Hello, I am a new writer and looking to do this professionally soon. Any feedback would be appreciated! This story is based on my own experiences with my stepfather. All persons involved are/were 18 or older.
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Things around the house were uneventful for the next few days. My mother would get home from work and mill around absently for an hour or two before disappearing again. Spring break was coming up, and I took every opportunity to focus on finishing my senior year with good grades. It was a coping mechanism for what had happened with my stepfather, if nothing else. Confusion, guilt, and sometimes a sexual ache ebbed and flowed through my body in waves. It washed over me when I was sitting in class, or on my bed leafing through a textbook late at night.
He hadn't breathed a word to me since, and just when the memory started to fade in my mind, I came home one day to find him waiting for me. He took my hand and led me into his office.
I sat on the couch quietly, watching him through my lashes. I heard the clinking of ice, then he turned around with two champagne glasses in his hand. Something about the sight of those glasses, and the bubbly drink inside them, made my heart stop. My thighs clenched together unconsciously under my skirt.
He handed me one of the glasses, then clinked his own against it in a little toast. His smile was warm and knowing.
"Tell me about your day" he invited.
"Um, it was okay, thanks." I fingered the hem of my school skirt. "We have a bunch of tests coming up before break."
"Is that so?"
Suddenly his hand was on the back of my neck, still cold from pouring the champagne. He slid it around to my chin and tilted my head toward him so that our eyes were locked. I stared at him wide-eyed and scared for several moments. His thumb carefully stroked my lower lip, and he leaned in to whisper "I couldn't stop thinking of you all day."
I don't know why, but I believed those words more than I had ever believed anything. Before I could begin to think of a response, his lips were on mine, greedy and wanting. I tried to mumble a protest, but his tongue found its way inside me. The whole thing felt lewd and shocking, yet so erotic. The way he groaned while exploring my soft, pink mouth. The wetness and firmness of his tongue as it massaged my own.
When he pulled away to drink his champagne, I leaned back into the couch, panting for breath. I followed his example and sipped from my own glass, and when I put it back down on the side table, I noticed my hand was trembling.
"Daddy" I started. "I mean, Scott...."
He pulled me into his lap so fast that I let out a little squeal.
"No, no. I'm daddy now, little girl."
His tongue was back between my lips and prying my mouth open again. His hands began massaging the backs of my thighs, working their way up until they were gripping my ass. His mouth was working my neck at the same time. I panted helplessly while he manhandled me. He started undoing my blouse, and he got so frustrated that he tore my shirt open. Buttons clattered on the floor and rolled away as he leaned back to admire my round, perky breasts. I made a move to cover them, but he stopped me.
"Take your bra off" he ordered.
I looked at him, scared and full of need.
