Daddy Deflowered Me (complete FREE story)

In my last post I talked about Amazon and other book retailers cracking down on pseudo incest stories.  It was inspired from one of my latest stories being blocked by both Amazon and Pronoun.  The story revolves around a young girl (18 years of age, of course) who loses her virginity to her stepfather.

Since I won’t be able to sell the story through any retailers I’ve decided to give the book away for free.  Here it is:

I love being in the car with Cam. He rests one hand on my knee, the other firmly on the steering wheel, winding his dark blue truck through the neighborhood we’ve grown up in. It always takes me back, seeing how big his hands are splayed across my leg. He’s the starting wide receiver for the football team so I guess it makes sense, but still.

I bounce my leg absentmindedly to the music blaring from his stereo, and his hand tightens around my leg. I feel a little jolt as he does, even though I’m wearing jeans. My body is always hyper-sensitive whenever he’s around me, even after six weeks. Of course, it’s even more so right now because of what we talked about last night…

Jules, Cam had whispered, pulling back from me and holding my face gently in his hands. “Jules, I love you.”

It felt exactly how I’d heard it would feel—the swooping in my stomach, the softening of the glow of lamplight streaming into the car from the empty parking lot we’d stopped to make out in. Goosebumps erupted on my arms and I felt his eyes blaze with honesty and a little fear.

“I…love you too,” I whispered, never taking my hazel eyes from his big brown ones.

He pulled me closer to him, his mouth moving urgently against mine. One hand slipped down my loose blouse and I felt my breath catch as he worked the clasp of my bra off with one hand before moving to cup my full B cup, caressing it softly. I closed my eyes in bliss and I felt the blouse being slipped over my head, my bra straps falling away from my shoulders in a whisper of Victoria’s Secret lace. He kissed me with an intensity that was almost painful, his mouth hard on mine and his arms wrapped around me across the car’s console. The gear stick dug uncomfortably into my stomach as he pulled me towards him, and suddenly I felt his hand ghost downward, slowly, but not hesitantly, and slip inside the waistband of my jeans. I sucked in a breath and he paused, looking intently into my face. I knew what he wanted and he knew I knew, but nevertheless I froze with indecision. Reluctantly, he pulled back from me, and in the cooling air I felt my firm, round, tits tighten.

“It’s just…it would be my first time,” I said, my voice low. My voice came out a little husky; we’d been kissing for a long time and I could feel the words struggling past my lips, slightly swollen in a post-make out pout. Cam smiled kindly; I could see the wheels in his non-virgin head turning. I remember I held my breath—I knew what he was supposed to say, but did he?

“We can wait as long as you need,” he said, leaning towards me and giving me a soft, sweet kiss. He reached down and picked up my bra, my inside-out blouse. “We can also do it somewhere more special if you’d like.”

My face split into the biggest, most ridiculous grin. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so relieved. “Special would be nice.” He pushed my long, thick caramel-brown hair out of my face and kissed me again.

“A special night for a special girl, then.”

Cam pulled into my driveway, the friendly little ranch house I grew up in twinkly with lights from the family room and front porch. He put the car in park and leaned over.

“So…my parents are going to be at a friend’s house tomorrow night. Do you want to come over then?” His eyes sparked like a fresh-lit piece of firewood, and I knew he didn’t just mean for a movie and cuddles. I felt my eyes slide away, but took a deep breath.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” my voice came out even, if a little high-pitched. He smiled a slow, lazy smile, that didn’t really conceal the excitement in his voice.

“Awesome,” he leaned over and gave me a big kiss, with tongue. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

I got out of the car and waved as he backed out and pulled away, then turned and walked slowly into the house.

Tomorrow.

“Hello, Jenny,” Christian, my stepdad, called out as I came in.

“Hey,” I said absently, heading for the stairs.

“How was your day?” Christian isn’t really good at taking  hints. I stopped, taking the second from when Christian looked over from the couch to quickly adjust my blouse. I could only hope my bra straps were in their proper place.

“Fine. We learned about Cleopatra in history.” I’ve learned that if you give adults a specific about your day when they launch the “how was your day” question, they’re more likely to let you slink out of the conversation. It’s not that I don’t like Christian or enjoy talking to him, but he’s disconcertingly handsome and not someone I want to be talking to while thinking about Cam. They both have these intense brown eyes that linger uncomfortably on yours while you’re talking, which is great when you want to feel like everything you’re saying is important but not so much when you’re seeing your boyfriend in the face of your mom’s second husband. Speaking of.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Working late tonight at the hairdresser. Someone came in with a DIY ohmbray fail or something.”

“You mean Ombre?”

“Is that where you make your head look like there’s two different colors for no reason?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Then yeah, that.”

“Uh huh,” I eye the staircase, and Christian gives an exaggerated, but good-natured sigh. “Go on, interrogation over.” I feel my dimples flash even as I turn away, and there’s a weird ripple in the room as Christian pretends not to watch me leave the room.

I’m passing by the office on my way to my room when I pause, struck by a thought. Of course. This whole thing at Cam’s house tomorrow night doesn’t have to be nearly as scary as it seems right now. I can hear the T.V. show going downstairs and know it’s safe for now, so I go into the office and close the door quietly behind me before going to the computer on the desk. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know enough to open an “incognito” window and make sure Adblock is working before I proceed. But then, how to proceed? The Google box sits in front of me, expectant. Shyly, I push the buttons. P-O-R-N. Pause. Add a word at the beginning. G-O-O-D. ENTER.

Instantly, the screen is awash in “good porn.” The number of sites is nearly as overwhelming as the absurdity of the titles. “Threesome does 69 minutes of 69”—what?? I scroll slowly, feeling weirdly dirty, but in the way a naughty child who’s been playing outside and ignoring his mother’s calls to come in more so than a child who’s lost control and fallen into the dirt. I click a safer-looking video, if that makes any sense, and immediately a blaring moan fills the room. Shit. I scramble for the volume, wrench the dial sideways. The noise only lasted a second but even so I’m spooked, moving quickly to the door and easing it open to make sure Christian hasn’t heard anything. No noise from downstairs, and the T.V. is still on. All good signs. I close the door again and go back to the computer, fascinated. Slowly, I ease the volume up until it’s just barely audible. There’s not much in the way of a script. A totally average-looking guy dressed up like a mailman rings a doorbell, and a totally overdressed woman who I’m assuming is the “Mom” in “Mom gets railed by the postmaster” answers the door in a sheer, black lace dress that she’s literally bursting out of. I’m pretty sure it was an accident when her one breast pops out less than two seconds into her “conversation” with the mail guy about what she could possibly spend her whole day doing (ha-ha).

Once I get over the fakeness of it all, I start to pay attention. The noises, his hand, her bodies curves and arches. It all seems like a grand masquerade, with the woman in the center of it all. I start to feel a weird pit forming in my stomach and instinctively clench my abs against it. Guilt, maybe? But then I start to feel warm down between my legs, and suddenly, even though everything in my school’s sex-ed class has tried to tell me sex isn’t fun and there’s nothing appealing about it, I feel myself getting wet. I think it was when the young girl showed up and pushed the older woman away from her man. “Shelly Takes Control” or something. Whoever Shelly was, she was awesome. Almost unconsciously, my hand drifted to my own waistband. I unzipped myself and nervously poked a finger into the soft down that I kept neatly trimmed. I kind of wiggled it around a little, feeling it getting wet from myself, but then the buzz started to fade and I stopped, confused. Whenever the girls in the clips touched themselves, or when their partner was touching them, they went crazy, moaning and breathing heavy and even screaming a little. Maybe…I shimmied my jeans down a little to give myself better access, and gave myself an experimental stroke a little further down. Then a couple more. Nothing, nothing, maybe a little—suddenly, it was like a bolt a fire seared across my belly, making my abs clench and my breath catch in a whoosh. OH. The feeling was addictive, my finger explored again, earnestly, and it was a few moments but then once again, that fiery whoosh swept through me. My finger was soaked, and for the first time I understood what Cam’s nasty teammates said when they leered at the easy girls in school and said they thought they smelled them coming.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Shit shit shit. I froze, my brain launching into overdrive at all the things I needed to do, that were impossible to do, in the next five seconds. Closetheinternetwindowpullupyourpantswipeyourfingerdon’tlooklikeyouwerejustwatchingpornforfortyfiveminutes.

I’m utterly paralyzed as Christian opens the door, frozen with my hand still between my legs, my silky blue panties pushed aside by my own impatient hand, jeans caught partway down my legs, one hand crept up to my breast at some point, and I know my hair is a mess from rocking against myself for so long. He, too, freezes, and for a moment we just look at one another.

“Jenny,” his voice is harsh and odd-sounding in the silence. “Jenny what the hell—” he breaks off, looking away from me, looking back, away, back. He can’t look away. Everything about this is new to me. I’ve heard jokes about the guys who’ve gotten caught by their moms, handed better stuff by their dads, but I’ve never heard of a girl doing what I’ve been doing, let alone getting caught, let ALONE getting caught by her stepdad-who-reminds-her-of-her-boyfriend. Cam. I don’t know what Christian is thinking as he closes the door behind him, but I feel my eyes widen. A little bit afraid but actually not much. I feel alive and buzzing with an electric energy that I’ve never felt. Maybe a little at the end of one of my track races, but that’s the closest thing. This is next level.

“Jenny.” Christian’s voice is a little more normal-sounding now. “Jenny, let’s just forget this, ok?” But suddenly he’s in front of me, looking a little confused as to how he got there, and I’m turning in the swivel chair to look up at him, unconsciously employing everything I just learned from Porn 101.

I am an invitation.

His mouth opens a little, but no noise comes out. He tries again.

“Jenny, you’re beautiful, but I can’t.”

“I know.” They’re the first words I’ve spoken, and they somehow encapsulate everything. I know what I’m in for tomorrow, I know that Cam said what he had to say to get me to agree to come, and, even though I should technically have no standards because I am a “virgin,” I somehow know that it will not be very good. I feel alive in a new way, like I’ve invited a new person inside of me and we’re now jointly sharing my body, this Jenny Who Watches Porn and Old Jenny, the one who made her boyfriend wait four weeks before putting a hand up her shirt.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Jenny….”

“What?”

We look at each other, and in the stillness, I see movement.

“I think you can.” I have no idea where these words, this confidence, is coming from. Christian looks vaguely irritated, but also slightly dazed.

“How long have you been watching videos?”

“Just tonight. Cam wants to have sex tomorrow night.”

Christian’s eyes flash and I know immediately I said what I needed to say. I stand and step out of my jeans, looking up at Christian, who is standing so still, so stiff, that I wonder if maybe he will run out of the room after all. Pretend this never happened.

What never happened?

His resolve breaks when I cock my head to the side, eyebrows raised. He crushes me to him in a bone-crushing embrace, and his thick stubble scratches my face as his mouth comes down on mine, hard. His arms lift me and then he’s holding me, whispering roughly, “So, let’s see if you learned anything, then.” He’s carrying me out of the room, past my bedroom, and turning into the guest room, where he stayed when he was new around here and Mom wanted to pretend they weren’t having sex all the time. Now I get it. It was part of the game between them, and I was just a pawn. The thought brings another energy to me and I spontaneously catch Christian’s lip as we kiss, and he rears back in surprise, eyes flashing. He drops me on the bed and strips out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor before crawling onto the bed and dropping his full weight on me. Fear and energy are swirling in my stomach, but soon I forget to think anything at all—Christian is everywhere and my tits are sharp and pointy with my own insolence as he sucks and nibbles and pinches them into submission. The cries come much more naturally to me than the women in the videos, and it only just occurs to me as I feel Christian tugging my soaking wet panties off that maybe they were exaggerating. Maybe their sex wasn’t that great. But someone had to have great sex for them to try to imitate, right? I let out a reflexive shriek as Christian bends his head and flick his tongue experimentally between my legs. The sensation is utterly new and I feel my body release in a buck that puts my wholly in his face. Instead of rearing back at “the smell” though, he lets out an almost animal growl and pins me to the bed by grasping my hips firmly and pressing them into the small twin bed.

“Stay still, little girl,” he whispers throatily, kissing along the insides of my thighs. “You don’t know anything yet.”

Lights burst behind my eyes and I let out a full-on scream as he buried his face between my legs, one hand, one finger, stroking slowly, insistently, torturously, around that most secret of places that I’d only just accidentally discovered. He swirls his finger around it, lazily, like he doesn’t hear me panting and gasping, like he doesn’t feel my back arching and body writhing against his grip, his incredibly strong grip, which has me pinned to the bed and unable to escape him…

The wave has crashed, and he’s letting it ebb. Stroking me slowly, more gently, then finally, stopping. I push myself up on my elbows, looking at him in a daze. He doesn’t break eye contact as he removes his own jeans, his own briefs. He is the first naked man I’ve ever seen, and he is terrifyingly, hugely magnificent. His enormous cock is rigid and standing straight up, expectantly. He scoots to the edge of the bed, pulling me up beside him, and gestures to the floor.

“Get on your knees.” The command is simple; I can do that. Weak-kneed, I lower myself to the floor. “Show me what you learned just now.”

Cautiously, I lean forward, and flick the tip of his cock with my tongue, the way he began with me. A shudder ripples through his body. “Again,” he commands. I comply, and as his cock twitches under my tongue, the “lesson” becomes clear even as I remember the women in the videos.

“Like this?” I try to mimic his own lazy voice, and drag my tongue up along his shaft, cupping his balls in my hand instinctively, and swirling my tongue around his head in a flourish, like I’m being overdramatic with a lollipop. Another spasm ripples through him.

“Oh, Jenny…” The soft sigh is more than enough for me. I eagerly take him in my mouth, and the thought occurs to me that I might choke as he tangles his hands in my hair, pushing it out of my face so I can see what my hands are doing. They pump experimentally up and down his shaft, stacked easily one atop the other. I lick and suck on the head and he lets out a distinct moan, like a trapped animal.

“Twist, baby, twist.”

I take my hands and twist in opposite directions—again, this movement comes naturally to me. He moans again and his grip on my hair tightens. I deep-throat him, as far down as I can go, and he’s so hard that I wonder if it’s possible for him to bruise me. I play with his head, stroking the shaft and twisting experimentally, guided by his moans and ragged breathing, which is rapidly become shallower. Suddenly, he lets out a gasp and pushing me backward, onto the floor. He’s inside me before I know what’s happening, and he only pounds into me harder as my shriek of surprise turns into a scream of drawn-out ecstasy as his huge cock hits the deepest depths of me. I feel him tighten inside me, a rush of heat, and then it’s just us, tangled in one another’s fantasies that we didn’t even know about until tonight.

His mouth is at my neck, biting, and without thinking I twist up and give him a sharp nip on the soft skin just below the ear. He draws back in surprise, eyes gleaming with a fever.

“Turn around,” he growls. All at once I remember who and where I am, and who I’m doing, and that same unnamed feeling zaps my stomach. I know my eyes look wide and scared and my chest is heaving beneath him as he looks down at me.

“Don’t make me punish you,” he whispers softly. I comply quickly, rolling onto my stomach, quivering with uncertainty. I feel him between my ass cheeks, which are round and tight from four years on the volleyball team. I have an odd moment of remembering seeing Christian in the stands for the first time at one of my games last year, and distinctly remember pointedly ignoring him. I’d liked Mom’s last guy better.

He pushes between me and raises my hips up, and now I’m bent over on the ground in front of him, entirely at his mercy, when his hands begin to play with my tits again and I feel another rush of heat between my legs.

“Good girl.” He plays with me, rocking back and forth and I moan feeling him inside me. Abruptly, he releases my tits and forces my head to the ground, pumping harder and faster, holding only my hips for leverage and leaving me to scrabble against the ground against the force of his thrusting.

“Oh!” I lose traction and sprawl onto the ground belly-first, but there’s no escaping the giant inside me, greedily taking me for himself and growing tighter and harder than I’d have thought possible. My back arches with one last orgasm a moment before he comes too, in a burst that leaves both of us shaking and panting for breath.

For a few minutes, we just lie there, him splayed over me, almost protectively. Then, he helps me up, kisses me once, on the head. We dress silently and close the door behind us on the way out.

I’m not sure if Cam knows what’s coming for him tomorrow.

Want more stories?  Go to my Author’s Page 

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