When I became engaged to marry my wife May a couple years back, I was well aware that she had children from a previous marriage. Having been previously married myself, I had no issue with this. Especially since, both of us being in our mid-40's, her kids were both fully-functioning adults. No parenting necessary. Due to this fact, I actually hadn't met either of them until the big week leading up to our wedding. I knew she had a son named Darren in his early 20's living in Chicago, and a daughter named Sophia who was 18, and was nearing the end of her freshman year of college out in Seattle. This was the extent to which I knew them.
So imagine my utter shock when I finally met Sophia. Her mother is a beautiful woman, so I wasn't necessarily surprised that she inherited good genes. But what I was not expecting was to have to gather my jaw up off the floor upon her entrance, like picking up a pile of dropped textbooks.
It was Monday, just five days before we were to be married. I was nervous, as I was about to meet her children for the first time. I was also nervous because I was about to marry the love of my life! I had been through this before, but never had it felt quite this real. Despite this, I still had a deep-seated fear I couldn't fight. I was about to be locked down again. No sleeping around, no eyeing other women, full commitment. I had no intention of backing down from my choice, but imagine the torture I felt when Sophia walked through the door of our Minneapolis condo.
She was maybe the sexiest woman I had ever laid eyes on. Young, virile, tantalizing, with a sort of irresistible, cinematic sex appeal reserved for the Marilyn Monroe's and Christina Hendricks' of this world. She rocked a short-cropped, windswept head of brunette hair, which served to accent her sharp jaw and piercing hazel eyes, both of which she got from her mother. Her gaunt, bronzed white neck was tightly clasped by a gothic-black choker, guiding your eyes further downward to her well-defined collar bones, on full display surrounded by the violently scooped neck of her black crop-top. I had never felt sorry for a shirt before then, but the way her massive breasts were stretching it I began to fear for its well being. The plunging neck of her tight crop top revealed deep, full cleavage, which jiggled wildly within its confines with even the slightest step. It was immediately clear to me that she was not wearing a bra. Her nipples strained against the fabric hard enough that you could outline her quarter-sized areolas with your eyes.
Her tight stomach was on full display just beneath the daringly short length of the top, displaying her pierced belly-button. By the time my eyes had made it there, I realized I had not yet said a word and snapped out of my drooling stupor. Her mother, ever the socially-aware one, exclaimed "Hi honey! I've missed you so much," and ran up for a warm, familial embrace. I was then hit by a rush of confusing arousal, Sophia's pillowy breasts shoving into my fiance's slightly more modest (but no less shapely) chest, them both wiggling back and forth with unfettered glee. It took all my might to push the depraved sexual fantasies out of my mind. "This is James! James, I want you to meet my daughter Sophia."
For the first time, our eyes locked. Her striking gaze and warm smile almost knocked me backwards, but I maintained my composure and reached out for a cordial handshake. "Nice to meet you! I've heard so much about-" my handshake was rejected in favor of a tight embrace.
"I'm so excited for you two!" Sophia squealed into my ear, wrapping her arms around me. She was a slightly embarrassing couple of inches taller than me. At that height, her soft voluptuous breasts were almost up to my chin, pressing firmly against me. I could feel the blood rushing into my cock as my fight or flight instincts started to take hold. "She will not stop talking about you."
"Oh come on now, honey," May interjected quickly. "Let me go show you where you'll be sleeping, there'll be plenty of time to interrogate James later."
May pulled Sophia away from our hug and led her towards the stairwell. In my flustered state I managed to catch a rear-view that I could've watched for hours. Her ass was thick and curved, but tight and defined, an indication that she spent a significant amount of time squatting at the gym. It jiggled rhythmically as she pranced up the stairs behind my fiance. I could just barely see the outline of her panties through the loose, flowing but flattering fabric of her short black tennis skirt. Her round ass ever-so-slightly elevated the skirt's hem in the back to a dangerous height. I caught just a slight whisper of her panties on the last step before they rounded the corner. Red and lacy. Dear God.
Once again I snapped back into the real world, and gazed down to see I was pitching a tent in my jeans. I ran off to the downstairs bathroom like a flash.
After calming my *situation* down, I exited the bathroom to see my wife and stepdaughter-to-be chatting in the kitchen. "Honey," May addressed me, "I have to take off and run some last minute errands. You two get to know each other for a bit. There's plenty of food in the fridge if you need a bite to eat," addressing us both now. "Darren should be getting here tomorrow morning. See you in a bit!"
"Bye honey, love you", I said, giving her a quick kiss on her way out.
"Bye mom!" Sophia yelled.
As my wife headed out the front door, I sat down across from Sophia, who was now seated on the opposite side at the kitchen counter. "How was your flight?" I asked, unsure of where else to start the conversation after the whirlwind of arousal that was the last 15 minutes.
"Oh just fine!" she replied politely. "Mom says you've lived out here for quite awhile. I love it here! It's not so different from Chicago." That was where her and Darren grew up.
"Chicago's great! I've been there tons of times since I was a teenager," I said rather sheepishly, deathly afraid of the inevitable silence to come. My gaze started to drift slightly down to her ample cleavage again. She was sitting on a stool that elevated her above the height of the counter, and leaning forward slightly, ever-so-engaged in our bland small talk. She was extremely affable for someone her age. My eyes darted back up quickly before she could notice me staring at her massive tits, like a pervert.
"It's a great place. Great city to grow up in. It has its downsides, but I love it for what it is," Sophia responded.
I changed the subject before the well ran dry. "So how is school going? I heard you're going into journalism. That's a great career path for a bright young girl like you. Your mom seems so proud of you."
"It's going well! I've always been very passionate about justice and spreading the truth, and I think now more than ever it's very important to-"
She didn't trail off, I just lost my focus and resumed staring at her tits. I had never been such a raging horny fool in my life. I've always been all about polite nods, consistent eye contact, social graces. But something about Sophia awoke some animalistic, primal sexual hunger in me. She was everything my wife was, but more, better, sexier. It was as if God himself had accidentally dumped every desirable physical trait into one woman. She was in her absolute physical prime, the type of woman people crash their cars staring at crossing the street. Something in me just had to have her, needed to have her. Before marriage could hold me down for life.
This time I forgot to return my gaze quickly enough, lost in her jiggling breasts. She smirked at me knowingly, as though she had experienced this several times before. "You like what you see?" My heart skipped several beats. There was a pregnant pause that felt like hours but must've been all of five seconds. Silence. Then, "I'm just messing with you James!" she exclaimed through a snarky grin.
"Ha ha!" I laughed nervously as my pulse resumed.
"Do I have to call you James?" Sophia asked. "That feels like such a strange thing to call the man my mom's about to marry. Can I call you Daddy?" She spoke with a dry sincerity that made it impossible for me to tell if she was serious or not this time.
"I'd really rather you not, frankly. James is fine," I responded firmly. "After all, I'm not your father."
"Sure thing, Daddy," she retorted with mock defiance. She had me wrapped around her finger now, and she knew it. I could tell that this was a woman who knew the power she had over men and was not afraid to use it every once in a while. This only made her sexier to me.
"But anyway, as I was saying. I really think our country is moving away from valuing honest journalism these days. I don't expect to make a ton of money or anything, but I really hope that I can-"
I nodded politely and held eye contact with the intensity of an Olympic athlete. She had a certain habit of... gesticulating for emphasis as she spoke. She was very animated and very passionate, using her hands to express her points. I could see in my peripheral view that her tits were jiggling violently as she waved her hands around, stuck in place but just begging to be freed from that tight crop top. I wanted so badly to free them.
There was a pause. "It's great that you're pursuing something you're so passionate about!" I managed to say. I've always been good with the stock responses.
At that moment, she got up from the chair, bending forward ever so slightly more as she slid the stool out, giving me a slight birds-eye view of her soft, luscious tits. She headed towards the fridge and opened the door, looking around inside for something to eat. She put her weight on her right leg and her hand on her hip as she considered her options, elevating her thick ass slightly up to the left. She was wearing knee-high white sports socks, the ones with the thick red stripes, that accentuated her long, slender legs. Then she knelt down, and bent over to grab something from the fruit drawer, straining the material of her skirt tightly against her ass. Her panty line was far more pronounced in this position, and my imagination suddenly became less necessary. I felt like I was watching an old American Apparel ad unfold right in front of my eyes. Never had I seen a woman so effortlessly exude sex. I felt self-conscious for objectifying my fiance's daughter like this, but I just couldn't help myself. She straightened back up and tugged her skirt out in the back, as the static that was all-too-prevalent this time of year had made it stick to her ass in a disheveled, hiked-up fashion. There was another quick flash of the red panties before it settled back into place. She returned to the counter with an orange in her hand. Once again I was rock hard, and felt like a middle schooler hiding his boner under a desk. I took a sip of my glass of water that was sitting there.
"So, how did you meet my mom? I've heard bits and pieces," she says without glancing up, peeling the orange with her manicured red nails. At this point she was sitting with her shoulders pressed forward slightly, pushing her breasts into each other. They looked like they could pop out of the neck of her shirt if she were to push them just too far. I almost spat out my drink when I glanced down and saw this, but maintained my composure. Surely she was playing with me.
