“You like watching me, Daddy? You like what you see?”

She was spread eagle on the upholstered lounge chair in our hotel room, running her willowy fingers over her cushiony tissue and teasing the ridges of her urethral glands. From where I sat, she looked like a seasoned pro.

“That's it,” I said.

“Oh... my... fucking... God!” Her whole body twitched and spasmed. “I'm gonna cum!”

“Not yet,” I commanded. “Sit on Daddy's face and let me tell you a story.”

Debbie was eighteen when she learned all the different ways to give and receive pleasure. She learned them from me on our trip together and she picked it all up fast. It wasn't forty-eight hours since we reunited and already she was giving herself the Big O, squirting with abandon. And she could give just as good as she could receive.

It all happened because my stepdaughter was flunking out of her first year of college and my wife was losing her shit. Debbie wouldn't talk to her after a fight they had the week before she matriculated and my wife was worried her daughter might be following in her footsteps.

“I'm seriously concerned she could be getting STIs from her professors in exchange for, like, meth or something.”

“You're saying you gave professors head for meth when you were in college?” 

“Nooo,” she said in a pitch high enough to betray the truth. “Whatever, that's not the point. Someone's gotta bring her home.”

She knew Debbie wouldn't talk to her and that the gulf between them would only grow wider if she embarrassed her by showing up on campus.

“You're not implying I should go,” I said. “I'm not exactly Harry Styles. College kids see me and they see a security guard or a Narc.”

“She likes you,” she rationalized. “You're the cool stepdad, the guy who bought her those trendy earbuds when all her relatives got her girlie shit.”

“Chick likes the Allman Brothers,” I said. “Gotta reward good taste in music.”

“She trusts you to tell her the truth. She thinks everything I say is just me being a fun-sucking bitch.”

“She knows your heart's in the right place,” I assured her, “but she also knows you're a fun-sucking bitch.”

The wife didn't laugh at that one. She'd lost her taste for my sense of humor somewhere along the way, probably around the same time she lost her taste for my cock. It wasn't like we never had sex, it was more like we no longer made love. Our bedroom sessions consisted of her looking away and using our sex as an opportunity to check off her mental to-do list.

She took for granted that I loved her. Took for granted that there wasn't a thing under the sun I wouldn't do for her. And she was correct on that front. Which is why I found myself driving four-and-a-half hours to some tumbledown college town just to reason with a girl who was, for all intent and purposes, a grown-ass adult.

When she emerged from the residence hall, I thought maybe my eyes were betraying me. I had been away on work for much of her junior and senior years of high school and had, therefore, missed out on her development. But I never could have imagined exactly how much she had developed into a woman.

There, standing before me in frayed blue jeans and a white camisole, was an eighteen-year-old vision. She had sunbathed skin and all the right curves and her angular face was framed by wavy tendrils of dark brown hair. For a second, I mistook her for a sexy stranger, but then she smiled in her bashful way and I knew I was looking at Debbie.

My cock bulged against the leg of my pants as she climbed into the passenger seat beside me. I covered my lap with a flannel shirt to hide my excitement.

She leaned over and greeted me with half a hug and a peck on my jaw. I twitched in response. She smelled as good as she looked—coconut and amber and soft spices and a salty acidity that dazzled my senses.

“H-hey, college girl,” I said.

“Oh, please,” she sighed. “I'm so over this place.”

“C'mon,” I said, “you can never have too much Top Ramen.”

She giggled and her tiny little titties bobbed beneath the thin cotton fabric of her camisole. I found myself saying “uh” a lot as I searched for something to say that wouldn't betray my obvious interest in her body.

“You got a headache or something?” she asked.

“In a matter of speaking,” I said, my cock head stretching inside my boxer briefs.

“Maybe you need to eat something,” she suggested.

Maybe I could eat your little ass, I thought to myself.

“How about we stop somewhere?” I said instead. “I bet you miss fine dining living in a place like this.”

“Actually, I miss fast food. The Chinese food here is terrible.”

We drove for an hour before we found a functioning diner. Along the way, I stole glances at Debbie's tan arms and sexy feet. She wore white beach sandals and her long Roman toes were painted in iridescent baby blue polish. I wondered how many college guys had sucked on her toes.

She caught me staring at her feet at a stoplight when the light turned green and I failed to accelerate.

“Stop,” she exclaimed. “Don't look! I knew I should've worn sneakers. My feet are gross.”

“Shut up,” I said. “You got beautiful feet. I was just thinking, you're lucky you didn't get your mom's feet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I gotta put Band-Aids on my ankles every time she grazes me with her corns.”

“Eww,” Debbie laughed. “T.M.I.”

“Seriously. You're lookin' good, kid. Mountains gave you some color.”

“Lookin' pretty yummy yourself, old man.” She slapped me in my gut with the back of her hand. “You sweatin' to the oldies?”

“Galactic Fitness,” I said. “Half hour after work.”

“It's working for you.”

When we got to the diner, I watched as she hopped out. Her ass filled out her jeans like a denim model. I rose from the driver seat and walked around to stand beside her.

A pair of twentysomething girls clocked us as we headed for the diner entrance. They whispered amusedly as they sized us both up. Suddenly, I felt eighteen again.

We settled into a booth at the back of the diner. A waiter greeted us and asked if we wanted anything to drink.

“How about it?” I asked. “Want a fancy drink or something?”

“Nah,” she said. “Fuck that. I'll take a whiskey double and a Coors chaser. He'll have the same.”

“I'm gonna need to see I.D.,” the waiter said.

“My wife left her purse in the car,” I lied. “But I can show you mine.”

The waiter rolled his eyes and shuffled away.

Debbie fixed me with a crooked grin.

“Your wife, huh?”

I shrugged.

“You want to drink or what?”

“Shouldn't we date before we marry,” she joked.

“Why waste time?” I laughed. “I know what I like.”

“Stoopid,” she smirked.

“You don't want something more grown up? A spritzer or a Chardonnay?”

“Fuck no,” she said. “We got two restaurants off campus. Everything's local IPAs. Raspberry stout this, Indian blackberry ale that. I want good old-fashioned American piss water.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

She simpered.

“So, what's been up?”

Debbie shook her head and sighed.

“I don't know, nothing good.”

“Not feelin' it?” I asked.

“What?”

“School.”

“I knew she put you up to it,” she smiled. “Transparent bitch.”

“No,” I assured her. “I wanted to come. Didn't get to attend your graduation. I at least wanna see you at big girl school.”

“Don't call it that.”

“Just fuckin' with you.”

Our drinks arrived and Debbie ordered a burger and fries. Then she housed her whiskey double and ordered another round.

I watched her eat with relish, tickled by the way she stuffed three fries into her mouth before she had even chewed up her monster bite of hamburger, and how she covered her face with her palm and blushed when she saw me watching.

“Don't look,” she said. “I'm a mess.”

“A hot mess,” I joked.

“Shut up!”

“You shouldn't cover your face. A girl who savors a good meal is one of the sexiest sights in the world. Trust me. There's nothing worse than booking a reservation for an expensive restaurant, taking a girl out, and the basic bitch sits there picking at a wedge salad while you're trying to enjoy a nice steak.”

“I guess you'd know,” she laughed. “My mother the twig.”

We ordered a third round, much to the Fundamentalist Christian waiter's dismay.

As we drank, we laughed our heads off. Debbie and I played catch up; I told her about our nosy neighbor getting his ass handed to him after he threatened to call the cops on a drug dealer for double-parking in front of his house, and she told me about the guys from her dorm who saved up their piss in a fifteen-gallon jug and used it to flood the common room as a prank. I wondered if Debbie had learned about watersports.

The sun was going down by the time we left the diner. Debbie suggested we get a hotel room in the Catskills.

“You can't drive all the way back tonight. We'll end up cuffed by highway patrol.”

“You're not wrong,” I laughed.

* * *

We found a landscape hotel with private cabins nestled in the woods. The amenities included a fireplace and mineral plunge, but all that mattered after three whiskey doubles and Coors chasers was the bed. It was a California king with a white duvet that matched the walls and carpet and it was nearly as comforting as the view of wild deer out the floor to ceiling patio door.

I threw myself onto the bed and sighed heavily. Debbie looked at me like I was a freak.

“Just playing,” I said. “You can have the bed.”

“Why can't we share it?” she asked nonchalantly as she removed her earrings and set them on the bedside table. “It's too big for one person and anyway, you gotta see this video I got saved on my tabby.”

“Okay,” I said as she headed for the bathroom.

Debbie engaged the shower head in the next room. I could feel my package swelling again and this time it wouldn't be so easy to conceal it. I decided to heed the opportunity.

Get it out of your system, I told myself. This is your stepdaughter.

This is your stepdaughter. The more I thought about it, the harder I got. I shut my eyes and slipped my hand down the front of my shorts.

Your stepdaughter.

I ran my fingers over my shaft and pictured Debbie's tiny hand curling itself around my thickness. As I wrung my engorged glans, I listened to the sound of rushing water through the wall and pictured myself behind Debbie, pictured the water rippling off her bronze skin as I plugged her from behind.

I imagined her legs wrapped around my waist and her pretty face staring me in mine and I gave up my load on the web of my hand. I looked around for a receptacle, but there were no tissues by the bed.

The shower turned off and the sound of rushing water was replaced by the gentle padding of Debbie's feet as she stepped out of the shower stall. I acted fast, sucking the cum off my purlicue, licking off any trace of my secret indulgence.

Debbie came out of the bathroom a few moments later. She had changed into a pair of pale gray sleep shorts and an oversize university T-shirt.

She scurried over and threw herself on the bed, taking a seat criss-cross applesauce by my side. I could feel the blood return to my wang as I pretended not to notice her sand-colored skin, the lush contours of her little body.

“So,” I said, “what are your plans?”

“Are you asking what my intentions are?” she purred.

I tried to speak, but all that escaped my mouth was a high-pitched noise not at all like words. Debbie laughed.

“JK. Get high and watch Midsommar.”

She connected her tablet to the wall-mounted TV, then she curled up at the bottom of the bed, giving me the ideal view of her hungry ass swallowing the back of her sleep shorts. The soft, buttery soles of her feet scrunched up, creasing into delicate valleys, pressing intimately against the smooth long-staple cotton duvet. My manhood strained against my inseam, aching to come out and play.

Not five minutes into the movie, the male lead started talking to his boys about breaking up with his troubled girlfriend and Debbie lost it. Even her blubbering was endearing, the way her soft little belly contracted with each sob.

“Hey,” I said, “everything's alright.”

I threw an arm around her, hooking it underneath her arm. To my surprise, she grabbed hold of it and hugged it for dear life.

“No, it's not,” she whimpered.

“Hey,” I said, “if it's the movie, don't worry. Dani gets all the flowers and the douchebag boyfriend becomes bear stew.”

This earned an exasperated laugh and she sat up, wiping her face on the collar of her T-shirt.

“You're supposed to say, 'Spoiler alert.'”

“This isn't about the movie, huh.”

“I hate them,” she said.

“Who?”

“Everybody.”

“Everybody at school?”

“Fucking asshole text-dumped me.”

This confession took me aback. I tried to imagine a hormonal college guy who would break up with someone as fun and hot as my stepdaughter. Then I found myself imagining all the ugly things someone could do to that same college guy with a box cutter.

“Did he—”

“He thinks I'm a prude.”

“Like, you don't...”

“I don't give him head. We don't fuck.”

“You're a virgin?”

“No,” she said. “Might as well be. That's what he said.”

“Is there a reason? You don't—”

“It freaks me out,” she confessed. “He smells. He's always sweaty, he reeks of weed. I've seen him tell his buddies that wiping is gay.”

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

“Did I? Or am I the problem? What happens with the next one?”

“You said you didn't... you and him—”

“He didn't like it. Told people I'm dogwater.”

“What does that—”

“Means I'm a lousy lay.”

Her eyes began to well back up.

“Let me tell you something.” I brushed the hair off her forehead and gazed into her aquamarine eyes.  “You're not a lousy lay because you don't enjoy fucking some dirty asshole kid and you damn sure aren't a lousy lay because you don't give a guy a B.J.

“A girl that looks like you, a girl with your sense of humor and personality, you're the total package. You got brains, compassion, ideas. Guys like that should be kissing your feet, not keeping you on your knees.”

She pounced on me. Her mouth found mine and she kissed me ardently, her tongue lashing my gums. I kissed her back, my hands closing around her waist. My fingers went to the small of her back and sought out the crack of her ass.

I wanted to teach her then and there, but responsibility left me feeling conflicted. Ultimately, it was her decision to make and I felt that she had made it when she withdrew her lips from mine and rested her head in the crook of my chest.

I rubbed her neck and back as she fell asleep in my arms. As I set her down beside me and watched her slumbering face, my mind was seized by a desire—how I could place my cock in her mouth as she snored and how she might suck on my glans like a pacifier.

When the urge grew too great, I crept off to the bathroom and jacked off in the shower. I tried to fight off thoughts of Debbie by picturing her mother, but nothing came to me. I tried to remember the salad days, but all I could remember were the times when she'd undermine me.

“You don't get to decide what she can and can't do,” she'd say. “You're not her father.”

Remembering all of this caused my cock to go soft. I returned to the bed and found my little angel sleeping soundly. She had woken up long enough to crawl up the mattress and settle on one of the two pillows. I couldn't help wondering if she had woken long enough to discover me in the shower with my dick in my palm.

I shut my eyes and pictured Debbie standing in the bathroom, fondling herself as she stared through the steam at her stepfather beating his meat. The thought comforted me and I fell fast asleep.

* * *

In the morning, we decided to take a stroll along the grounds. The lodge had a private inlet with a small patch of shoreline surrounded by tall reeds.

When we reached its shores, Debbie kicked off her sandals and shimmied out of her jean shorts. She lay down in the wet sand and let her head fall back in the foamy water.

She wore a blue flower-trim bikini that hugged her perky little breasts and exposed her delicate mons pubis. The golden glow of her taut skin was a sunkissed revelation.

She arched her back, shutting her eyes and smiling as she soaked up the morning sun. The waves lapped at her supple flesh and I found myself eager to do the same.

I knelt down in the sand. My hands went to her waist and I undid the strings on the sides of her bikini bottoms, letting the fabric slip away. Then I flopped onto my belly and explored her essence.

Her hot pink entrance accepted my tongue like an old friend. I ran my palate between her lips and over her U spot, feeling her quiver as the tip of my tongue honed in on her clit.

I reared back and spit on her hood and she shuddered as our eyes met momentarily. She watched me as I lowered my head anew and initiated a slow, purposeful rhythm. She grabbed me by the back of my head, drawing me closer as her body began to quake.

I worked two fingers into her hot pink slot and flexed them against her grooved walls.

“Stop,” she begged.

I reared back again, but my fingers remained. Debbie gushed in my face, her pussy juice spraying my chest and arms as she collapsed on her back in paroxysms of pleasure.

She salt bolt upright and moaned wildly as my fingers teased out another squirt and she choked my forearm with her trembling thighs.

Finally, her muscles relaxed and I eased my fingers out of her chasm, bringing them to her lips and offering her a taste of herself. She looked at my moist digits apprehensively, then curled her lips around them, sucking gingerly.

We returned to our room at the lodge in a daze, neither of us speaking as we headed back. Once we were in the room that changed. As soon as I secured the lock, Debbie's mouth was on mine.

I picked her up and carried her over to the bed, depositing her on the mattress and positioning myself between her legs. I lifted her left arm, exposing the intimate hollow of her shaved armpit.

“Every part of you deserves to be cherished,” I whispered.

My mouth went to her gentle crease, running my tongue over the soft, blushing folds of her skin. Then I sank my teeth in, chewing lovingly on her armpit.

Debbie moaned and grabbed for the front of my shorts. She tugged them down and wrapped her hand around my throbbing manhood.

“Wait,” I said. “Enjoy it. Rub me on yourself.”

She took my cock and swabbed it across her fossa, swiping her boat lightly before introducing my root to her canal. I felt myself ballooning in size as I entered her. She fit like a glove, tighter than a duck's ass.

She stared at me with her fiery eyes narrowed to slashes.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

I took her by her throat and drilled her good, hammering hard and fast. Then I lifted her up and rolled onto my back, allowing her to take the reins.

“Get it,” I intoned.

She hesitated for a beat, then rode me like a stallion, bucking like mad as I held my hand to her throat. Her body rocked with another rolling orgasm as my fingers dropped to the subtle rounding of her chest. My hands dipped lower, teasing her belly button.

I brought my thumbs to her mound, rolling them around as she arched her back. She jerked away from me as her body was once again enraptured by my hands. She backed away from the bed, breathing quickly. Her inner thighs trembled where they were slick with her juices.

She began to cry.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I didn't think this was possible,” she said, her sopping wetness running down her leg. “I thought there was... something wrong with me, like I was broken.”

I rose from the bed and went to her, placing a hand on her chin.

“Everything's right with you.”

She kissed me again and I cupped my hands over her ass, kneading her charitable cheeks. Then I hoisted her up and tossed her on the bed, taking her by her ankles and plunging myself inside her slowly.

I pressed my face to the piping hot soles of her feet as I worked myself deep inside her. My balls slapped her in the ass as she sucked on my thumbs.

She took my cock out of her tight little snatch and blapped it against her box, rubbing her hood with my dick head. As her tremulous thighs tightened around my legs, she released my manhood.