LOGINI whimpered, hips rocking back against his hand. Two thick fingers slid through my folds, parting me, then pushed inside — slow, deep, curling immediately against that spot that made my back arch. The stretch burned sweetly. The wet sound of his fingers moving in my pussy filled the quiet room. I moaned softly, face buried in his neck, breathing in his scent.He pumped his fingers slowly at first, savoring every slick slide, every clench of my walls around him. Then faster, deeper, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing in firm circles. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, hot and urgent.“Damn it, Ana,” he whispered against my hair, voice strained. "This is so fucking wrong.”The guilt in his voice only made me wetter. I rocked against his hand, chasing the pressure, my breath coming in short gasps.“I know,” I whispered back, tears stinging my eyes even as pleasure built. “But I want it. I’ve wanted it for so long, Daddy.”The word slipped out.He froze for half a second, then groaned
I couldn’t stay in my room.The house was too quiet, my skin too hot, my mind too loud with everything we weren’t saying. I lay in bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying the way Marcus had looked at me on the couch — the guilt in his eyes, the hunger underneath it, the way his fingers had brushed my thigh like he was fighting not to touch me more. My pussy was still aching, still wet, still clenching around nothing every time I remembered the way he’d said my name.I got up.The hallway was dark. My bare feet made almost no sound on the wooden floor as I walked to his room. The door was slightly ajar, the way it always was when I was little and scared of the dark. I pushed it open without knocking.Marcus was sitting up in bed, the sheet pooled around his waist, chest bare. The lamp on his nightstand was on low, casting warm light across his shoulders and the hard lines of muscle he’d earned from years of manual work around the house. He looked at me, and for
The next evening the house smelled like garlic bread and red wine. Marcus had cooked again — chicken parmesan, my favorite since I was twelve. We ate at the kitchen table like always, but the air between us felt different tonight. Thicker. Every time our eyes met over the rim of our glasses, something unspoken passed between us. I kept catching him looking at the thin straps of my sundress, at the way the fabric clung to my breasts when I leaned forward. I didn’t adjust it. I wanted him to look.After dinner we moved to the living room with the rest of the wine. We put on one of those old family movies we used to watch when I was little — the one with the talking dog and the road trip. I curled up on the couch beside him, closer than I probably should have. My bare thigh pressed against his jeans. He didn’t move away.Halfway through the movie, the wine had loosened my tongue and my inhibitions. I turned to him, the glow of the TV painting soft shadows across his face.“I’ve never fel
ANA;I’ve been touching myself to thoughts of Uncle Marcus for over a year.Not innocent little daydreams. Filthy ones.I imagine him pinning me down on the bed he bought for me when I was twelve, one big hand around my throat while he fucks me so deep I can’t breathe. I picture him whispering “I raised you” right before he spits on my pussy and shoves his cock inside me like I’m his to ruin. I’ve come with three fingers buried deep, biting my pillow so I don’t moan “Daddy” too loud, feeling sick with guilt because he’s the man who held me when my parents died, who taught me how to ride a bike, who made me breakfast every morning for eleven years.He’s thirty-eight. I’m nineteen.He raised me like his own daughter.And I want him to fuck me like I’m not.Tonight
I stumbled to the bed and climbed on, heart pounding. He stripped quickly — shirt, jeans, boxers — his cock springing free, thick and hard, the head glistening. He crawled over me, settling between my thighs, and pushed my legs wide.He thrust into me in one deep stroke — no warning, no gentleness. The sudden stretch made me gasp, my back arching off the mattress. He was so deep at this angle, filling me completely. He started fucking me hard — deep, punishing thrusts that made the bed creak softly. Every slam of his hips sent jolts of pleasure through me.His hand came up to wrap around my throat — squeezing just enough to make my vision spot. “Quiet,” he whispered against my ear. “Don’t wake him.”I bit my lip, trying to stay silent, but soft, broken moans still escaped. He fucked me faster, the wet slap of skin on ski
Kai pulled out of me with a wet sound that made my cheeks burn, his come and my wetness leaking down my thighs in warm, sticky trails. My legs were shaking so badly I could barely stand. Before I could even straighten up, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the kitchen counter.“Guest room,” he whispered, voice low and urgent. “Now.”My heart slammed against my ribs as he led me down the hallway, both of us moving as quietly as we could. The house was silent except for the faint creak of the floorboards under our feet and the distant sound of my stepbrother’s snoring from his room at the end of the hall. Every step felt dangerous. Every breath felt too loud. The risk made everything sharper — the cool air on my bare skin, the way my pussy still throbbed and leaked, the grip of Kai’s hand around my wrist like he was afraid I’d disappear.He pushed open the door to the guest room — my stepbrother’s old room — and pulled me inside, closing the door behind us with a soft click tha
He pushed—slow, relentless. The stretch burned bright, then melted into fullness so intense I saw stars. Both cocks buried deep, rubbing against each other inside me. They started moving—opposite thrusts at first, then together, deep and hard. I screamed—raw, unfiltered—clit grinding against Tattoo
AVA'S POVTRIGGER WARNING; TABOO, SEX WITH COUSIN I spent all day pretending nothing happened. Smiling at the aunties while I carried plates of potato salad and coleslaw to the picnic tables. Helping Dad flip burgers on the grill, the smoke stinging my eyes while I laughed at his dumb jokes abou
Midnight came slow.I slipped out—bare feet on cool grass, moonlight silver on the lake. The dock stretched dark and empty. Waves lapped soft against the pilings. Crickets hummed. I told myself I just needed air.Ryan was waiting.He leaned against the boat railing—shirt off, jeans low, moonlight c
Brit's POVThe morning after I became a legend, campus felt different. Like the air itself knew what I’d done.I walked to class with Jake’s arm slung low around my waist, his fingers brushing the top of my ass every few steps like he was reminding the world—and me—who I belonged to now. My thigh







