Todos los capítulos de Stepfamily Stories: Capítulo 201 - Capítulo 210

I walked in at 4:58 and locked the door behind me.Clothes off in the kitchen. Folded on the counter. Then I bent slightly, reached back, and pushed two fingers into myself right there on the tile. I was already swollen and slick from the drive over, yesterday’s load still clinging deep. I fucked them in and out a few times, then left them buried and knelt, knees spread, free hand behind my back, exactly like he’d ordered.The stretch and the wait made my clit throb. Every small shift moved my fingers. By the time the door opened at 5:11 I was dripping around them onto the floor, breathing uneven, desperate not to come before he allowed it.Caleb stepped in, locked the door, and stopped when he saw the fingers sunk in me. His mouth curved.“Obedient. And soaked already. Pull them out. Show me.”I withdrew them slow. They shone. A string of slick and old cum connected my cunt to my knuckles before it broke. He took my wrist, brought my fingers to his mouth, and sucked them clean while

VivianI came with his name in my mouth and two fingers buried in my cunt before I even opened the suitcase.Nick had been gone three days. The ache hadn’t. I’d spent every night of those three days fucking myself to the memory of his voice on the last call—low, clipped, telling me to forward the revised contracts—and imagining that same voice telling me to spread wider. My vibrator was still on the hotel nightstand, slick, when the front desk rang to say the driver had dropped his forgotten case. Important documents. He needed them before the morning meeting. I was already in the city for the overflow files. Of course I said I’d bring them up.I wheeled the case into my room instead of straight to his suite. Told myself I’d only check the latch. Curiosity had always been louder than sense. The lock gave under the small key he’d left with the spare. Inside: neatly packed shirts, a laptop, two thick folders of contracts. Boring. I was ready to close it when I saw the smaller black foli

At 4:58 I locked his door and dropped to my knees on the carpet.No panties. Skirt already rucked. Mouth open, hands behind my back, exactly as the last text had ordered. Nick was still on a call. He looked at me once, finished the sentence, and hung up. The chair rolled back. He freed his cock—thick, already wet at the tip—and stood.“Good. You remembered. Hands stay there. I’m using your throat first. Don’t swallow until I say. I want to watch it.”He gripped my hair and pushed in. No slow feed. The head hit the back of my throat and stayed until I gagged and spit flooded. Then he started fucking my mouth in hard, short strokes, hips snapping, the wet choke of it loud in the quiet office. Drool ran down my chin, my neck, onto the top of my breasts. Tears gathered. I kept my hands locked behind me and took it, nose pressing his stomach on the deep ones, throat fluttering around him while my cunt clenched and leaked onto the carpet between my knees.“Filthy,” he muttered. “Two years o

JoanaI came in the back row with the vibrator buzzing against my clit and Alexander’s voice in my ear telling the class about unreliable narrators.No one looked at me. They never did. I kept my face blank, pen moving over a blank page, while the little silicone egg I’d shoved into my panties that morning pulsed on the medium setting and soaked the cotton. Every time he turned to write on the board I pressed my thighs together and let the fantasy finish the sentence he was saying—his hand on the back of my neck, his cock pushing the vibrator deeper, his low professor voice telling me to stay quiet while he creampied his stepdaughter in the middle of lecture. I’d already gotten off once in the bathroom before class with the eight-inch dildo my best friend had given me for my eighteenth birthday. It hadn’t been enough. Nothing had been enough since he married my mom and then walked into the literature room as our new professor.He called on me anyway.“Joana. The difference between the

I scored a sixty-eight.Alexander didn’t even wait for the room to empty. He marked the quiz, looked up once, and said, “Office. Door locked. Now.” A few people glanced over. I kept my face blank and walked out with my cunt already aching, the low throb of knowing I’d earned the belt and three loads.He was waiting behind the desk when I locked the door. Sleeves rolled. Expression flat.“Sixty-eight. You wanted the belt. Bend over the chair. Not the desk. Skirt up. Count every strike. You don’t come until the third load is in you. Clear?”“Clear.”I bent over the arm of the visitor’s chair, ass up, no panties. He folded his belt. The first strike landed sharp across both cheeks. I jolted.“One.”He laid twelve, steady and mean, each one kissing skin that still remembered yesterday. I counted through gritted teeth, ass burning, cunt dripping onto the floor by the sixth. By twelve I was shaking, thighs slick, the sting bleeding straight into the ache between my legs. He dropped the belt