Climb on My Stepfather (Ashley and Alex)

Chapter 52

4: Tristan.

Legs shaking, and teeth grinding hard, I stare at the crumpled pile of white lace on the counter.

No one has to know, Big Daddy. I can be your cute, little secret. Your guilty pleasure.

Fucking fantastic.

Lia has absolutely no idea how long I've been in torment, thinking about it. I've been counting the days until she finally leaves home for college, relief, and fear whirling inside my chest. With her gone, everything would truly be normal for once. I wouldn't have to come home every night, worried I might break underneath the tension she's placed me. Finally drag her perky, sweet arse upstairs to my bedroom, shut the door, and fuck the living daylights out of her until she loses her breath.

With each visit, each day came a new temptation. One that drives me further and further away from logical reasoning, pushing me towards the steep end.

The way she prattles into the kitchen each time, in various revealing outfits, her eyes gleaming with mischief, her hands getting more and more brave when they touch me. She's like a candy I can't have. The ultimate, alluring forbidden fruit. Twenty-five years my junior. My son's best friend. The daughter of our neighbor. And to put the fucking cherry on the cake, I've played the role of a second father to her all these years.

I had always seen her as my daughter. When did that change?

I run a hand through my hair as I try to recall. It's not coming easily to me — all a disturbing blur. Work does that to me. Makes me a bystander to everything going on in my personal life — a disinterested bystander at that. One day I looked up to find out that Lia's tits had swelled thrice the size of a medium-sized baseball, and she now had a mouth-watering arse that made my cock raise its head excitedly, bobbing it like a dog. My head spun at the quick changes, which she revels in displaying in my kitchen, to the detriment of my mental health.

She's a fucking flirt. And a good one at that.

I've always seen it in her. Something in her demeanor, but her new banging body makes that personality a dangerous weapon. She's aware of her potential; of the effect her appeal has on me.

be the only man she goes this

myself this over and over again, with no solid answer

is only being nice to me, like any other girl her age would, but in her case, it made me feel desirable. Reminding me that I still have a functioning dick and decades left to use it and bring forth twice a dozen babies if I wanted. There's no way in hell that beautiful damsel wants a bulky,

propositioned me. Made known the surprising fact that she wants me as much as I

could have her pick of any man

can be your cute, little secret. Think

days since she's said those words to me and I've been finding it hard to concentrate on my work or

and I can't get rid of my erection, no matter how many times I jerk off. And every single time, I think of her moaning Big Daddy into my ear, her tight pussy making squelching noises while I pump in and out of her. Honestly. I should be staked to a tree and burnt alive for even fantasizing about the

would be no long hours spent wondering how we could keep it a

creep who needs a barely legal girlfriend to feel youthful again. Lia deserves much better. She's got a shimmering future

slam my fist so hard on the table, my phone almost falls

to be jealous. Absurd. Just great. I've let her hypnotize me. Let her flirting get into my head. I've allowed myself to start thinking if she saw me differently from other men. If I was in any way, special to

You're disgusting.

Worse than pathetic.

look at yourself in the

to ever walk the face of the earth, but I've traded my health for wealth. I'm no more as good-looking as I used to be, ever since Eunice's death. What would I even look like on top of Lia's gorgeous, supple body? It would be awful. Like that grainy homemade porn between a granny and a guy who was of the same

pocket, giving in to the urge to smell my hand, roughly inhaling the lingering perfume of her pussy before forcefully turning my mind back to the work I

CLASS BEST SERVICE. YOU CAN'T AFFORD TO PASS UP THIS

don't recognize the email address, but the name of the sender rings a suspicious bell; Princeton Bastille. That sounds like one of the rich, braggadocios boys from my Saturday Golf Club for sure. And if so, I don't want to outright ignore them, especially if this is something