Thank you for all of your kind notes and warm support for my previous stories. Please be aware that this story takes a little bit of time to develop, so please read with patience.
I changed the age of the stepdaughter to appease the kind folks at Literotica.com
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I have to say up front that I did not marry for money. Although it is nice that my husband is wealthy, it was this amazingly kind, loving and energetic man and his shy 18 year-old daughter that was the true attraction. They both have captured my heart and I would do anything for them. Which is how I got into my humiliating predicament.
I met Mike three years ago when I became his Administrative Assistant. He is the founder and CEO of a successful venture capital firm and a darling among biotech investors. Smart, savvy, charming and not too shabby on the eyes, he has this way about him that draws you in within minutes.
I grew up as the rebellious member of a highly conservative family, though being the rebel in this context was as harmless as wearing bikinis and sneaking a beer at a friend’s house. I was driven to succeed beyond the working-class mentality of my family. I hooked onto a scholarship and graduated with honors. At 22, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, right out of college and in need of an “in” into the VC industry.
The job was great, and Mike took an interest in teaching me the business. But he soon learned that his wife was sick with stage three leukemia. I handled most of his affairs while he spent as much time as he could with her, and she died within a few short months. Mike was devastated. She was only 34 when she died, as was Mike, leaving him to raise their 15 year-old daughter Kristina. He leaned on me during his grief, and I often helped him out by shopping for food and occasionally fixing both of them dinner in the evening.
Our relationship grew into a romance as the months passed. We fit together so well. I was the ying to his yang. On Kristina’s 17th birthday, the three of us flew to Hawaii and Mike and I were married. Everyone was happy.
Just now turning 18, Kristina was a beautiful young lady, even if she did not recognize it. When her mother died, she retreated and became a bit of a recluse. She dressed in clothes that were quite conservative (reminding me of my family) and doing little to make herself attractive. I tried to talk with her about her appearance, but she would say she was ugly and quickly run off to her bedroom.
She spent all of her time in either her room or the library, and her grades reflected the effort. As a matter of fact, she inherited her father’s brilliance. She was a grade ahead of her peers, taking online college courses on the side and was set to graduate at the head of her class this year. She was set to attend MIT, which allowed her to stay close to home.
Mike and I recently discussed how worried we are about her ability to adapt to the college environment, where a shy girl of 18 may get trampled. I promised Mike that I would do what I could to draw her out of her shell. I have tried everything I can think of to talk with her, yet she would politely respond with one-word answers and retreat. Her door was always locked, so she closed herself off to us for hours on end.
Recently, I have caught glimpses of her maturing body that have ignited some naughty thoughts. The first time was when she left the bathroom door cracked. She had just stepped out of the shower and was drying her hair with a towel. She was a true vision, with large, round firm breasts with rather large nipples, a thin little waist and the tightest little ass I can remember. She reminded me of myself at her age.
I thought back to how I had first explored my own body with my hands, finding how sensitive my breasts and vagina were. I would sneak away from my family to indulge in private masturbation. I became addicted to my own orgasms, driving myslef to countless orgasms in a row and I finishing with a need for even more. Yet I still felt naughty. Even to this day, I will bring myself off multiple times when I can find some private time, then feel a ping of shame afterwards.
Over the past few weeks, I would see her again in private moments - while she was changing clothes or slipping out of her robe for a shower. I soon found myself intentionally trying to steal glimpses of her beautiful body. And I was disgusted by my behavior.
Lately, with Mike traveling so much, Kristina had been spending much of her time at home. I know it is wrong, but I must admit that I was intoxicated by her combination of guarded innocence and unrealized beauty, and I fought to keep her from noticing.
This evening, with the two of us quietly reading books in the living room, Kristina asked if she could have a glass of the wine I was drinking. Seeing no harm, I acquiesced. She silently savored the taste, sipping at it frequently.
She looked bothered by something, so after pouring myself another glass of wine, I asked her what was wrong. She shook her head and looked away. A few more uncomfortable minutes passed and I took a few more heavy sips. I don’t drink often, so I enjoy the nice buzz a glass of wine will bring.
Finally, Kristina turned to me. Her eyes were looking down and she was obviously nervous.
“What is it honey?” I said. “You can tell me anything.”
She nodded, but kept quiet.
“Whenever you are ready, I am here for you,” I whispered.
She moved to nuzzle beside me in almost a fetal position. Without looking at me, she said in a voice so soft I could barely hear, “W..w..what is sex like?”
Wow! She dropped the bomb. Now I knew why she was acting the way she did. This was good, I convinced myself. Finally, a spark of curiosity. I was beginning to wonder.
“It is a beautiful experience between two consenting adults, “ I said.
“I get that part…but what does it, you know, feel like?”
I blushed, not realizing how uncomfortable I was talking about this to someone for the first time. I buckled down, remembering the promise I made to Mike. “It feels amazing. One of the greatest joys of life.” I then realized something. I softly lifted Kristina’s chin and asked, “Kristina, haven’t you ever touched yourself and explored. It is okay if you have. It is natural. Everyone does it.”
“Ewww! No! Of course I would not touch myself. That’s disgusting,” she blurted out as she pulled herself from me. This statement hung heavy in the air for a minute or so. I was thinking of what to say next.
She then looked up at me and asked, “Do you do it?”
“Yes, I have done it,” I said with a little embarrassment as I could muster.
“How do you do it?”
“Um…well…um…you, um, touch yourself in your sensitive places.” I could feel my face flush I looked at her.
“Like your breasts?”
“Yes”
