Punishing the Brats - Taboo 18 Book Bundle: Man of the House, Brat & Fertile First Time Stories

by Candy Quinn

  “Oh, yes, Daddy,” I whimpered as he devoured me. When he pushed two thick fingers inside me after licking them first, I groaned, loving it. I could feel how hot I was down there. He fingered me then, putting rhythmic pressure on my G-spot as he tongued my clit.

  Fuck if it wasn’t the best feeling on earth.

  “Oh, God,” I gargled. I was right up against the line, and the pressure just kept on building.

  “Oh, shit!” I hissed. “Yes, yes. Don’t stop.”

  He didn’t. I climaxed. “Oh, fuck!” I hissed as orgasm took me, plunging me into deep pleasure, before soaring me into the orbit of ecstasy. I ground his face into my sex, mashed it against him as I felt my canal contract and contract, as I felt that spark reach the end of it wick, and the dynamite explode.

  And then it was over, waning, ebbing. I jolted and moved back, my clit too sensitive. He stopped licking me, and pulled his fingers from me, covered in my creamy pleasure, and he sucked on them, groaning.

  “You taste amazing.”

  “Fuck,” I said, wiping a strand of hair from my face. “Wow.”

  He stood up and pulled down his pajama pants, and his penis shot out, straight and hard as a pylon. Grinning, I leaned forward and held onto it, gasping as I felt just how turgid he was.

  I took the cock into my mouth, sucked on it hard. I wanted him to feel as good as I had felt. I wanted him to please him. I wanted him to feel good.

  He was big, and I struggled to keep my lips wrapped around it, when I got used to it, it became easier. I tongued the underside, watched as he groaned in appreciation. I pumped him to the same rhythm, played with his balls with my other hand. I mewled and whimpered onto his rod, and when he reached down to grab my tits and pinch my nipples, I laughed onto it, looking up at him.

  “Keep going, baby,” he said. “Daddy feels good.”

  I redoubled my efforts, timing my bobs on his manhood with the jerking of my hand. I focused on giving him the best of blowjob of his life, and I felt his body tighten, and I felt everything tense up, and I knew he was about to unload into my mouth.

  “Lexi,” he said, pulling back. I looked up at him, and let his cock out of my mouth, but kept on pumping him.

  He inhaled deeply, a great shuddering breath, before he got up and guided me back against the sofa, and lifted my knees. With his quivering tip at my entrance, he paused and looked at me. I nodded at him.

  He began to inch into me, bit by urgent bit. I could feel his need, his desire, his hunger, trembling in his muscles, in the quickness of his breathing.

  I bit my lip and moaned as he began to open me up, as he began to stretch me. God, he really was big.

  “Oh, fuck,” I breathed, gripping onto my knees with my small hands. I felt filled up like I’d never been before. It was as if every nerve ending in my pussy was being touched, stimulated at once. It was overwhelming, something entirely new, and at the same time, one of the best feelings I’d ever felt.

  I suddenly ‘got’ it, why people talked about dick size. It really did matter!

  “Fuck, Daddy,” I groaned. “You’re so big, and it feels so good.”

  “It’s all for you, baby,” he said, leaning forward and kissing me hard. “It’s all for you.”

  Inching into me, deep inside me, bit by bit, I held onto him as tightly as I could. I writhed and tensed and clenched as he entered me, as he invaded my womanhood with his manhood. When he had finally bottomed out, he began to pull out, and this was a whole new sensation. Something so big going in felt amazing, and something so big being pulled out felt a different kind of amazing.

  My nerves were igniting with sensation. It was as if everything was firing off electricity bolts. I felt really great.

  I could barely even moan as he pulled his thick cock from me. I looked at it, now outside me completely, and saw on it my juices. I needed him back inside me. I needed him filling me up.

  “Fuck me,” I groaned. “Fuck me hard, Daddy.” He touched my face, and though it was brief, it was intimate, and heady. Then he pushed himself inside me again. This time it was easier, and he began to fuck me slowly.

  “Fuck, I groaned. “Yes!” I moaned. “Ugh,” I grunted.

  He was railing into me, driving his manhood deep down my tunnel, and fuck if it didn’t feel good to just be fucked like this.

  He was filling me up completely with each drive inside me, and it felt fucking amazing. He played with my nipples for a brief moment, pulling them, twisting them, and then his hand was on my clit and he was rubbing it hard.

  “Oh my God,” I grunted. Everything had just magnified, and I pushed my head back and stretched out my body like a cat in the sun.

  “Of, fuck, like that, like that. Don’t stop! Oh, fuck, Daddy,” I grunted at him, my voice taking on a lusty, fiery rumble. “Oh, don’t you dare fucking stop!”

  He didn’t. He fucked me. He fucked me harder, faster. His cock stretched my pussy like no other, made me feel like nothing else ever had, nothing else ever could.

  “Oh, shit,” I hissed, feeling myself ascending, edging closer to that precipice. He sensed it, and his pistoning took on an added intensity.

  “Fuck,” I breathed, looking up at him, biting my lower lip. He was so handsome. He was so hot. God, nothing else in the world was as good as being fucked by my Daddy! Nothing!

  “Ugh,” I moaned. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  I climaxed, reached my crisis. Bliss erupted within me. My whole body flex, rigid, like I was some still life model of what pure pleasure looked like. I clenched around his rod as heavenly sensation coursed through my nerves, and he just kept going, kept fucking, and it made my orgasm last for even longer.

  My sex was on fire, and it was the best thing I’d ever felt. I heard him groan, and I looked at my Daddy, my pussy so still shaking and clenching.

  “Come inside me,” I told him. “Fill me up.”

  He nodded, and lowered himself and kissed me hard, before lifting up starting to really fuck me hard. It wasn’t long before I saw his body tightening up, and saw his face bunched up in pleasure. He thrust one more time, and then his huge rod twitched and flexed inside me, and he groaned and I moaned, and he filled me up with his surging, sticky seed.

  “Fuck,” he grunted, thrusting again and again, driving himself into me right to the hilt again and again. I felt him flex inside me three or four times before he finally stopped, and I knew that he must have ejaculated a whole cupful into my tight little canal.

  He collapsed on top of me then, and I held him, his sweaty body against mine, his heat radiating into me. I was panting into his ear, and he into mine, and he kissed my neck and my shoulders.

  “That was amazing, Daddy,” I told him, holding him tighter, wrapping my legs around him and digging my heels into his back.

  “You were amazing,” he said, kissing me.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  He looked at me, wiping away hair form my eyes, creating a parting at my forehead, and then kissing it. “I love you, too, baby.”

  We lay together on the sofa for a long time. He just held me, and I held him back, and basked in the aftermath of what had been such a release, something so needed.

  “Hey, Daddy,” I asked after a while, and he kissed my neck before leaning up to look at me. I could feel him still hard inside me. Rock hard.

  “What, Lexi?”

  “What if I get pregnant?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Because,” I said, counting the days off in my head. “I’m like twelve days away from my period. That’s like… ovulation time.”

  “What if you get pregnant?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But if I do, will we tell Mum?”

  “She’ll find out eventually.”

  “We could lie.”

  “We could,” he said, kissing me. “But don’t worry. She won’t find out.”

  “Right,” I said with a laugh. “And it’s not like I’m even pregnant yet!” I
squeezed myself around his rod, and he responded by clenching, and I felt his dick twitch inside me. I laughed. “Ready to go again?” I asked.

  “Hell yes.”

  * * *

  Email me at Saffron.Daughter[at]gmail.com anytime! Sign up for my mailing list to receive information on new releases, as well as free ebook content: http://eepurl.com/KAjob

  17

  Shared at the Beach

  By Saffron Daughter

  Chastity lay in bed, grinning. The very next day her step-father Matt would be taking her down to the coast for a weekend with him and his best friend. They were going to teach her how to surf! It was super exciting, and something she’d always said she was going to learn, but never quite got around to actually doing it.

  Like so many other people, she had told herself she was going to do this, going to do that, and yet somehow never ended up doing any of it. She had wanted to write a book, try being a bartender, attempt to river raft, learn to surf, learn to play the drums, learn to play the clarinet, sign up for yoga classes, learn to make a crumble, go rock climbing, teach a parrot how to speak… the list went on, and at the age of twenty, none of it was on her life resume yet.

  And to an ambitious girl like Chastity, headstrong and confident, this was simply unacceptable. Luckily, that was about to change. Matt was taking her down to the coast, to a beautiful, unknown beach that was apparently always empty (since nobody knew about it), where the sand was white and fine, and the water was clear, stained only by the dancing sunrays that played on its surface.

  And best of all? Her Mum wasn’t coming! Chastity grinned in bed, hugging her spare pillow close and squeezing it in between her legs. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her Mum… no, nothing like that. It was just, she was a bit of a nag, was one of those kinds of mothers that always made her wear a layer more than she needed in winter; that always had her take medicine if she so much as coughed or felt just a tad under the weather. She was the kind of mother who was overprotective, thought the world was out to get her, thought everything could hurt her, and who though she was careless and stupid.

  But Chastity knew she wasn’t stupid, and she knew she wasn’t timid. She wasn’t clumsy or careless. She wasn’t incapable or inept. She wasn’t afraid of nature or the world. If she had a cold, she fought through it. If she went out in winter with one layer too little, then so what? She’d brave the wind and rub her hands and clench her jaw and just get on with it.

  And smile the entire time, too! Because that was Chastity. If she had to describe the way she approached life, she would say she takes the bull by the horns.

  “Life?” she would ask, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t approach life. Life approaches me!”

  She liked to think of her and her Mum as existing on opposite ends of the same spectrum, and that was only normal, she supposed. In some cases, the apple doesn’t fall far. In other cases, the apple rolls, keeps rolling, and doesn’t look back until its half a world away, laughing with incredulity at its Indiana Jones-esque escape.

  Eventually, Chastity knew, when she graduated from university and when she got her first job, she would be out of the house… forever. The birds always leave the nest, and she couldn’t wait to fly.

  But, for now, simply going on a weekend holiday with her step-father was enough. Somehow, against all odds, her Mum had actually suggested they go alone. Chastity reckoned that she probably just didn’t want to sit on the beach and watch her daughter learn to surf. She’d probably die of fear and anxiety.

  “Are there rocks under the sand?”

  “Don’t fall too hard against the waves!”

  “Don’t swallow the sea water!”

  “Why aren’t you wearing knee pads?”

  Chastity rolled her eyes, imagining her mother on the beach shouting such useless, and sometimes weird, warnings at her while she repeatedly fell off a surf board, laughing, Matt’s strong hands helping her up…

  She slowed her thoughts, coming around to a realization that she had perhaps been dragging her feet through the surf to reach. It wasn’t just the constant nagging and caution that made her glad her mother wouldn’t be coming. No, it was also that it gave her an opportunity to spend time with Matt alone. Despite her mother marrying him when she was just entering her teenage years, she felt she had never gotten to know her step-father.

  At least, not as well as she would have liked to know him.

  Correction. As she would still like to know him.

  Sure, he took care of her, helped her with her homework, picked her up from school and was there for her, and listened to her spout poison when her friends were acting like bitches, but there had always been a barrier between them, something invisible and yet so palpable. It was an awkwardness born of attraction… she didn’t’ know if the attraction was mutual, but she certainly knew that on her end it was there.

  Ever since she’d first seen Matt she’d fallen head over heels in love with him. Not that, at the tender age of twelve when she had first met him, that she had any inkling at all as to what love really was. Nor did she even have any notion of it now. That was something she suspected. After all, to a twenty year old, what is love?

  But the true meaning of love aside, she knew she was attracted to him. At first, in a shy and unknowing way. She had felt awkward around Matt, couldn’t keep her eyes off him, and every time she was caught staring by him, she was mortified; horrified; embarrassed to death.

  And when he didn’t catch her, she loved that she could look at him. She would do so endlessly in secret, grinning for no reason whatsoever, while she looked at his handsome, warm face. He had a chiseled jaw, a great smile, and lips that seemed somehow so inviting, even to her young self.

  For ages when he had come over for dinner, before he and her mother got married, she would spend the entire supper blushing at the table, red as a tomato on a good day, purple as a beetroot on a bad day. Her mother thought she had been sneaking sips of wine, and that she was just getting tipsy, the silly woman. She had no idea that it was the man she had brought over that was driving Chastity nuts with confusion, with new and worrying feelings.

  With feelings that she couldn’t quite understand, and sensations in her body she didn’t know what to make of.

  But, as Chastity had gotten older, she had begun to understand her feelings better. Of course, when she started to develop, not just physically but mentally, too, her attraction or Matt turned sexual. By the time she was eighteen she was an expert at pleasuring herself to the image of him, to the idea of him.

  And why? Why had Matt stolen her heart the first time she’d seen him? She had often asked herself that question, though the answer wasn’t difficult to find. Chastity didn’t consider herself a shallow person – she understood that there was more to people than simply the way they looked – but Matt was simply fucking gorgeous. Handsome and pretty at the same time, with narrow eyes that seemed to look right into you, seemed to read you from the inside out. He had a smile that could weaken knees, and when he was impassioned, whether angry or simply fervent, he was a hurricane of emotions, and wreaked similar havoc to anybody else who happened to be in his path. He was infectious. He sucked you up into him, was compelling and commanding, and all without being overly-authoritative or unapproachable.

  Chastity turned over onto her other shoulder, leaving her pillow behind her. She bit on a nail, before grinning again. He had a great fucking body, too. Lean in all the right places, and with delicious forearms. Her friends never understood her thing for forearms, and maybe it was odd; maybe it was just her little fetish. Everybody had one! But, still, he had delicious forearms, the perfect shape, not too beefy that they looked like rugby balls, like gym rats got, yet still holding within them a sense of strength and power.

  But, even beyond his great looks, his perfect body, this outrageously fantastic-to-look-at-man, there was a person with a kind soul and a big heart. He was someone who smiled easily, laughed generously, and gave everything his
all. He didn’t half-ass, and he didn’t make excuses. As far as role models go, he was as good as it got. He was the source of so much of Chastity’s confidence in life, of her ambition, and the fearlessness with which she approached every new challenge, every unexpected hurdle.

  Chastity sighed, wondering how on Earth such a seemingly perfect person could exist. Oh, sure, he had his flaws. He enjoyed to play poker, and only when there was money involved, but not excessively, at least. He wasn’t in the hole to loan sharks… that had to count for something, right?

  His sense of humor could tend toward blackness, and at inappropriate times (though she didn’t mind that so much). He wasn’t exactly well-read, but it’s not like he was stupid. He wasn’t high-brow, and she knew that he could never get there. He just didn’t have it in him. But that wasn’t altogether a bad thing, was it? Sometimes a little black humor is just what a certain situation needs. Sometimes a little low-brow toilet humor is also appropriate – she was no stranger to how that could defuse a situation in high school, anyway.

  She supposed it was her crush on him… no, crush was too soft a word. She supposed it was the fact that she was secretly in love with him that made him seem so great. She knew it was naïve of her, she knew it was silly. There was simply no such thing as a perfect person, or a perfect man. All the magazines said that. All the books said that. Perfect people, and especially perfect men, simply don’t exist.

  She conceded that it was the fact that she’d never been with a boy before who made her happy, who made her feel good, also contributed to the dream-like aura that seemed to surround the man. Every boyfriend she’d ever had – she counted three off on her fingers – had wanted nothing more than to win arguments, or a place in her bed.

  But, she reconciled, did that really matter?