The next day, I woke up late, feeling groggy and completely drained. The sun was already high, cutting through the gaps in my curtains and casting bright, harsh streaks across my duvet. I dragged myself out of bed and headed into the bathroom. After using the toilet, I grabbed my toothbrush.
As I stood in front of the sink, scrubbing my teeth, my mind immediately flashed back to the sight of my stepdad in his study. I could still hear the raw, gravelly sound of his voice rasping out my name, telling me to be a good girl and take his cum.
I stopped brushing, staring at my wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. A hot flush crept up my neck. I quickly rinsed my mouth, trying to physically shake the thought away. I shouldn't be thinking about this, I scolded myself. He’s still my stepdad. He’s the man who raised me. I tried to rationalize the whole thing, telling myself that just because he groaned my name in the heat of a lonely moment didn't mean he actually wanted to fuck me in real life. It was probably just a twisted fantasy, a fleeting urge sparked by the hardcore porn he was watching.
"Get a grip, Lisa," I whispered to the mirror, though my heart was still hammering a frantic beat against my ribs.
I left the bathroom and opened my closet. My eyes skimmed over my clothes, but they instantly zeroed in on a distressed denim micro-skirt and a thin, sheer white lace top. It was easily one of the sexiest outfits I owned, the kind of ensemble that left practically nothing to the imagination.
I knew I shouldn't wear it. Definitely not today, and definitely not after what I’d witnessed through that cracked door last night. A rational voice in the back of my head screamed at me to grab a baggy hoodie and sweatpants, to cover up and play it safe. But it was like my body had a mind of its own. My fingers brushed the delicate lace, and before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled it off the hanger. I let my silk nightgown pool on the floor and slipped into the clothes, pairing them with skimpy pink lace panties.
I checked myself out in the full-length mirror and my breath hitched. I hadn't worn this in a while, and it was obvious I had filled out in all the right places since then. My breasts were practically spilling out of the plunging neckline, and the skirt was so criminally short it barely covered the curve of my ass. As exposed as I looked, it still wasn't enough to make me change. Not even the memory of last night could force me into a sweater. I might have tried to play it off as casual, but deep down, I knew damn well I wouldn't be wearing this if my stepdad wasn't downstairs. I wanted to see that hungry look in his eyes again.
"Lisa, baby!" my mom called from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready! Come eat before the eggs get cold!"
"Coming!" I yelled back, wincing at how breathy and high-pitched my voice sounded. I took one last glance in the mirror, tugged at the hem of my skirt, fluffed my hair, and headed out the door.
I walked into the dining room, and the first thing I saw was my mom fixing a massive plate of food for my stepdad. The breath caught in my throat. He was sitting at the table completely shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose, grey athletic sweatpants. The morning sun illuminated his deeply tanned skin, highlighting every single cut and ridge of his muscular chest and broad shoulders.
"Morning, Mom," I managed to say, trying desperately to sound normal. I turned to my stepdad, and I swear I caught his eyes dropping straight to my cleavage, his gaze lingering heavily on the sheer lace for a split second before he forced himself to look up. A thrill of forbidden power shot through me. I flashed an innocent smile. "Good morning, Daddy."
"Morning, princess. Hope you slept well," he murmured. I froze. The tone was totally off. Usually, his morning greetings were warm and strictly fatherly. But today? The way that word—princess—rolled off his tongue, paired with that dark, knowing smirk playing on his lips... it sounded filthy. His voice was pitched an octave lower, vibrating with a rough edge that made the tiny hairs on my arms stand straight up. Or was I just projecting after last night?
"I did, Daddy," I said, making my way over to my usual spot at the table. But I stopped dead in my tracks. Empty space. "Wait... where's my chair?"
"Oh, I forgot to mention," Mom said casually, barely glancing up as she set his plate down. She waved a hand toward the neighbors' house. "The Millers had a massive family reunion last night and ran out of seats. They borrowed two of our dining chairs, and since they're definitely still sleeping off the booze, they haven't brought them back yet.”
"So... where am I supposed to sit?" I asked, suddenly feeling very exposed.
"Just sit on your dad's lap,” she replied, completely oblivious to the bomb she’d just dropped. My heart violently skipped a beat.
How could she even suggest that? My mind was racing a mile a minute. Sure, he used to let me sit on his lap when I was a little kid, but things were completely different now. I wasn't a little girl anymore. I was a fully grown woman in a skirt the size of a belt.
"Dad's lap?" I squeaked, my voice trembling slightly. "Mom, you know I'm not a kid anymore, right? I'm a grown woman."
"You think your dad can't handle your weight?" she laughed, turning to him. "Honey, is she too big to sit on your lap?"
"She will never be too big for her daddy. I could hold her all day," he rumbled, his dark eyes locking intensely onto mine. "Maybe she's just shy. You know how it is—she’s a big girl now, probably thinks she’s too cool to sit on her old man's lap."
"We're eating together as a family, dear. Just sit on his lap, Lisa. Don't be silly," Mom encouraged, sliding a plate of steaming pancakes in front of him. She had absolutely no clue why I was hesitating. She didn't realize that basically treating him like a piece of furniture was playing with fire.
He patted his thick, muscular thighs. "Come on. Come sit on Daddy's lap, princess."
"Are you sure about this, Dad?" I breathed, taking a hesitant step toward him.
"I know you're all grown up now, but you're still my pretty little princess. Come here. I won't bite."
I hesitated for one agonizing second before closing the distance and slowly lowering myself onto his lap. The second my ass made contact, a jolt of pure electricity shot through me. His bare thighs were radiating heat. It was intense, burning right through the thin denim of my skirt, flushing my entire body from head to toe.
As I settled in, he shifted beneath me, spreading his legs a little wider to give me a "better balance." All it did was make me sink perfectly, intimately deeper into the V of his lap.
His thick, heavy arm wrapped securely around my waist to steady me. His large hand rested dangerously low on my hip, his fingers brushing the bare skin of my thigh where my skirt had ridden up to a scandalous height. My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs I was terrified he could feel the vibrations through my back. I hadn't even taken a bite of breakfast, and my body was already betraying me.
It was driving me insane. I was sitting right on top of my unbelievably hot stepdad's crotch. The exact same man I’d caught jerking his massive cock last night, panting my name.
"You comfortable over there, Lisa?" Mom asked cheerfully, taking a bite of her eggs.
"Yeah..." I forced out, struggling to keep my voice from shaking. I shifted my weight slightly, trying to find a position that wasn't so compromising, but every tiny movement only ground my ass harder against his crotch.
"What about you, sweetheart?" she asked my stepdad. "Is she too heavy?"
"Light as a feather," he replied smoothly, casually eating his breakfast with one arm still clamped possessively around my waist. "I could keep her right here all day."
Mom just smiled and continued with her meal. I tried to mentally recite the alphabet, do math in my head—anything to calm my racing nerves—but it was impossible. I was sitting exactly where I shouldn't sit. My mind violently dragged me back to last night. The way his hand had wrapped around his huge, thick dick, the way he had begged to fuck me. And now, I was straddling the very same monster, separated from it by nothing but a flimsy layer of sweatpants and my thin cotton panties.
As I sat there mechanically chewing my food, a filthy, taboo thought flashed through my brain. I imagined him suddenly dropping his fork, hiking my tiny skirt up to my waist, shoving my pink panties aside, and burying his thick, throbbing length deep inside me right here at the breakfast table. I could almost feel him stretching me wide open, filling me to the absolute brim while my mom sat oblivious just two feet away.
I knew I shouldn't be entertaining such depraved, forbidden thoughts, but fuck—it sent a violent shiver straight down my spine. A heavy, warm wetness began to pool between my legs, soaking my lace panties. Fuck! I was dripping wet just by sitting on my stepdad's lap. I knew I was sitting on something forbidden, but I liked it.