WHY DOES MY STEPDAUGHTER STILL HAVE HER V-CARD?
KENT
The house is silent except for the sizzle of bacon and the hiss of the espresso maker.
I stand at the kitchen island, shirtless, in the gray sweatpants I use for lounging, staring blankly at a row of crystal clear glasses.
The island itself is a slab of black stone, ice-cold even under the morning’s lazy sunlight.
The coffee brews slow, cycling a thin coil of steam up to the vent hood and filling the air with a smell so dark it’s almost charred.
There’s a line of half-emptied mugs by the sink, evidence of last night’s nerves, but I leave them; I like the clutter, the after-image of human need.
The bacon crisps, curling at the edges. I press it flat with the spatula, resisting the urge to poke at my phone, to check for messages like a tween, to look for something to puncture the silence.
After all, my discovery last night was big.
Big, big. My sweet and sassy stepdaughter is a virgin, of all things, and never in a million years would I have guessed it.
How the hell does that even happen? She’s so fucking beautiful, and so fucking ripe too, with big breasts, a narrow waist, and a sweet smile.
Hell, I’ve been keeping my distance for years now, knowing that Mary Kate was likely being wined and dined by other men.
Maybe they were douchebags, but surely, they weren’t so spineless that they never asked to enjoy her curves.
Hell, what kind of so-called “man” doesn’t get laid at the end of a date?
There’s a small sound in the hallway, then the tap of bare feet on tile.
The sweet girl I’ve been obsessing about enters like a ghost and a dare: Mary Kate, wrapped in a threadbare t-shirt and pink panties, her blonde hair unbrushed and down to her shoulder blades, eyes still sleepy.
She’s so beautiful it makes me want to look away.
She doesn’t look at me first—she looks at the window, at the sun coming out in the yard, at the nothing beyond.
But she feels me watching her, and when our eyes finally meet, the heat of attraction sparks between us.
“Morning,” I growl.
She makes a small sound, somewhere between a yawn and a murmur, and drags herself to the island.
The sleep shirt is big on her, hits mid-thigh, but as she walks it clings just a bit—showing the pure, ridiculous curve of her hips, the long stretch of her legs, and, when she moves just right, the subtle jiggle of her bare tits underneath.
I’m instantly half-hard.
She seats herself delicately onto a barstool, tucks one knee up, and hugs her calf close. The motion is so automatic, so childlike, it makes the air around us vibrate with something dangerous.
I let the bacon burn and take in the whole scene: the beautiful girl at the kitchen island, hair wild like a golden halo, the hush of morning, the memory of her pussy in my mouth. Holy fuck, I’m a lucky man.
The coffee is ready, so I pour a mug, black, and slide it across to her. She catches it with both hands, wrapping her fingers around the ceramic like it’s the only source of heat in the universe.
“You want eggs?” I ask.
She shakes her head, hiding behind the coffee. “No, just bacon’s fine,” she says, voice small. “Thanks.”
I turn off the burner and plate the bacon, then lean back against the counter and cross my arms. I look at her over the rim of my own mug, letting the silence settle.
“Did you sleep?” I ask.
She glances up, and there’s a flicker of something—defiance, or maybe just a dare—before she shrugs. “A little. You?”
I smile, just a little. “Not really.”
A beat passes. The air between us is thick, shot through with memory and the kind of craving that makes your skin electric.
She can’t hold it in. “About last night—”
I cut her off. “I want to talk about that.”
Her eyes go wide, lips parted just enough to show the white edge of her teeth.
“Last night was incredible,” I say in a deep voice. “You were incredible, Mary Kate. I’ve never had a better nurse.”
The gorgeous brat smiles shyly.
“Oh good,” she breathes. “I hope my ministrations are helping with your testicular stones. They haven’t been bothering you, have they?”
This would be a good time to clear up the mess of lies I’ve created, but there are more important topics at hand.
“No, not at all. The stones are fine for now,” I say in a smooth voice. “But it’s something else. The sauna,” I rasp. “That position—when I had you upside-down on my shoulders—it got my tongue deeper in your pussy than I expected.” I watch her, let her squirm. “I tasted something. Something new.”
The mug pauses at her lips. “What do you mean?” she whispers.
I hold her gaze, let her stew in it, then say it: “Your innocence.”
She doesn’t understand at first, but then realization dawns and she flushes pink. The color rises from her throat, up to her cheeks, and for a second Mary Kate hides behind the coffee again. When she speaks, her voice is even smaller: “Yes, but how can you taste that?”
I set my mug down with a quiet click.
“Sweetheart, I want to be straight with you,” I say.
“I’ve eaten a lot of pussy. I’m forty-five and I’ve been with a lot of women in my life, so I have a lot of experience.
Not only that, but I’m a doctor. I know what a hymen feels like, even with my tongue.
You’re still a virgin, and I licked your hymen last night. You’re a virgin.”
It’s not exactly a question, but the statement hangs in the air between us. The air itself seems to shudder.
Mary Kate looks down, takes a slow breath, and nods, flushing. “Yes. I mean, I’ve done things. With guys. But I was always too nervous, or…” She trails off, her fingers tightening around the mug. “No one’s ever been inside like that. Not all the way.”
The next words come out soft and terrified: “Is that bad? Is it weird? Are you angry, Kent? I know a lot of guys don’t want to be with a virgin, and I swear I didn’t plan it this way. It just happened. Or didn’t happen, I guess is more accurate.”
I look at the gorgeous girl, unbearably attracted to her, and tell myself to go slow. I move around the island, carefully, like I’m trying to avoid startling a wild animal. She doesn’t flinch when I step into her space, just looks up at me with those blue eyes, wide as the sky.
“I’m not angry at all,” I say, quiet and direct. “If anything, I’m pleased. It turns me on to know that you’ve never been with a man before.”
Mary Kate flushes and looks hopeful, blue eyes shining.
“Really?” she murmurs.
I nod.
“Yes. Good girls save their innocence for their daddies,” I rasp. I let that hang, see what the words do to her. “Now I have proof you’re a good girl who’s ready for Daddy to claim you.”
She blushes deeper, but doesn’t look away. If anything her pupils widen and she nods slightly, even as her big breasts heave with excitement.
I slide a plate of bacon in front of her, and her hands tremble just enough to make the mug rattle. The tension is electric. She’s aroused, I can see it in the way she keeps her knees pressed together, the way her breath fogs the lip of the mug.
I don’t touch her. I don’t have to.
We let the moment breathe: the toaster dings, a bird chirps outside.
The sun is higher now, illuminating the dust motes floating above the marble.
The smell of coffee is sharp, almost bitter.
My cock aches against the inside of my sweatpants, but I keep my hands on the counter, white-knuckled, as I watch her take a bite of bacon, lips shining with the oil, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop.
She chews, then glances up. “So what happens now, Daddy?”
I lean in, arms caging her on either side. “Now you finish your coffee, and we go on with our day like everything’s normal. But mind you, sweetheart. Daddy’s going to claim you soon. Your innocence belongs to me.”
She nods, breathing hard, the tension ratcheting up. “So maybe later…?”
I let my eyes run over her, slow and deliberate. “Absolutely later,” I rasp, and step back, giving her space. The moment shivers between us, but then it’s broken when she smiles sweetly at me.
“I need to go shower, Daddy. I haven’t showered since last night in the sauna. I was so tired after massaging you, that I went straight to bed.”
I growl, my blue eyes piercing.
“It was the orgasm sweetheart. It knocked you out.”
“It did,” she smiles again. “But now I’m dirty, and I need to get clean. I’m going to go rinse off really fast. I’ll see you at lunch, if you’re still here.”
Then with that, Mary Kate skips off, her hips swaying, golden hair in a stream down her back.
I stand as still as a statue at the counter for a moment, tempted to follow her straight into the shower stall before fucking her little pussy hard.
Was she inviting me? But I don’t want the beautiful girl’s first time with a man to be in a tiled bathroom, slippery and awkward.
I want to take care of my little girl and to treat her like the princess she is.
I want Mary Kate’s first time to be incredible, memorable, with ecstasy flowing through her veins as she comes on a man’s cock for the first time.
So I stay locked in place, visions of the beautiful blonde dancing in my because all of that is coming.
Soon.
Tonight even, if I can make it happen.
After a few hours of work in my home office, I show up in the kitchen and to my surprise, Mary Kate’s there, putting together sandwiches.
“Hi Daddy,” she says with a sweet smile, looking at me over her shoulder. “I knew you were still home, so I’m making ham and cheese paninis for us. I found the panini maker in the cabinet, and it’s perfect! The newest model.”