Freya Von Dooms, a curvy brunette with sparkling blue eyes, sat upstairs on her bed, trying to ignore the shouting match downstairs. Her mother, a striking blonde in her forties, was lambasting her stepfather, Peter Fitzwell, a tall, muscular man with graying hair. But stepdad and stepdaughter should understand each other.
“How could you, Peter?! It’s Father’s Day, and you let her go to that party?!” her mother shrieked.
“She’s 18, honey. I can’t lock her up forever,” Peter countered, his voice calm but firm.
Freya’s ears burned with guilt. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She slipped out of her room and crept downstairs, her heart pounding in her chest.
“And now, you’re not getting any tonight!” her mother declared, storming out of the room.
Freya saw the opportunity and seized it. “Peter,” she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Peter turned to see Freya standing at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes filled with an unusual mix of guilt and desire. “Freya, what are you doing up?” he asked, concerned.
“I overheard everything,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Let me make it up to you.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going. “Make it up to me, how?”
Freya took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing red. “Come to my room. Please.”
Peter hesitated, then followed Freya upstairs. He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs slightly parted. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Freya, what are you trying to do?”
Freya looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of innocence and pervy family lust. “I want to make you feel good, Peter. I want to make you happy.”
Peter’s smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Freya, this isn’t right. You’re my stepdaughter.”
Freya leaned forward, her breath hitching. “I know, but I want to. Please, Peter. I want to see you… touch yourself.”
Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, but the sight of Freya’s legs spread open, her hands tentatively exploring her pussy, was too much for him to resist. He unzipped his pants, his cock already hardening.
“That’s it, Peter,” Freya encouraged, her voice husky. “Stroke it for me. Show me how you like it.”
Peter complied, his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking it slowly. Freya watched, her eyes glued to his movements, her own hand moving faster between her legs.
“Freya,” Peter groaned, his voice low and deep. “You’re so… beautiful.”
Freya smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I want to taste you, Peter. I want to suck your big cock.”
Peter’s breath hitched. “Freya, you don’t have to do that, we’re stepdad and stepdaughter.”
“I want to,” she insisted, her voice firm. She scooted closer to him, her tongue flicking out to lick the tip of his cock. Peter groaned, his hips bucking slightly.
Freya took him into her mouth, her hands working in tandem with her lips. Peter’s breathing became ragged, his hands tangling in Freya’s hair. “Freya… that feels so good,” he moaned.
Freya pulled back, her lips swollen and red. “I want you inside me, Peter. I want to feel you fill me up.”
Peter’s eyes darkened with desire. He lay back on the bed, pulling Freya on top of him. Freya straddled him, her hands guiding his cock to her entrance. She sank down slowly, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt him fill her.
“Freya… you’re so tight,” Peter groaned, his hands gripping her hips.
Freya began to move, her hips rocking against his. “Harder, Peter. I want you to fuck me harder.”
Peter complied, his hips bucking up to meet hers. The bed creaked with their movements, their bodies slick with sweat. Freya’s breath came in short gasps, her moaning growing louder.
“Right there, Peter. Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, her body trembling on the brink of orgasm.
Peter thrust harder, his cock hitting deep inside her. Freya’s orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing with waves of pleasure. Peter groaned, his own orgasm following closely behind. He came hard, filling Freya with his hot seed.
Stepdad and stepdaughter lay there, panting, their bodies entwined. Freya looked up at Peter, a small smile playing on her lips. “Happy Father’s Day,” she whispered.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and Freya’s mother stood there, her face a mask of shock and betrayal. “What the hell is going on here?!” she screamed.
The bedroom fell silent, the air thick with tension. Freya and Peter looked at each other, guilt and fear reflected in their eyes. They had crossed a line, and there was no going back.
