Chapter 2
Elijah
I drag a breath through my dry mouth as I trail my fingers along her thigh, up and down, up and down, at the same time as moving my hand up and down my cock. Adrenaline and arousal surge through me.
“Daddy…” she purrs, rolling onto her back, flinging her arm across the bed, legs falling wide, muscles slack.
Her perky little tits are the perfect tease, wrapped tight in the cotton of her nightdress, the words She-Ra written across them, with a picture of the Princess of Eternia with her sword held high, the point thrust between my stepsister’s breasts like an arrow pointing where my dick should go.
One of the many places my dick should go.
And she wants it, reminding me of the words in her note: I’ll never know.
I breathe out a quiet moan of need as I grip my dick in one hand and slide the other up further, pushing the hem of her dress up her thigh, up over her hip, enjoying being this close to her, touching her in her sleep for the first time. Touching her like this for the first time.
She wants it, even if she’s unconscious. God, how I want to fuck her young, fertile body until she’s full of me.
I’m consumed by her. The thought of her belly growing round, my seed dripping from her battered opening night after night until I root inside her, sends me into near mania.
I pinch the nightdress higher, teasing my throbbing erection with every revealed inch of flesh until I get the first glimpse of black panties.
They’re tight against her pussy, but the black fabric blocks the best part of the view. I can’t tell in the dim light if they’re damp. I can’t see anything underneath. Her breath changes as I push the nightdress higher.
I don’t remember buying these for her. I pay for everything. She must have snuck them at Murphy’s General Store and paid with the little allowance I give her every week so she can buy candy or an ice cream and feel grown up paying on her own when we go into town.
She planned this. For how long?
Are her dreams filled with thoughts of her Daddy, the man who helped raise her and grew up next to her, pushing his thick desperation into her small body, cursing himself for his demons and begging for her forgiveness even as he pumps, pumps, pumps himself into her womb, roaring to heaven in thanks and begging for forgiveness?
“Shh, baby. Daddy’s here,” I rumble, sliding the fabric higher until the nightdress exposes her cute outie belly button. “Daddy would never let anything hurt you.”
I devour the sight of her creamy flesh as I pull back and unbutton my flannel, tugging it off and folding it before tossing it on the wicker chair, reminding myself to take it with me in case this isn’t what I think, and then Daisy will know I lied when I told her no monsters would come into her room at night while she slept.
My cock stands tall as I unfasten my belt.
I drop my jeans, my boots already kicked off by the kitchen door before I came into the house. Daisy hates mud tracked across her clean floors.
Thick black hair covers the expanse of my chest, my body solid and heavy.
The contrast between us is dramatic. Daisy is a delicate flower. Putting my body on top of her will be a dream come true. Even if I only get to rub myself against her. Feel her softness against my brutality.
I’ve always been the freak. The boy they sat in the back of the class because no one could see over him.
I could bench press twice as much at the age of fifteen as the thirty-year-old Physical Ed teacher. By the time I was sixteen, I was already growing my beard long and thick, already working harder around the farm than my dad.
My dark brown hair grows wavy and wild, and Daisy loves to twirl her fingers in it when we sit and watch a movie.
My cock is proportional to my inhuman-sized frame. The terror that I will destroy her if I attempt the unthinkable darkens my thoughts, but my lust beats inside me like a relentless drum.
I haven’t had anyone since Daisy came to live with us. Just my own hand.
Finally, when I’m stripped down to my skin, I lower my ass on the edge of the bed again, tracing a line up her inner thigh where the skin is as soft as the spring breeze, watching it pebble under my mouth as I rest my knuckles to the softest spots, rubbing in tiny circles, a little higher, higher.
The aura of her peach shampoo lingers above her as I inhale, but this close, it’s more.
The sweet peach is there, but beneath it there’s a savory layer, hinted with femininity and arousal.
“I smell her cunt,” I whisper into the night, sure I’m conversing with the devil.
I’ve smelled her before. I just always lied to myself about what it might be.
“I smell my sister’s cunt,” I repeat so there is no doubt about the lines I’m crossing.
The girl I’ve raised.
“Daddy smells your sweet pussy, baby.” I exhale so hard, her hair flutters off her cheek, my brow tight, legs wide, giving my flour-sack heavy balls a place to hang, the idea of nutting inside her beating me down like a stallion’s hoofbeats on the hard earth.
I continue exploring her flesh. Moving to the soft pooch of her stomach, following the curve of it upward, underneath the edge of the nightdress, until my fingertips bump the swell of her breast.
Heat radiates from her skin as my devious gaze rakes over her unconscious form. She’s a goddamn fantasy.
“Mmm,” she moans, lips parting a little more, fingers curling and uncurling as though she’s holding onto something in her sleep that I can’t see.
Of course, I imagine it’s her hand around my cock. I swallow, my mouth as dry as the heat of the summer outside.
The whoosh of the air conditioning I installed in the farmhouse the day after I kicked my parents out of our lives for good barely keeps up this time of year.
She rolls again, onto her side, her thighs shifting together, her skin impossibly soft and turning my vision to a pinprick of focus on the round, exposed cheeks of her teenage ass.
God, I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.
And she wants it.
Or that’s what I tell myself. The note could be interpreted in other ways, but those ways don’t matter. It means the floodgates have opened, and this door only swings one way.
The dip of her waist is on full display as the moonlight slips through the curtains, the band of her panties indenting into the flesh of her hip, her lush, full ass like a beacon to the lust I’ve caged for so long.
I lift the white sheet, raise one leg, lean on my elbow, and force my neanderthal body under the covers, my chest to her back, pressing my naked bulk against her barely-clothed doll-like form.
The contact ceases any rational thought. I’m blinded by the perverted arousal that rips at my insides like a caged animal.
I’ve never spent the night in a woman’s bed before, and I’ve never been more thankful for that than I am right now.
She is my North Star. My purpose. I feel it down into my marrow as I slide my body against hers, her soft breathing barely changing as my manhood touches her pillowy skin for the first time.
A fleeting flood of self-loathing clutches around my throat, knowing that I’m not a virgin.
Daisy came to my family when I was in my twenties. Young and stupid, I’d experienced a few fumbling encounters in the back of a pickup under the sky. I barely remember them, and right now, I scrub them from my brain.
I’m a virgin for her. Never have I felt a woman wrap around me, skin to skin. Never have my balls delivered my hot, creamy gift into a body.
She will be my first as well.
I love her. At first, it was as a sister, then as a daughter when I took on the role of father, but now she’s my fucking obsession.
I gather her with my heavy arm around her soft waist and reach upward, resting my chin on her shoulder, lapping at her skin, tasting her and fondling a nipple through the thin fabric.
She hums some more, whispering for Daddy, wiggling against my perversion.
She arches, my pulse turning to thunder in my temples as she pushes her ass back, and my bare dick nestles between her ass cheeks, the thin, silky black fabric the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I nearly dump my nuts right there.
I curl the fingers of my free hand into a fist and bury my face between her shoulder blades, muffling the groan that surges from my throat.
The scent of her shampoo is stronger as I rest my lips on the back of her neck, her hair like silk against my nose, caught in the wiry length of my beard.
Even in her slumber, she knows I’m here.
A soft quiver moves through her, her ass cheeks clenching.
She draws a longer breath as I rock my hips, giving myself just a bit of friction, closing my eyes and saying one last prayer of forgiveness.
“Such a sleepy girl,” I whisper into the hair covering her ear. “Daddy will hold you tight while you sleep. I might have to do other things, too. But it will feel good, I promise.”
I slide my fingers down the front of the nightdress until I contact bare flesh. I don’t stop there, where I touch the bump of her belly button.
I continue my journey down, down, until the elastic of her panties meets my fingertips and all the urges built up inside tell me to keep going.
Her breathing stutters when I ease my fingers under the elastic, down another inch, then another, tracing over a hint of curls until I reach bare, wet heaven.
Her outer lips are drenched with silky slickness. The crotch of her panties is sticky against the backs of my fingers as I ease the tip of my middle finger into the split of her body.
Then, God, she lifts one leg, giving me more room for this soulless violation. Offering herself to me in her sleep.
The pace of my breathing quickens as the sensation of her silky warmth registers.
I’m fingering my sister in the dark while she sleeps, my cock so thick and painful against her ass I’m on the verge of nutting.
Her head presses into my shoulder, lifting her top leg higher, resting her calf against the top of mine, her little body peeling apart as she gushes over my exploring digit.
Drenched. It’s every fantasy I’ve ever had coming true.