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CHP2
publish date:
2026-09-08 23:05:25
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All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories Moving Back In
*A New Collection The U-Haul was smaller than I expected. Most of my stuff from the dorm barely filled half of it. I stood on the driveway of the house I grew up in, sweating under the late afternoon sun, watching my stepdad Daniel carry the last box inside. “Cindy, you sure you don’t want me to take the heavier ones?” he asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “I’m fine,” I muttered, even though my arms were burning. Truth was, I didn’t want to feel even more like a burden than I already did. Six months ago, my parents’ divorce had turned everything upside down. Dad moved to another state with his new girlfriend, and Mom quickly remarried Daniel. Now, with my financial aid delayed and my part-time job barely covering food, I had no choice but to move back in. Mom was barely ever home anyway, always traveling for her job, so it was mostly going to be me and Daniel in this big, quiet house. Daniel was… different from my dad--He is calm, he is steady. The kind of
All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories Church Gay Big 2
You didn’t see him the next day.Or the one after.Sunday came and you sat in your usual spot, three rows back on the left. The choir finished. People stood. You waited for that familiar shape to cut through the crowd—dark hair, white shirt, the quiet way he moved like he was trying not to take up space. He wasn’t there. Not in the sanctuary. Not in the fellowship hall afterward. Not by the coffee table where he usually stood with a paper cup in both hands like it was something holy.You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he stayed home to pray the sin off. You left early and drove around with the windows down even though it was still raining a little. Your hand kept drifting to your mouth like you could still taste him.Wednesday night youth group. You almost didn’t go. Then you did.He was already there when you walked in. Sitting at the far end of the long table with an open Bible and a pen. He looked up once. Eyes met yours for less than a second. Then he dropp
All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories Church Gay Big
You always watched him.Not in that obvious way that gets you caught. Just enough. From the back pew on Sundays when the choir finished and everyone stood to leave. From across the youth group table when he read scripture out loud in that soft, careful voice. From the hallway outside the fellowship hall when he laughed at something dumb one of the other boys said.His name was Caleb. Eighteen. Same as you. Tall enough to look down a little when he talked, shoulders that filled out his button-ups without trying, dark hair always a little messy like he’d run his hands through it during prayer. Clear skin. No tattoos. No piercings. No stories about last weekend or some girl from the next town over. The other guys joked about it sometimes—how Caleb still hadn’t even kissed anyone, how he blushed if someone mentioned sex too loud. You never joined in. You just watched.He was clean. Proper. The kind of boy your mom would point at and say “be more like that.” You tried. Or you pretended to.
All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories The Quiet Car
The train had been sitting dead on the tracks for forty-seven minutes. Rain hammered the windows in thick, uneven sheets. The overhead lights flickered once, then steadied into that soft, yellow quiet-car glow. Most people had already given up and were scrolling or sleeping with their mouths open. Elena kept her coat on, legs crossed, bag clutched against her hip like a shield. She had a deadline waiting at the other end of the line and a low, restless ache under her skin that had nothing to do with work. He boarded at the last stop before the delay—tall, dark coat still damp at the shoulders, a single leather bag, no phone in sight. He chose the seat directly across from her in the nearly empty quiet car. Not beside. Across. Close enough that their knees almost touched when the train gave its occasional, useless shudder. He didn’t look at her at first. Just settled, unbuttoned the top of his coat, and rested one long hand on his thigh. Clean nails. A thin silver ring on the m
All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories Caught Sneaking Back
I take the money two days later. It’s not even a lot, just sixty bucks from his wallet on the kitchen counter while he’s in the shower. I tell myself it’s just until payday, that I’ll put it back, that he won’t notice. I use it to Uber across town and meet the same guy from the bar. We don’t even make it to a bed. He fucks me in the backseat of his car behind a closed restaurant, quick and rough, and I come harder than I want to admit with my face pressed against the window. I get home after one. The house is dark. I think I’ve gotten away with it. Marcus is waiting in the garage with the side door open. The fluorescent light is already on. He’s standing by the workbench in a black t-shirt and jeans, the leather belt folded in one hand. My stomach drops so hard I feel sick. “Come here.” I step inside. He closes the door behind me and locks it. The concrete floor is cold under my bare feet when he tells me to strip. I do it without arguing this time. Bra, shirt, jeans, pant
All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories Overtime Hours 3
The three nights Marcus’s wife spent in the city felt longer than three weeks. Elena went through the motions at the office like a woman underwater. She answered emails, sat through meetings, delivered the revised Midwest deck without a single stumble, and somehow managed not to look at the closed door of his office every time she walked past. Marcus was present but distant—there for the morning stand-ups, gone for long stretches in the afternoon, always the first to leave when the day ended. He never glanced at her longer than necessary. He never lingered. She hated how much she noticed. The prepaid phone stayed silent in her bag. No texts. No late-night summons. She checked it more times than she wanted to admit, always in the bathroom stall or the parking garage, always with the same empty screen staring back at her. By the second night she had started sleeping poorly again, waking at 2 a.m. with the phantom feeling of his hand on the back of her neck and the taste of
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