Big Book of Smut

by Gia Blue

  * * *

  "Now don't forget why you're at college. You're there to work, understand?"

  "Yes, mother." I rolled my eyes.

  "I'm going to miss you."

  We hugged and kissed each other on the cheek. Keith looked at me with a sadness in his eyes.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "I'm going to miss you too."

  I smiled. "I'll be back in no time."

  I got into the car and gingerly sat on the driver's seat. I winced at the ache from the spanking I had received a few days earlier.

  My mother looked at me, concerned. "What's the matter? Did you hurt your back?"

  "No, it's nothing. I just got stung." I looked at my stepfather and we both started giggling.

  "What's the joke?"

  "Nothing," I replied. "Look, I have to go. It's a four-hour drive."

  "Call me when you get there, okay. And no getting distracted by boys!"

  I looked at Keith one last time. "I'm not interested in boys."

  We smiled and I turned the key, heading off to my new life with the thought of the last man I fucked causing a wetness to form down below.

  I couldn't wait for the holidays.

  About the Author

  Katie Cramer writes erotic stories featuring strong, sultry characters. They also like to have hot, steamy sex. A lot.

  Katie is married with two beautiful boys and loves dancing around to vinyl records in high heels and vintage clothing. What girl doesn't love heels?

  You can visit her web site by visiting http://www.katiecramer.com where you can find release dates and more information on Katie's filthy, filthy books.

  Also available from Katie Cramer

  SEXUAL CRAVINGS (Pregnancy Erotica)

  DADDY OF THE BRIDE

  DOUBLE TEAMED WITH DADDY

  DADDY'S WATCHING

  DADDY'S BIG PACKAGE (An Erotic Bundle)

  TO HAVE AND TO CUCKOLD

  THE COUGAR GETS HER STUD

  WHAT LISA DID

  Available at all ebook retailers: CLICK HERE

  * * *

  Thank you for buying this ebook. Please get in touch with Katie for information on book releases, special offers, competitions and more:

  Web: http://www.katiecramer.com

  Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/katiecramerbook

  Going Down On Daddy – Raquel Rogue

  I paused in my bedroom door. I could hear them in the kitchen, being all lovey-dovey. My mom, the cougar supreme, went to Las Vegas and returned with a new French husband. Who knew I’d ever had a new daddy, much less a young, buff hunky step-daddy with a killer French accent. Just listening to him speak made my insides melt.

  I have to move out, I thought. That man is raw sex.

  “Don’t worry about Raquel, darling,” Mom said. That got my attention. They were talking about me? “She’ll come around. I think we surprised her by getting married.”

  “Let’s hope so, ma belle,” he said in that husky voice I loved so much. “You know it hurts me when beautiful women do not like me.”

  He thinks I’m beautiful?

  “You are such a sweetie,” Mom said.

  The sounds of kissing, of moaning and groaning, reached me. I rolled my eyes. Those two were constantly at it. I guess if I was forty and had a twenty-eight year old love god with killer abs and an even sexier accent, I’d be all over him, too.

  “Oh sweet darling, I hate to leave you,” Mom said. I closed my eyes. I had to listen to this crap every morning for the last week. Maybe if La Boy Toy had a job it wouldn’t aggravate me so much. “I have to go to work. I will miss you so much.”

  “Not as much as I will miss you, ma belle,” he said.

  “Love you,” she said.

  “Love you more,” he said.

  I opened my mouth wide, feigning shoving a finger down my throat. Mom strode out of the kitchen in time to catch me in the act. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. My insides went cold.

  “Morning, Mom,” I said, standing up straight and rigid, hands clutched behind my back.

  Mom had upped her game since marrying Jean-Luc. She wore tighter, sexier clothes. She called them her “Melrose Place” power suits. I had no idea what she was talking about, but it seemed to please her.

  My mother and I could be sisters, despite the twenty-two year age difference. She looked thirty, and if she really tried could pull off twenty-five. We both had long glossy black hair (mine to my waist) and slim, shapely bodies. Her breasts were a bit larger than mine. I think the only noticeable difference was I inherited my father’s brown eyes and full lips, and she had bright green eyes and thin lips.

  “You be nice to Jean-Luc,” she whispered, eyes fierce.

  Mom wore her red power suit, with a white silk blouse and black stiletto FMPs. In fact, they were my newest pumps. I’d only worn them once. I hated it when she borrowed my shoes. Her feet sweated. A lot. Unfortunately, her demanding, high-paying corporate job left her little free time, so she couldn’t go shoe shopping as much as she would like, so she took mine. Sometimes she didn’t give them back.

  “What do you mean? I’m nice.”

  “Cut the BS. You mock him,” she said. “Every time we show a little PDA, you roll your eyes and develop a bad fake French accent.”

  “What do you mean ‘bad’ French accent? I’m good.”

  She stepped closer. Violated my personal space, forcing me to press back against the wall. I hated it when she intimidated me like that.

  “Don’t get sassy with me, young woman.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll cancel all of your credit cards.”

  Why did she always threaten to take away my credit cards? Nobody likes to be blackmailed. The problem was, her threats were never idle. Mom followed through, and she’d cut me off twice in the last three years. In my senior year in high school I went six months without an allowance or credit. It was nightmarish. I think she only returned my credit cards because she needed new shoes, and knew the shoe store would be my first stop.

  “I’m going to so sweet to him your Jean-Luc will have diabetes by the time you get home tonight,” I said. “He’s my big daddy today. Yep, King Jean-Luc rules my world.”

  “Oh, you’re going to be that way, are you?”

  “No. I’m sorry. Mom, you’ve been crazy since marrying him. Stop trying to shove him down my throat,” I said. Poor choice of words. The thought of him in my mouth, pushing down my throat sent a ripple of the best kind through my nether regions. And the vision that flashed through my mind was even more wicked. I struggled to keep my composure. “God, I never thought ‘Good Time Jenny’ would get married again. I’m in shock.”

  Mom stepped back, an odd look on her face. “You knew my girlfriends called me ‘Good Time Jenny?’”

  “Mom, you went through seven boyfriends in the last year. Two of them were just a year older than me. Everyone calls you ‘Good Time Jenny’ when they aren’t calling you ‘Queen Cougar’ or ruder things.”

  She looked me up and down with a sneer.

  “This coming from the girl who ‘dated’ every single player on the football team,” she said.

  “Like mother, like daughter,” I said. She pulled her right hand back to slap me. I pointed a finger right in her face. “I’ll hit you back.”

  Mom glanced toward the kitchen, thought better of it, and dropped her hand. “Fine. Give me all of your credit cards.”

  I went cold inside. My belly clinched tight.

  “What? You can’t do that to me?”

  “Yes I can. Give them to me. Now.”

  My purse was on my dresser, just inside the door. I pulled my wallet out with trembling hands, trying so hard to hold back the tears. The bitch! She constantly had to prove her power over me. The best way to do that was to hit me where it hurt the most.

  “Have a nice day,” Mom said, snatching the seven credit cards out of my hand.

  With that she marched out of the house. I stared after her, open-mouth and a te
ar rolling down my cheek. My only condolence—I spent thirty-seven hundred dollars the previous day on a pair of Christian Louboutin thigh boots, a pair of sexy, strappy pumps, and a pair of sandals.

  “Ouch,” Jean-Luc said, dragging me out of my dark reverie.

  I cut my eyes toward him, as they narrowed. Was he laughing at me?

  “Excusez-moi?”

  “Ooo, your French it is so good,” he said, and grinned with wicked delight. “Do you know any other French words? I mean, besides, ‘Oo, la la.’”

  I moved my right foot toward him, giving him a nice side view of my new strappy, black patent pumps. “I know two more French words. Christian Louboutin.”

  His eyes lingered on my shoes. Then they slowly glided up my legs, took in my body, and finally locked onto my face. The heat in those eyes had me panting before he reached my face. I lost my breath when he locked eyes with me.

  “Two very good words.”

  He looked me over a length. It was quite a thrill. Jean-Luc had pretty much ignored me until then. Or so I thought. But I was decked out pretty sexy, wearing a snug white mini-dress with black accents. My hair was parted down the middle, and my only jewelry were large silver hoop earrings.

  Jean-Luc wore only a pair of faded jeans, and the button was undone. He was clean shaven, and that included his back and chest, too. His eyes were the same shade of blue as his jeans, and his dark hair was shoulder length and wavy. Did I mention he was raw sex?

  His killer abs were coming to me in High Definition. The man exercised all day to maintain that body. Mom’s seven digit income allowed him the leisure to do it, too. I know I shouldn’t begrudge him that, since I spent an hour a day with my personal trainer, and the rest of the day shopping. Six days a week. My life was shopping, and now I had nothing to spend. Nothing to do.

  “You look so much like your mother, especially when you are angry,” he said.

  “Well, don’t follow my example and argue with her,” I said. “She’ll cut you off, big time.”

  Jean-Luc shrugged. His hand cupped the bulge in his jeans. “Then I will cut her off.”

  My eyes locked on his hand, his bulge. Surely he wasn’t endowed well enough to cause such a large bulge while flaccid. Was he aroused? Getting hard just looking at me?

  My heart started pounding. Chest tightened. I balled my fists to keep from touching myself. He quirked a brow at me. Was that interest in his eyes? Or amusement?

  “W-Well, I can’t do that,” I said. Why was my voice an octave lower, huskier? I cleared my throat before continuing. “Though I should hide all my shoes, since she tends to shoe shop in my closet.”

  “I see why,” he said. “You have such good tastes in fine feminine footwear, as well as being well-dressed all the time. I have never seen you scruffy, or not dressed to impress.”

  This time, instead of lingering on my shoes, his eyes stopped to stare at my boobs. I have to admit, they were a quite impressive pair. If nothing else, Mom taught me how to display my body in the most fashionably sexy manner. The designer dress was low cut, and really barely covered my boobs. I inherited the cleavage to pull it off from Mom.

  “Hey, Frenchie, my eyes are up here.”

  “I know. They scare me.”

  “My eyes scare you? Why?”

  “I could get lost in those gorgeous eyes,” he said. Our eyes locked, and it sucked what little air I had left out of my lungs. He really turned it on. “Those wicked, hungry eyes and your full, glossy lips call to something deep within.”

  A thrill slithered up my spine. A tiny smile curled the corners of his lips when I visibly shuddered. I bit my lower lip, tugging on it. His eyes released me, to return to my lips. He moaned so low I almost couldn’t hear it.

  He gave his cock a squeeze. “Such beautiful lips.”

  “I-I don’t think my new Daddy should make me squirm like this,” I whispered, unable to speak normally. “Or feel like this.”

  “Oh, I’ll be your daddy. I’ll be your big daddy. Your big love daddy.”

  Jean-Luc unzipped and pulled out the biggest, most beautiful cock I’d ever seen. My knees went weak, and my mouth started watering. He stroked it once, twice, and I gasped with each stroke.

  “This is wrong, Jean-Luc.”

  “You want me. I want you,” he said. He gave his cock another stroke. “What is wrong with that? Come to me. Go down on me.”

  “No! I can’t,” I cried. My eyes locked on his cock. So damn beautiful. I so wanted a taste. “I mean. You’re married to my mother.”

  A bead of pre-cum oozed out. I had to swallow to loosen my throat. By the look on his too sexy face, Jean-Luc knew he was winding me up. Manipulating me to perfection. And I loved it.

  “Nothing wrong with desire, ma petit,” Jean-Luc growled out low in that too sexy French accent. “You wrap those beautiful lips around my penis, and then you get what you want. I get what I want. We both get it out of our system, and life goes on.”

  I caught myself rubbing my thighs together. My pussy was achy and wet, feeling so sexy and ready.

  “Please, I’m not very strong,” I whispered, unable to speak normally. It was so damned hot in that room. Beads of sweat prickled my skin as I panted lightly, all squishy hot inside. “I’m not good at saying no.”

  “Then saying nothing. Drop to your knees, crawl to me, and go down on me,” he said, every word like a bell sending erotic ripples through my body and mind. “Come to me, ma petit.”

  My knees buckled, but I caught myself before I knelt. If my knees touched the floor I was a goner. I’d be his for the taking, and I so wanted to be taken.

  “Kneel, Raquel,” he commanded.

  His eyes were fierce and sexy, and they captured me. For a second it was like moving into another realm of existence, where everything was hot and passionate, and perfect. A world I wanted to live in forever.

  My eyes dropped to his cock. It looked even bigger and harder. One drop of pre-cum had slid down his length to his hairy balls. Two more drops were slowly going down his shaft, and the sight of them called to me. I wanted to lick them off, and savor that heady taste. Then I saw the fourth drop of pre-cum bead on the tip of his dick.

  My knees hit the floor.

  I unzipped my dress, rose up on my knees and pulled it down to my waist. I watched Jean-Luc’s face while disrobing, to gauge his interest. I thought he was going to come when I removed my bra. His eyes burned into my tits, while licking his lips. Lips I wanted to taste, too. In fact, I wanted to lick him from his toes to his nose, and then go back down. Wiggling more than I needed to, I worked the snug dress over my hips and butt, and then dropped to all fours and crawled out of it.

  Crawling sensuously, I watched the emotions play across his face. His excitement rose dramatically, and he started stroking himself. A sultry smile curled my lips, and he swallowed hard. When I reached him, I pulled Jean-Luc’s jeans down to his ankles.

  Pulling his hand off his cock, “Let me take care of that for you, Jean-Luc. Or do you want me to call you ‘Daddy?’”

  I held his cock up between two fingers, admiring it up close. His dick was all shiny from pre-cum he spread while stroking it. I nuzzled his nut sack, taking in his heady scent. Why did I love the smell of cock and balls so much?

  “Call me daddy,” he said.

  That sent hot tingles through my body. So naughty. So damned naughty.

  “Anything you want, Daddy,” I purred, hitting him with my sultriest gaze for a long second. Then I gave his balls a firm lick. And another. “Mmmm, I love balls. Your balls are nice and big and hairy. Mmm.”

  “I’m about to blow, Raquel. Hurry, go down on me.”

  I almost giggled. “You’re about to blow? I’m the one on her knees.”

  He just groaned. I don’t think he got my humor. His loss.

  “Don’t worry, Daddy. Your Raquel will take care of you,” I purred, giving the head a lick and kiss.

  I licked his cock from the base up. All around. He wa
s trembling by the time I reached the head. Rolling my tongue all over and around his head, I watched his body twitch and his face fill with bliss. He buried his hands in my thick hair, rubbing my scalp. It felt divine.

  “Oh, Daddy, watch me go down on you,” I said, pulling my long hair back and to the side so he could see my mouth. That forced one of his hands out of my hair, but I don’t think he minded.

  My lips parted slowly, and the hungriest look filled his face. A look that sent a thrill shivering up my spine. Made me ache for a kiss. A deep, long, open-mouth kiss. Instead, I guided his cock to my lips, and slowly let him penetrate.

  “Uuuggggh, oui, ma petit. Oui. Oui,” he groaned out.

  Bobbing my head, I took a little more cock in with each stroke. He was nice and thick, and it strained my jaw. Didn’t matter. It was wonderful, and he really loved what I was doing. No man ever showed his pleasure like Jean-Luc.

  “Mmmmmm,” I hummed. He rose up on his toes. “Mmmmmmm.”

  I wondered if he’d ever gotten a hummer before. He seemed surprised.

  “You are so beautiful, Raquel. So beautiful,” he murmured, looking like he was lost deep in his own pleasure. I worked my tongue, my lips, using suction and every trick I knew to make it the best blowjob he ever enjoyed. My mother had a reputation for giving exceptional BJs, so I had to put some effort into it. “Oooh, oui. You are so good. Just like that. Keep doing that.”

  His cock hardened a bit in my mouth. His “keep doing that” was his cock head tapping the back of my throat. Unfortunately, my lips were nowhere near the base of his shaft. There was only one thing to do. I prepared myself, giving him a few more bobs, and then took him down my throat.

  “Deep throat?” he said, gasping and rising up on his toes again. “Oh! Oui! Oui!”

  I took him down my throat three times, and third time was the charm. Jean-Luc came hard, gasping and shuddering as hot, creamy jizm filled my throat. I swallowed and swallowed it down, but had to pull back before he was finished coming, so got some of that deliciousness shot across my tongue.

  “Mmm, good stuff,” I said, smacking my lips as I sat back on my legs. Jean-Luc collapsed to his knees before me, looking sated and spent. He had the most dreamy bedroom eyes. “Was it good for you, Daddy?”