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NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2005 08:19:02 -0600
From: Arnold Sloan <Nowhere@at.all>
Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2005 09:18:59 -0500
Newsgroups: alt.stories.erotic
Subject: The Wicked Stepfather -- M/f, BDSM, INTERRACIAL
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===================
A black man finally gets the chance to take out his sexual frustration
and relieve his anger on his beautiful blonde stepdaughter.
Kevin sensed something wrong as soon as he pulled into the driveway.
The driveway led to the bungalow's two car garage, but also split off
to curve in front of the main doors. The front yard was dark, and
everything looked fine. It just didn't feel fine. And he found himself
looking around suspiciously as he got out of the car. He stopped and
walked over to the side of the path and then bent over a little,
making a face at what looked like chilled vomit. He turned and glared
at the house, then turned back and went inside.
He cursed as he stepped into the house, a strong odor of stale beer and
cigarettes wafting around the corner even before he got into the living
room. The place was a mess, with open pizza boxes, and cans and bottles
of beer scattered all over the tables and floor. Pictures were askew,
the glass on one cracked, and the chair which should have been pushed
into the antique desk was lying on its side, one leg broken.
He narrowly avoided stepping in a puddle of beer, peeled an upside down
slice of pizza off the rug, and then moved into the kitchen. The fridge
and freezer doors were wide open, and he shoved them closed as he shook
his head at the mess. The counter and table were filled with crap.
Half empty bowls, plates and cups were littered about. Open jars of
mayonnaise, peanut butter and strawberry jelly were sitting on the
counter, with dirty bread knives either stuck into them or laying on
the counter alongside.
He walked up the hall, his anger rising, and shoved open the door to
his stepdaughter's room. It was a mess, with clothes, books, makeup,
CDs and DVDs littering the floor. But then, it always looked that way.
The bed was unmade, as usual, the sheets thrown back. A black thong lay
in the middle of the bed, the strap ripped, and Collin stared at it for
a long moment before turning away.
He went up the hall to the guest room. It was far tidier, but here too
the sheets were thrown back from the bed, and he glowered at it. He
went into the master bedroom. The sheets here were on the floor, and
several empty beer bottles were on the night tables. He could hear
water dripping, and walked into the adjoining bath to find the big
round tub full, almost to the rim, and water splashed over the
edge and onto the floor. The big glass shower enclosure was open, the
door cracked, and here too there were beer bottles, empty and half
empty, scattered everywhere.
"Tori!" he yelled, his anger building into a terrible thing.
He turned and strode back up the hall, his jaw set and tight. When he
had been a chief petty officer in the navy all his men had come to
recognize that this was a sign to keep clear and to repent whatever
sins they had committed. Kevin threw open the door to the basement and
stomped down the stairs, glaring about, searching for her.
And found her.
He had redone this part of the basement himself. None of that fake
paneling shit. He had put in real cedar boards, polished until they
gleamed. There was a nice, comfortable green wall to wall carpet, some
decent furniture, including an L-shaped sofa in the far corner, and a
full wet bar. In the near corner was a gas fireplace. It
was turned on, and some idiots had thrown things into the fire.
In the middle of the room was a large billiard table done in old oak,
with a brown felt surface. And laying on her back in the middle of it
was his stepdaughter Tori.
Tori had come into his life two years ago when he'd begun seeing her
mother. She'd been a resentful, jealous brat then, and she hadn't much
changed. She'd been sixteen then, and on the edge of being a high
school dropout. He'd worked with young men all his life, and recognized
the type. She needed a hard kick in the ass to set her on the right
road. Unfortunately, her mother hadn't seen it that way, and he'd been
too chary of interfering, even after the two had moved in with him.
Sara was a delightful, sweet, beautiful, guileless woman with a great
sense of humor, but she was too damned nice, and Tori had been her only
child. She'd spoiled her rotten, and even though it had long become
apparent even to her that the kid was out of control she hadn't been
able to do anything to bring her up short.
He walked over to stand next to the pool table, folding his arms across
his massive chest, and glared down at the girl.
Oh yes, he knew exactly what to do to young men, and if she'd been a
young man, and if her mother had allowed it, he would have long since
taught Tori a thing or two. But girls were - not his forte. He'd never
completely understood them, and he was distracted by the way their
bodies moved and curved in all those lovely little ways.
Even now, glowering down at the girl, who lay on her back, eyes closed,
jaw slack, chest rising and falling, he felt that familiar distraction.
She was wearing a pair of tight, dark, low slung trousers, the black
strap of her thong visible on one hip. Above that was a short, far too-
tight white halter top over her full, firm, obviously braless breasts.
It was thin enough to see her nipples, and Kevin felt a thrum of
eagerness coming from between his legs.
Slut, he thought. Useless, brainless little twat is good for only one
thing.
And he was willing to bet she'd been doing it that evening, when she'd
been grounded, no one allowed over to visit. Her mother was a travel
agent currently on a trip to Puerto Rico, and the girl had promised her
she would be on her best behavior. But that was this morning. Clearly
she'd had already planned the party. God damn bitch!
The thought of the cost and time and effort he'd have to put into
cleaning up the mess and repairing the damage caused by this useless,
lying little bitch made Kevin fume.
She stirred and her blue eyes fluttered. She groaned, and stretched,
and Collin was again distracted by the way her breasts pushed up
against that thin halter top.
I ought to bend the slut over and just give it to her. At least she's
good for that much!
She seemed to catch sight of him, and rolled over with a low groan, her
eyes glazed, and smiled slowly. "Hey, Kevin," she said in a low,
slurred voice. There was too much makeup around her eyes, and he felt
the urge to grab a towel, wet it, and mash it down into her slender,
pretty face until he washed all the gunk off.
"I thought you were told you couldn't have anyone over," he snapped.
She smiled again and giggled a little. "Just partying," she said. "Want
to… want to party, Kevin?" she asked in a long, slurred purr.
She reached out with her left hand and pressed it against his groin,
and Kevin was too shocked at first to react. His cock did, swelling
almost immediately as the girl squeezed him, and she snickered
knowingly even as he jumped back.
"You little whore!" he snarled. "I ought to take a belt to your
backside!"
"Ooo," she said mockingly. "Sounds kinky! Want to spank me, Kevin,
honey?"
She ran a tongue seductively along her lower lip and crawled a little
closer to the edge of the table.
"What are you on? Booze or pills?" he demanded.
She sighed in a long suffering manner. "You're so boring, Kevin. Bo-
ring. Just like the old lady."
She picked up a ball and let her tongue slide along the surface as she
looked up at him from beneath heavy lashes. "I like licking balls,
Kevin," she taunted.
"I bet you lick a lot of them, you little whore," he growled.
He had moved back to the edge of the table, and he was aware that he'd
done it purposefully, to put himself back in range. His mind was
swirling with conflicting emotions now. There was disgust, anger, and
outrage, but something more, a hot lust for the slim young blonde with
her thick, tangled hair. The latter had always been there to some
extent.
He was no superman, and she was a lithe, beautiful little flirt. And
she was blonde. Kevin had always had a thing for blondes. He wasn't
unique in that. As black as the ace of spades, his skin flexed across
his ample muscles as he looked down at her, and thought of his wedding,
and all the smirks his brothers and the black men who had looked at her
had given him.
All the old clichés about Black men lusting after blonde girls, all the
clichés about white women hot for big black cock, had all lain
unspoken, but openly thought about as they'd watched the little slut
dance and roll her hips, and thought the old black man's fantasy about
pounding their meat into a pretty blonde pussy. But Kevin had always
been very careful, perhaps because of those clichés. He'd never
hinted at any desire for the blonde girl, more than content with his
lovely brunette wife.
Marrying a white woman. Who'd have believed it back in South Central
LA, when he'd been growing up? Who'd have believed it when he was a
young sailor full of piss and vinegar, with no knowledge about women at
all? Of course, he'd had white women before - whores, mostly. But
there'd always been white women fascinated by a big, handsome black
stud, willing to spread their legs and take a walk on the dark side, on
the black side, just to see what it was like, just to brag to their
girlfriends later.
She reached for him again, her small hand squeezing his groin, and,
when he didn't pull back, rubbing up and down along the hardening
length of his cock..
"Oooo," she said. "I can see what mommy likes. I guess what they say
about Black men is true."
She wriggled a little closer, and looked up at him seductively - or as
seductively as a drunken teenager could manage, her head almost at the
edge of the pool table now.
"You got a stiffy for me, Kevin?" she cooed.
She undid the clasp of his jeans, and Kevin felt a lurch, a shock to
his system. Now was the time to back away, to smack the bitch on the
head, to curse her and order her to clean things up. But he remained
frozen, breathless, as he tugged down his zipper and, still smirking
coyly up at him, rubbed his cock through his boxers.
"Does mom suck you good, Kevin?" she cooed. "I bet I suck better than
her. I bet I can blow your socks off, old man."
She pulled his cock out into the bright light coming from above the
table, and seemed to do a double take, licking her lips appreciatively.
Then she arched her neck forward and licked along the edge of his
cockhead.
Kevin was quivering with uncertainty. He wanted to jerk away, and at
the same time wanted to fuck the hot little slut's brains out. This was
fucking idiotic! It could cost him his marriage if his wife found out
about it. He didn't need this!
But as her soft, pouting lips slid over the head of his cock and she
began to take in his shaft he felt a burning, yearning need. The whore!
The little blonde slut! I'll fucking show her her goddam place!
He reached down and filled his fist with her soft, tangled hair and
then thrust forward into the warm moist mouth wrapped around his prick.
She gagged, her eyes jerking open, and tried to pull back. But he
twisted his fist in her hair and held her in place. She gagged and
choked but he reached down and gripped her hand as it reached back and
caught at his wrist. He twisted it free, then pinned it there against
the back of her neck.
"Come on, you little slut!" he growled. "You wanted to show me what a
great little cocksucker you were. Do it. Do it!"
He was pumping into her mouth in shot, sharp, deep thrusts, knowing he
was gagging her as the head of his cock jabbed deep into her mouth.
He eased back a little, glaring, and she caught her breath and started
to suck, her tongue whipping back and forth against his cock head as he
pumped slowly in her mouth. "That's it, you fucking whore. Suck my
prick. Filthy, useless little bitch. At least you're good for one
thing."
He didn't let her move much, thrusting in and out as he held her in
place He slid his now gleaming, glistening black cock back and forth
through her small pink lips, over her soft, luscious wet tongue, and
felt his balls throbbing with hunger. She was clearly no virgin, but
she was no pro either, and he'd had his prick serviced in some
of the nastier ports in Asia.
"Is that the best you can do, white girl?" he sneered. "You think
that's cock sucking? You wouldn't last ten minutes in Bangkok or Manila
like this. I'll show you how to eat meat, little girl."
And he thrust into her hard and deep. He felt the head of his cock
striking the back of her mouth, the entrance to her throat, then it
pushed through, and she gagged and struggled weakly as he forced the
long thick shaft down her throat. Her body twisted, her legs kicking
and jerking weakly on the table, her free hand lacking any
strength or coordination as it tried to push and slap at his belly. He
just gripped that hand and pinned it with the other behind her head,
then pulled her by the hair until her face was just over the edge of
the table.
He drove himself down her throat to the hilt, forcing her face and nose
in tight against his groin and holding her there, feeling a wild surge
of elation, of conquest, of macho power as the girl's lithe young body
writhed and jerked in slow, twitching, jerky motion. Her legs and feet
tried to find purchase, to push herself up, but he had too firm a hold
on her hair and head.
And then he began to pump, using long, thick strokes, running his fat
shaft up and down the little slut's throat, jamming the dazed, gurgling
blonde teen's face against his pubic bone again and again and again as
her face got red, then white.
He pulled out, and she coughed violently, her entire body shaking, and
gulped in air in short, ragged gasps.
"You throw up and you'll fucking eat it!" he growled.
He wrapped her hair around his fist and jerked her head up and back,
slapping it lightly with his wet prick, then fed it through her gaping
mouth, rubbing the head along her tongue as his face contorted into a
cruel leer. He pushed deeper, sliding the head into the entrance to her
throat, taunting and teasing her, pulling back and then pushing it
forward, letting his cockhead tease the entrance to her throat so she
kept gagging.
Then he laughed and slid it deeper, slowly, slapping aside her hand,
letting it sink deep into her throat so he could grind her face into
his groin. He held himself there, grinding, then pulled back again, let
the head pop just free, then let his prick slide slowly down into her
throat once more, twisting her hair, pulling on it to pull her face
into his groin.
He reached down and squeezed one of her breasts, feeling another little
shock at his daring as his fingers sank into the soft flesh, then a
hard thrum of excitement as they kept sinking. Fantastic tits!
He released her wrists, grabbing at her halter. He caught it low,
behind her shoulder blades, and yanked hard enough to tear the thin
fabric up and back. One more hard yank and it tore right off, and she
was naked above the waist. He yanked her head up and back, then down
and forward, and her eyes rolled, her jaw slack as he thrust himself
into her mouth again, and immediately rammed his prick down her
throat.
She shuddered and moaned, her eyes glassy and dazed. He wrapped more of
he hair around his fist and pulled her face up against his groin. He
was literally holding her head and shoulders off the table by the hair
now as he began to pump hard and fast into her mouth and throat. Her
hands pushed feebly at his belly, then dropped, jerking and trembling
on the table as she hung there dazedly, his cock sliding in and
out of her mouth, his groin slapping into her face.
He reached down and filled his other hand with her soft, warm breast,
squeezing and kneading it, working his fingers against the nipple as he
worked his hips in and out. He reveled in the soft, fullness of it, on
how warm and incredible her breast felt as his fingers sank into it
again and again.
She gurgled and choked on his meat as he raped her throat, but Kevin
felt no pity for her. On the contrary, he began to feel a towering
anger. God knew what trouble he was going to get into for this. Surely
the little slut would tell Sara, and then what? Dirty, stinking little
good for nothing whore!
"Choke on it!" he snarled. "Choke on it, you fucking whore!"
He slapped a big, hard hand down against her wriggling bottom and she
squealed in pain, jerking violently. "Little slut!"
He pulled out of her throat and flung her head and shoulders backwards.
She coughed and gasped for breath, twisting weakly, and he reached for
and grabbed her leg, yanking it towards him, spinning her around,
pulling until her groin was on the edge of the table, her legs fallen
off. He gripped the sides of her pants and yanked down hard, then up,
peeling them and her thong over her hips, lifting her legs high as he
forced them roughly over her knees and then ripped them off.
She was still dazed, chest still heaving, still gulping in air, eyes
glazed as he looked down along her naked body, and what a body it was,
full and firm, with pale, downy soft skin. She had no pussy hair, and
he cursed her as a slut again as he spread her legs wide, wide apart,
lifting her bottom up and then dropping it.
"D-Don't!" she said, coughing, gasping, trying to push herself up.
He pressed his saliva coated cock against her opening and rubbed the
head up and down, feeling the slickness of her spit easing his way as
he pushed into her. The head of his fat cock slowly forced her sex lips
in and back, and then he lunged forward, falling over her, grabbing at
her hair again as he crushed his lips down against hers.
She moaned and beat against him weakly as his cock slid deep into her
belly, but her resistance and strength crumbled almost at once as he
buried himself in her warm sex and ground against her.
"You like that, baby? You like that?" he panted.
His mouth crushed hers, his tongue thrusting into her oral cavity as he
mauled her breast and ground himself against her. She moaned and
writhed against him, eyes rolling.
"Bitch. Fucking white whore!"
He began to thrust, working his hips in and out, up and down, driving
his cock into her tight snug hole, his body crushing the slender girl
against the table. Her legs were spread wide around him, her knees
trembling and jerking in mid-air. But then those legs slowly curled in
around his back and pulled against him, and he cursed anew, thrusting
harder, deeper, faster.
She cried out again and again, gasping and moaning and grunting as he
used his cock like a spear, like a weapon, ramming it up into her
belly. He yanked at her hair and bit into her throat, growling with
lust, animal-like. His hand squeezed and twisted her breast. Then he
caught her fat nipple between his lips, sucking, chewing on the areola.
All the while his hips pounded violently, ramming into her.
She was grunting and gasping with every thrust but Collin sensed other
than pain there, snarling at her as he watched her body shudder to the
force of his thrusts. He watched her shoulders roll, watched her back
arching in slow, rhythmic waves, watched her glazed eyes go glassy as
her head rolled back, and felt the clenching and unclenching of her
thighs around his hips.
He slapped her face, rocking it to the side, then put a big hand over
her throat, covering it entirely, squeezing it. She grabbed at his
wrist with both small hands, staring up at him, then let her hands go
limp, gasping and bucking as an orgasm took her.
"Whore!" he snarled, squeezing his fingers tighter around her throat as
he rammed himself into her belly.
Her body began to buck spastically, her hands falling back onto the
table top on either side of her head, jerking and bouncing as she came,
and he felt her pussy spasming and squeezing even harder around his
cock. It was too much, for only super human endurance had let him hold
out this long. He exploded inside his stepdaughter's pussy, pouring his
hot cream down into the girl's womb as he clenched his teeth and gasped
in pleasure. Every beat of his heart send a new flood of jism pouring
down into the teenager below him, and he relaxed his grip on her
throat, gasping, weakening at last, his hips slowing.
He staggered back against the bar, gasping for breath, his eyes never
leaving the girl. She lay draped across the table, groaning, naked, her
hands at her throat as she gulped in deep, ragged breaths of air.
His lust was eased, but still present, pushed aside now by a renewal of
his anger, not just at her but at himself.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! he thought. A stiff prick has no conscience!
He glared at her. It was her fault, of course. How was a man supposed
to resist when a hot little slut like that grabbed his prick?! Fucking
little whore! He could just imagine who would believe him, who would
take his side. A big nigger fucking a skinny little blonde teenager.
Sure. They'd believe it wasn't his fault!
And now he had to clean the place up, after a long day of work, and he
knew he'd get little, if any help from her. She'd lay around like a
princess while he worked his ass off to clean up his mess! Well
godamned if she would! He remembered, suddenly, one of the punishments
a Tokyo pimp had told him about for girls who acted up. Didn't leave a
mark on them, but by God they remembered it!
A part of him realized he was not thinking straight, but another part
told him he was already in too deep for anything to matter.
The bitch had a hand over her pussy, and it didn't look like it was
comforting her soreness as she half rolled onto her side.
He did up his pants, his eyes narrow and filled with anger, and pushed
himself back to his feet. He grabbed an ankle and yanked hard, sliding
her slim body along the table. She yelped and grasped at the edge as he
pulled her off, and that softened her fall. He dropped her ankle and
reached down, gripping her hair instead, yanking it forward, ignoring
her cry of pain.
He half dragged her along the floor on her belly before she got her
hands and knees under her.
"Don't! Stop it! Let me go!" she cried.
He forced her to crawl to the door at the end of the room, and opened
it. Beyond was the unfinished portion of the basement. There was a half
bathroom on the left, a washer, dryer and sink on the right. He could
smell urine in the sink, and snarled as he forced her to crawl through
and past it through another door. This was the furnace, the hot water
heater, electrical panels, the old oil tank, and he led her past
and to the last room. It was big and open, his work benches and
counters were here, along with a scattering of tools, paints,
lubricants, and old junk.
He snatched a roll of duct tape off a counter as he led the crawling
girl roughly to the side, and then shoved her face down on the cold
stone floor. He bent suddenly, jamming his knee into the small of her
back, then pulled her slender wrist up and back. He tore open the role
and rolled it around her wrist twice, then yanked back the other wrist,
pinned them together, and rolled the tape around it several times.
"Wh-what are you d-doing!?" she cried drunkenly.
"You're gonna sit around while I clean up, slut, but it's not going to
be a soft seat," Kevin grunted.
He yanked on her hair again, and again she cried out in pain, forced
upwards, onto her knees, then her feet as he shoved her belly against
the sawhorse standing next to the wall.
"Throw your legs across it," he barked.
She didn't understand, and moaned dazedly.
He cursed, reached down, and gripped her thigh, then lifted it up and
threw it over the sawhorse. He shifted her body by the hair, and again
she cried, and came down fully onto the narrow wooden edge. She gasped
and tried to adjust her position as the rough wood pushed up into her
soft, bare sex, but Kevin held her in place, bending to yank her left
leg up and back.
The crossbeam pushed out about a foot on either side of the legs, so
while she was directly over one set of legs she was firmly sitting on
it. Kevin taped her ankles apart to the legs, then stepped back to
glare at her, feeling his cock twitching as he watched the blonde
trying to twist and shift to take the weight off her pussy.
She reeled and swayed and moaned, and he thought for a moment she might
tip the horse over onto its side. He looked around balefully, and his
eyes caught on a box in the corner. He moved to it, yanked it open, and
fished inside, coming out with the leash and choke chain he'd packed
away after his Doberman, Jock had died four years earlier.
Now he went back to the girl, sliding the choke chain over her mass of
tangled blonde hair, then pulling it tight around her slender throat.
He looked above him, and saw a hook driven into the ceiling beam
overhead. A tall man, he was able to reach up easily, then jam one of
the links of the chain over it.
He stepped back, watching her with a sense of satisfaction. The chain
was not too tight, as long as she sat up straight. But if she leaned
forward or to the sides the chain would bring her up short, just as it
had Jock.
He turned and left the room. He would start upstairs.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
-
From the book: The Wicked Stepfather, by Argus. Argus erotic books have
been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star, Olympia, Chimera,
and Beeline. They are available at <http://www.ebookblue.com>
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