The town slut (5)

I’m sprawled naked on my childhood bed, sheets kicked to the floor, phone propped on a Mountain Dew can while I scroll the private F******k group somebody made called “Kaylee Breeding Weekend, UNCENSORED.”

Four thousand members now. Riverbend’s population just doubled overnight.

I’m halfway through a video of Big Lisa power-driving me with that black strap-on when the front door slams so hard the walls shake.

Mama’s at work, tgat leaves one person. His boots in the hallway. My stepdad, Ray, fills the doorway like a storm cloud in Carhartt. He’s holding his phone in one fist, screen paused on a freeze-frame of my pussy mid-gape, cum dripping like honey.

We lock eyes but he doesn’t say a word, Just turns the phone so I can see what he’s looking at. Me, Sunday morning, legs behind my ears while Old Man Jenkins tries to aim his ancient dick.

I should be scared. I should cover up. Instead my cunt clenches so hard a fresh trickle of somebody’s leftover load leaks onto the mattress.

Ray finally speaks, voice gravel and bourbon. “Lock the door, Kaylee Mae.”

I obey and click the door goes. He steps in, shuts it behind him, flicks the deadbolt. The room feels suddenly tiny.

“Been hearin’ things,” he says, tossing his phone on the dresser. “Whole damn town’s seen my little girl turned into a cum dumpster. You proud of that?”

I sit up on my knees, tits bouncing, chin high. “Proud enough. Made twelve hundred bucks and didn’t even catch a baby. Beat that with your VA check.”

His jaw flexes as his buckle clinks. He unthreads the leather slow, like he’s giving me time to run but I don’t.

He loops the belt once around his fist. “Turn around, hands on the headboard.”

My heart’s hammering so hard I feel it in my clit. I turn, crawl forward, grip the chipped white iron headboard I used to have stuffed animals tied to. Ass up, face down, legs spread just enough to show him everything the town already paid to see.

Ray’s behind me and I hear his zipper, the rustle of denim, then the hot, heavy weight of his cock slapping against my ass cheek. He’s huge, always knew it from the bulge in his work pants when he thought I wasn’t looking. Now it’s real and it’s dripping precum on my skin.

“You let every swinging dick in three counties breed you,” he growls, dragging the head through my folds. I’m so swollen and sloppy it makes a wet sound that echoes. “But you never once asked the one man who’s been hard for you since the day you turned eighteen.”

I whimper. Actually whimper. “I’m asking now, Daddy.” He slams in to the root in one brutal thrust.

No warm-up. No mercy. Just one second I’m empty, the next I’m stuffed so full my eyes water. He’s thicker than anyone from the weekend, long enough to block the air from my lungs. My fingers fly as I held unto the headboard, nails scraping against it.

Ray grabs my hips, fingers overlapping the bruises from seventy-two hours ago, and starts fucking me like he’s trying to split me in half. The bed slams the wall so hard my old Justin Bieber poster finally falls.

“You filthy little tease,” he grunts, every word with a thrust that makes my tits swing “Prancing around in them tiny shorts. Bending over the dryer when you knew I was watching.”

I push back, meeting him, moaning into the pillow that still smells like my teenage perfume. “Wanted you to snap. Wanted you to wreck me.”

He loops the belt around my throat, pulls just enough to make my head spin. “Careful what you ask for, baby girl.”

He switches his angle and began to hit a spot that makes my vision white out. I squirt all over his balls, the sheets, the floor. He laughs, dark and dirty, and speeds up.

“Whose pussy is this?” he demands, yanking the belt tighter.

“Yours, Daddy,” I sob, orgasm crashing so hard I forget how to breathe.

He flips me onto my back without pulling out, throws my legs over his shoulders, and folds me in half. The headboard bangs a rhythm that probably has Mrs. Henderson across the street calling the cops again. Ray’s eyes are black with lust, sweat dripping off his beard onto my tits.

“Look at me,” he orders.

I do and I see it , years of stolen glances, years of him jerking off in the shower to the sound of me moaning through the thin walls, years of pretending he didn’t want to ruin me.

He kisses me then, it wasn’t gentle. His teeth and tongue and possession. I taste blood where I bite his lip.

“Gonna fill you up, Kaylee,” he growls against my mouth. “Gonna put my baby in you so every bastard in this town knows who you belong to.”

“Do it,” I beg, nails raking down his back. “Breed me, Daddy. Make me yours.”

He roars and slams deep, cock pulsing so hard I feel every cum paint my insides. It’s endless, hotter and thicker than anyone else’s, like he’s been saving it for years. When he finally stops, he doesn’t pull out. Just stays buried, grinding, making sure i know who I belong to.

We stay like that, panting, his weight crushing me into the mattress. My legs are jelly. My pussy’s wrecked in the best way.

Eventually he softens, slips out, and a river of cum follows, soaking the sheets. He watches it drip, satisfied, then leans down and kisses me soft this time.

“Shower,” he says. “Then you’re sleeping in my bed tonight. Mama’s gone till Thursday.”

I grin, lazy and fucked-out. “Yes, sir.”

He scoops me up, carries me to the bathroom like I weigh nothing. Under the spray he washes me gentle, fingers sliding through the mess between my legs, thumb circling my clit until I come again against the tile.

Later, wrapped in his towel, hair dripping, I steal his phone and film a quick clip, me on my knees in the steam, licking our mixed cum off his wedding ring finger while he records from above.

I post it to the secret group with the caption, winner takes all 🏆💦 pot’s closed, boys. Daddy cashed in.

By morning the trailer smells like sex and coffee. Ray’s already hard again, bending me over the kitchen counter while the biscuits burn.