4. Vincent #2
I run my hand up her inner thigh. She trembles slightly under my touch—an involuntary response her sleeping body can't control.
When my fingers reach her pussy, she's already wet.
The discovery makes my cock throb. Even in sleep, her body wants this. Wants me.
I explore her carefully. Outer lips, soft and slick. Her clit, swollen and sensitive. I circle it with my thumb and her hips shift minutely toward the sensation.
I slide one finger inside her, testing her soreness from yesterday. She's still tight, still slightly swollen, but she accepts my finger readily. Her inner muscles clench around the intrusion.
"Ahh..." Another breathy sound, barely audible.
I add a second finger, watching her face for pain. Her brow furrows slightly, then relaxes as her body adjusts. I pump slowly, making sure she's ready, that she can take me without too much discomfort.
My thoughts spiral as I prepare my sleeping stepdaughter.
This is wrong. I was married to her mother. I'm supposed to protect her, guide her, be the responsible adult in her life.
She's twenty-one to my forty-nine. Twenty-eight years of experience separate us. If anyone found out—her mother, my colleagues, anyone—the judgment would be harsh and immediate.
But she asked for this. Begged me for it. Whenever you want, however you want.
And I want her with an intensity that borders on obsession. Want to own her, possess her, claim every part of her body and soul.
The taboo nature feeds my desire instead of dampening it. She's forbidden. Wrong. Mine.
I position myself between Violet's spread thighs, kneeling on the bed. My cock is hard enough to hurt, leaking pre-cum, desperate to be inside her again.
I guide myself to her entrance. The broad head of my cock presses against her pussy, feeling her heat even before I push inside.
I watch her face intently as I begin to enter her.
Her expression stays peaceful, but her breathing hitches. Just slightly. Enough that I notice.
I go slow. Inch by inch, feeling her tight pussy stretch around my shaft. She's smaller than last night somehow—her body gripping me hard, resisting the intrusion even as her wetness eases the way.
I remember taking her virginity on the plane. The blood. Her muffled cries of pain into the blanket. The way her virgin pussy struggled to accommodate my size.
Tonight there's no blood. Just wet heat and that incredible tightness that makes my vision blur.
I seat myself fully inside her, my balls pressing against her ass. Her inner muscles clench around me reflexively.
"Ahh..." A soft sound escapes her lips.
I stay still, buried deep, giving her body time to adjust. Watching her face for signs of waking or pain.
She remains relaxed. Peaceful. Her breathing steady despite my cock stretching her open.
I start moving. Slow, careful thrusts. Drawing almost all the way out before pushing back in. Her pussy grips me the entire time, impossibly tight, impossibly perfect.
Small sighs escape her with each thrust. "Mm... mm..."
I grip her hips where I left bruises last night. The possessive satisfaction of marking her returns stronger than before. I want everyone to see my claim on her—but that's impossible, so these hidden marks will have to be enough.
I increase my pace slightly. My control is slipping already, her tight heat unraveling me.
Her body responds unconsciously. Growing wetter. Inner muscles fluttering around my cock. Her breasts bounce with my thrusts and I lean down to take a nipple in my mouth.
I suck hard. She arches into it even in sleep, her back bowing off the mattress.
The angle drives me deeper. I hit her cervix and her whole body tenses briefly.
"Ahh—"
Her legs fall further open, unconsciously granting me better access. I take advantage, fucking her with increasing intensity.
This is my stepdaughter. Asleep. Trusting me completely with her unconscious body.
The wrongness enhances everything—every thrust, every clench of her pussy, every soft sound she makes.
Mine, I think savagely. All mine. My girl. My stepdaughter's tight pussy.
I'm violating every social taboo, but she gave permission. She wanted this. She texted me explicit consent, sent me that photo, made sure I knew she was waiting for me.
Her nipples are hard points against my chest. Her pussy is soaking wet, making obscene sounds as I fuck into her. Small gasps and moans escape her lips—sleepy, breathless, almost confused.
Her hands move slightly, fingers curling into the sheets. Her back arches, pressing her breasts up toward me. Her heels dig into the mattress.
I change angle and her whole body tenses.
"Ahh..." Louder this time, breathy and desperate.
Her inner muscles clench hard around my shaft. Almost like she's coming. But her eyes stay closed, her face peaceful even as her body reacts to my cock inside her.
I can't tell anymore if she's awake or asleep. The ambiguity is part of the fantasy—she's lost in sleep, lost in pleasure, completely mine.
My orgasm builds at the base of my spine. Inevitable. Powerful. I'm not going to last much longer.
My thrusts become rougher, less controlled. I grip Violet's hips hard, holding her in place as I fuck into her sleeping body. The sound of skin slapping fills the room. Her quiet moans. My harsh breathing.
My balls tighten. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter.
I drive deep one final time, holding myself inside her completely.
"Fuck—" I groan, unable to stay silent.
My cock pulses, releasing my cum deep in her pussy. The possessive satisfaction is overwhelming—marking her inside, claiming her, making her mine in the most primal way possible.
I stay buried in her as I finish, feeling each spurt of my release. Her pussy milks me, unconscious muscle contractions drawing out my orgasm until I'm trembling.
When I finally stop coming, I'm breathing hard. My body is covered in sweat. My arms shake slightly from holding myself above her.
I withdraw carefully from Violet's body.
My cum leaks out immediately, mixing with her own wetness. The sight sends dark satisfaction through me—proof of my claim, evidence of what I've done.
I grab tissues from the nightstand and clean her gently. When I touch her pussy, she winces even in sleep. Still sore from yesterday. Still tender from losing her virginity.
The evidence of her discomfort should bother me more than it does. Instead, I feel that possessive pleasure again. I did this to her. Marked her. Made her mine.
I clean myself, then lie down beside her. Pull the sheet over both of us.
Violet is still apparently sleeping, her breathing deep and even. She's giving herself to me completely—her sleeping body, her unconscious responses, her vulnerability.
I watch her in the moonlight streaming through the windows. My hand strokes her hair gently, a tender gesture at odds with what I just did to her.
The danger I'm in crashes over me.
This isn't just physical. I'm developing real feelings for her—emotional attachment that goes beyond sexual obsession.
She's not just my stepdaughter. Not just a forbidden indulgence.
She's becoming essential.
The possessiveness I feel goes beyond wanting her body. I want all of her. Her time. Her attention. Her future. I want to be the only man who ever touches her, the only one who sees her come apart, the only one she trusts with her sleeping body.
The twenty-eight year age gap should bother me more. She's young enough to be my actual daughter. In a few years she'll want a normal relationship—someone her own age, someone without our complicated history.
But for now, she's mine. And I'm going to keep her as long as I can.
I pull her closer, her small body fitting perfectly against mine. My hand continues stroking her hair in soothing motions.
"You're mine, little one," I whisper against her hair. "All mine."
She doesn't respond. Genuinely asleep now after what I did to her.
I lie there in the Parisian hotel room, holding my stepdaughter after fucking her in her sleep. The wrongness of it wars with my deep satisfaction.
Tomorrow I'll have to face her again. See how she reacts. Whether she'll still want this when she's fully awake and we're not caught up in the heat of the moment.
But tonight, in this moment, she's mine completely.
The moonlight paints us both silver. Our bodies tangled together. The intimacy of our forbidden arrangement binding us closer with every boundary we cross.
My last thought before drifting off: I'm in too deep now.
And I don't want to find my way out.