All Chapters of DIRTY DADDIES: AN 18+ EROTIC COLLECTION: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

CHAPTER 1: CATCHING MOM'S MILK SHOWCHAD’S POVI’m Chad fucking Thundercock, nineteen, six-foot-four of pure jacked muscle, veins popping like cables under tanned skin, and a twelve-inch, eight-inch-girth monster cock that’s been the downfall of every sorority girl on campus. But none of them—none—compare to the walking wet dream I call stepmom. Reagan Hart, thirty-eight, blonde, built like a fertility goddess on steroids: H-cup tits that defy gravity even when they’re leaking, waist nipped in like an hourglass, hips wide enough to birth a linebacker, and an ass so fat and juicy I’ve jerked off to the thought of clapping those cheeks until they’re bruised purple. Dad’s been “on business” in Singapore for three weeks, and every night I hear the squelch-squelch-squelch from the basement. I thought it was her yoga ball. Turns out it’s her tit.Tonight, I’m restless. Protein shake’s still sloshing in my gut, veins pumped from dead

CHAPTER 1: I NEED MY STEP-FATHERSIDNEY'S POVDear Diary,I'm going straight to fucking hell.I know I am. I've known since the first night I shoved my ear against the wall and listened to them - to him - those deep, filthy grunts he makes when he's pounding into her, the raw sounds vibrating through the plaster and settling right between my thighs, making my cunt ache with jealousy.Mom doesn't deserve that cock. She doesn't even try anymore - just lies there scrolling her phone, I bet, waiting for him to finish so she can crawl back to her wine and her trash TV like the checked-out zombie she's become.But me? I'm on the other side of that wall with my fingers buried in my dripping pussy, biting my pillow so hard I nearly tear through the fabric, coming so fucking hard my vision whites out and my toes cramp and I forget my own name.His name is Nolan. He's been my stepdad for three years.

CHAPTER 3: TEACHING HIS GOOD GIRLSIDNEY'S POVI don't know how long we stare at each other. It feels like hours and like a single frozen heartbeat all at once. He's standing in my doorway, still in his work clothes - charcoal slacks, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up over those veiny forearms, tie loosened like he started undressing the moment he got in the car. His keys are still in his hand, frozen halfway to his pocket, and his dark eyes are moving over me with a slowness that makes me want to die and makes me want to spread my legs wider all at the same time.My hand is still on my pussy. His shirt is still pressed to my face. And I can't move - I'm paralyzed, pinned in place by shame and horror and something else I can't name, something hot and liquid that pools in my belly and makes my clit throb against my frozen fingers.I should move. I should cover myself. I should scream or apologize or do literally

CHAPTER 1: THE PROFESSIONAL MASSEUSEMIRA'S POVHis hands are on my calves and I'm trying very, very hard not to think about the fact that those hands belong to my best friend's father.The oil is warm - he heated it before he started, explaining something about muscle receptivity and blood flow that I barely heard because I was too busy staring at the way his forearms flexed when he poured it into his palms.The way the veins popped beneath his tan skin, the way his fingers looked thick and capable and like they could absolutely fucking destroy me if he wanted them to.JeromePeters is forty-eight years old, divorced for three years, and built like a man who treats his body like a temple while secretly harboring filthy thoughts behind those calm, professional eyes. Salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, a jaw that could cut glass, broad shoulders that strain against his fitted black t-shirt. And these hands - God, these fuckin

CHAPTER 3:CUMMING ON MY BEST FRIEND'S DADDY'S TONGUE MIRA'S POV He's stretching me now, filling me in a way that aches in the best possible way, and his thumb hasn't stopped circling my swollen, throbbing clit for even a second. I'm so sensitive that every touch feels like too much and not enough at the same time. "Emerald talks about you constantly," he continues, conversational, like he's not two fingers deep in her best friend's dripping pussy. "How stressed you've been. How you never make time for yourself. How you haven't been with anyone since that asshole ex of yours." His fingers curl, finding that devastating spot inside me, and I bite clean through the foam of the face cradle. "What was his name? Jorah? Emerald said he never made you come. Said you faked it for two years because he was too selfish to learn how to touch you properly." I want to fucking die.