but eventually there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Yeah?” I call out, voice husky.
“A cute Hallmark Christmas movie is about to start. I made some hot cocoa. Come join me and Frosty.”
My mind screams at me to deny her—that I need to put some space between us. But, I sit up in bed, aching to make her happy in whatever way I can. “Be right there.”
“Yay,” she says through the door. “Frosty can’t wait.”
I hear her bedroom door close as she no doubt changes into something more comfortable. Because I’m a sicko with no chill, I immediately conjur up mental images of Clara pulling off her clothes. My cock plumps up in my sweatpants.
I’m an idiot.
And yet, I palm myself over my pants, needing to calm the desire burning hot through my veins.
I shove my sweats down until my cock breaks free. A hiss of air escapes me as I grab onto the unruly monster. Gritting my teeth, I stroke my length, trying to think of anything else besides Clara.
But, she’s the only thing on my mind as I squeeze my dick. Why can’t I think about my ex-girlfriend, Tabby, or that one hot chick from a Netflix show I like to watch? My brain is zeroed in on my stepsister’s pretty lips, bouncy breasts, and sexy ass.
Fuck.
I scramble to retrieve the lube from the bedside table and then squirt a gob onto my cock. As the liquid sluices over me, I slick my fist and cock with it. Biting into my bottom lip, I fuck my hand, imagining filthy scenes where I’m inside Clara instead.
It’s so fucking wrong.
Does it stop me? Do I lose my hard-on?
Hell no.
I jerk off like I’m thirteen and got my hands on internet porn for the first time. I’m unsure the last time I got laid, but I know for damn sure it’s been too long ago if I’m beating my fucking meat with these forbidden thoughts racing through my head.
Shamefully, this isn’t the first time I thought about Clara this way. It’s been something, over the years, I’ve shoved into a box in my mind. At one time, I’d thought about it so much, I ended up losing my virginity to one of her friends, just to stop thinking about it.
It worked. Sort of.
Having sex felt good and it was easy to get distracted when losing myself in a woman’s body.
But another woman’s body doesn’t appeal to me right now. I’m fixated on a particular one. Clara’s.
Filthy thoughts of her sliding down over the length of my cock has me grunting. I stroke faster and squeeze tighter, aching to come. Having my dick inside of her would feel like heaven. I imagine flipping her onto her back and fucking her roughly as I kiss her supple mouth.
It’s enough to break me.
I come with a guttural sound I can’t contain. If she can hear me, I will die. Yet, I don’t stop jerking off until every last drop of cum has been wrung out of me. My fantasies don’t stop with thoughts of fucking her. Now, as my soul returns to my body, I lazily run my fingers through the cum on my stomach, wishing it were Clara’s tongue licking it up.
What kind of sick fuck are you, man?
Shame and the sound of Frosty yipping outside my bedroom door have me jolting upright, hunting down something to clean up with. I locate a discarded T-shirt and quickly swipe up the mess. Once I’m dressed and hopefully looking not so guilty, I open the door.
Clara, who scoops up Frosty, has changed into plaid pajama pants and a pink form-fitting long sleeved top with red Christmas bows sewn on. It’s over-the-top and ridiculous for sleepwear, but somehow she makes it looks sexy.
“You know he gets lonely if you shut your door,” she says, grinning at me. “Come on. The movie will start soon.”
I take Frosty from her and follow her down the stairs. Either she’s wearing a thong or no panties beneath her pants because the fabric is damn near painted to her ass, revealing no lines for anything under it. My cock throbs with appreciation.
Unbelievable.
Once in the living room, I hide my visceral reaction to her by tugging a furry Santa Claus blanket into my lap. Frosty curls up between me and the arm of the couch. Clara turns off all the lights aside from the ones lighting up the Christmas tree in the corner of the room before plopping down beside me.