Step Daddy Real Daddy You Choose

OK let's try a little experiment. Here's two similar beginnings to a story, but in one it's about his stepdaughter, and in the other it's about his real daughter. (Both girls are 18, if that helps.) You tell me which story I should continue - do you want to read about daddy/daughter, or stepdad/stepdaughter? Choose A or B ...

***

*A is for Angelica, the daughter*

***

It all started with the tee shirt.

My wife and I were in bed, talking quietly about the kids and the day and whatever, and I started getting a little frisky. Rubbing her shoulders turned into caressing her ass, and then we were kissing, and I was biting her neck, and she was squeezing my cock through my pajama pants. With a low growl (I wasn't even sure the teens were asleep yet) I pulled down my pants while she pulled down her underwear, and in a moment I was on top of her.

I pushed up her tee shirt and started sucking on her nipple. She whimpered a little, and while I massaged both breasts, thumbing and pinching whichever nipple I wasn't sucking, she whispered encouragements, and moaned as quietly as she could. I pressed my growing hard-on against her, again and again. I pulled back on my knees to rub the head of my cock against her glistening pussy lips, dipping in just slightly, then teasing her clit with its warm firmness.

She pulled her shirt down slightly to play with her nipples through it, stroking and scraping her flesh through the thin material. I cocked my head slightly.

"What shirt is that?" I whispered.

"I dunno," she said. "It was on the floor next to the bed, so I grabbed it."

I knew exactly what shirt it was. In large letters, it advertised a popular restaurant in Colorado. And only one of us had been to Colorado in recent years: my daughter, Angelica, on one of her weekends with her birth mother.

I leaned forward, pressing into her inch by inch. She wasn't quite wet enough, which I love - that bit of resistance. (She's told me she loves it too.) She reached her hands up under my own tee shirt to grip my back as she spread her legs further, pulling me inside her.

Suddenly, I pictured my daughter beneath me, in this shirt I'd seen her in so many times. Slender, blonde, with a runner's build - so beautiful, and looking more like her mother every day. I shook my head with a violent jerk, as I started pulling out. I cupped my wife's breast in one hand, thumbing her pebbled nipple, and forced myself to focus on my wife's face. So different from my daughter ... Angelica's smile was less full-lipped than my wife's, but no less loving, and her forehead ... her forehead would be dotted with sweat just like that, if I was inside her ...

Oh God!

"I love you," I growled, focusing again on my lovely, sexually adventurous wife. Her breasts might have sagged a bit with age, but she was still an amazing lover. So ready and willing, so into trying new things, and - I squeezed her breast again - and ... *younger than this one, firmer, not over-large, but like a succulent peach under this same tee shirt, so many times, how would they be bouncing right now ...*

Fuck! Not now, not now ... I needed to stop thinking of my daughter ...

My wife's head was thrown back, her mouth open. It was so hard to stay quiet sometimes ... Her eyes strained with pleasure and need and with the clashing, desperate, conflicting desires to scream and to stay silent ...

My muscles were straining - pushing toward the peak. I couldn't quite reach it. "Chase it," she hissed. "Chase it, go get it." She was watching me intently, with that little smirk she wears when I'm getting close. She loves watching me go over the edge.

I couldn't. I was balanced near the top, but I was at war with my libido, too many thoughts, shifting focus. Beating away thoughts of that innocent child to try to focus on my wife, but ... it was too much distraction. I was chasing it, but my orgasm was elusive.

Fuck it. I closed my eyes, and imagined. Who would it hurt, really?

Her tight little running shorts, the long legs I'd noticed without realizing I was noticing them - I imagined them wrapped around me, imagined the shorts pushed aside to make room for my cock. Oh Christ, her young pussy would be so tight around my shaft ... squeezing it ... milking it dry ... And her nipples, god the nipples, big as cherries on those peach sized breasts that I'd seen so often, my baby girl hardly ever wore a bra, those fat, thick nipples poking out through the big letters on the Colorado shirt as I pounded into her again and again.

A sudden burst of paranoia swept through me. Had I been closing my eyes too long? Was I being suspicious? I looked down at my wife with a gasp, my mouth open - I was drooling a little, unconsciously, desperately, swept up, so close, and she, she was looking up at me with that satisfied smile she wears when I'm finally going over the edge, and the thin line of drool left my lip and extended to the shirt, stretched, plopped onto her chest, and

"Please?" she said, in her best baby-girl voice, and

I exploded.

I thrust into her helplessly, mindlessly, again and again, emptying myself inside her as she squeezed her pussy around me and bucked her heels against my ass. I eventually collapsed, bathed in sweat, and rolled off her, panting.

"That was a good one," she whispered, and kissed my sweaty forehead. I nodded, still trying to catch my breath, as she put her underwear back on and pulled her shirt down. Once I had my breath back, I pulled up my pajama pants, and got up slowly to unlock the bedroom door again before going to sleep.

"Could you let the dog out one more time, sweetheart?" she murmured, as she turned off the bedside lamp, and I nodded, walking to the back door, already hearing the dog's nails clicking and the collar jingling as she followed me in the darkness.

I stood by the back door, looking out into the yard, waiting for the dog to finish so I could get some sleep. No harm done, I thought. What you think in those moments doesn't count. It's already forgotten.

A sudden image of my daughter came into my mind, looking as she had looked so many times recently, as she headed off to her last month of high school ... a woman. Studious, quiet, shy sometimes - but a beautiful and quite mature young woman. I'd forgotten what her mother looked like in high school until just now, but it was ... just like this. In my head, she was talking about something, the music of her voice coming to me from far away, as she went out the front door of my imagination - her studies, perhaps, or a book she was reading. But she paused just before she disappeared to look back at me, and the way she smiled, the way her eyes lit up to see her daddy ...

When had she become a woman? I used to kiss my little girl goodnight. When did I stop?

And why did I want to start again?

I took a deep breath, opening the door for the dog.

Forgotten, I told myself. Already forgotten.

***

B is for Bethany, the stepdaughter

***

It all started with the tee shirt.

My wife and I were in bed, talking quietly about the kids and the day and whatever, and I started getting a little frisky. Rubbing her shoulders turned into caressing her ass, and then we were kissing, and I was biting her neck, and she was squeezing my cock through my pajama pants. With a low growl (I wasn't even sure the teens were asleep yet) I pulled down my pants while she pulled down her underwear, and in a moment I was on top of her.

I pushed up her tee shirt and started sucking on her nipple. She whimpered a little, and while I massaged both breasts, thumbing and pinching whichever nipple I wasn't sucking, she whispered encouragements, and moaned as quietly as she could. I pressed my growing hard-on against her, again and again. I pulled back on my knees to rub the head of my cock against her glistening pussy lips, dipping in just slightly, then teasing her clit with its warm firmness.

She pulled her shirt down slightly to play with her nipples through it, stroking and scraping her flesh through the thin material. I cocked my head slightly.

"What shirt is that?" I whispered.

"I dunno," she said. "It was on the floor next to the bed, so I grabbed it."

I knew exactly what shirt it was. In large letters, it advertised a popular restaurant in Colorado. And only one of us had been to Colorado in recent years: her eldest daughter, Bethany, on a trip with her father.

I leaned forward, pressing into her inch by inch. She wasn't quite wet enough, which I love - that bit of resistance. (She's told me she loves it too.) She reached her hands up under my own tee shirt to grip my back as she spread her legs further, pulling me inside her.

Bethany, with her long, dark hair, and healthy bosom - larger than her mother's - and bubbly, bouncy personality. I shook my head, pulling out. I grabbed at her bare hip, pressing in again, leaning down to nibble at my wife's neck, pulled back - and just for a moment saw Bethany's twinkling eyes, clouded with lust. I blinked, and squeezed my wife's hip, reminding myself that Bethany's ass didn't feel like this. I mean, wouldn't feel like this.

*No, it would be younger, firmer, but just as full and round, such a curvy girl ... And how would she sound, moving beneath you* ... No!

I stared into my wife's eyes. "I love you," I gasped out. I needed to stop thinking of my step-daughter. Not now ...

My wife's head was thrown back, her mouth open. It was so hard to stay quiet sometimes ... Her eyes strained with pleasure and need and with the clashing, desperate, conflicting desires to scream and to stay silent ...

My muscles were straining - pushing toward the peak. I couldn't quite reach it. "Chase it," she hissed. "Chase it, go get it." She was watching me intently, with that little smirk she wears when I'm getting close. She loves watching me go over the edge.

I couldn't. I was balanced near the top, but I was at war with my libido, too many thoughts, shifting focus. Beating away thoughts of that innocent child to try to focus on my wife, but ... it was too much distraction. I was chasing it, but my orgasm was elusive.

Fuck it. I closed my eyes, and imagined. Who would it hurt, really?

The big letters on the Colorado shirt bouncing and rippling as her huge, soft breasts swayed with each slamming thrust. Her ample round bottom that I could almost feel myself cupping. Her beautiful, full red mouth, that I'd seen in laughter with her friends and shouting matches with her mother, moaning uncontrollably as she begged me to empty myself inside her womb ... Oh fuck, her young pussy would be so tight around my shaft ... squeezing it ... milking it dry ...

A sudden burst of paranoia swept through me. Had I been closing my eyes too long? Was I being suspicious? I looked down at my wife with a gasp, my mouth open - I was drooling a little, unconsciously, desperately, swept up, so close, and she, she was looking up at me with that satisfied smile she wears when I'm finally going over the edge, and the thin line of drool left my lip and extended to the shirt, stretched, plopped onto her chest, and

"Please?" she said, in her best baby-girl voice, and

I exploded.

I thrust into her helplessly, mindlessly, again and again, emptying myself inside her as she squeezed her pussy around me and bucked her heels against my ass. I eventually collapsed, bathed in sweat, and rolled off her, panting.

"That was a good one," she whispered, and kissed my sweaty forehead. I nodded, still trying to catch my breath, as she put her underwear back on and pulled her shirt down. Once I had my breath back, I pulled up my pajama pants, and got up slowly to unlock the bedroom door again before going to sleep.

"Could you let the dog out one more time, sweetheart?" she murmured, as she turned off the bedside lamp, and I nodded, walking to the back door, already hearing the dog's nails clicking and the collar jingling as she followed me in the darkness.

I stood by the back door, looking out into the yard, waiting for the dog to finish so I could get some sleep. No harm done, I thought. What you think in those moments doesn't count. It's already forgotten.

A sudden image of my step-daughter came into my mind, looking as she had looked so many times recently, as she headed off to her last month of high school ... a woman. A very attractive young woman, who knew how attractive she was, and dressed to accentuate it. She laughed as she went out the front door, in my mind, but paused to throw a knowing glance over her shoulder, before tossing her dark hair and vanishing. A woman. When had she become a woman?

I screwed my eyes shut for a moment, banishing the image.

Forgotten. Already forgotten.

***

What's your choice? Which one should I continue?