Page 5 of Easter Daddy

What the fuck is that? Making love to her? So my raging inner desires want to be her lover now?

Honestly, she was so damn sweet at the Easter egg hunt. She was beautiful and just perfect in every way. I want to be in her presence, and that isn’t a good thing, but surely I can resist.

I shouldn’t doubt myself. Surely, I have more self-control than that.

I shouldn’t think of her. I also shouldn’t walk around with an erection all day, thinking of filling her with my manhood. But I need some relief.

Wrapping a hand around my rock-hard cock, I think of all the things I would do to her—the way I’d bend her over and fuck her if I had the chance. I would have loved to fuck her over that bale of hay we saw together, and the worst part is I know she’s attracted to me, too. I know she wants me, that my feelings aren’t one-sided. And that makes resisting her all the harder.

She has such a high, sweet voice, and I wonder what else is sweet about her, if she’s as perfect as I feel she is.

The things I’d love to do to that girl. My hand becomes more and more aggressive the more I think about it, about her, fucking her, eating her out, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as I bring her to new heights of pleasure. I want to know what her pussy tastes like. What it would look like. Would it be fat and juicy, with warm, creamy nectar? Would it taste and smell as heavenly as I imagine it? How would her pussy feel as it clenches around my cock?

I fuck my fist into a frenzy with thoughts of Lily’s tight inner walls milking me, her high-pitched cries and mewls sounding melodious to my ears. I would love to hear her crying out for me, crying my name, calling me “Daddy.”

With a low grunt, l lie back as I come, my seed spilling onto my stomach and covering my skin. I would love nothing more than to make that little fantasy I just had a reality, but moments after I’m spent, the realization of what I just did sinks in. I just masturbated to the thought of my eighteen-year-old stepsister.

My hot, young, sexy, perfect stepsister…

Who is eighteen fucking years old. Fuck. I fucked up big time. I shouldn’t have because now, I won’t be able to stop thinking about sleeping with her. Being with her. I may have found a slight amount of satisfaction for now, but tomorrow? The day after? Next week? I’ve opened a can of worms, I know it. The fantasies won’t stop at this. Fantasies that probably won’t be limited to sex.

Why? Why did I just do that?

Yawning, I lie back in bed, the comforter feeling soft against the bare skin of my back. Despite my guilt, I feel my body begin to relax. Now, I can finally get some rest.

Sighing, I go to the bathroom and wipe the come off my body with a rag. I put my dick back in my pants and walk back out of the en suite bathroom before crawling to my usual spot on the bed and pulling the covers over my body.

I close my eyes, drifting off to sleep. The last thing I see before going under is Lily’s smile behind my lids, and I know that having this girl as my stepsister will be a challenge.

* * *

I’m miserable.

Just like the day prior, I only got about two hours of sleep before going to work, and sleep deprivation pisses me off. I’m dog tired, and I have a mountain of work to do, work that I feel rather unenthusiastic about at the moment. I want to go home, to put it off for another time, but I can’t.

I can’t drive home like this, either. I’ll have to nap in my office once my work is over, even if it’s just for an hour. As for Lily, it’s no surprise that she’s always in the perimeters of my mind. I’d blame it on lack of sleep, but I’m no liar. Maybe it’s a good thing we don’t live under the same roof as it gives me better control over my…urges.

My phone rings and I see my father’s name light up on the screen. I answer it almost immediately.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, picking up the phone.

“Hey, Li. You free this Sunday?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need you to come over. It was Lily’s birthday a month ago, but we’re throwing her a surprise party.”

4

LILY

I’ve never really been one for big celebrations. So when my eighteenth birthday came and passed with us only going to a restaurant, I was okay with it. But I had a feeling that my mom wouldn’t let it stay that way. Ever since then, I have been waiting for the party that I knew she would more than likely throw while hoping that she doesn’t.

The first thing that clued me in that today was the day is the fact that my birthday was exactly four weeks ago, and I know my mother. She’s not into celebrating on random days. Exactly a month ago? Perfect.

The second thing is the way that she’s smiling at me, unable to contain her obvious excitement all morning.

“You good?” I ask her. She’s basically bouncing in place beside me as we stand in the kitchen.

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