LOGINLily.
All through the next day, I didn’t catch sight of my stepfather. It was almost like he was deliberately avoiding me. The dream of having his cock in me and his muscled body trapping my fragile own was gradually dying.
Perhaps, it was all for the best, I thought, my head hung low as I stepped into the house.
After all, he was my stepfather. And to boot, he was almost three times my age. The thought was not something I should have conceived.
My phone rang, drawing me out of my thoughts. I swiped it out of my pocket, smiling sheepishly when my boyfriend’s name flashed across the screen.
“Adams,” I said into the phone the minute I picked up. “Want to come over? I’m home alone,” I said with a naughty chuckle. He was exactly the distraction I needed. The person to die every single thought I’ve conceived about Jesse.
“Wear that nurse outfit I got you. I’m in the mood for a role play.” He said.
“Got it.” I hung up the phone and darted straight to my room. Adams lived just about ten minutes away, so it wouldn't take him long before he got here. I wanted to be ready for him when he arrived.
I dropped my bag on the floor and took a quick shower. I got into the nurse outfit, the sleek white short dress caressing my skin. I fastened the cape meant for the hair and plugged the fake stethoscope into my ears. Just then, I heard the front door flung open. I quickly shifted my dress, and knelt on the bed, exposing my freshly shaved cunt.
The door to my room opened, heavy footsteps following rapidly. A low whistle came, making me moan softly.
“So, dearest patient of mine, ready to log your complaint in the deep warmth where your information is safe and secured?” I teased.
A spank greeted me in response. I frowned, knowing that Adams had never done that before. But then again, he only just recently discovered that role-playing was his fetish.
His hand grouped my butttts, squishing them together. Wet but warm tongue latched over my anus, licking the hole. I turned my head swiftly, catching Jesse’s tattoo on his shoulder blade. I jumped forward, dislodging myself from him. He stood upright, all in his naked glory. I gulped loudly as my eyes roamed his body before settling on his shaft.
“Jesse?” I called, unsure.
“Were you expecting someone else, little princess?” He snorted.
“Yes,” I answered frankly.
He burst into laughter, clearly not believing me. He knelt on the bed, grabbed my hand, and yanked me over until I was only a breath away from him. “Do you know how long it took me to get you alone in this house, cherry?” He kissed my brows. “How hard it was to keep you out of my mind?” He kissed my eyes one after the other.
I became breathless, gasping for my air.
“And to find you so ready…” his hands rubbed my clitoris until my wetness filled it. He brought it up and licked each finger clean. “Oh, pure heaven.”
I gulped, my pussy already begging for more. Already wanting more.
I placed my palms on his chest and pushed him backward. He fell to his back with no effort. I climbed on top of him, positioned his dick at my hole, then slid down on him, riding his cock. I watched as he stared at my tits bouncing as I rode him. His hands grabbed my tits while he kissed me hungrily. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pushing myself against him. I thrust forward,
I spammed, fluids pouring out of me. His hands held me firmly as I climaxed.
“What the actual hell is going on here?!” A torrid male voice yelled from the doorway.
Jesse and I split apart, our heads almost colliding in the confusion. I shook, my breath caught in my throat as I saw Adams standing at the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes blazing fire at me.
“Do you have no shame? Doing your own stepfather?” He questioned, steaming from his ears.
“Adams, listen,” I began frantically, looking for a way out of the mess I just got myself into.
“Save it, Lily.” He barked at me. “And you, Mr. Jesse, how could you be screwing a girl that is like your own daughter?” He asked.
Jesse rolled his eyes at the younger man. He grabbed me from where I stood, my palms clenched together in a fist. His lips latched onto my nipple, sucking it delightfully. Even though I tried to suppress it, the sound still escaped from my throat. He released my nipple and turned to Adams.
“Swear this doesn’t turn you on.” He dared the younger man.
“It doesn’t…”. Adams’s voice trailed off, his eyes fixated on my nipple. “Can you suck her again?” He demanded, a low growl escaping his throat.
My eyes rounded in shock while Jesse gave a victorious sigh. He beckoned to Adams, urging him to come closer. Like a robot, Adams did as instructed.
“You suck her now,” Jesse commanded.
Without hesitation, Adams grabbed my breast and shoved my nipple into his mouth, biting down on the flesh. I grabbed his head, and closed my eyes, lost in the fresh throes of passion overtaking me. Jesse grabbed my hand, wrapping it over his cock. I grabbed it and began to stroke.
“That’s it, baby… that’s it.” He commanded.
“Hmmm,” I moaned in response.
Adams stopped sucking my nipples then, his finger trailing lines down my spine.
“Bring her here.” My stepfather commanded. He was already on the bed, his back sprawled over.
Adams carried me over. He helped me until my back was resting on my stepfather’s chest. Then slowly, Jesse pinched his penis into my pussy, a moan escaping from his throat. He slammed into me, his cock driving in hard and fast. I watched as Adams grabbed his cock in his hand, stroking himself.
“Join us,” I told him.
He didn’t need any more invitations. He rushed over, grabbing his cock still in his hand, and tried to push into my pussy.
“No fucking space.” He growled, biting his lower lip.
“Sweetheart, raise yourself up,” Jesse commanded me.
I did as he instructed.
“Now, Adams, grab both our dicks and push them in together at once.” He ordered. He grabbed my butts and spread it open.
I watched with fascination as Adams grabbed both dicks and began to push them into my pussy. Pain seared through me at the invasion, but so did pleasure.
“Good girl,” Jesse murmured, kissing my shoulder blade.
I jumped as Adams tried again.
“Calm down.” His voice was low and seductive. “Look at you taking two dicks like a big girl.” He tilted my neck to the side and dropped a quick kiss on my lips.
“Ahhhhrrrgghh!” I cried in pain as Adam finally pushed the two dicks in.
Jesse covered my mouth with his hand as they both began to pound me.
“Bitch is so fucking.. l… tight,” Adams growled, still ramming into me.
“Hurts… yeeahh… fuck…” I didn’t know if I should complain about the pain or moan about the pleasure.
“Oh, yeah,” Jesse growled. He pinched my nipples.
“Too tight,” Adams grumbled just as his body began to convulse.
Jesse increased his tempo, hitting me hard. A few seconds later, his body spasmed like that of Adams.
I sighed contentedly as Adams moved away. Jesse shoved me to the side, and my body rolled to the bed. He stood at the edge of the bed, watching my pussy for a while. Then he leaned in and kissed my forehead.
“My little princess is now a good girl.” He said with a wide grin. Then he walked away, leaving Adams and me.
“One of my fetishes fulfilled,” Adam moaned, his body sprawled on the bed beside me. “Let’s do this again. But with three men, filling your holes. Your mouth, your anus, and your pussy.”
I nodded, already looking forward to it.
The library study room felt different after that second time—like the air itself remembered us.We didn’t bother pretending to open textbooks again. Ethan pulled me onto his lap in the chair, my skirt already rucked up, his hoodie unzipped so I could press my palms flat against the warm skin of his chest. We kissed slower this time, less frantic, more deliberate. Tongues sliding, teeth grazing lips, hands roaming without hurry. His fingers traced lazy circles on my lower back under my sweater; mine carded through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his throat.Eventually we broke apart, breathing hard, foreheads resting together.“I canceled my eight o’clock section,” he murmured. “Told the prof I had food poisoning.”I laughed against his mouth. “Smooth.”“What about you? Any classes you’re blowing off?”“Creative writing workshop. I can email the prof later. Said I’m working on a personal piece.”He smirked. “Technically true.”We stayed like that a while—me strad
I decided not to go.I stared at the folded paper on my nightstand until the numbers blurred, then shoved it into the back of my desk drawer under old receipts and broken pens. I told myself it was smart. Responsible. That whatever happened in the library was a one-time lapse—tears, adrenaline, loneliness making me reckless. I showered until the water ran cold, changed into sweats, ate cold chicken standing over the sink while Mom and Dad talked about weekend plans I barely heard. I scrolled TikTok in bed until my eyes burned, forcing my mind anywhere but Ethan’s apartment, anywhere but the memory of his tongue and the way my body had shattered under it.I didn’t text him.I didn’t go.Sleep came in fragments, restless and hot. When the alarm went off at 7:30, I felt hungover without the alcohol—body heavy, mind foggy, a dull ache between my legs that hadn’t quite faded.The next day dragged through lectures and lunch I barely tasted. By four o’clock I was back in the third-floor stud
The knock echoed again, sharper this time, followed by the same muffled voice: “Library closing in ten. Need to lock up.”Ethan and I sprang apart like we’d been electrocuted. My skirt was still bunched around my waist, panties tangled around one ankle, thighs slick and trembling. His hoodie was rucked up, jeans unzipped, the thick outline of him still straining against his boxers. We stared at each other for one frozen heartbeat—wide-eyed, flushed, guilty as hell—then moved in frantic silence.I yanked my skirt down, smoothed it with shaking hands, snatched my panties off the floor and stuffed them into my bag instead of putting them back on. The damp fabric felt obscene against my notebook. Ethan zipped up fast, tugged his hoodie straight, ran fingers through his hair to flatten the mess I’d made of it. His lips were still shiny. I could taste myself on my own tongue.He grabbed his backpack, slung it over one shoulder, then paused at the door. Turned back to me.The voice outside w
His lips lingered on my closed eyelids a second longer than necessary, the warmth of his mouth seeping into my skin like a slow-burning promise. When he finally pulled back—just an inch, barely enough for me to breathe—our eyes locked.No words. No awkward laugh to break the tension. Just the soft rasp of our breathing in the small study room and the distant hum of the library’s HVAC system somewhere above the ceiling tiles.My hands moved first. I reached across the table, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie, tugging him closer. He came willingly, sliding around the table until he was standing between my knees. The chair I was in creaked as I tilted my head up.Our mouths met—tentative at first, testing, tasting salt from my earlier tears. Then deeper. Hungrier. His tongue brushed mine and I made a small, involuntary sound against his lips. His hands framed my face again, thumbs stroking my jaw, tilting me exactly where he wanted me.I slid my palms up under his hoodie, find
I’m sitting in Mr. Adebayo’s office again, the one with the faded motivational posters curling at the edges and the air that always smells faintly of his cologne mixed with old books. He’s leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, looking at me the way he always does—like he can see straight through the hoodie I wear even though it’s against uniform code, straight through the earbuds I pretend not to hear the bell with.“Zara,” he says, voice low and steady like he’s reading from a script he’s memorized. “Your last three CAs. Maths forty-two. English fifty-one. Biology thirty-eight. That’s not the girl whose file I read when you transferred in. Top ten at FEGC Abuja. Consistent. So tell me—what changed?”I stare at the carpet. Gray. Ugly. Safe. If I look at him, I’ll crack. I already feel the heat building behind my eyes.“Nothing,” I mumble.He waits. He’s good at waiting. It’s worse than questions.The silence stretches until my chest hurts.“Everything,” I finally say. My
I didn’t text him this time.After Level 7, something shifted. The hunger didn’t claw anymore—it roared. Quietly. Patiently. Like it knew the next move wasn’t mine to make. Three days passed in silence. Then the message arrived at midnight, no sender name, just the warehouse address and one line:Level 8. The actual Gory Room. Tomorrow. 22:00. Come ready to disappear.No instructions about what to wear. No safe words repeated. Just that.I understood.I arrived in the same black coat—nothing underneath—and left it folded on the greeter’s table without being asked. She didn’t speak. Just opened a different door this time. Not 13. No number at all. Just a heavy steel slab that hissed when it swung inward.The room beyond was colder. Smaller. Clinical. White tiled walls that gleamed under harsh fluorescent light. In the center: a padded platform raised like an operating table, but lower. A circular hole cut into a thick partition wall at head height—black vinyl curtain draped over it lik







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