MIA
I never meant to walk in on my stepdad beating his hard cock in the shower.
I just got back from a quick run to the store, earphones blasting, when I pushed open the bathroom door without knocking. Steam hit me like a wall. And there he was. Rick, my mom's new husband, standing under the spray. One hand braced against the tiles, the other wrapped tight around his thick cock.
My feet froze. I should have backed out. But for some reason, I couldn’t.
Holy fuck.
He was gorgeous in an infuriating way. Water cascaded down his broad back, tracing every muscle earned from long hospital shifts and longer gym sessions. His shoulders were wide, arms veined from years of surgery. Lower, his ass was firm, clenching as he stroked himself. But the cock in his hand made my throat go dry.
It was huge. Thick, with a swollen head already leaking pre-cum as the water washed over it. His hand moved in slow strokes—base to tip, twisting at the head before sliding down. The veins along the shaft pulsed. He was hard, almost painfully so, like he hadn’t gotten off in weeks.
This made no sense. Last night I heard him fucking Mom again, her shameless moans echoing through the walls for an hour. He made her scream his name over and over. Yet here he was, the arrogant prick, jerking off like a starving man in the shower the next afternoon.
My pussy clenched. Heat flooded between my legs, soaking my panties before I could process it. No. I shouldn't feel this. He’s controlling. Cocky. He always acts like he knows best. Why the hell is this turning me on?
But I couldn’t look away. My hand slipped under my dress, pressing against the front of my damp panties. Rick’s strokes got faster. He tilted his head back, water running over his sharp jaw and down his neck. A low groan escaped him—masculine, nothing like the polished voice he used on me.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pumping harder. His hips started thrusting into his fist, chasing his pleasure.
I matched him. My fingers pushed my panties aside and slid through my slick folds, finding my clit. I circled it in time with his strokes, biting my lip to stay quiet. Every time his hand slid up that thick shaft, my fingers rubbed faster. When he squeezed the head, I dipped two fingers inside my dripping hole, imagining how that monster cock would stretch me.
God, I shouldn't want this. I really shouldn't. But look at that dick. Big. Veiny. I bet it would ruin me in the best ways. I bet he’d fuck me hard, just to put me in my place.
My nipples ached against my top. I was soaked, juices running down my thighs as I fingered myself in the doorway, watching my stepdad jerk off. The guilt only made it filthier. This was the man who took over our lives, and now I was creaming to the sight of him. What was wrong with me?
His pace turned brutal. Fast strokes. His balls drew up tight. His thick thighs tensed. I rubbed my clit frantically, matching him stroke for stroke, my breath coming in shaky gasps.
He came first.
With a guttural groan, thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, painting the wall in heavy spurts. His hand kept pumping through it, milking every drop.
The sight pushed me over the edge. I came hard, biting down on my free hand to muffle the cry trying to rip out of me. My pussy spasmed around my fingers, gushing fresh wetness down my legs as pleasure crashed through me. My knees almost buckled.
The noise—my muffled whimper—must have reached him.
Rick’s head snapped toward the door, eyes widening.
I ran. Heart pounding in my chest, legs shaky, pussy throbbing, I bolted down the hallway to my room and locked the door. I pressed my back against it, breathing like I’d just run a marathon.
What the hell did I just do? I shouldn't enjoy this. But I just came watching him jerk off like a desperate slut.
I hid in my room the rest of the afternoon, avoiding everyone, my mind replaying every filthy second.
Later that evening, a soft knock on my door made me jump.
“Mia, honey? We need to talk.”
Oh god, I thought. He told her. Memories of this morning flashed behind my eyes. I gripped the edge of my bed, bracing for the slap, the tears, the screaming.
“It's about Rick,” she started, her voice dropping.
I stopped breathing entirely. “Mom, I—” I choked out, my mind scrambling for a lie, an excuse, anything. “I swear, it wasn't—”
“He got an emergency call from the hospital,” she interrupted with a heavy sigh, completely oblivious to my near panic attack. “They need him closer starting immediately.”
I blinked, the air rushing back into my burning lungs. Wait. What?
“We’re moving to the new house tomorrow morning,” she continued, rubbing her temples. “Early. Pack what you can tonight. The movers will handle the rest.”
The sheer relief that crashed over me was so intense my knees weakened.
I stared at her, shifting my expression into a mask of fake shock. “What? Tomorrow? Are you serious? You’re giving me one night’s notice?”
She sighed, exhaustion evident in her drooping shoulders. “I know it’s sudden, but this is important for Rick’s career. For our family.” She frowned, clearly misreading my flushed face and heavy breathing for a temper tantrum. “Stop acting so childish about him, Mia. He’s been good to us.”
Good to us.
If only she knew. If only she knew exactly how good he’d been, what I’d seen him do earlier today... and what I had done to myself while watching him, the phantom heat lingering between my thighs.
Deep down, my stomach twisted. It was a chaotic mix of dread about living in a new space with him, and something darker. Something wet, pulsing, and forbidden.
This move wasn't just a change of address. It was going to change everything.