by Sophia Taboo
So, I am a voyeur as well as a creep! I wonder what the country club drones would make of that! Though I was crippled with shame about my illicit desires, I couldn’t help feeling a visceral thrill at the pure transgression of my obsession. I didn’t know any simple way to turn my feelings off anyway, and guilt wasn’t going to solve the central problem of my taboo attraction to my little girl. Traditional morality didn’t matter anymore, not now that Dawson had returned from boarding school for the final summer break before her freshman year in college.
It hadn’t always been like this, of course. When I married Jeanne five years ago, I was the quintessential man of the house. I acquired a stylish, classically beautiful wife and a gawky, bespectacled stepdaughter with a mouthful of braces and an unsightly wardrobe of baggy sweaters and shapeless jeans. We were a regular, upper-class family unit, but those dynamics were forever altered by Dawson’s radical reappearance in the house. She had turned eighteen while she was away, and she certainly wasn’t a nervous little girl anymore…
I sighed contentedly while my eyes pored over her flawless skin and smooth, long legs. Dawson had done a lot of growing up during the last year, her physique rounding out splendidly and the final vestiges of an awkward adolescence completely vanished. Surely her ass wasn’t this round before? Surely her eyes never sparkled with that mischievous, come-hither glimmer? When Dawson smiled before, did I ever detect the intangible passion dripping from the corners of her mouth, as if her smile were beckoning me with a silent, unspeakable promise? Questions like this nipped at the frayed edges of my brain while I massaged my cock and stared at her voluptuous new body.
I knew that what I was doing was the height of naughtiness, but the full maturation of Dawson’s sexuality had merely thrown into relief the loneliness of my own dissipating sex-life. Jeanne was always away with work, glad-handing her high society buddies at the endless procession of gala openings that came with the territory of a successful art-gallery owner. We passed each other like ships in the night, and I couldn’t remember the last time we had fucked with the wild, unbridled passion we used to share. My wife wasn’t attending to my sexual needs anymore, and then Dawson waltzed back into the house and reignited the fading embers of my libido. Jeanne may be a striking woman, but her elegant brand of understated beauty pales in comparison to her daughter’s volcanic sexuality.
My feet scrabbled across the floor as I pulled myself nearer to the screen, closer to the live feed of my stepdaughter in her downstairs bedroom. Dawson was a teenage boy’s wet dream now, with a tight, erection-erecting ass that practically begged to be spanked whenever it whistled by wrapped in short-shorts or hot, pink briefs. She had long blonde hair that she wore straight; a shimmering, golden tapestry framing bright blue, baby-doll eyes and a lush mouth that looked like it was designed to suck cocks. Her tits and ass were no longer girlish and underdeveloped, and I marveled at her rare combination of a hard, flat stomach and womanly curves that were so ripe and juicy my mouth watered just thinking about them.
In short; Dawson was sex on legs, and those magnificent legs just happened to be carrying her incredible ass around my house every goddamn day! It was an utter nightmare of constant repression and self-denial! My home had suddenly become a sexual obstacle course, and every time I caught a glimpse of my little girl brazenly changing clothes with the door open or swimming laps in the pool I had to excuse myself, seek the solace of my study, and stroke my prick until my seed spilled over my fingers and I could finally vanquish her sweet teen body from my mind.
In addition to these glorious physical changes, Dawson now exuded the palpable aura of a completely sexual being. Every passing gesture and casual aside (from the way she coquettishly tossed her hair to the racy double entendres she dropped like grenades into regular conversations) seemed to quiver with a deep, underlying sex-drive raging beneath her revealing clothes. I often caught myself staring at her shapely ankles or the luscious swells of her 36C tits and wondered about the status of her virginity. Dawson had the body and face of a sex goddess, and I became completely fixated on finding out whether or not she was using these considerable blessings to her advantage. That’s where the cameras came in…
If anyone had told me a few months ago that I would be sitting awake at night and spying on my stepdaughter while beating off like a high-school boy, I would’ve probably had them committed. But the camera offered me privileged access into a secret world that I had always been barred from. Dawson had brought a string of male ‘friends’ and other girls into her bedroom since she came home, and I needed to know exactly what they were getting up to. So I snuck a tiny, fiber-optic camera into one of her plush toys and focused the inanimate creature’s gaze onto Dawson’s bed, hoping to get a taste of her newfound proclivities.
I rationalized this action to myself, arguing that I was keeping tabs on my little dearest’s extracurricular activities simply because I was a concerned stepdad looking out for my baby. But I knew that I just wanted to see her unbelievably supple teen body getting pounded into submission and splattered with jets of gooey cum. I wanted to spy on Dawson like an omniscient being and bear witness to the subtle education of her willing flesh, but what I discovered was more titillating and surprising then even my depraved mind could have imagined.
As I suspected, Dawson was certainly experimenting with her budding sexuality. I watched with the rapt attention usually reserved for sightseers in grand European cathedrals as Dawson took her lovers’ thick, responsive pricks between her lips and deep-throated them while they moaned and fondled her ample tits. She seemed to have a knack for sucking dick, alternating between balls and shaft like a seasoned pro, keeping the boys on the exquisite precipice between frustration and release before finally swallowing every last drop of their sticky loads. I felt a peculiar affinity with Dawson after watching her tongue dart across her face to lap up the last few droplets of a particularly messy ejaculation. Her mother hated the salty taste of my cum, and the fact that Dawson seemed to love nothing more than chugging down a geyser of spunk merely cemented my conviction that I was sleeping with the wrong woman.
But the sensational blowjobs were merely the tip of a colossal sexual iceberg, and over the next few days I started to realize that Dawson was even more insatiable and daring than I initially anticipated. From the comfort of my recliner, I watched this effervescent young libertine engaging in a whole range of delightful perversities. Aside from her oral fixation, I discovered that Dawson also had a predilection for being on the receiving end of some frenetic tongue-action.
She was ferociously demanding when it came to getting her tasty pussy eaten, crushing her engorged clit and seeping folds against the faces of her lovers until her climax was reached and she eventually collapsed on the sheets covered in sweat and cum. I remember her riding one poor bastard’s face for almost half an hour in search of an elusive orgasm, refusing to release the man’s overworked tongue from her snatch until her knees buckled and she sprayed cum all over his exhausted face. I recall squirting at the exact same moment she did, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from screaming out loud as my hips arched off the chair and I basted the digital reproduction of Dawson’s face with a healthy glob of cum.
I was glued to my seat while I watched her lesbian encounters with Mary, a hot Spanish girl whose mother was employed as a maid at one of our neighboring villas. These were completely eye-opening spectacles for me, because I had never suspected that Dawson had a single bi-curious bone in her body. It turned out that I was spectacularly wrong. Mary went to a local Catholic high school, and I remembered hearing her mother boasting what a ‘good, Christian girl’ she was. Aside from the obligatory tartan mini-skirt and elegant crucifix dangling from her throat, there was very little about Mary’s behavior with Dawson that screamed out traditional religious values.
I remember the way Dawson undressed Mary, making the raven-haired stunner stand with her back to the camera while she slowly rolled down red and
black knee-socks and unhooked garter belts with her teeth. I gasped when the girl’s white shirt was unbuttoned and fell around her ankles to reveal the elaborate angel tattoo on her back. And they say the modern generation is out of touch with spirituality, I thought wryly while my stepdaughter’s tanned hands slid over the darker girl’s hips and grasped her taut ass-cheeks. The sexy eighteen-year old was slim and athletic in contrast to Dawson’s bronzed, hourglass figure, and the pair complimented each other beautifully as they scissored and 69’ed until both their bodies quivered with joy. In the end they both had fists stuffed up their tight teen slits as they drove each other to climax, and Dawson choked Mary out as the Spanish girl writhed atop the bed and screamed incomprehensible obscenities in the erotic lilt of her native tongue.
The beauty of modern technology is the ability to preserve moments like this for posterity. All of these lusty encounters were recorded and perused over at length, and the Dawson-Mary video was probably the most-viewed file in my secret little folder. Dawson was equally adept at eating out pussy and slurping on cock, and the omnivorous antics that unfolded between those sacred bedroom walls provided countless hours of blissful viewing pleasure for this wide-eyed observer. I felt like I was watching a young woman becoming herself and slowly developing a new identity from the disparate fragments of her sexual activity, and I needed to know what she would do next as surely as a crack addict needs to procure the high that makes his body sing and his life worth living. This was what compelled me to add the extra camera in the bathroom, where I could capture Dawson’s fabulous form in a whole new context.
My hunger for Dawson’s body and her unsuspecting displays of carnality increased over the subsequent days. The voyeurism that started as a one-time goof quickly developed into an all-encompassing routine that kept me locked in my study for hours on end. But outside the fantasy bubble of my hidden camera lenses, I did my best to avoid the sultry temptress at all costs. No doubt she thought I had been rather cold and aloof since her return, but that was a price I was prepared to pay to protect my family. I couldn’t look at her without picturing Mary’s cum smeared across her face or some pretty boy’s cock rammed down her throat, and this made me visibly uneasy in her presence (to the point where I was afraid I would slip up and give the game away). Every time I saw the sway of her delicious ass or the swish of her hair I got harder than Jeanne had ever made me, and I knew that if I stayed near the irresistible orbits of her hips and tits I would fall down an inescapable vortex from which I could never extricate myself.
This new bathroom camera revealed a fascinating dimension of Dawson’s sexuality I had never anticipated. Her boyfriend Ben (a burly, dim-witted football player with a blonde buzz-cut and muscles on his muscles) tried to fuck her in the shower while steam played havoc with my view of the action. He nudged his rampant member against her wet outer lips, and my skin tingled in expectation of the moment I would finally see Dawson receive the fucking her body was so perfectly sculpted for. To my surprise, she vehemently rejected the prick’s entrance into her dripping cavity, and reached one hand behind her back to guide the rigid shaft into her asshole.
Needless to say, I got pretty caught up in the raw intensity of this unexpected change of plans, and my shock at the ease with which her sublimely rounded ass swallowed his cock was quickly overtaken by awe at the crazed passion of the anal hammering she received. Ben pushed her wet face against the blue tiled wall as he fed his giant rod into her ass, and I could feel every slap of his hand against her ass-cheek vibrating through my body as if I was in the shower with the amorous couple. The audio quality was relatively poor beneath the steady hiss of the water, but I could hear Dawson’s primal grunts and the whimpering way she begged him to fill her ass with a hot dose of cum. Ben grasped a fistful of her wet blonde hair and twined it around his fingers while he obliged her, pumping his juices inside her while she slithered along the slick wall and cried out in harsh sibilants poised somewhere between agony and ecstasy. In retrospect, I would settle on the latter as the more accurate representation of her experience. After all, Dawson did take his cock straight into her mouth afterwards while the water descended and cum dribbled from my shivering fingers.
The whole sordid episode was over in a handful of aggressive thrusts, but every stroke was burned on the retina of my mind’s eye for eternity. At first, I was completely shocked that she denied him entry into her pussy. Judging by the way she handled a cock with her expert lips and fingers (as well as her relentless drive towards toe-curling orgasms), I figured she had lost her virginity ages ago. But it turned out that Dawson wanted to maintain her virginity out of a crippling fear of pregnancy, and she offered him her ass instead of her pussy to ensure that insemination was completely out of the question. It seemed like a rather strange stipulation in the era of the pill and relative sexual freedom, but I must admit that I was perversely happy that her slit remained out of bounds to her ever-growing coterie of lovers. Even then, as I watched her quake on the tip of the knucklehead’s enormous prick, I knew that I wanted that sweet virgin pussy all to myself.
Onscreen, Dawson stirred slightly and fumbled for her remote control. She was watching something as well; no doubt one of the hardcore pornographic DVDs Ben had brought to the house. Jeanne freaked out recently when she walked into Dawson’s bedroom and discovered a particularly filthy gangbang sequence flickering on her daughter’s TV screen. Dawson wasn’t home at the time, and her hysterical mother was convinced that she had left the anal extravaganza playing on purpose. Knowing what I do now about my stepdaughter’s sexual predilections and her growing contempt for her mother, I think Jeanne was probably right.
From my surveillance, I knew that she kept the discs in a small vanity case next to her bed. Her mother bought the quaint porcelain box with the china ballerina atop it a few years earlier, and Dawson had transformed the gorgeous container into a shrine to her sullen resentment of her mother’s continued existence. Inside it she kept a basic itinerary of scandalous items: dildo, anal beads, pornography, a gram or two of pure cocaine. It turned out the latter indulgence was what Dawson desired, and she used a hundred dollar note to snort a substantial line of coke off the oval mirror she had disconnected from the inside of the porcelain vanity case.
My exhalations misted on the monitor as I jerked off and imagined my hand was her snug teen twat. I zoomed in on my stepdaughter’s face and watched the highly erotic tremble of her lips as she blew a strand of straight blonde hair from her mouth. A line of sweat trickled across Dawson’s cheek as her nostrils flared and she exulted in the rush of the drug, and when her hand strayed towards her crotch the tempo of my jacking off increased and I zoomed in on the damp blue denim. I wished that I could burrow my face in her hot juices and wince as she dug her heels into my back and thrust my tongue deeper inside her pussy. I imagined that I was licking my stepdaughter’s twat in readiness for my inflamed manhood, and the thought of popping her cherry was enough to drive me over the edge. My eyes closed and I came all over my hand and thighs, even while I fantasized that I was actually ejecting my load into Dawson’s innocent pussy.
My eyes opened slowly while droplets of sperm dribbled down my inner thighs and pattered on the marble floor. I felt a strange chill settle on the back of my neck, as if I were the one being watched by concealed eyes. It was an absurd notion, and my eyes glanced over to the monitor to confirm that Dawson was still trapped within her familiar, flat-screen cage. I took a sharp intake of breath when I saw the empty screen, the only figure on display the miniature ballerina twirling in slow, elegant circles with her arms dipped at her sides in an eternal bow. During the single-minded delirium of orgasm, I hadn’t noticed that the screen had emptied, and I shivered as a gust of wind kissed my naked back.
That’s strange, I thought in my dazed and depleted state while I rose and stood immobile in the silvery-blue glow of my secret monitors. I’m sure I closed all the windows, and the only way a draught is getting in here is if somebody ha
s opened the study door… A thunderbolt of realization scorched my brain as I remembered the spare key kept for the cleaners in a downstairs drawer, and the rustle of teenage footsteps behind my back made me turn around with a start, my hand darting automatically towards my wet crotch to cover my shameful nudity.
“Wow. I didn’t realize that I was a star.” Dawson’s large blue eyes twinkled naughtily while she giggled at my useless efforts to hide the sticky mess of my groin. “And my own step-daddy seems to be my number-one fan!”
Chapter 2
I was completely unprepared for this embarrassing discovery, and the shock must have been apparent on my face when Dawson looked me up and down suspiciously. I had tried my level-best to keep my obsession under wraps despite my mounting desire for Dawson’s lush teen body, and now she could see the full scale of my insidious depravity in the separate live feeds displaying the gleaming bathroom and her empty bedroom. If she wanted to, Dawson could scroll through my files and find every incident of anal fucking, frantic clit-stroking and lesbian encounter I had captured over the last few weeks. My carefully constructed façade was collapsing, and I could feel the foundations of the life I had so carefully built shifting subtly beneath my feet. A momentary flash of vertigo gripped my nervous system, and I had to steady my body against the chair to prevent the further indignity of falling down in front of my beautiful stepdaughter like a defeated old man.
This is the end of everything, I remember thinking as a wave of nausea stirred in my gut and cum dried on my tingling skin. I am going to lose my marriage, my position at the university, my relationship with my stepdaughter! When I finally recovered some composure, I stole a glimpse at Dawson and prepared myself for the inevitable stream of obscenities and one hundred percent accurate accusations of indecency.
