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My Father’s Best Friend Caught Me Mast*rbating - final

Penulis: Writer
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-08-13 02:13:03

I didn’t stop.

My fingers kept pumping into my cunt, wet and loud, while Blake stared at me from the edge of the bed. His fist never slowed. Precome still leaked over his knuckles in thick, shiny strings. The look on his face was pure hunger, dark 'n focused, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Come here,” he said.

I walked on wobby legs. The second I was close enough he grabbed my wrist, yanked my soaked fingers out of my pussy, and shoved them into his mouth. He sucked them
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  • All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories   CHP 6

    Mom left Friday morning with a packed suitcase and a quick kiss on both our cheeks. “Be good,” she said, already halfway out the door. “Don’t burn the house down.” The second the car pulled away, the air in the house changed. Alex didn’t say anything. He just looked at me across the kitchen—still in the shirt he’d slept in, sleeves rolled up, eyes dark—and then he was on me. Mouth hard. Hands rougher than usual. He lifted me onto the counter, shoved my sleep shorts aside, and pushed two fingers into me without preamble. “Already wet,” he muttered against my neck. “Were you thinking about this all night? Your mother packing while you lay in bed soaked for her husband?” “Yes.” “Yes what?” “Yes, Professor.” He groaned like the words physically hit him, then replaced his fingers with his cock in one deep thrust. I cried out. He fucked me right there on the kitchen counter, one hand braced behind my head so I wouldn’t hit the cabinets, the other gripping my thigh hard enough to le

  • All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories   Chp5

    I woke up to the sound of Mom’s voice in the hallway, soft and confused. “Alex? Why is there a blue button on the stairs?” My stomach dropped. I sat up too fast. The dress from yesterday was still on the floor where he’d left it, two buttons missing. One of them must have fallen when he shoved me against the banister the day before. I heard him answer, calm as ever. “Must’ve come off one of your blouses. I’ll check later.” A pause. Then her footsteps moved toward their room. I stayed frozen until the house went quiet again. Downstairs, the kitchen felt too bright. Mom was already dressed for work, scrolling through her phone. Alex stood at the counter in a dark suit, pouring coffee. When I walked in he didn’t look at me. Not even a glance. “Morning, honey,” Mom said. “You look tired. Late night?” “Couldn’t sleep.” My voice came out rough. I could still feel him between my legs. The ache was deeper today. Permanent. Alex set a mug down in front of me without meeting my eyes. H

  • All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories   Chp4

    I wore the blue dress. It buttoned all the way down the front, stopped mid-thigh, and made my tits look like they were begging to be taken out. No bra. No panties. Just like he wanted. Alex’s eyes found me the second I walked into the lecture hall. He was already at the front, sleeves rolled up, glasses on. His gaze dropped to the buttons, lingered on the stretch of bare thigh, then flicked back up to my face. Something hungry and mean settled in his expression. He didn’t look away until I sat down. Halfway through class he made us break into pairs to discuss a short story about obsession. The blonde from yesterday—Chloe—ended up next to me. She kept glancing at the front of the room. “God, he’s hot when he’s serious,” she whispered. “I had a dream about him last night. Do you think he dates students?” My stomach twisted. I smiled with too many teeth. “Probably not. He’s married.” She shrugged. “Married men still fuck. Especially the quiet ones.” When class ended I stayed in m

  • All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories   Chp3

    The next morning I woke up with fingerprints still faintly visible on my hips and a deep, satisfying throb between my legs. Mom was humming in the kitchen when I came down. Alex stood at the counter in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that clung to his chest. No glasses. Hair messy. He looked dangerous like that—less professor, more the man who’d bent me over furniture and filled me until I couldn’t think. He handed Mom a mug of coffee, then looked at me over her shoulder. His eyes dropped to the thin tank top I’d slept in. My nipples were already hard. He didn’t smile. Just stared for a second too long before turning away. “I’m heading to campus early,” he said. “Office hours.” Mom kissed his cheek. “Don’t work too hard.” I waited until she left the room, then stepped close enough that my breast brushed his arm. “Should I come by during office hours… Professor?” His hand shot out under the counter, gripped the inside of my thigh hard, and slid up until his fingers pressed a

  • All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories   Chp2

    I woke up with his cum dried on my thighs and a deep ache between my legs that made me smile into the pillow. Mom was already downstairs making coffee when I came out of the shower. Alex sat at the kitchen island in a fresh white shirt and dark slacks, reading something on his tablet. He didn’t look up when I entered, but the second Mom turned to pour more coffee he lifted his eyes and dragged them slowly from my bare legs up to my face. I was wearing another short skirt. No panties this time. Just to see what he’d do. His jaw tightened. That was it. Then Mom turned back and he was the perfect husband again. “Sleep well, honey?” she asked. “Really well.” I poured myself coffee and leaned against the counter across from him. My pussy was still sore. Every shift of my hips reminded me how hard he’d fucked me over that desk. I could still feel the ghost of his hand over my mouth. Alex’s voice was calm. “You have my class first thing. Don’t be late.” Mom laughed. “Listen to him. Al

  • All Yours, Daddy: Short Steamy Stories   Chp1

    I still couldn’t believe Mom actually went through with it. One minute she’s crying over Dad’s old photos, the next she’s marrying some literature professor she met at a faculty dinner three months ago. Whirlwind didn’t even cover it. I got the call two weeks ago: “Honey, pack your things. You’re moving in with us for senior year. It’ll be good for you.” Like I was twelve again. So here I was, hauling the last box up the stairs of this big old colonial in the hills outside campus. Hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the smell of coffee and old paper. My new bedroom was at the end of the hall, right across from the master. Convenient. He was downstairs when I came back for the final bag. Alexander Kane. Alex. My stepfather as of last Saturday. Tall. Broad through the shoulders. Dark hair with a little gray at the temples. He wore a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers that fit like they were made for him. No tie. Glasses pushed up on his head.

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