My Ex-Stepdaddy Took My Virginity 6.

I stared up the length of his body. From this angle everything looked different—his heavy balls hanging close to my nose, the thick root of his cock, the dark trail of hair leading up to his navel, and higher still the hard planes of his stomach. His ass was right there above me, cheeks flexed, the dark line of his cleft visible.

I could see the tight, hairy ring of his hole pulse once as he shifted his weight.

The blunt head of his cock brushed my lower lip.

I opened my mouth wider without thinking and he pushed forward in one slow, deliberate slide.

The taste of him flooded my mouth again—salt, skin, and the thin slick of precum.

My lips stretched around the ridge. Spit immediately welled up and spilled from the corners of my mouth, running warm slick down my cheeks toward my ears.

I made a choking sound around his cock.

Adrian didn’t stop. He kept feeding me more. The thick shaft forced my jaw wider. My tongue was pinned under the weight of it. I could feel every vein as it dragged past my lips. Another inch. Then another. The head nudged the soft place at the back of my throat and I gagged hard, my body jerking.

“Breathe through your nose,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Take it.”

He gave me a few seconds, then pushed deeper. My throat convulsed around him. Spit poured out of me in messy strings, dripping onto the floor.

My eyes watered. I could still see his hole flexing above me every time he shifted his hips.

Adrian’s hands came down and locked around the sides of my head. His fingers dug into my hair. He pulled me onto him at the same time he thrust forward. The full length of him punched into my throat. My nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base.

I couldn’t breathe.

My hands flew up and grabbed his thick thighs, my nails digging in.

He held me there for three long heartbeats, then pulled back just enough for me to drag in a wet, desperate breath before he slammed in again.

“Fucking look at you,” he growled. “Throat open like you were made for this. Spit everywhere. You should see yourself, Stepson.”

He started fucking my mouth in hard, deep strokes that forced wet, choking sounds out of me with every thrust.

My head bounced against the edge of the mattress. Tears ran into my cheek. My own cock was rock-hard and leaking against my stomach, untouched.

I hated how much I was dripping for him.

Adrian’s ass flexed above me with every drive of his hips. I watched that tight hole clench and release, and watched the heavy hang of his balls slap against my nose. He was using my throat like it belonged to him, and the wet, filthy noise of it filled the room.

He pulled out suddenly. A thick rope of spit connected his cock to my swollen lips.

I gasped, coughing, my chest heaving.

Before I could recover he grabbed my hips and flipped me onto my stomach like I weighed nothing. My face pressed into the sheets. He dragged me backward until my knees were on the floor and my upper body was draped over the bed.

His big hands clamped onto my ass cheeks and spread them wide.

Cool air hit my hole and I flinched.

Then his tongue was there.

Hot. Wet. Flat against me.

I made a broken sound into the mattress. No one had ever touched me there. The sensation was so foreign it short-circuited my brain—soft heat dragging slowly over the tight ring of muscle, then pressing firmer and circling around it.

Adrian licked me like he had all the time in the world. Long, deliberate strokes from my balls up to the top of my cleft and back down again. Every pass left me wetter.

My hips jerked. I couldn’t stop them. The more he licked, the more my body pushed back toward his mouth. A low, continuous moan started leaking out of me.

My cock was trapped between my stomach and the edge of the bed, leaking steadily into the sheets.

He pulled away.

I whimpered at the loss.

The first smack landed hard across my right cheek. The sound cracked through the room. Stinging heat bloomed under the skin.

“Count,” Adrian said.

I swallowed. “One.”

The second slap landed on my left cheek and it was harder than the first.

My whole body jolted.

“Two.”

He kept going. Alternating sides. Each smack louder, sharper. My ass burned.

Tears pricked my eyes again, but not only from the pain. Something else was mixed in—something that made my cock throb harder every time his palm connected.

“Three… four… five—”

By six, my voice was shaking. By eight I was almost crying into the sheets with my ass on fire and my hips still pushing back for more without my permission. He didn’t hold back. The last two landed with full force, the sound wet and brutal.

“Nine… ten—”

My voice broke on the last number.

Adrian’s hand smoothed gently over my hot, stinging skin. Then he laid his full weight on top of me. His hard settled right between my cheeks, the thick shaft nestled in the cleft.

I could feel every inch of it, the heat of it, the way it throbbed against my hole.

He fisted a hand in my hair and yanked my head back, twisting my neck until our mouths met. The kiss was filthy—open, wet, all tongue and teeth.

I moaned into it, the sound helpless. He kissed me like he was claiming the air out of my lungs.

When he finally pulled back, a thin string of spit connected our mouths. He looked down at me with that same dark, satisfied expression.

Then he smacked my ass again, hard enough to make me yelp.

He slid down my body.

This time when his tongue returned it was different. Focused. He pointed it and pressed against my hole until the muscle gave the smallest fraction, then pushed inside.

I cried out.

It felt too good.

Wet heat fucking into me in slow, filthy thrusts. His tongue curled and dragged along the sensitive inner walls. Spit ran down my balls.

I was shaking with my thighs trembling, cock leaking a constant stream onto the bed. Every time he pushed deeper I made another broken sound.

My hands clawed at the sheets.

Adrian tongue-fucked me until I was dripping and open and making noises I didn’t recognize as my own. He kept going, relentless, wet, perfect, until my whole body was trembling on the edge of something I didn’t have a name for yet.

Then he pulled his mouth away.

I felt the loss like a physical ache.

A single thick finger pressed against my hole—no warning, no slow stretch—and plunged into the second knuckle in one hard push.

“Jesus Christ—”

A raw and loud scream tore out of my throat.

My body locked up.

The burn was immediate and blinding, a white-hot stretch that felt like I was being split open farther than my limit.

My hole clenched hard around the intrusion, trying to push it out even as my cock jerked and leaked harder against the mattress.

Adrian didn’t move. He just held that finger buried inside me while I shook and gasped and tried to remember how to breathe.