The Mistake

The thick head of his cock pushed into me in one slow, relentless slide.

I was still wet from everything that came before—Adrian’s fingers, the car, Richard’s mouth, my own shame—but the stretch still forced a broken sound out of my throat. He was bigger than his son. Thicker. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the base and my cunt was stretched around him like it had never been stretched before. My legs were already over his shoulders. He had folded me open so I had no choice but to look at him while he started moving. Slowly

Deep, hard 'n brutal from the first stroke.

Each thrust shoved the air out of me. The wet sound of him fucking into my soaked cunt filled the bedroom. The same bed where I’d fucked myself with the dildo hours earlier while thinking about Adrian. Now Adrian’s father was balls-deep inside me, hips snapping, the heavy weight of him pinning me down.

“This is what my son threw away,” Richard growled, his voice was low and rough. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in hard enough that the headboard knocked the wall. “Look at you. Taking Daddy’s cock like you were made for it.”

I came the first time almost immediately--shocked, sharp, my cunt clamping down around him in helpless pulses while I gasped and shook. It was too fast, and too much.

He didn’t slow down. He fucked me through it, grinding deep when I tried to twist away from the overstimulation, forcing me to feel every inch.

“That’s it. Come on your Daddy’s cock. He never fucked you like this, did he?”

“N-no—!” The word tore out of me. Tears already stung my eyes. Not from pain. From how good it felt and how wrong it was at the same time.

He kept the same punishing rhythm, legs over his shoulders, folding me in half so he could watch my face while he used me. Every thrust dragged over the spot inside me that made my vision blur. My tits bounced with the force of it. The black thong was still shoved to the side, the soaked lace rubbing against my clit every time he bottomed out.

Then his phone started ringing on the nightstand.

We both froze for half a second. The screen lit up.

**Cole.** It shows on the screen.

Adrian’s brother.

I've only heard of him, but no proof his real since I've never seen him - Adrian says his brothers aren't usually around due to work. Business messed up family.

Richard’s jaw tightened. He started to reach for it like he was going to decline.

I grabbed his wrist.

“Answer it,” I whispered, voice wrecked. My cunt was still fluttering around him. “Pick up.”

His eyes locked on mine. Something dark and filthy passed through them. He didn’t pull out. He stayed buried inside me, rolled his hips once in a slow grind that made me whimper, and answered the call on speaker.

“Cole.”

His voice came out steady. Controlled. Like he wasn’t currently balls-deep in his son’s leftover.

"Father"

I heard Cole’s deep voice through the speaker—something about a contract, numbers, a meeting next week. Normal business talk. Richard answered in short, calm sentences while he started fucking me again. Slow at first. Deep. Making sure I felt every inch while his son’s brother talked on the other end of the line.

I bit my lip hard to stay quiet. It didn’t work. A soft, broken moan slipped out when he angled his hips and dragged over that spot again. Richard’s free hand clamped over my mouth. He kept thrusting—steady, filthy, the wet sound of my cunt taking him almost loud enough to carry through the phone.

“Yeah, I’ve got the revised numbers,” Richard said into the phone, voice only a little rougher than normal. He pulled almost out and slammed back in hard enough that the bed creaked. “Send them over. I’ll look tonight.”

I was shaking under him. Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes from how full I felt and how wrong this was. He was talking to Cole—Adrian’s brother—while he fucked me like I belonged to him. The thought alone pushed me closer to another orgasm. I ground up to meet his thrusts, chasing it, cunt greedy and wet and shameless.

Richard ended the call with a clipped “Talk later” and tossed the phone aside. Both hands came back to my body. He hooked my legs higher over his shoulders and started pounding me in earnest—hard, nasty and deep strokes that made the headboard slam the wall in a steady rhythm.

“My son’s leftover,” he muttered against my ear, voice dark with satisfaction. “That’s what you are right now. And you’re still the best fuck I’ve had in years.”

😚🤭🤭

He flipped me without warning. Suddenly I was on my stomach, ass up, face pressed into the sheets that still smelled like my earlier orgasm. He shoved back into me from behind in one long thrust and started fucking me prone-bone—deep, heavy strokes that made my tits drag against the mattress. One hand fisted in my hair. The other gripped my hip and hard enough to bruise.

“You’re going to come on Daddy’s cock again,” he ordered. “I want to feel it.”

I did as instructed. The second orgasm hit uglier than the first--long, shaking, tears leaking into the sheets while I sobbed and came around him. My cunt squeezed him in rhythmic pulses. I said things I couldn’t take back. Please. Harder. Don’t stop. Daddy. Don't stop Daddy. The words spilled out of me while he kept thrusting through the clench, using my orgasm to get himself closer.

He pulled me up onto my knees at the edge of the bed so he could watch himself disappear into me. One hand on the back of my neck, holding me down. The other spreading me open so he could see every filthy inch of his cock stretching my cunt. The wet sounds were obscenely disgusting. Every time he bottomed out I felt him in my stomach.

“Fuck—take it,” he growled. His rhythm turned brutal. “Take every drop.”

He buried himself to the furthest he would bury himself, and came hard, pulsing deep inside me. Releasing hot thick cum in me. So much of it that I felt it start to leak out around his cock even while he was still throbbing. He stayed locked inside me through every spurt, grinding in small circles like he wanted to push it deeper.

When he finally pulled out, a thick trickle of his come followed, sliding down my inner thigh. I stayed where I was, ass up, face down, cunt open and dripping—for several long seconds. My whole body was sore. Used, wet in the filthiest way. The sheets under me were ruined.

Reality crashed back in hard.

I pushed myself up on shaking arms. Come leaked out of me onto the bed. My thighs were shiny with it. The black thong was still twisted around one leg. I could feel every place he’d gripped me. Every place he’d stretched me.

I scrambled for my clothes like the room was on fire.

The red dress. The ruined thong. I pulled them on with clumsy hands, not bothering with the heels. My cunt was still throbbing, still leaking his come down my thighs with every step. Shame sat heavy in my chest, thick and nauseating.

“This is wrong,” I said. My voice came out hoarse.

Richard sat on the edge of the bed, still half-hard, watching me. He opened his mouth.

“You need to leave.”

“Ev—”

“Now.” I couldn’t look at him. “Please just go. Just… imagine this night never happened.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Something unreadable moved behind his eyes. Then he stood, collected his clothes in silence, and dressed. No argument. No soft words. He paused at the bedroom door like he might say something else, but I kept my back to him.

The front door opened. Closed.

I stood alone in the middle of my bedroom, red dress clinging to my sweaty skin, his come still leaking out of me, the dildo still sitting on the nightstand like a witness. My hands were shaking. My cunt ached in the best and worst way. Guilt sat in my stomach like a rock.

I had just let Adrian’s father fuck me raw and come inside me on the same night his son dumped me.

But the worst part was how badly i wanted him to do it again. And again.

This's messed