Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Why the fuck was she using the guest bath? She has her own, bigger, newer en suite. She could have locked herself away in the fortress of her bedroom. Instead she left the guest bath door open, just a sliver, just enough for the steam to billow out and hang in the air like temptation. I listened, standing silent outside, and heard the shower start, then the muffled groan of pipes, then a new sound, small at first but growing, gathering force as it bounced off the marble and glass.
It was Mary Kate. Moaning my name.
No, not my name precisely. The word “Daddy.” A word that should have made my skin crawl, but instead it made every atom in my body snap to attention.
“Daddy, fuck, yes,” she was panting. “Kent, please, please, oh my god, yes, right there—”
The sounds that followed were obscene, and I listened to every one. The slick patter of her palm against her own flesh, the wet gasp of her arousal, more desperate pants of “Daddy, please!” Then, unable to resist, I peered into the bathroom, the warm steam rendering my beautiful girl into a glow of ivory, pink and gold. Because there was Mary Kate, bent over with her bottom facing me. As I watched, she reached back with both hands and pulled her butt cheeks apart, giving me a full view of that lovely pink pussy, as well as the tight clench of her ass. I almost came again right there, just from the sight. I wanted to rip the door open and take her, to fuck her against the marble, to see how many times I could make her scream, but I didn’t. I just stood there, silent, dick throbbing, watching and listening.
But Mary Kate wasn’t done yet. She stepped into the shower next, with a naughty smile on those lovely features, and proceeded to rub her kitty like a crazed woman. Even better, when she came, there was a huge burst of fluid from her cunt. My baby is a squirter! Again, I almost came just from the visual of that heavenly spray. I couldn’t take it anymore. While Mary Kate was recovering from her massive orgasm, I stepped two feet into the bathroom and snatched her panties off the floor. Yes, I was a dirty asshole, and immediately pressed the contraband to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent of her wet cunt.
But did I go away then? Yes, sort of. When the water stopped, I ducked into the next room and waited. My sexy stepdaughter walked out, towel wrapped around her, hair wet and hanging, a look of dazed triumph on her face. I watched her from the shadows, watched the way her hips swayed, the way she walked on the balls of her feet, light and floating. Watched the way she didn’t glance back, not once. She knew I was there. She wants me, just as much as I want her.
I snap back to the present, my palm still pressed against the table. The memory has made me hard all over again, the kind of morning wood that refuses to be ignored. I reach down, cup myself, and stroke it once, just to see if it’s as sensitive as it was last night. It is. More, even.
I should feel shame, maybe, or something like regret, but I feel nothing but anticipation. A hungry glow, like the animal within has been awakened. After all, these interactions are the result of years of patience, careful cultivation. The whole structure of this family is my design: Jeannine was always a means to an end, the perfect blend of fragile and ambitious, desperate for a rich man to anchor her to the world. But I can’t blame her because the woman merely wanted more for herself and her daughter. They were barely getting by before we met, squeezed into a one-bedroom apartment with Mary Kate on scholarship at her high school. Marrying me was an easy decision for Jeannine, and my new wife was willing to pay the price: a life of luxury, provided that I got access to her daughter once Mary Kate came of age.
But it took longer than I’d planned. I thought I’d swoop in when my stepdaughter turned eighteen, but Jeannine begged for more time for her daughter. It was clear Mary Kate was too naive back then, and too childish still. Sure, she had the body of a luscious woman, but she was still thinking about Hello Kitty and getting mango fro-yo with her friends. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, at that Thanksgiving a while back, I sensed that things had changed. My beautiful stepdaughter was no longer a child. She was a young woman bursting with beauty and fertility, and needed a real man to take her to the next level. So I crafted this “medical” excuse, a reason to touch me, and now Mary Kate’s devouring the opportunity.