“You’re too young. I’m an older man, not to mention your stepfather, and it’s not good for someone to see us like this,” I say. I look down at her pure, innocent pussy and I see a drop of moisture on her panties. “Fuck,” I breathe out, and lean forward a little. I don’t know what my body is doing, but I try to get a hold of myself.
“You’re probably right,” she says, and stops getting closer to me.
I just stare at her pussy and wonder what it smells like, what it would be like to bury my face between her thighs.
As if she reads my thoughts, her hand moves and covers it up. I growl a little at not being able to see her wet lips anymore, but it’s better this way. I shouldn’t be looking at her like this. I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things I’m doing, or thinking a lot of the things I’m thinking.
“Go put some clothes on. I’m leaving for work. It’s Monday and my schedule is hectic,” I say harshly, and grab my phone off the counter. “The housekeeper will be here soon. I sent her an email about you.” I head to the elevator and don’t look back to see if she’s watching me leave. I get in and press the button for the doors to close.
I own this floor, and this particular elevator is a direct connect to my home and the garage. Luckily, I manage the cameras and the emergency access on it. Once the doors close, I hit the emergency stop and pull my cock out of my pants. I don’t think I made it half a floor before I needed the release.
My dick is already dripping cum like a leaky faucet. I spit on my hand and stroke my shaft, only needing a few pumps before I’m shooting my load. I cum so hard it shoots straight out and onto the door of the elevator. Fuck, my legs cramp and my vision blurs, and I can’t think of a time I’ve had a better orgasm. I have to hold on to the rail behind me to keep from collapsing to the floor.
After a few more minutes, I pull myself together, I clean up elevator door as best as I can with the pocket square from my suit, and I tuck my still-hard cock back in my pants. The fucking thing won’t go soft and I don’t understand why.
I’ve got to get my shit together. This can never happen again.
My body buzzes with excitement as I make my way back to my room. I can’t believe I just did that. I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life. I can feel the wetness between my legs making my panties stick to me. I need to cum. Bad.
I walk into my room and slide my white cotton panties down my legs. I toss them on the floor and grab a pillow off the bed.
Always having to share a room with other girls, you had to learn to be quiet when you masturbated; it was something I quickly mastered. Right now I feel like it won’t take much to get me there. Never in my life had a man looked at me like Bruce just did, and never had I experienced such emotion. It was intoxicating. I felt alive.
Looking around the room, I search for the perfect spot. When I see the armchair in the corner, I know it will work best for what I have in mind. Placing the pillow over the arm of the chair, I straddle it. It gives me what I need, firmness for pressure, but a soft surface for comfort. Just like I always imagined a cock would be.
Spreading my legs wider, I start to move my hips. I close my eyes and fight past the shame I feel from the face I see in my mind. Normally my masturbation fantasies are of faceless men: heroes plucked out of my latest romance novel. This time there’s a face. Bruce, my step-dad. In my mind, everything about him is hard, from his eyes to the set of his jaw. I picture him giving me the same heated look he gave me in the kitchen.
Rubbing my pussy against the pillow, I pretend it’s his lap I’m straddling instead of the arm of the chair. I imagine rubbing my clit against his hard-on and using him for my pleasure while he sits completely still, fighting not to touch me. Pressing myself further into the pillow, I shudder at the shock of desire that shoots up my spine. He’d be so powerless to his desires, he’d suddenly lift me from his lap, slam me down onto his desk, and put his face between my legs. He’d need to taste me. He’d use his tongue and fingers to prepare my tight pussy for his cock. He’d be so worried about hurting me, because I meant everything to him. He’d do it for hours, just worshipping, not caring about anything else in the world. Only I mattered, and I was his everything.