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“Now here’s your reward,” I tell him, leaning in and using my tongue to jab at the tip of his cock. “I want you to come in my mouth,” I say, and then just wrap my lips around his cock. This time I give him my all, bobbing my head back and forth as fast as I can right from the start. I use one hand to stroke him while I suck, and I take the other one to his balls, caressing them as I drive him to the edge of pleasure.
The moment I feel the first spasm of his cock, I realize that having him come in my mouth is a mistake. Well, a delicious mistake, actually; throbbing violently, he gushes a stream of warm semen into my mouth, and all it takes is a mere second for him to fill me up to the brim. Cum drips out of my mouth, drops making their way down my chin, and he still keeps on cumming.
I move back, popping his cock out of my mouth, and a thick strand of semen hits me straight in the face. I close my eyes by instinct, and swallow the cum inside my mouth at the same time, the saltiness of it burning its way down my throat. The moment that’s done, I open my mouth and throw my head back, allowing him to empty his load all over my face, which he does more easily than I thought.
He covers my face with his seed with two spasms of his cock, and then I just grab it and angle it down; he keeps on gushing his load, but this time it hits me in the chest, large gooey strands sliding down my breasts and making their way onto my stomach.
“Fuck,” he groans, looking at me with a wild smile. I might've had the best sex of my life, but something tells me that the same is valid for him. I don’t know if this has anything to do with the forbidden aspect of fucking someone in your family, but the sex we had was on a whole other level. If the Greek gods were real, I doubt their sex would be half as good as ours.
“This was fucking insane,” he tells me, blurting it out as his cock gives its dying spasms against my fingers.
“It was so much more than just fucking insane,” I admit, peeling my fingers off his cock and closing my eyes for a whole second, exhaustion finally taking over my body. When I open my eyes again, he’s already kneeling by my side, an easy smile dawning on his lips.
“You know,” he whispers, gently brushing my hair to the side and looking at my cum-coated face with a hard-to-read expression, “you look so hot right now.”
Without even waiting for a reply, he leans into me and brushes his lips against mine. I place both my hands on his face and kiss him back, parting my lips and sliding my tongue inside his mouth. We kiss in complete abandonment and, at the same time, he squeezes my breasts, smearing his cum all over my naked skin.
“Now I can say the same about you,” I tell him, pulling back from his kiss and glancing at his lips, drops of his own cum making them glisten.
Using two fingers, I run them up from my waist to the valley between my breasts, scooping whatever cum I can on the way. Then, I take my fingers to his mouth and brush them over his lips, painting them in white.
Moving gently, I kiss him once more, this time taking it slow and really savoring him. He does the same, our tongues dancing around one another over a blanket of semen.
“This is so fucked up,” he finally says, his words sounding genuine and candid.
“It is,” I admit, remembering that the man in front of me—the man who fucked me almost to the point of passing out—is actually my stepdad. Yeah, I guess that ‘fucked up’ covers it.
But then I look into his eyes and smile, my heart beating steadily and a warm pleasant feeling washing over me. Right now, I should feel guilt, or shame, or whatever it is the prudes would like me to feel; I should regret the fact that I’ve broken one of society’s most sacred taboos. I should do and feel all these things, but the truth is that I can’t.
Screw what society says; screw what people think. Hell, screw what
that little voice inside my head keeps on whispering (this is wrong, this is wrong, he’s your stepdad!). To hell with all of that.
I’m a grown woman and, fucked up or not, this was the best sex of my life.
Drake
I lean back in my leather chair, my feet propped on top of my desk. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, I can see the entire New York City skyline, like a glittering necklace draped across the city. To me, there isn't much that's more beautiful than this. It signifies power, progress, and best of all—money.
It's a testament to what man can accomplish. When the first man figured out how to put a building in the sky, that's when cities became real—when they had their individual fucking fingerprints. They had an identity.
St. Louis can have its Gateway Arch; San Francisco can have its Golden Gate Bridge; Las Vegas can have its golden lion and Pyramid that spears a beam of light into outer space; Washington DC can have its Lincoln Memorial; and Seattle can have its Space Needle; but New York City … well, nothing fucking compares to Gotham. Sure, we've got the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building, but this city's got something more; it's got guts because you know what? It's been reaching for the sky since the fucking beginning.
Just then, my mid-day reverie is cut short, and my office door flies open. I look over to see Sloane bursting in. My secretary is running after him, her necklace bouncing up and down on her chest, and she's flashing me an apologetic and flustered look.
"I'm sorry, sir, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He insisted on seeing you."
"You!" Sloane shouts, pointing a stiff finger in my direction, "You should be ashamed!"
I look back at my secretary and give her a nod. "It's okay, CJ. I'll handle it from here."
"So, what do I owe the honor?" I ask, casually removing my feet from my desk and sitting up straight in my chair.
"Cut the crap," he growls. "Natalie is your daughter."
"Stepdaughter," I correct. "And technically, even that's a stretch after Linda and I divorced."
"I'm asking you to stay away from her."
