Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Another dude would feel bad about the ruse. Another man would feel guilty and berate himself for lusting after his own stepdaughter. But I’m not that guy. I’m a fucking asshole, and I don’t give a shit about who knows. So yeah, I hatched my plan, and to be honest, it’s not all fake. I do actually suffer from testicular stones, like a lot of other guys. They’re real, yes, but harmless—at worst, a trivia item for the boards, a curiosity for grand rounds. They don’t cause me pain or discomfort, and there’s no need for “treatment,” no protocol that requires a hand job a day from a pretty co-ed. But Mary Kate doesn’t know that. She wants to help, and because I’m a urologist, she thinks I know my shit. I do know my shit. I just haven’t been honest in a myriad of ways.
But now, we’re out of the frying pan and into the fire. My lust for the saucy brat has been ignited and fuck, even the mere thought of her turns me into a raging beast. I sit down, unzip, and picture the beautiful blonde kneeling before me. My hand isn’t as small or as gentle as hers, but I know exactly what I like, and I take myself to the edge in seconds, drawing out the memory, the image of her bent over the sink, spreading her ass cheeks and flashing her tight, perfect holes at me. I picture the gleam of her pussy lips, the desperate way she panted with her cheek smashed against the marble. I imagine what she’d look like with my cock buried between those cheeks, with her mouth open and drooling, her eyes wild with lust.
I come hard, shuddering, into the tissue I’ve palmed from the box on the desk. The first spurt catches me by surprise, splattering across the inside of my wrist, hot and messy. The next few land in the tissue, and I roar like a fucking beast, uncaring of who hears.
“Goddamn!” I shout in the privacy of my office. “Shit shit shit!”
Hot reams of semen spurt wildly as I come again and again, growling and panting like a madman while picturing Mary Kate on her knees, lapping at the dripping ropes of come. She’d mewl happily and then swallow it all, like the horny little girl she is. I come again at the visual, my balls pumping wildly, the tissue drenched and almost transparent because it’s so wet with semen now.
But all things must come to an end. After the ecstasy subsides, I wipe myself clean, careful and thorough. I savor the afterglow for a moment, eyes closed, letting the heat fade from my skin.
Then I compose myself. Tuck myself back into my pants, use some hand sanitizer, and walk to the window to stare out at the rolling hills of my estate. I wonder how many fathers are jerking off to their stepdaughters this morning, and the thought makes me laugh.
There’s nothing left to do but prepare for tonight.
I spend the next hour arranging and re-arranging the office, cleaning every surface, restocking the towel shelf, refilling the bottle of oil. I double check the massage table’s hinges, make sure the vinyl is free of smudges, then sit at the desk and update my patient files, making notes in each chart with a surgeon’s precision.
But every fifteen minutes or so, I stop, look at the clock, and imagine what Mary Kate is doing. If she’s lying in bed, legs open, rubbing herself raw, or if she’s in the kitchen pretending to study, thinking about my cock. If she’s going to confront me about the missing panties that I stole from her last night. I hope she does. I hope she’s bold enough to try.
Suddenly, as I stare out the window, I see the object of my obsession walk from the main house to the garage, swaddled in her coat, hair loose and streaming behind her like a flag. She’s off to her shift at the plant store, The Fig Leaf, where she will smile at strangers and sell them succulents, her own body electric with the anticipation of what she’ll do to me tonight.
I watch her go, then pour myself a fresh coffee, black and strong. I take it back to the desk, sit in the chair, and breathe in the scent of sandalwood, and wait.
There are worse ways to spend a day.
And tonight, my golden girl will show me what she’s learned.
I intend to reward her.
8
IS KAYLEIGH GOING TO MASSAGE HER STEPBROTHER?!
MARY KATE
Steep & Stone is barely a coffee shop, more like a long corridor with a counter jammed in at one end and four mismatched booths lining the window. From the street, the windows are filmed with steam and the light inside is a bruised honey, barely filtering through the grime and the posters for poetry slams and lost cats. It’s just past three and the snow on University Avenue is melting fast, thick with road salt and dog piss, slush puddling around the curbs and the legs of the tables inside.