His Father's Claim 3

I went back the next night. And the night after that. And the one after that.

By the end of the week I wasn’t even pretending anymore. I’d text Jake some excuse—girls’ night, overtime, period cramps, then drive straight to his father’s house with nothing under my dress. Richard never asked if I was sure. He just opened the door, looked me up and down, and told me where he wanted me.

Tonight was different.

Jake was out of town for a work thing until Sunday. Richard told me to pack a bag. I did so. I walked into that house Friday evening knowing I wasn’t leaving until Monday morning, knowing I was going to spend the entire weekend getting used like the secret little whore I’d become.

He didn’t even let me put the bag down. The second the door shut he had me bent over the arm of the living-room couch, dress shoved up, panties ripped to the side. He spat on his cock and shoved in dry enough that it burned in the best way. No warm-up. Just the full thick length of him punching the air out of my lungs.

“Three days,” he growled, hips slamming. “Three days of this cunt belonging only to me. No soft little boy cock. No fake moans. Just you taking what I give you until you can’t walk straight.”

I came in under two minutes, clenching around him like a fist. He laughed and kept going, fucking me through it until I was drooling on the cushion and begging him to slow down. He didn’t. He pulled out, flipped me onto my back on the couch, shoved my knees to my chest, and dropped to his knees.

Then he ate me like that

How tongue thick and flat, licking from my hole up to my clit in long, filthy strokes, sucking hard enough to make my thighs shake. He pushed two fingers back inside me while he worked my clit with his mouth, curling them, stretching me, making wet, obscene noises that filled the whole room. When I tried to close my legs he pinned them open with his free hand and kept going until I came again, harder, squirting against his chin. He didn’t pull away. He licked it up, pushed his tongue inside me, and made me watch.

“That’s how a real man eats this pussy,” he said, voice rough. “Remember that the next time my son tries.”

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and dragged me upstairs by the wrist. In his bedroom he stripped me completely, then stripped himself. I’d never seen him fully naked before. Thick chest, soft belly, heavy cock still shining with my cum. He sat on the edge of the bed and pointed at the floor.

“Crawl.”

I went on my hands and knees across the carpet until I was between his spread thighs. He rested the head of his cock on my lower lip.

“You’re going to suck me until I decide you’re done. Then you’re going to climb on and ride me like the future Mrs. Richard whatever-the-fuck. And while you bounce on this cock you’re going to tell me exactly what you’re going to be.”

I opened my mouth. He fed me his cock slow, then started fucking my face in deep, steady strokes. Spit ran down my chin and onto my tits. He held my hair in both hands and used my throat like a toy, watching my eyes water, watching me gag and still push forward for more. When I started choking hard he pulled out just long enough for me to drag in air, then shoved back in.

“Good girl. Look at you. My son’s girlfriend choking on Daddy’s cock. Future stepmom. Future wife. Future cum dump.”

He pulled out before he finished and hauled me up onto the bed. I straddled him. He lined up and I sank down, taking every inch in one long slide until my ass met his thighs. He gripped my hips hard enough to bruise and thrust up into me.

“Move.”

I rode him. Hard 'n sloppy. Tits bouncing, cunt making wet filthy sounds every time I dropped down. He let me set the pace for a while, watching me with dark eyes, then started meeting my thrusts with his own, slamming up so deep it hurt in the best way.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I’m going to marry you,” I gasped.

“More.”

“I’m going to be your wife. Jake’s stepmom. I’m going to walk around this house with your cum leaking out of me while he calls me Mom.”

“Keep going.”

“I’m going to let you fuck me whenever you want. In the kitchen. In his old room. In the shower. I’m going to get pregnant with your baby and still let him think it’s his if you want. I’m going to be your dirty little secret and your wife at the same time.”

He groaned like the words physically punched him. Flipped us so I was on my back, hooked my knees over his shoulders, and pounded me so hard the headboard cracked against the wall. I came screaming, cunt spasming, squirting around his cock. He kept going, chasing his own, face tight, sweat dripping onto my chest.

“Take it,” he snarled. “Take every fucking drop. This cunt is mine now. This womb is mine. You’re going to walk out of here on Monday still full of me and you’re going to keep it in while you kiss my son hello.”

He buried himself to the root and came hard, pulsing thick ropes of cum so deep I felt it in my stomach. He stayed locked inside me, grinding, making sure every drop stayed put. When he finally pulled out a thick river of it followed, running down my ass crack onto the sheets. He scooped it up with two fingers and shoved it back into my hole, then pushed those same fingers into my mouth.

“Clean.”

I sucked and tasted both of us. Salt and musk and how completely I’d given up.

He wasn’t done.

He made me stay on my back with my legs spread while he recovered, occasionally reaching down to push more cum back inside me or rub my oversensitive clit until I was twitching and whimpering. When he got hard again he flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and took me from behind, slower this time but just as deep, talking the entire time.

Told me how he was going to put a ring on my finger. How he was going to make me sign the marriage papers while Jake stood there as the best man, none the wiser. How he was going to fuck me in the bathroom at the reception. How he was going to knock me up and make me keep teaching Jake how to please a woman by using me as the example. How I was going to call him Daddy in bed for the rest of my life and Husband in public and never once feel guilty enough to stop.

I came two more times before he filled me again.

We didn’t sleep much.

Saturday he fucked me in the kitchen against the counter while coffee brewed. Made me stay full of him while we ate breakfast. Took me again on the living-room floor in the afternoon, then in the shower, then bent over his desk while he checked emails. Every time he finished he pushed the cum back in and told me to clench. Every time I got close to saying I needed a break he reminded me what I was now.

Sunday night he had me on my knees at the foot of the bed, hands behind my back, while he stroked himself and painted my face and tits with the last load of the weekend. Then he made me stay like that while he took pictures on his phone—nothing that showed my face clearly, just the mess, the proof.

“Insurance,” he said. “In case you ever get ideas about going back to pretending.”

Monday morning he walked me to the door with his hand on the back of my neck. Kissed me slow and deep, tasting like the coffee we’d shared and the cum he’d made me swallow ten minutes earlier.

“Go home to my son,” he said against my mouth. “Let him fuck you if he wants. Smile when he says he missed you. And when he comes inside that used little cunt, remember whose it really is.”

I drove home with his cum still leaking into my underwear, thighs sticky, cunt sore and open and claimed. Jake was already back. He hugged me at the door, told me he missed me, kissed me like I was still the same girl he’d left on Thursday.

I kissed him back.

And while his tongue was in my mouth I was already counting the hours until I could go back to Daddy’s house and get fucked like the stepmom I was going to be.

.