Turner Way
Saturday
For the third morning in a row, Ashley overslept. Thursday morning, it had been at least a little deliberate. Knowing that she would be cooped up with someone else’s family, even one she mostly got along with pretty well, was going to be draining. Oversleeping meant late departure meant late arrival. Basic social obligation calculus.
Friday, and even more so now on Saturday, it was sheer exhaustion. Ashley’s dreams were more vivid than her waking life, filled with pleasurable sensations, heart-wrenching anxiety, and mortifying passions. All of the details evaporated after seconds of exposure to the light of day, but she awakened in an uncomfortably damp spot on the mattress. Some of it was sweat, but not all, and not the dampest places.
Again, Katy was already up and about. Again, the scent of breakfast was in the air since, again, the door had been left open. It was embarrassing to think that everyone had walked past the room, seen her sleeping with nothing on but a pair of panties, which didn’t even count since she’d woken up with them hooked around one ankle. Still, they’d seen her boobs pretty much all day yesterday, and her pussy less extensively, though not briefly, during Twister.
Oh, and when she’d showered with Katy in front of Daddy. Lots of time showing off her new bushless cunt then. She’d nearly forgotten she’d let that happen.
Once more she was faced with a dilemma on how to dress herself. Yesterday she had overshot the mark by more than half. Today, Ashley didn’t bother with a top. She’d packed anticipating that she, and maybe Katy, might like to go for a run at some point. Today, she plucked her running shorts out of her suitcase and put them on. No panties today. She should, but Should was becoming such a nebulous concept as to become meaningless.
Ashley should put on underwear. She should put on a shirt. She should drive away from here as fast as her car would go.
Instead, she made sure her ass was jiggling fetchingly in her shorts and headed out to eat breakfast.
Grace snickered at her as she rounded the corner. “Nice shorts. You headed to temple or what?”
They were naked. Completely naked. No clothes, no underwear, not even socks. Daddy too, today.
Bre jabbed her daughter with an irate finger, right in her bare tit. “Grace, apologize.”
Grace managed to look antagonized, rubbing her boob irritably. “What? Me apologize to her? Two mornings in a row now she swaggers in here like she’s hot shit and we’re just a bunch of lowly skank-ass skanks, and I have to—”
This time, she spared the jab and took hold of a nipple ring. “Now, please.”
Grace glowered between her mother and the latecomer. “Sorry, Ashley,” she grumbled.
Bre gave Grace’s nipple a forgiving pinch. (Was that even a thing?) Then she looked at Ashley. “Now you.”
“Me? I haven’t even said anything yet. I just—”
“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Say… what? My tits are out, aren’t they? My nipples are hard. My butt looks really slamming in these shorts.” Someone had always told her that. Some guy she used to know or whatever. “What else do I have to do?”
Bre shook her head, disappointed. “All right then. Ashley, you know I love you. We all do.”
Grace’s rebuttal was forestalled with a tap on her nipple ring.
Bre continued. “So I have to ask: did you come here to spend time with this family this weekend? Or to, I don’t know, cram your college girl so-called ‘feminist’ ideas down our throats? I’ll tell you what I told my daughter when she tried to pull that nonsense. I won’t have it under my roof. I want you to be part of this family. I really do. But you have to want it, too.”
Grace folded her arms expectantly (or maybe just tried to play hard-to-get with those piercings), as did her mother. Katy was studying her cereal bowl, embarrassed to be involved in this incident by association. Daddy was gobbling down a thick-cut slab of bacon, though he was at least eyeing Ashley’s tits. At least one person here appreciated her the way she was, her effort to assimilate.
He was the only reason she didn’t leave the cabin on Turner Way then and there.
Ashley shucked her shorts, trotting back to the bedroom and depositing them in her suitcase. She returned to the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of cereal—raisin bran with flax seeds in almond milk, the only cereal and the only milk in the house—and only after swallowing a bite could she chase it with a swallowing of her pride.
“I’m sorry I wore shorts,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know we weren’t doing that.”
The hard edge in Bre’s look finally melted away, and she gave a nod of acknowledgment. Katy squeezed Ashley’s thigh under the table. It made her blush harder, having her friend’s pinky graze her labia like that, but it was nevertheless comforting. Her friend gazed imploringly at her stepfather. “Daddy, do you think you could tell Ashley what to wear from now on? So she doesn’t keep, you know…”
Embarrassing myself, Ashley finished in her head. Why am I more embarrassed to be the only one not naked than I am to be sitting here buck-ass nude?
There were no easier answers there, and dwelling on it only made her blush harder. Best not to try to understand it. Just accept it and try not to rock the boat.
That morning, Bre asked the girls to work together on the dishes. She and Katy shoved their faces together into a bowl and licked and slurped it clean. Their tongues met over and over, but that was OK. Katy might have licked out my pussy last night, Ashley reminded herself. May as well let her lick my tongue. The girls were standing over the table, bent over, tongues lapping at the dregs of milk and cereal as flavorful as the cardboard and plastic it had come in. Ashley could feel the cool morning air on her exposed pussy. Daddy helped out by standing behind them, watching them work. His cock, the cock that had ravaged Bre and Grace respectively the past two nights, hung in the air, occasionally thumping into the girls’ hips as he studied their cleaning technique.
“Are you supposed to give him another blowjob?” Ashley asked in a whisper. Not that whispering would stop him from overhearing her. It was just the least rude way to check if Katy was setting herself up to get in trouble. See, sometimes I try to prevent drama, she thought poutily at Katy’s mommy.
“Daddy always lets us know when he wants a blowjob,” Katy said, her fair skin turning red in embarrassment for Ashley’s obtuse question.
“I do,” he echoed. Ashley watched to see if he would demand one, and if so, from whom. Was she eligible for that chore? That’s what Brie had called it yesterday, a chore. Sweeping, mopping, dishes, blowjobs. Lots to do on this supposedly relaxing weekend.
When she felt like it had been a long time since she’d tasted anything but Katy’s tongue, she held up the bowls and asked if it looked good enough to go in the dishwasher.
“I thought you were the dishwasher,” he said, laughing at his own misogynistic dad joke. Then he outright guffawed as he added, “Was sorta hoping to see if I could put something in the dishwasher myself.” Before he swaggered off, he gave Katy and Ashley each an affirming squeeze on their behinds. Ashley didn’t pull away this time. She was so confused that it felt positively divine to be praised for having done something, anything, right.
Ashley and Katy danced naked for Daddy on the boat.
That hadn’t been the plan. He’d told the girls he wanted some fresh air. That was all. His pat, prompting his academic full ride scholarship possessing stepdaughter toward the boathouse, had included a finger. Katy’s head had lolled backward, pale hair and paler face thrust toward the sun. She stood there like that while Ashley readied the boat. Finally, worried her friend was broken, Ashley gently shook Katy’s shoulder and guided her toward their craft. Daddy was waiting.
It had struck Ashley the day before that it was a large boat for so small a lake. Like whoever had bought it had done so before seeing where they’d be using it. She wasn’t a sailor or anything, but this was much closer to a pond, yet the boat could have seated the whole family comfortably. So long as someone was comfortable sitting on Daddy’s lap, anyway, which Ashley had little doubt someone would be. He’d bailed her out twice that morning, so heck, maybe she should include herself in that assessment.
“Dance,” he said. That was it, one word, and Katy giggled and bounced to her feet. There was no music. No way to get music. Even if they had internet at the cabin, they surely wouldn’t in the middle of the lake. Plus, where would they carry their phones? Their pussies didn’t exactly have pockets.
Did the girls miss their actual dad? Was that why they were so content to dote on this fellow? As Daddy idly stroked his cock, Katy danced like… like…
Ashley didn’t have a frame of reference, other than to call her friend a whore. She’d only been to a club once when some random guy—he’d taken her on a few dates, lived with her for six months or so, but Ashley couldn’t remember the name of every horny guy who bought her a drink—smuggled her in. Even in there, with the bass thumping and the drugs and the alcohol flowing freely, girls hadn’t danced like Katy was dancing. It wasn’t even a dance, really. No music would make those movements look like dancing.
It was… jiggling. Katy shook her tits, to the extent those little things knew how to jiggle. She bent over and clapped her ass cheeks. She groped herself, only too vigorously to be just groping.
“Am… Am I supposed to…?” Ashley asked trepidatiously.
“If you want. Little Katykins looks like she’s having fun.”
She did want, it turned out. Katy looked like she was about to come. She looked frustrated that she wasn’t. She looked like the lids of her eyes weighed a thousand tons and like it didn’t matter because hot sluts didn’t need to see in order to get men off.
It was a good thing the man on the boat with them was her daddy, and not just some perv. So, with that thought in mind, Ashley stood up and joined in.
Time stopped. Or stopped mattering, anyway. She was wiggling, bouncing, gyrating, a beacon for every male eye for miles, of which there seemed to be only the two. Katy’s legs were coltish, ungainly, and not only because of the motion of the boat. Only that made her hotter. It was the dance of a girl who’d never danced like this before, never even thought about it. As for Ashley, she had picked up a few sexy moves at frat parties and whatnot, but Kate—Katy, Daddy’s baby girl is Katy, stupid, she’s Katy and that’s all she can ever be now—Katy didn’t party. She didn’t even practice moves like this in her dorm room at night when no one could see, just in case she ever met some hot guy and and needed to seduce him. No part of her had ever contemplated a future where she would become this, some assembly of legs and cunt and cute little suckable titties whose only purpose was to amuse a man.
It was as if her innocence had been thrown overboard and left to drown while Daddy propped his feet up on the life preserver and played with his cock.
Not that he only played with his cock. Ashley soon got used to his hands probing at her. Daddy learned all too well that those nipples Katy had been so fixated on the day before weren’t just for show. Every time he squeezed them, she moaned, got wetter, bounced her hard-packed booty harder. Katy started mimicking her, recognizing slut talent when she slut saw it. Ashley would see Daddy’s glasses fog up with lust if she had to break her hips twerking to do it.
Was he going to fuck them? Ashley was fairly sure-ish that she didn’t want to get fucked. She barely knew him. You’re not just some set of curves and holes, she reminded herself. You don’t let guys fuck you on command. Even to be polite.
But if he commanded it…?
If Katy started fucking him…? She didn’t want to be the only one in the cabin acting like she was too good to fuck this homely creep.
Suddenly they were back in the boat house, the girls’ gyrations thumping the hull against the dock. When had he turned the engine on? Ashley thought, dimly, that she hadn’t had her butt smacked in a few minutes. He must have been steering. Or fingering Katy to another orgasm. He shouldn’t be doing that. She was his daughter, and not some fuckslut daughter like Grace.
Oh god. He’d fucked Grace so good last night. That had been so hot. Proud, bitchy Grace, making sure Daddy knew her asshole was his to fuck any time he wanted. Grace was a good, good girl.
Was Katy?
Was Ashley? Dogs were good girls. Ashley wasn’t a dog. She was… something. It was hard to remember what she was and wasn’t, where she was and weren’t, how she needed and was kneaded. Did that even make sense? She should come. Clear her head. No time, though. Daddy’s was using her ass as a handle to steer his Katykins’ slutty blonde friend back into the house before she figured out why the world had broken, and why that made her so fucking horny.
She ate her lunch with her head down, trying not to think about her friend’s mother huddled under the table sucking her husband off while he gobbled down half a bag of chips and a beef brisket sandwich. He had such a healthy appetite. He needed to, if the Donners expected him to keep up the energy to satisfy their urges.
Were they their urges? Katy had never shown any urge to let a man use her hair as a napkin before, not that Ashley had seen. Nor Grace to let a man drink beer off the slope of her big juicy titties.
Whose urges, then? Ashley shook her head. That question didn’t even make sense. Didn’t people only have their own urges? Wasn’t that what “urges” meant? She needed to occupy herself somehow, be useful, show she was part of the family. That would clear her head, instead of all this fancy smart girl philosophical contemplation. Not sure how else she could pitch in, she fetched a washrag from the counter and mopped up all the beer that had spilled off Grace’s tits. Underneath the table beside her, Bre gave her a smile. Or was it a smile? Could you smile with a dick in your skull? And was the maybe-smile for Ashley, or for the dick?
Katy’s cocksucking mother seemed to recognize Ashley’s uncertainty and flashed her a thumb’s up. That was clear, at least. Finally, something that made sense. Ashley sighed with relief. She was getting with the program, somehow. All those times Bre had told her she was practically a member of their family… For the first time, Ashley thought it sounded like a pretty damn good trade.
Another afternoon of games. A new game. Fetch, he called it. Daddy threw a ball and Grace, Katy and Ashley crawled to retrieve it with their mouths. It did not help Ashley with her existential uncertainty about whether or not she were, on the inside, a dog. If Daddy would stop laughing and calling them his little bitches, she would be a hundred percent. He was probably only saying that because of how competitive they got over it. Whoever dropped the ball in his lap got touched. A honk on their boobies, a slap on the ass.
Grace got carried away once and jumped up on the sofa to make sure the older girls couldn’t steal the ball from her, and she got spanked, three times. Katy seemed to think this was fortunate for Grace, so Ashley tried to think of it that way, too. She was trying her best to be a team player, even though this game was one on one on one competitive, which probably just made her bad at it and stupid for being bad. She was smart, though. Her other daddy, the one who never put his fingers in her, had told her that time and again.
They got pretty dirty playing that game, so then Daddy took them to the shower and helped them get clean. He’d only been intending to watch, but then Katy and Grace started bickering—over who had to wash the other? or, who got to wash Ashley? or whether they could touch themselves while the other girls were washing them? Ashley wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure they were sure. Daddy grudgingly stepped into the shower, and the bickering stopped instantly.
“Sorry, Daddy,” mumbled the sisters in contrite unison.
“And…?”
Ashley had no idea what that “and” meant, but Katy and Grace understood it for her. The girls knelt in front of her, the spray of the shower misting off of Ashley’s body and splashing in their faces. They’d always looked so different to Ashley that they barely seemed like sisters. Slim, petite Katy with her pale blonde hair, pretty but cold; busty, tawny Grace with her piercings and RBF. Kneeling at Ashley’s feet, in mutual thrall to their stepfather, she could see the sisterhood in their faces.
Ashley wished she had a sister.
Oh wait, Chloe! Right. Well, whatever.
Really, Ashley wished she had these sisters. They started by soaping away the dirt on Ashley’s knees, but then they began working their ways up her thighs. They put their mouths on her. They shouldn’t be doing that. But they were, and Grace was Daddy’s good girl, so actually, it was Ashley who shouldn’t be thinking that. Then Daddy was touching her.
Here it comes. I’m gonna get fucked, she thought. Instead, he squirted a glob of shampoo atop her head and, with firm technique, massaged it into her hair. That, she had not at all expected.
It was… wholesome? Well, no, she was still naked, in the shower, on her weekend getaway with her friend, who was now massaging so high up Ashley’s thighs that they were basically teasing at the gates of her throbbing, needy pussy, and there was a man in there, a man in the shower with his stepdaughters, watching the little sluts be little sluts as his cock rested casually in the crevice between Ashley’s taut buttocks, buttocks she heard herself offer to spread and was relieved to hear her anal virginity would remain intact for the time being.
Beyond that, though, wholesome. She focused on the touches on her scalp and tried not to think if Grace and Katy were making her come or not, and how hard, and how fucking good every single part of it felt apart from the underlying depravity of it all.
Bre came in and rewarded herself for cleaning up lunch all by herself with a quick masturbation session, then left. That was cool of her to be so in and out about it. This was already incredibly embarrassing.
And so on. Ashley played along like she belonged, even hand-fed Daddy dinner. On his lap. Naked. Afterwards, rather than passing the evening with more games, Bre suggested they come together in the living room and just talk. Ashley eyed Daddy askance; surely he’d rather be ramming his cock in their face pussies—mouths, dummy, they’re called mouths—than sitting there watching words dribble out of them. He agreed, though, so who was Ashley to talk him out of it ? She wasn’t even real family, just some hot blonde fuck meat for when Daddy ran out of brisket.
Bre’s broader plan made sense soon enough, though, in the same way that none of this made any sense at all. She proposed they go around the room and share stories about their hottest sexual experiences.
Grace arched an eyebrow and let Daddy’s cock out of her mouth. (When had it gone in there? Were his daughters taking after their mother and just blowing him in the open now? Did any of them—any of us—have any decency left at all?)
“Including Daddy?” Grace asked. “Because oh my gawd, last night…”
“Before this weekend,” Bre said. “Tell you what, why don’t I start?” So she did. She told a story about her ex-husband. How Mr. Donner had been really into bondage. She hadn’t been, not at all. She had wanted to be a good wife, though, so for his birthday, after years of refusing, she finally broke down and let him tie her up. The girls had been very young then, Grace still a baby, too young to understand anything she might overhear. So she’d arranged to have Katy stay over at Ashley’s house.
(Ashley smiled. That was a nice memory. She’d almost forgotten her house.)
Bre wasn’t much of an orator. The spicy part of the story was disorganized and hazy, but they all got the gist. Hog tied, paddled, nipple torture, and then fucked in the ass while he told her how much he’d always wanted to fuck a fat little piggy like her. (Katy interjected to insist that her mother had had every right to retain a little baby weight, but Bre blushed and insisted she’d worked it back off, and with her new lover’s help, would get back in the kind of shape he deserved.) As for her ex-husband, she’d told him no anal, but she was tied up, and was too shocked by what was happening to remember she had a safe word.
“Fuck, Bre, who knew you were such a fucking gutterslut,” Grace prodded. She wasn’t sucking dick any more. Just sitting on the floor in front of the sofa between Daddy’s legs. His cock was resting on her head, like some weird hat.
“She shared something deeply personal,” Kate said of her mother’s confession of being ass-raped as a birthday present. Never mind that she’d been masturbating, eyeing Daddy’s cock through the whole telling. “You’re such a bitch, Grace.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Bre cleared her throat emphatically. “Fine. You think it’s so easy to spin a good sex yarn? Your turn, then, honey.”
Meanwhile, Ashley waited for either sister to complain that they’d been subjected to a graphic, seriously traumatizing story of their parents’ sex lives. It was becoming clear they didn’t object on principle to such information. How could they not, though? Ashley had walked in on her parents going at it once. She couldn’t remember the details any more, nor really much about them at all, which seemed weird and terrifying, but everybody was so content with the storytelling thing that Ashley made herself choke it down. Anyway, she did remember that she’d told Katy, who had empathized with her revulsion. She’d said if that ever happened to her, she’d never stop barfing. And that had been before she hated him for abandoning their family so he could go fuck his hotter younger secretary.
Instead, as Grace contemplated what to share, Katy, as far beyond her in emotional intelligence as academic, gave her mom a sweet, lengthy kiss on each inner thigh. Bre stroked her hair and told her she’d seen some rope in the shed, maybe they could see if it was a way in which Katy took after her father. They shared a quiet laugh, then Katy hugged her mom’s waist, burying her face between those mammary mountains.
Grace was being uncharacteristically quiet, but the reason soon became clear. Until last night, she shared, she’d been a virgin. Katy called her a liar, brought up some of the bawdy tales Grace had boasted of in the past. Grace blushed, looked down, and said she was actually really inexperienced. Just some making out, a few blowjobs. (Katy had told Ashley a yarn secondhand about how Grace had sucked off her math teacher and asked for a B instead of an A. B for blowjob.) The more she’d lied about it, she said, the more terrified she was of making herself vulnerable and letting someone find out she was a fraud. The hole had kept growing deeper and deeper as Grace’s hole grew lonelier and lonelier.
Grace began to cry. Ashley didn’t know what to make of that. The only time she’d seen Grace cry was right after she’d gotten the nipple piercings (evidently part of her tangled web of deceitful sexual braggadocio), when she’d accidentally turned too fast, too clumsily, and scraped them against a door frame. That didn’t really count. (Huh, I used to be really embarrassed to have to acknowledge the existence of Grace’s titties. We were all so innocent, once.)
Now that the tears were more than ouchy grouchies, should Ashley feel bad for the kid for being so insecure that she’d made up sucking her math teacher’s cock for a B? Or embarrassed on her behalf that she was being pressured to admit these things in front of her stepdad?
Daddy took Grace by the hair, just a big handful of her wispy black hair, and turned her face around so he could wipe her tears away with his dick. It was gross and unhygienic, but Grace sobbed into that shaft like it was the tenderest affection. So maybe it was. Ashley didn’t want a dick in the eye, but maybe she was wrong not to want it. Grace looked so happy, hugging Daddy’s legs and pressing her tear-streaked face into that hard red rod.
To let Grace recover her pride, and let Daddy enjoy rubbing his cock on a teenage girl’s face, Katy stepped in and told a more recent story. A guy in her dorm she’d gone on a few dates with had taken her to a movie and fingered her in the theater. She’d been too shocked and embarrassed to stop him, but she admitted that once she decided not to stop it, it had felt pretty hot. She’d come, she said, but acted like she hadn’t. She apologized it wasn’t a cooler story like her mom’s, but was glad she’d have a few better ones to tell after this weekend.
Then all eyes were on Ashley.
Ashley had been thinking about what she’d say during this, the world’s lewdest icebreaker, throughout everybody else’s turn. Bre’s story had been more upsetting than sexy, and Grace and Katy’s were both sort of sad in their own ways. If this were a game, she’d be a shoe-in. Unlike her friend, Ashley really liked sex. It’s why she was seldom single for long. She liked being desired, being touched, giving pleasure and, of course, receiving it. “Kinky” might be overselling it, but she liked to think she was open to new experiences. Roleplay, fooling around in places she wasn’t supposed to, dirty talk. She’d given her ex-roommate a footjob once. While guys always blew her limited gymnastics background out of proportion, she was flexible, and liked to show it off with some weird positions. At twenty years old, her experience was limited, but she for sure had some good stories.
Ashley simply didn’t want to tell them to a woman who had kissed her booboos when she’d skinned a knee, or in front of a girl with whom she’d first practiced kissing as second graders, or her sister, who’d still been in diapers when they’d first met. She especially didn’t want to air her sluttery in front of the strange man humping Grace’s face. It was too humiliating.
(Was he trying to fuck Grace’s nostrils? What a nice distraction from her awkward moment.)
Bre’s eyes were narrowing as silent seconds passed. Surely it was acceptable not to bare the most private details of her life. She wasn’t technically family, after all. Even if they kicked her out, when the dust settled, they would understand and someday, maybe she would be welcome in their home again. For tonight, though, there were some lines one simply didn’t—
“Ashley? I bet a pretty girl like you has some stories,” said Daddy.
“I actually really like the taste of cum,” she blurted, beaming at him. It felt so good to know she was worthy of his curiosity. He could be face-fucking Grace, but—
Nope, he definitely was face-fucking Grace. Still, he wanted to do it while he listened to Ashley. She couldn’t have wiped the proud grin off her face if Daddy pulled out of his stepdaughter and drenched it in his semen.
Like that, she was off to the races. Ashley talked about her first sexual experience, jacking off a high schooler as an eighth grader, how proud she’d felt at the time for getting an older boy to notice her. Losing her virginity in the back of a limousine after junior prom, how her date had had to buy his rented tux because she’d made him jizz all over it, leaping off his cock as he was climaxing so she didn’t get preggers because she didn’t think (correctly, it seemed) that he’d known the right way to put on a condom. How she’d discovered masturbation touching herself in the bathtub, and how she used to just lie in there for hours, ignoring her roommates—err, her family? right? yeah, that made sense—pounding on the door. The first time she’d let a guy give her a facial, how she’d pretended she’d felt degraded because she didn’t really like him but really felt pretty badass about it. About the time she’d almost fucked a guy she’d met at a college bar in a stall in the men’s room, but decided at the last minute it was too slutty, too risky, but she’d still gone in there and jacked him off.
It didn’t technically involve Daddy, so she concluded telling about how last night, she’d masturbated next to Katy in bed listening to Grace beg for sex, and how she thought Katy had waited until she was asleep and then eaten her out.
Katy gasped. “Oh my gosh! Ashley! That’s so embarrassing I could die!” With no shirt to hide her face in, she swept her blonde mane in front of her face.
It was…? Ashley looked to Bre, though. “Is, um, that OK?”
Bre laughed adoringly. “Oh, sweetie. Of course it is. This family doesn’t have any secrets from each other.”
Daddy didn’t take a turn. She was more relieved than she could say. Ashley was pretty sure if she knew the tenth part of this man’s sexual exploits, her hair would light on fire and burn her soul right to hell.
Bre suggested that was a good time to turn in. She and her husband kissed each of the girls good night. Bre’s tongue was more sensuous, but Daddy’s tasted like Daddy. No contest, there. Neither Katy nor Ashley bothered with PJs, not even the useless panties they’d put on the night before. They held hands under the covers in the dark room, waiting for the sounds of Bre satisfying her husband, or Grace forfeiting what scant innocence she had left. Maybe tonight, he’d avenge his wife’s honor by tying her up and force-fucking her in the butt. It would serve her right, the girls agreed.
For Ashley, at least, that handhold was keeping her from starting too early. She couldn’t stomach the thought of wasting her best come, the first one, on nothing more than imagination and fresh, traumatizing, delicious memories.
Their bedroom door opened with a creeeeak. There was no more light in the hallway than there was in there, but Ashley knew whose footsteps were crossing the room, advancing on the bed. No locks in this house. No stopping Daddy from going through any door he wanted. Nothing off limits, not to Daddy,
A sudden weight on the other side of the mattress alleviated her fears, shattered her hopes, that he’d come for her. Ashley closed her eyes, held absolutely still, breathed evenly and deep. It was the childhood slumber parties all over again.
“Daddy! Ashley’s asleep right there!” whimpered his Katykins. That was such a better name for her. A name that proclaimed her as her daddy’s fuck toy. Not something to use all the time, but for special occasions like this, absolutely.
“You want me to wake her up?” he asked softly. Laughed.
“No! No no no no no!” Katy cried. “It’s my turn! I’ve been working so hard to hold everyone together. I earned this, Daddy! Please!” Her thighs spread wide, one draped over the hand Ashley had been saving for her pussy.
He fucked her. Ashley supposed they were quiet about it, or at least, that they could have been a lot louder. It was a downright stealthy fuck compared to Bre’s screaming and Grace’s whining. Why they bothered with the subtlety, she couldn’t have guessed. Not like he could throw the sheets off of the bed, flip Katy ass-up and pound the hell out of her tight innocent hole without Ashley noticing. Daddy was as nonchalant about it as he’d been the past two nights, taking his pleasure and not seeming to pay much heed to the girl attached to the cunt wrapped around him. For her part, Katy simply laid there, nothing to do but offer up her holes and cry into her pillow.
No, not crying, Ashley decided. Mewling. The only words she could make out in her friend’s incoherent blubbering were “thank you,” and that only because Katy said it so very many times as she was used and used and used. Soon Ashley was chanting it with her in her head. Not because feeling the mattress shake beneath her while Daddy doggy-fucked her best friend was the hottest experience ever, but because she was so grateful that Katy had finally found something that made her happy.
It was while Daddy was smacking Katy’s ass red and raw that Ashley wondered if she might be falling in love with him. Or no, maybe my first instinct was right and I should be fleeing the house screaming for my life? One of those instincts was the right one, surely, and the Daddy love angle would make things a lot smoother next time she visited, so… whatever.
Katy wasn’t on the pill, Ashley considered. She wasn’t sexually active. Not a virgin like Grace—who’s the loser now, Ashley thought smugly, if belatedly—but the few, or maybe merely couple, of times Katy had let a boy penetrate her, she’d simply used protection.
Daddy didn’t ask. Didn’t seem to care, really. He liked how his stepdaughter’s pussy felt, so he put his dick in it and pumped it until he came inside her. Katy pounded her pillow and moaned in satisfaction as he casually creampied her.
Thank god I’m leaving tomorrow. Otherwise tomorrow night would be my turn. She was trying so hard to feign sleep she was squinting. Holding her breath. She just had to hold out a few more seconds, then she could masturbate.
And then, if she didn’t put herself in another cum coma, she could make sure Katy was OK with having been plowed by her stepdad. She probably was, so Ashley tried not to stress over it.
“Want to clean me off, Ashley?”
Her eyes shot open. Closing them had helped her acclimate to the dark, so she could now see a dark, bulky, man-shaped form kneeling over her in the bed. She couldn’t see well enough to make out his cock, but she didn’t need a reminder. She’d never forget the sight of that delectable, totally mediocre cock. “Um, what? I was sleeping,” she lied, blushing at how obvious it was. She’d been smacking her lips at the pungent odor of Daddy’s dick dribbles drizzling down his daughter’s derriere.
“I said, ‘do you want to clean me off.’” He sounded irritated at having to repeat himself.
Ashley shook her head. Could he see that? Hopefully not. She couldn’t, of course. Suck his and Katy’s cum off his cock? It had to be dripping with the stuff. He was Bre’s husband, though. Katy’s dad. To Ashley, Daddy was just some random dude. She didn’t suck the cock of husbands and daddies and random dudes. He’d just have to go to his own bed and let his wife suck her daughter’s ejaculate off his dick. Or next door and wipe himself clean in Grace’s mouth. Or roll Katy onto her back and use her. She evidently liked being his napkin.
Only… fuck. Bre would be so mad at her if she made him swagger around the house dripping sex sauce everywhere. She’d be madder still if Ashley made out like she was the only one who was too good to be Daddy’s cum depository.
They’d invited her here as family. Treated her as family. Fingered her as family.
His cock was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.
Daddy slapped Ashley in the face with his semi-flaccid dick a few times, fuzzed her hair dotingly, then retired back to the master bedroom.
“I need more,” Ashley said apologetically as she crawled behind Katy. She was still slumped over on her face, moaning into her pillow. Would Katy be able to make herself go back to school, knowing this was waiting for her? Of course, she might have to drop out anyway if Daddy wanted her to stay home and raise his kid/grandkid. His daughter’s half-sibling.
What a confusing family.
“You’re the sister I always wanted,” Katy mumbled as Ashley lapped at the torrent of cum dribbling out of her trembling slit.
“Your pussy tastes like Daddy,” Ashley said. By which she meant the exact same thing Katy had.
One more day. Tomorrow, she was leaving. But it wasn’t tomorrow yet.