©2013
My stories tend toward the nonconsent/taboo side, but I want to be clear that I'm in no way suggesting that the acts in my stories are okay. Forced sex is a fantasy I enjoy and I write for other similarly minded people. Real rape is ugly and sad, and if it's something you're considering acting out you should seek help. ***** Just a quickie. Hope you enjoy. All characters are 18+ I stare up into the blackness of my dark room, listening to the horrible sounds from down the hall. I hear the shuffling of the bed against the wall, the grunts and sighs...Sometimes I plug my ears, but never for long; some masochistic part of me needs to hear. "Fuck me harder!" she moans loudly. The walls are just not thick enough in this house. I wonder if she has any idea that I can hear every moan, every scream, every filthy thing she cries. Probably not. My dad's wife - I never refer to her as my stepmother, even in my thoughts - is an egocentric bitch, and consideration of me is not something that appears to take up much of her time or energy. He told me they were close to divorce a year after they married, which was when he started visiting my bed at night. I was young and naive then; I'm almost twenty now, and though he still tells me he plans to leave her, I finally know better. "Like that, baby! Fuck my cunt!" My cunt clenches in response. That's one of the worst things about it all. As much as I hate the sounds of him fucking her, I can't help but imagine it, his broad shoulders rippling as he clenches her hips, his thick cock driving in and out...It's my nightly purgatory. There is almost never a night where they don't fuck and I don't lie here, torn between bitterness and arousal. I hear the frantic sounds of flesh slapping flesh, and the low, throaty moan that means she's coming. I envision her cunt convulsing around him, greedily milking him for his cum. A moment later comes the grunt of my father reaching his own orgasm. I imagine his seed spurting from his cock, and my womb tightens in response. I glance at the clock. What feels like an eternity later - but in reality is 28 minutes - I hear the quiet sound of my door opening and closing. I roll over and face the wall petulantly. He climbs into bed and presses up against my back, dropping a kiss on my neck and encircling my stiff body with his arm. "Sorry, baby. She took a while to fall asleep," he murmurs against my ear. "You'd think she'd be more tired after all that fucking. You must have been pretty boring tonight," I snap. I feel his smile before he nips the shell of my ear. "Mad again?" His tongue plunges into the whorl of my ear, and I can't stop the gasp that escapes. "I hate you," I whisper bitterly, but it comes out breathy. My hips rock back into his as he swirls his tongue around, in and out, tantalizing every nerve ending in my sensitive ear. "That's too bad," he whispers, resurfacing. "'Cause I still love you, and I want to fuck your tight little pussy till you come all over my cock." I clench again inside, and feel a rush of wetness. His hand slides under my now loosened arms, and he cups my breast, stroking his thumb over my nipple through my tank top. His lips drop back to my neck, whisperingly teasingly over my sensitive skin. My hips start rocking back against him rythmically. My body wants to be filled by him, the only man it's ever known. "Tonight I'll cum inside you, and we'll make you pregnant. Would you like that? Hmm?" he asks, tugging the strap of my tank down my arm until my breast is bared. I would love nothing more than to have this man's child inside me. I know he loves the curve of a pregnant belly, the swell of breasts full of milk - he's told me, just as he's told me all his filthiest secrets. I often imagine how I would walk around the house barely clothed, maybe naked, enticing him, and he could fuck me anytime he wanted. The image is too much, and my hand shoots down between my legs to rub my clit. But he snatches my hand away and pulls it behind my back, tsking at me. "If you want to come, I'm right here. All you have to do is ask." I try to put up at least a token resistance, to act like he doesn't have all the power in our relationship, but he nips at my ear again, and I feel myself weakening. He nibbles along the shell of my ear down to my earlobe with its supercharged nerve endings, and another moment of his lips and his hot breath are all it takes to break me. "Please make me come, Daddy," I moan quietly. He slips his hand into my panties, and starts rubbing my clit teasingly. The pressure isn't hard enough. I reach my leg back over his hip and arch into his hand, demanding a firmer touch. "So greedy," he laughs, pressing only a little harder. I reach back and grab his hair, turning my face to press my lips to his. Our tongues find each other immediately, stroking against one another as I pant into his mouth. I am so, so ready. My nightly purgatory also acts as a kind of foreplay, plumping the lips of my pussy and moistening my slit as I listen to the woman I hate get fucked by the man I love. Where he is sated and lazily gearing up for his second fuck of the night, I am starving for the feel of him inside me. "Fuck me now, Daddy. Please!" I whisper against his mouth. I know what he wants to hear: "Fuck your baby girl..." He kisses me again, long and deep, and his fingers slide into my cunt. "So wet," he murmurs. "No patience at all." He rolls me onto my back and kneels between my legs, still lazily sliding his fingers in and out of me. He leans back down and captures my nipple between his teeth, flicking his tongue over the tip. By now I am clenching desperately around his fingers, needing more. He yanks down the other side of my tank top and moves to the other nipple, teething and sucking it while the first pebbles from the cooling saliva. "Imagine these filled with milk." He presses kisses all around the curve of one breast. "I would drink from you every day. You could ride my cock while I sucked these sensitive little nipples." He moves down to my tummy, trailing kisses as he moves downward. His tongue dips into my bellybutton. "And your belly, all round with my baby inside you. I would fuck you all day, and I still wouldn't get enough of you." I am panting, unbearably turned on, but I am completely serious when I reply, "So make me pregnant, Daddy. I want your baby inside me." His hand clenches on my hip. I know he loves that. He yanks off my panties, and before I can even tilt my hips, he's slammed inside me, cock buried to the hilt. He begins long strokes into me, with the soaking wet walls of my cunt fluttering around him. "I was gonna take my time, but you make me so fuckin crazy!" he growls. I love that I make him forget himself, and I love the feel of his cock stretching me wide with each thrust. I was made to fit him. His is the only cock I've ever had, the only one I ever want. With each thrust of his hips, I ride higher, lost in the waves of sensation that only he can make me feel. I'm ready to come, but sometimes he likes to tease me by denying me, slowing or stopping his thrusts when he can feel that I'm close. So I wrap my arms around his neck and whisper, "I would let you make me pregnant as many times as you wanted, Daddy. I'd have as many babies as you wanted, so you could feel my pregnant belly all the time." The words come out throaty with all the longing that I feel. That does the trick. He thrusts into me hard, and I imagine for one whimsical moment that I can feel my womb opening to him, readying for his seed. My cunt is tightening rythmically, trying to milk his cock for semen. "I want your baby..." He groans, twisting his hips against mine trying to get even deeper inside. "My sweet baby girl! Take it!" I would give anything to bear this man's child, to be the only woman in his life and to be able to extend our relationship to every room of the house, not confining it to these midnight visits. As he fucks me, I imagine myself heavily pregnant with my daddy's baby, sucking his cock while he works in his office; being finger-fucked while I make us dinner; going to bed with him each night and being able to SCREAM without fear of discovery. My cunt clamps down on him and I begin to tremble as I come, jerking my hips up to meet his thrusts. My fantasies play through my mind like a video reel, and my orgasm goes on and on. I clench down on him over and over. "Jesus!" he gasps, quickening his pace. His hips are slamming into me violently when he groans and spills inside me. I feel the sticky fluid pouring into me, and my pussy clamps down on him again. I want none of his sperm to escape. I want my chances of getting pregnant this night to be as high as possible. He collapses against me, breathing heavily. Our bodies are slick with sweat, but he feels perfect against my skin. I hook my ankles over the backs of his thighs, enjoying the feel of him softening inside me. I want to sleep like this. He lifts his head and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "What got into you tonight?" "My daddy did, like he does every night," I answer mischievously. He chuckles. He pulls out of me though, leaving me feeling bereft until he rolls to his back and tugs me over to curl up against him. "I love you, Daddy." "I love you too, baby," he replies, pressing a kiss to my hair. "When are we going to be able to really be together? I'm tired of hiding." "I am too," he soothes, "But it's not the right time yet, you know that. We'll be able to be together soon, but until then, we still have our mignight visits," he says mischievously, planting a wet kiss on my neck. "But I want to have your baby, instead of just talking about it!" I sound petulant, and it annoys me, but this is what he reduces me to: a whiney little girl. "You will, sweetheart! Just wait a bit, and then we'll be able to live together how we want, and I'll give you all the babies you want," he murmurs placatingly. Once that would have soothed and reassurred me. But lately I've been starting to question his sincerity. On my worst days, I think he's using me. He knows I'll do anything for him, anything to please him. When I'm low and insecure, I worry that his talk of having a baby with me is just sex talk that he has no intention of actually following through on. He has, after all, had me on birth control since we started our nightly visits. In my darkest hour, I worry that he will never leave her. I worry that I will spend the rest of my life stuck in this nightly purgatory, waiting desperately for whatever he's willing to give me, and lapping it up gratefully because some of him is better than none. Mostly though, I believe he truly wants to be with me, but that he's gotten complacent. He doesn't want to deal with the fallout of divorce, and, even though he loves me, he is also a man and enjoys fucking two women each night. Though I would never leave him, I've grown tired of putting up with his complacency. As I lie there with my troubled thoughts, his breathing has grown deep and even. He's asleep. Sometimes he does this, and I love these nights the best. When I can spend a couple of hours curled up against him, pretending that she's gone and we're really together. He always wakes though, prodded by some internal alarm that allows him to wake before she does and be back in their bed. Leaving me alone. I wish I could just arrange to have her walk in on us, but I know that she'd be a vindictive bitch and use what my dad and I do to destroy him. As much as I would love to have her gone immediately, I would never do anything to hurt him. My arm tightens around him at the thought, and his arm clutches me tighter in his sleep. I drift off for a bit too. When I wake, dim light is creeping in around the edges of my black-out curtains, illuminating him as he rolls out of bed. I gaze up at him sleepily, sad but not surprised that he's once again slinking back to her before sunrise. "Hey, baby." He leans down and kisses me softly. "I've gotta get back to bed before my absence is noted. But, as always, you made my night." He gives me a melting grin. "Can't you stay a bit longer?" I whisper. "No, sweetie. If I do, I'll end up fucking you again, and you know she likes to fuck in the morning. Gotta have something left in the tank." His smile turns apologetic. He kisses me again, then leaves quietly, heading back to his room and his complacent existence, confident in the knowledge that even though he will fuck her this morning and then again tonight, I will still be here in my bed tonight, wet and waiting for him. I've never given him a reason to think differently. He thinks I'll just wait around forever, allowing him to avoid the unpleasantness of divorcing her and to indulge in the fun of fucking us both. He placates me by saying he'll leave her "when it's time," but he's gotten too comfortable, and he doesn't worry that his adoring baby girl will ever rock the boat. Well, the joke's on him. I stopped taking my birth control a month ago.
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